Angry Crowds & Atrocious Soldiers

Dorian quickly went back to town and was shocked to see chaos everywhere.

Groups of soldiers were going from house to house, clearly looking for someone.

He realized who they were after and felt guilty as he saw how much suffering the people were going through.

The air was filled with muffled curses as the townspeople struggled to contain their anger and were afraid to openly defy the lord's commands.

The soldiers, apparently searching, were instead wreaking havoc in every home they entered.

Any of the house owners brave enough to confront them faced brutal beatings, leaving others cowered in silence.

While fallen things could be rearranged and broken belongings could be replaced, the irreparable harm from these assaults left them in despair.

All they could do was whisper their frustrations, fearing the consequences of speaking out.

Dorian's anger surged as he witnessed the scene unfold before him. He felt a weight of responsibility for what was happening, yet the soldiers' behavior disgusted him.

They were no better than mere bullies disguised in military attire.

"You there!" Dorian's voice cut through the havoc, singling out a soldier poised to kick down an already open door of a wooden house.

As the soldier turned towards the sound lethargically, Dorian's frustration was notable.

"Huh? Me?" The soldier's response was laced with both surprise and a hint of disrespect.

The soldier, along with his three comrades, turned to face Dorian upon being called out.

"Yes, you. Come here," Dorian commanded firmly.

"Boy! Are you out of your mind? Who the f*** do you thi—"

Before the soldier could finish his sentence, one of his companions swiftly pulled him aside and whispered urgently in his ear.

The soldier's expression immediately shifted as he listened intently to the whispered words.

Seconds later, the soldier who was about to curse changed his entire demeanor. With a respectful bow, he replied,

"So…Sorry, young master. I'm really sorry for not recognizing you," the soldier spoke with a tremor in his voice, clearly afraid.

The soldier who had whispered to him earlier looked at the trembling man with puzzled eyes but chose to remain silent.

Dorian, too, was perplexed by the sudden change in the soldier's demeanor. Nevertheless, he brushed it aside and continued,

"Come here."

The soldier hurried over, standing before Dorian with a show of respect.

"Yes, Yes!!"

"What's your name?"

"It's Randall Young master," the soldier replied

"So tell me, Randall, what were you doing there?" Dorian inquired.

"Young master, it was an order from Sir Hendrik. He instructed us to search every house in the town for a specific person," Randall explained.

"Alright. Did you locate the person in that house?" Dorian questioned.

"No, young master. We searched extensively, but we didn't find anyone matching the description,"

"Then why were you on the verge of breaking down the door? Why didn't you move on to the next house?" Dorian probed further.

"Well, you see... the owner of that house wasn't cooperating during the search. We wanted to teach him a lesson," Randall explained, his voice trailing off as Dorian's brows furrowed slightly in response.

Dorian was acutely aware that the soldier was simply exerting power over the vulnerable homeowner.

Despite not involving himself in town affairs, he was well acquainted with the town's so-called soldiers. They were little more than thugs dressed in uniforms.

The only requirements for joining their ranks were physical fitness and a shred of athleticism.

These soldiers, even to perform their own duties, often demanded bribes from the townspeople.

However, since this wasn't a significant concern, Dorian's father never took action against it.

Consequently, these soldiers became much bolder with each passing day, extending their reach unchecked.

"If you've already searched and haven't found the man, why torment the poor soul? Don't delay and move on to the next house. Go," Dorian commanded firmly.

Knowing any words of harsh tone coming specifically from his mouth would be of no value, Dorian moderated his tone.

"Yes, young master," Randall replied, ready to depart. However, Dorian stopped him with another question.

"Wait. You mentioned Hendrik was supervising the search, correct?"

"Yes, young master."

"Then where is he? I don't see him around."

"He was here just a moment ago. But suddenly, he left with another soldier heading west. I'm not sure why," the soldier explained.

"Alright. Don't waste any more time in one house. Conduct the search diligently," Dorian instructed before letting the soldier resume his duties.

With that, Dorian made his way towards Patricia's house. Meanwhile, the soldier, Randall rejoined his group, exhaling in relief with a relaxed smile.

"Phew, that was close," he remarked. "For a moment, I thought I was done for. But it turns out the lord's son is nothing like the rumors. He seems quite forgiving."

The soldier who had pulled him aside and whispered to him earlier, gave him a bewildered look.

"What are you talking about? Why would you fear the black sheep of the lord's family?" he questioned.

"What!!? Black sheep!!? So, that's not the lord's eldest son, Damian?" Randall cried, realization dawning on him.

"What? How did you come to that conclusion?" the soldier asked.

"You! You were the one who said..." Randall began, but the other guy cut him off.

"I said to speak respectfully to the lord's son. When did I mention him being the eldest son? Besides, the eldest son isn't even in town. He left with the Captain for Hilston Castle to take part in the Knight's recruitment. That is not him, you idiot," the man clarified, chuckling at the soldier's confusion, with the other two soldiers joining in his laughter.

"You must be the only person in town to be afraid of the outcast. Haha haha!" the soldier mocked, the laughter ringing out as they teased their comrade.

Randall's face flushed with embarrassment as he screamed at his companions.

"Stop laughing, you f***ers! Damn it! If I had known it was that lowlife, I would've..." the soldier trailed off, his anger evident.

"You would've what? Punched him in the face or kicked him in the gut? Remember, he may be trash, but he's the lord's trash. We can ignore his commands, but mustn't disrespect him. If we offend a direct member of the lord's family, even if he's an outcast, the Lord will punish us for dishonoring his lineage. That's why I stopped you, you moron. I don't want to get screwed because of your foul mouth," the soldier rebuked sternly.

"Ah, damn it," the embarrassed soldier muttered.

"And how could you forget his face? He's always seen around the town. Everyone here knows him," the other soldier continued, frustration evident in his tone.

"You know I struggle with faces," the forgetful Randall defended himself.

"You fool! Do you even remember the description Sir Hendrik gave us, or are you just here to cause trouble and steal from the citizens?" the soldier scolded.

"Ah, I don't care. Let's move on to the next house. I want to grab a couple of bags of rice, or my wife will kill me if I return with empty hands," Randall grumbled.

With that, they continued their 'manhunt' at the next house.

The homeowner, whose brand-new door was moments away from being kicked down, let out a breath of relief as the soldiers marched toward the next target. 

"May Goddess Firaa bless the boy's soul... And unleash thunder upon those scoundrels,"

Silently praying well for the young lord's intervention, he also didn't forget to curse the soldiers under his breath and swiftly set about organizing his disheveled house.

Similar scenes unfolded throughout the town, each household bearing the brunt of the soldiers' intrusive search. 

These actions would undoubtedly cast a black mark over John's supposed control of the town, a fact that he remained unaware of at the moment. 

He had no idea that the repercussions of this situation would soon catch up with him in the near future.