Geoffrey saw there was hope and immediately said, “My lord, you don’t need to do it yourself at all. Just send a messenger to Lumba City and notify the cathedral—people from the church will naturally come to handle it. By then, it won’t be as simple as the gallows. That’ll be straight to the stake, with the soul forever damned to hell!”

The old lord squinted his eyes, rubbing his beard with one hand, and chuckled.

“That is indeed a good idea. But what if the boy runs away?” He was starting to find this steward more pleasing to the eye.

“That’s easy. The rabble are always short-sighted. Just give him some empty title, like making him a militia captain or something. That boy will definitely be greedy for it and won’t leave, tying himself up, heh heh. If you’re still not at ease, you can assign someone to keep an eye on him.”

After speaking, Geoffrey also felt a bit proud, sensing there was something wonderfully clever about his plan.

The old lord burst out laughing: “Good, good! Let him serve me for a while even as he’s about to die—not bad, not bad.”

Geoffrey laughed along, nodding repeatedly in agreement.

But unexpectedly, the old lord’s tone suddenly changed, and he barked sternly, “But why should I let myself be coerced by a bunch of rabble? Go! Arrest that boy and lock him up, then send a messenger to the cathedral!”

“Old…” Geoffrey pulled a long face, having just followed in Eliza’s footsteps, and received a hard slap across the face.

“Remember, I am the master of Vito Town! I hold the lives of you rabble in my hands!” The old lord pointed at the study door and said contemptuously, “What are you waiting for? Go!”

Geoffrey was full of bitterness. Helplessly, he walked toward the door, racking his brains as he went, thinking about how to clear himself of involvement so as not to be hated by the townsfolk.

He was so focused on solving his own troubles that he didn’t notice the faint sound of hurried footsteps leaving outside the study door.

Chapter 7: Speaking with the Bow and Arrow

On the hillside outside the town’s walls, a group of townsfolk had been waiting for nearly an hour, but still there was no response from the steward Geoffrey.

In the arrow towers atop the walls, the soldiers stared down at the townsfolk below, their faces utterly indifferent. These soldiers had all been hired by the old lord from Lumba City and had no ties to Vito Town.

Naturally, when it came time to turn hostile, they could do so without hesitation.

However, the townsfolk had long been wary of these archers, so everyone gathered outside their range.

As time ticked by, the atmosphere between the two sides grew more and more tense, and people began to whisper among themselves.

“Something’s not right!”

“Looks like trouble’s coming. With the old mayor’s temper, who knows what’ll happen!”

Nolan also whispered in Devon’s ear, “Looks like there’s no hope. You’d better leave while you can.”

Devon was about to reply when a tall, thin figure finally appeared atop the wall—it was the steward Geoffrey.

He was in no hurry now, and said softly, “Let’s hear what he has to say first.”

Geoffrey looked down at the crowd below, his face full of helplessness and pain. “Fellow villagers, I’ve let you down. The mayor simply won’t listen to reason.”

As he spoke, the soldiers on the wall all drew their bows and aimed at the crowd below.

The castle’s black iron gates rumbled open, and a squad of fully armed soldiers marched out in formation.

There were more than fifty soldiers, each wearing an iron helmet that only revealed the eyes, a thick leather gorget around the neck, dense chainmail covering all vital areas, a sword at the waist, and a round iron shield in hand. After leaving the castle, they lined up neatly at the gate, coldly watching the townsfolk ahead.

Once the squad was in position, one of them stepped forward and shouted at the townsfolk, “Hand over the murderer of the priest! Anyone who shelters him will be killed without mercy!”

This man had a white feather stuck in the top of his helmet—he was probably the squad captain. As he spoke, the soldiers all drew their swords from their belts in perfect unison.

The gleaming steel swords reflected the sunlight, and a chilling murderous intent spread out, pressing the townsfolk into silence.

But the people of Vito Town were tough. At this moment, everyone held a crude farm tool in their hands. Though they said nothing, not a single person retreated, nor did anyone suggest handing over Devon from the crowd. They simply stood in silent standoff with the soldiers.

In the crowd, a few elders walked up to Devon and urged, “Boy, you’d better go. We’ll hold them off for a while!”

At this moment, Devon had already taken the strong bow from his back and was staring intently at the squad captain, completely unresponsive to the elders’ advice, as if he hadn’t heard them at all.

The standoff between the townsfolk and the castle soldiers lasted only a short while.

The captain at the front raised his longsword and shouted, “I’ll count to three! If you don’t hand over the murderer, don’t blame us for being ruthless!”

“Three!” the captain roared.

They were all equipped with deadly weapons and trained daily. Even though there were more than two hundred townsfolk ahead, there was simply no comparison in strength between the two sides.

On the wall, Geoffrey also pleaded bitterly, “Fellow villagers, Devon really did make a mistake. Dragging this out helps no one. Please, don’t be so stubborn.”