Our Family Has Fallen

As for the heroes and the Honor Guard, they needed to go deep in, warning those adventurers while bringing death to the cultists.

Once the explanations here were mostly done, Barton looked at the situation ahead and spoke.

"They’ve almost cleared it all, it’s time for us to take the stage."

"Rally our forces!"

No one wasted words, each turned back to prepare.

By this time, those informed were already in position.

The Honor Guard had long assembled, eager to declare the Lord’s wrath upon the enemy.

Beside them was Boslake and some Barbarian Mercenaries, who had shed the nervousness and frustration from when they first arrived; the restorative days quickly bringing them back to form.

Of course, the rumors of relics might have also spurred their fantasies of fortune, as these people, having long served as mercenaries within the empire, had somewhat assimilated.

Don’t forget, those Barbarian Mercenaries are also part of this trade, and bolstered by tribal ties, their combat power was tougher than that of ordinary mercenary corps.

But these people were different, coming from tribes no longer existent, cobbled together from warriors of many tribes—an assembly at best—it was unsure how much fight they still had in them.

Those Barbarian Mercenaries seemed to sense the peculiar gazes upon them, if they were true warriors, they would be clamoring for battle like that Boudica fellow.

But now, as former mercenaries, they adapted to the Empire’s circumstances, previously fighting for Gold Coins, and now having nothing to back them up.

Among them, Boslake bore the most pressure, needing to manage those who were truthfully not of his tribe, and prove their worth to the Lord.

So before rallying, he warned those lads; to keep their mouths shut even if provoked, proving themselves through results.

Luckily, though others eyed them peculiarly, no one seemed interested in direct provocation.

Or perhaps these people didn’t even find provoking them of any interest...

This was disdain, and Boslake realized he needed to find a way to prove himself, while integrating those members swiftly.

He needed a battle...

Saying it was discrimination wasn’t quite right, for most were just curious why the Lord recruited a group of Barbarian Mercenaries, weren’t they fighting Bastia?

But it didn’t matter, as these people’s actions were unrelated to them.

This is why Lance didn’t incorporate Boslake and his men directly, as it needed time to foster cooperation.

Forcing people in hastily would disrupt inherent synergy instead.

Only Junia was puzzled by Geralt’s absence.

He’s part of this line of work and logically should be here, did he have some task?

But she didn’t bother thinking about it, with enough manpower here.

Even Junia, after spending extended time in Hamlet, had grown accustomed to following the Lord’s instructions.

The plans were already laid out; they only needed to understand their tasks and each carry out the Lord’s will.

...

The sunlight completely dispelled Hamlet’s night, shining light upon everyone.

Many adventurers in town had gone towards the relics, leaving behind the drunkards and the lazy who hadn’t yet risen, as well as cautious onlookers like the Mendicant Monk and Candlelight Priest.

In that prison, the Lord had not tortured them, and returned their equipment upon release. For a moment, the monk wondered if he had made an error inciting rebellion.

But once reclaiming their items, they could feel the peculiar gazes around them.

Among the adventurers, there were Church followers, who quickly informed the monk of recent events while he was inside.

Initially confused, he quickly understood why the Lord released him at this time.

If he left now, having taken just one step out of Hamlet, stories would quickly spread of him being beaten and fleeing.

He was sure, even if someone forgot, the Lord would remind them, dragging up some old grievances.

A Legendary monk disarmed, imprisoned, and then releasing only to immediately flee would be a severe blow to the Church’s prestige.

This wasn’t just smacking his backside, it’s a slap to the Church’s face!

That guy already anticipated their choices, for only one path lay before them—going to the relics.

For the Church despised two things most: desecrating corpses and Necromancers, both encountered, compelling action lest the man exploit the situation.

Between the pressures of public opinion and the Church, Martin found himself without options.

Damn, he’d have to work for that guy, and thank him for it...

The Mendicant Monk, growing more frustrated, couldn’t help but gripe as he saw the excited adventurers.

"Hmph! Only a fool would believe there’s treasure in that place; if there were any good fortune to be had, would it fall to them?"

"Regardless, those profane items shouldn’t exist in this world."

The Candlelight Priest spoke up, significantly less concerned with the Lord’s reasons for their release, redirecting his animosity towards the Skeletons.

From the start, he had been eager for action, now more so with the relics open.

Martin understood this but did not wish to act rashly or quickly.

Having heard of the anomaly that day—though it had been resolved—the Lord not addressing it himself but instead rallying those foolish adventurers surely had a reason.

Originally, he wanted to see if any Church reinforcements would come, but now it seemed unlikely, those guys would even delight in his misfortune.

Indeed, Martin knew he had blocked some people’s profits, and the path he championed hindered their indulgences, not seeing himself as much of a good person, yet he had to uphold the Church, even using underhanded means if necessary.

Because his faith in the Holy Light was more devout than anyone’s.

"But what we need to do now isn’t to head to the relics and fight those Skeletons, but to heal the wounded."

The Mendicant Monk’s clarity was remarkable; despite falling into the Lord’s trap, he remained aware of his strengths, knowing what he had to do.

Going to confront bone structures? Please, sitting here suffices to spread the Holy Light, why venture into dangerous places?

The Church’s most renowned Divine Arts was healing, the quickest way to restore their reputation.

Once adventurers wounded by Divine Arts recovered, they would soon praise the Church.

The Candlelight Priest’s scarred face looked conflicted at the thought of not going; clearly difficult for him to understand such, as he was keener on charging in for a massacre, eradicating those monsters.

Knowing his only remaining companion’s nature, Martin sighed and made a concession.

"We’ll circle the outskirts, perhaps saving more people, but we must return before nightfall."

Martin had no desire to help that Lord clear the Skeletons, nor become a bulwark.

However, a show at the frontline presented a fine choice, the danger minimal if not deeply ventured.

Thus, the Church duo—Mendicant Monk and Candlelight Priest—was sent on their way to the ruins by Lance.

As renowned figures, their appearance at the relics drew some attention, though the adventurers’ respect for them was little; who didn’t know...

Soon these people were stunned, as the Candlelight Priest raised his shield, charging into a cluster of Skeletons.

Though the periphery contained only the weakest, further diminished by sunlight, no one wished to risk entrapment.

Yet the Skeletons’ scratches and miscellaneous bone clubs were utterly ineffective against heavy armor and shields, while the Warhammer ensnared with Holy Light easily shattered those bone racks.

Ordinary folk might struggle to scatter them, but Holy Light’s power directly dispelled their evil aura.

This was the Church’s might.

To restore the Church’s honor is our unshirkable duty!