After the battle at the city gates concluded, Paul led Schroeder and others on horseback into Fort Fran.
He surveyed the small port town, noting its size was more than twice that of Lakeheart Town. The layout of the residences was well-organized, and the houses were generally larger and more attractive. Starting from the city gate, a winding main road paved with bricks led to the dock area in the west—a stark contrast to the muddy central road of Lakeheart Town during rains.
Despite the long-term extortion by pirates, the town had not lost its vitality, which explained why Shark’s gang was so reluctant to leave. The reason why the lord’s residence was not located here was not only due to the threat of pirates but also because the lords in the northwest region often did not settle in bustling towns. Many lords lived in isolated castles or manors with no civilian houses nearby, a practice common among European nobles in the Middle Ages on Earth, as Paul remembered from his previous life.
However, now was not the time to admire the scenery. He refocused as Cecil, the intelligence chief accompanying the army, estimated the number of pirate captives and casualties, reporting that the pirates’ active force was practically accounted for, with fewer than fifty remaining.
After a brief discussion among the officers, two cannons and a company were left to guard the city gate. The rest of the troops, divided into platoons, spread out to search for any remaining pirates, especially Shark, who was suspected to have fled after inciting his men to fight to the death.
Schroeder suggested, “I think we must immediately seize control of the dock area. Shark might have quietly escaped by boat from there.”
Paul agreed and sent Schroeder with a company of soldiers to the docks to blockade the harbor.
The other officers dispersed with their soldiers to search for the remaining pirates. Paul, along with Cecil and including two platoons of musketeers, headed towards the town’s central church, which intelligence indicated as the temporary headquarters of the pirates. Paul hoped to find something valuable left by the pirates, like shining gold coins or gems, as pirates in various tales often hoarded treasures.
The residents of Fort Fran had their doors tightly shut, fearing being caught in the conflict. The streets were eerily quiet, filled only with the sound of marching troops and horse hooves.
As they approached the church, the leading soldier suddenly gestured a warning, and a platoon immediately surrounded Paul and Cecil for protection.
The church’s main door was closed, with two pirate-dressed corpses lying at the entrance. It was odd; they should have been the first to reach this area. Had there been infighting among the pirates?
Soon, the church doors were forced open, and the soldiers entered the main hall, meticulously searching every corner.
But aside from a few pirate corpses, they found nothing.
“It seems there was indeed infighting. Another group likely fled with anything valuable,” Paul concluded, praying in frustration, “Oh Lord of Light, although I didn’t respect your Earthly brethren much in my last life, please let Schroeder catch them. I’ll surely offer three gold… no, silver… well, maybe copper coins to the church.”
Unwilling to give up, he wandered the church with two soldiers, hoping the pirates had left something behind.
After inspecting several rooms personally, he reached a room on the second floor. It contained only a bed, a square table, and an old wardrobe.
“Lord of Light, show me a miracle, or you won’t get those three copper coins,” he half-joked in disappointment.
He complained with a kick at the wardrobe.
A small but clear exclamation sounded from inside.
Both soldiers and the Count widened their eyes in surprise.
“Who’s there? Come out!” ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ NoveI[F]ire.net
One soldier shouted loudly while kicking the wardrobe forcefully, and the other quickly shielded the Count behind him. Dense footsteps sounded from outside the room as soldiers from other areas, hearing the noise, ran towards the room.
A whimpering voice came from the wardrobe, “Stop kicking, I’m coming out! Please spare my life, please!”
Then the wardrobe door opened, and a middle-aged man in a white robe with a receding hairline emerged.
He staggered a few steps before falling to his knees in front of Paul, clutching his legs and sobbing, “Oh, sir, I am just a traveling priest staying here for a few days. I’m not with the pirates. Please, don’t mistakenly kill an innocent man!”
His cries were so heartfelt that they could move anyone to tears.
“Get up, get up!” Paul kicked him away.
The scene of a middle-aged man weeping before him was too much for Paul. However, he noted the man’s accurate intuition to recognize him, a young man, as the leader among the group.
Despite his cries, the man continued, “Oh, Father in Heaven, your servant is coming to serve you!”
Paul, realizing his commanding presence was overwhelming, adjusted his hair and struck a pose he thought was charismatic, “I am the local lord, here to eradicate the long-troubling pirates and ensure the safety of my people, not to murder and arson.” He thought to himself, let them continue to be awed by his presence.
“A lord?” The priest stopped crying and looked up at Paul, assessing him. The man’s actions and aura did give off the impression of a somewhat naive lord.
“Hmm!” He stood up, clearing his throat to hide his embarrassment, then straightened his robe.
The priest spoke deliberately, “So you are the lord of this land. How may I address you, young sir?”
His face showed a hint of arrogance, reminding Paul of the royal official he had tricked. He wondered where that man had gone after the pirate attack.
“Before you stands a noble of the kingdom’s northwest, a scourge to pirates, the summoner of thunder (firearms), the spreader of God’s word (papermaking), the Count of Alda—Paul Grayman.” He considered adding ‘liberator of buttocks’ to his titles, but decided against it.
The priest’s face crumpled like a chrysanthemum in awe, “A Count, indeed!”
He clasped his hands in front of his chest, looking at Paul as if he were an angel descended from heaven, his previous arrogance completely gone.
Paul scrutinized the self-proclaimed priest and waved the soldiers out of the room, “You may leave. I wish to speak privately with this priest.”
Seeing the soldiers hesitate, he patted the firearm at his waist, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”