Our Family Has Fallen

Refugees are just trying to survive, to have a place to stay, though some have given up for the sake of relics, most can no longer endure the torment.

Besides the refugees, many others have come to Hamlet, each harboring their own thoughts, plunging into a new world.

"You... stop right there."

The soldier at the checkpoint blocked a suspicious figure, wrapped in a sheet-like tattered cloth covering most of his body, even his head, with only a bit of gaze exposed.

Although refugees liked wrapping themselves in rags, what really drew attention was the noise emanating from him as he moved.

It was the sound of chains clashing, something they were fairly familiar with, instantly arousing suspicion, gesturing with a raised hand.

"Come over this way, no need to be nervous, we just need to ask a few questions."

Though the words didn’t provoke him, the soldiers were already on guard, ready to control him if he caused any trouble.

He seemed to realize he was surrounded but didn’t vehemently resist, instead, he sighed and followed them aside.

"Do you have any weapons on you?"

"No." The man actively lifted the rag around him, turning it into a cloak, revealing his bare upper body, below was a pair of dark tattered shorts and bare feet.

This attire made it clear there were no weapons, but the oddity lay in the chains wrapped around him, several uniquely shaped locks hung among them, cuffs on the wrists, leaving one to wonder what the story was.

An exaggerated scar occupied half of his head, leaving only half of his hair hanging loose—it was unclear what caused it, resembling a vague pattern.

If you were to say he was some vicious criminal who had escaped... but his face with stubbly beard looked haggard, cheeks sunken, lips a bit chapped, his dodgy gaze and hunched stance cast a semblance of timidity and decline.

Truly an odd person... but they had seen quite a few during this time, after a brief initial surprise, they quickly reacted.

"Why are you here? Where did you come from? What’s your business in Hamlet?"

Just as someone started speaking, asking a question, their attention was drawn by a sudden commotion from the old road ahead.

Even the man couldn’t help but turn around to look, discovering a team of ten emerging from the old road.

The members were all donned in full Ancient Empire armor, wore metal masks, draped in cloaks; the leading captain’s helmet was adorned with red plumes.

These people were fully armed, each holding a large black shield, uniquely styled swords strapped at their waists.

From the style of their equipment to other aspects, they appeared markedly different from the empire, making it even harder to believe that this squad seemed to have walked here.

Anyone who has worn full armor knows it’s not suitable for long durations, not to mention carrying shields which are usually transported on pack animals or carts, or stored in warehouses for wartime use.

Who could possibly march so long in armor?

These couldn’t be ordinary people.

Yet these individuals seemed completely indifferent to others, walking on untroubled.

The squad formed a 3x3 phalanx, with a leader-like individual at the front, their synchronized steps, although only a handful, resembled an entire legion.

Hamlet’s soldiers, trained militarily, quickly recognized these individuals’ near-perfect cohesion, clearly not to be trifled with.

No one dared to block the legion’s path; people converged swiftly parted, making them stand out even more.

But the soldiers dared not back down, resolutely blocking the checkpoint, shouting to halt them.

"Halt! This is Hamlet, state your intentions."

"Ha!" The legion stopped and let out a shout, shockingly raising their shields and drawing short swords from their waists.

Instantly, over a dozen muskets aimed shoulder-ready, their dark barrels targeting the legion, while someone turned to call for reinforcements.

If they showed any weakness, the soldiers could forget about holding this ground, this is Hamlet, they must assert dominance!

A standoff ensued, immediately thickening the atmosphere, tensions as if a major conflict was imminent.

People queuing to enter the city hurried away, lest they be caught in crossfire and suffer misfortune.

Yet some watched with curious interest, speculating on which side held more power.

The soldiers were indecisive too, unsure if they should engage.

At this moment, several people ran shouting to halt the imminent clash.

"No fighting! No fighting!"

The shouting individual was the entry-exit management head; he had no authority to command the soldiers but could inform them of policy changes from higher up.

After conferring briefly in hushed tones, the squad leader signaled the soldiers to step down, letting them take over.

"No goods, no musket, let them pass." The manager briefly inspected then gestured to let the legion proceed.

The legion leader said nothing, simply waved his hand and marched on, the followers sheathing their aggressive stance, quietly continuing.

The manager loudly reassured, emphasizing rules to refocus attention, covering up the earlier commotion.

"Rest assured everyone! Hamlet operates by the rules, as long as no contraband is brought, you may enter...."