I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 244 The Work of the Village Head

As night fell, on his third day as lord, old Jack specially changed into a brand-new blue cloth uniform, the brass buttons gleaming. He strutted out with two newly recruited captains and five militiamen, looking arrogant and haughty.

As he stepped into the tavern, the iron bell hanging on the door frame rang out shrilly, and a dozen or so men who were drinking cheap, watered-down beer all turned to look at the door.

"Old Jack?"

The lame blacksmith Hank nearly knocked over his wine glass.

"Your skin..."

"Call him Chief Jack!"

The shoemaker's son, Tom, jumped up cleverly and quickly wiped the cleanest table three times with his own clothes before running to help old Jack over.

This cunning young man, who always liked to run up debts, now had eyes that shone like he'd discovered a gold mine, and was as clever as a dog that'd spotted a bone, running around Old Jack.

Old Jack sat down with feigned composure, the newly acquired short sword at his waist digging painfully into his ribs. He imitated the mannerisms of a tax collector from his memory, tapping the table with his knuckles.

"Boss lady, a bottle of Miniseyan wine, please!"

Suppressed gasps echoed through the tavern.

In reality, the Broken Iron Tavern didn't have any of these high-end drinks in glass bottles that were only affordable to the rich and tax collectors in the past. Old Jack was just saying that to show off.

Hearing the call, the burly proprietress Martha emerged from the kitchen, her apron still covered in coal dust. She stared at the bronze eagle badge on Old Jack's uniform and suddenly broke into a fawning smile.

"I'll open it for you right away, Chief!"

As she spoke, the woman rummaged under the counter for a while and pulled out a glass bottle with an unidentified wrapping paper stuck to it. Without saying a word, she opened it and poured wine into the glass in front of Old Jack.

As the dark red liquid was poured into the tin cup, Old Jack's face twitched involuntarily... If it was genuine, this bottle of wine wouldn't be cheap. Did he have enough money?

Old Jack subconsciously touched his pocket, feeling the touch of his palm, and he immediately calmed down.

Suddenly, the sound of breaking dishes came from the kitchen, followed by a woman's scream.

"It's that crazy woman again!"

Martha's expression changed drastically, and she ran back cursing.

"She's been hiding in the kitchen stealing leftovers since yesterday..."

At first, Old Jack didn't care and was still thinking about how to savor the expensive wine. But when his wife's brother, one of the foremen, quietly poked him in the waist, Old Jack heard screams from the kitchen and suddenly realized what was happening.

Wait a minute, I'm the head of the neighborhood now. One of my job duties is to register the population of Second Street. People from other places who come here to make a living need to greet me. Now there are unfamiliar voices coming from the tavern kitchen. Does that mean the landlady doesn't take me seriously?

Thinking of this, old Jack suddenly stood up and slammed his sheathed short sword on the table with a "thud".

The action was more intimidating than he had imagined, and the entire tavern fell silent instantly.

Old Jack led seven men and stormed into the kitchen. When he lifted the tattered curtain of the kitchen following the sound, he saw a disheveled woman squatting on the ground, covering her head as she was being beaten by the proprietress and two young men. Her bare calves were covered with bruises.

When the landlady saw Old Jack come in, she instinctively wanted to say something, but Old Jack rushed over first and yelled at her.

"How dare you harbor outsiders without registering or reporting to me!"
According to Article 7 of the "Regulations on Wartime Public Security Management"...

Just as old Jack was stammering as he recited the terms he had just learned that morning, cold sweat trickling down his back, the disheveled woman suddenly raised her head, revealing a face covered in scars yet still delicate and pretty.

She was clutching a tattered bundle tightly in her arms, and the faint sound of a baby crying could be heard.

"My lord... save my child..."

The woman's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper being rubbed.

"They...they killed my husband...and they're forcing me to become a barmaid..."

The proprietress, Martha, changed her expression drastically and grabbed a rolling pin, ready to strike.

"I kindly took you in, and you, you shameless woman, dare to spout nonsense and turn around and accuse me!"

"stop!"

Old Jack instinctively drew his short sword, the tip gleaming coldly under the oil lamp.

The two squad leaders on either side of him immediately stepped forward and restrained Martha, their movements so practiced as if they had rehearsed countless times… after all, they had just “learned” the law enforcement procedures from their instructors yesterday. The tavern owner was subdued, and the two young thugs, presumably her family members, were no exception; they were also seized by the swarming militiamen.

One of them was a bit unruly and tried to resist, but the militiamen, eager to impress Old Jack, beat him severely with unsheathed swords, leaving him with a bloody head.

After doing all this, old Jack went up to check on the woman and the baby in her arms. When he lifted the rag and revealed a baby with a bluish-purple face, old Jack gasped in shock.

Who would have thought that the proprietress, who usually enjoys making lewd jokes with customers, would be such a vicious woman in private, so cruel to other women and babies.

Suddenly, a sense of justice welled up in Old Jack's heart. He also thought about the expensive wine the proprietress had given him, which might even be fake. That woman was really too wicked.

Old Jack drew his short sword from its sheath and brandished it a couple of times.

"Guards! Take this wicked woman to the police station!"

Old Jack's voice trembled with anger.

"And those two accomplices, neither of them can be let go!"

Just then, a commotion suddenly broke out in the tavern's front hall.

A burly man with a face full of scars kicked open the kitchen door and barged in. It was Butcher Goreem, carrying a bloodstained cleaver and followed by four or five thugs with menacing expressions.

"Old Jack, are you fucking tired of living?"

Graeme spat out a mouthful of phlegm.

"Dare to touch my sister?"

Old Jack's palms instantly became sweaty. He recognized these men; they were notorious local thugs who even tax collectors dared not provoke. But now, the heavy bronze eagle badge on his chest served as a stark reminder of his identity.

"Grem!"

Old Jack, trying to appear calm, raised his short sword.

"Your sister is suspected of human trafficking and abuse of women and children, and has been arrested in accordance with the law!"

The butcher let out a piercing laugh.

"With this toy sword of yours?"

He slammed the cleaver down on the cutting board, sending wood chips flying everywhere.

"Brothers, we'll have an extra meal tonight... the magistrate's meat!"

Seeing that the situation was about to get out of control, Old Jack suddenly remembered a move his instructor had taught him. He pulled a brass whistle from his waist and blew it with all his might. The sharp whistle pierced through the tavern. After he finished blowing it, Old Jack pointed at the butcher and cursed.

"You wait, when the prince's master arrives, we'll see how you die!"

The Butcher was immediately frightened by these words. During the night of the city's capture, as a local thug, Gorem naturally led his men out to look for opportunities, so he had personally witnessed the players' ruthless killing.

His performance, especially his rampage through an entire street, was so impressive that Old Jack scared Graeme with just one sentence.

After a while, Graeme realized that he had lost face in front of his underlings, so he raised the butcher knife again with a deliberately cold laugh.

"Then you see, will your master save you first, or will I..."

"Pfft!"

Before he could finish speaking, a bloodstained blade emerged from Graeme's chest. He froze, looked down at the object, and stared wide-eyed.

"You are so brave, boy!"

It wasn't until someone behind him gave Graeme a hard shove, causing him to fall, that old Jack realized it was the very person who had promoted him.

Wearing a judge's uniform, he swung his sword wildly down the street, flicked the blood off his longsword, and shouted at Old Jack.

"What happened that made you need to sound the alarm?"

"My lord... no, my master, I've encountered bad people! They've kidnapped innocent women and are trying to kill law enforcement officers!"

"Then what are you waiting for? Hurry up and kill all this trash!"

(End of this chapter)