Chapter 49: If you can speak, then speak more

Near Notting City

“Talk…?”

Fratina looked at Lucia, puzzled.

“Lord Lucius, with all due respect, bandits are desperate outlaws. Talking to them won’t get us anywhere.”

“You think we can just convince them to lay down their weapons?”

Lucia’s suggestion seemed absurd to Fratina, the kind of naive idea someone unscarred by the world’s cruelty would propose.

Fratina had been ambushed by bandits on her travels before. The first time, she let them go, only to hear later they’d grown bolder.

Since then, she never spared such outlaws.

Mercy to them was cruelty to the innocent.

“I know most bandits can’t be reasoned with, but these aren’t ordinary bandits.”

Lucia pointed toward Notting City’s town hall. “What do you think of Duncan?”

“Personally, I don’t like him.”

He’d deceived her, and his ambition was vast. If he gained too much power, the continent would suffer.

Over time, Fratina noticed Londe’s surface stability hid struggling citizens.

In his early years, Duncan used low taxes and commerce to make people overlook his usurpation, even earning praise.

But a few years later, things soured. He began clawing back the wealth he’d distributed, and Freeman’s trade guild monopolized markets, crushing other merchants.

This had gone on for nearly a decade. Some citizens privately longed for the old regime.

The previous dynasty was poor but steady; Duncan’s gave brief prosperity, then plunged people into poverty.

Fratina had no fondness for such a ruler.

“If so, what do you gain by wiping out these bandits?”

“Londe’s few resistance forces would be crushed, leaving Duncan unchecked. The people here would live in despair.”

“You think these bandits could challenge Londe?”

“It’s not impossible.”

Their meal arrived.

After eating, at Lucia’s urging, they set off for the nearby villages.

*

Harvest Town

Fratina drove the carriage, spotting smoke rising from the town’s homes in the distance.

It was nearing evening, the setting sun stretching the shadows of farmers returning from the fields.

Seeing a carriage approach, the townsfolk cast curious glances.

It bore no Londe or merchant flags, looking like a lone traveler’s.

This piqued their interest.

In a bandit-ridden area, a traveler daring to come was surprising.

Soon, the townsfolk reported it to the mayor.

As Fratina and Lucia entered, a group approached, led by a robust, white-bearded man in his fifties or sixties.

He stepped forward, addressing Fratina. “Miss, our inn’s been closed due to frequent bandit activity. I’m afraid you can’t stay here tonight.”

His tone suggested he wanted them gone, putting Fratina in a bind.

Lucia stepped out of the carriage.

The townsfolk eyed her cloaked figure curiously, wondering if she was some demon spy.

Sensing their tension, Lucia scanned the area. “Your town looks orderly, with well-tended fields. Your people seem healthier than Notting City’s. This doesn’t look like a bandit-plagued place—it’s thriving.”

Her words startled the mayor.

This mysterious figure’s sharp observation had pegged Harvest Town’s state in moments.

The more perceptive she seemed, the more wary he grew.

He signaled someone, who quickly left.

“We’re better off than most, sure. Not for any special reason—just fertile land and good harvests, hence the name Harvest Town. As for order, we pay the bandits grain to leave us alone.”

“Is that so?”

Lucia smiled. “But every village we passed was like this. Quite the fertile region.”

After a playful jab, she turned. “Fratina, tell the gentleman why you’re here.”

Fratina dismounted, revealing her identity and purpose to the mayor.

Hearing she was the Hero, he gasped.

He’d just sent for the bandits to deal with them.

But if this was Fratina, the Hero, a hundred men wouldn’t help.

Panicking, he forced a smile. “Hero, I’m Orlando, mayor of Harvest Town. Forgive me for not recognizing you.”

He signaled another person to stop the call for reinforcements.

But a voice rang out from the crowd. “Who dares trespass on our turf?”

Silence fell.

Lucia and Fratina looked toward the voice. A panting young man led dozens of armed bandits.

He ran to Orlando, boasting, “Well, Mayor, pretty fast, huh?”

Orlando’s face paled.

Across from him, Fratina’s expression darkened.

The youth, oblivious, glared at Fratina and Lucia. “You two don’t look like good news—especially the one hiding her face. No decent person dresses like that! If you’re Duncan’s spies, don’t expect us to go easy!”