CHAPTER 239: CHAPTER 196: HEROES’ CEMETERY_3

Lance dug a hole to place the stone casket, then helped them erect a headstone.

"Everyone, a moment of silence," Lance said, standing before the grave and bowing his head slightly to look at it. Everything was simple, but a solemn sense of ceremony permeated the air, and the others couldn’t help but join in the moment of silence.

After about two or three minutes, Lance turned to the crowd and raised his hand toward the center of the graveyard. "I will erect a monument there, and the names of all those who sacrificed themselves for Hamlet will be engraved upon it. Today is a special day, and every year at this time, I will come to pay my respects to them."

There were many festivals in this world, but most were established by various Churches, and he did not hold the right to interpret them. But now, Hamlet’s first festival had been established by Lance. He was crafting the culture and customs of Hamlet, which would deepen their sense of identification with this land.

Lance hadn’t finished speaking. He had done all this, spent so much time here, precisely to stir their emotions.

"They were neither your kin nor your friends, but when danger arose, they stood to protect you, even at the cost of their lives. Why? Because they were my people, and you are also my people—everyone is one of Hamlet’s People! In death, they won’t go to Hell, nor will they go to some heaven; they will remain in Hamlet!"

Among the crowd, a few quick-witted individuals raised their hands and shouted. The response quickly became unanimous, and the rest of the crowd began to cheer as well.

"Long live Hamlet!"

"Hamlet Must Win!"

"..."

Lance watched the crowd’s reaction, knowing his efforts for the better part of the day had finally paid off.

However, there was still one small issue...

After completing all this, Lance let them return to their normal lives. Then, he summoned those who had caused trouble at the Church’s graveyard.

"You should know why I’ve summoned you here," Lance stated, sitting in the great hall and surveying the people before him. They were ordinary townsfolk, yet it seemed their allegiance to the Church was stronger than to him, their Lord.

They had initially thought the incident had passed without being addressed. But now, suddenly summoned here, they were petrified, their legs trembling.

"It’s not my fault! It was Sam who forced us to do it!"

"I was just watching from the sidelines; I didn’t do anything!"

"..."

Upon hearing this, several immediately fell to their knees, pleading for forgiveness in trembling voices.

"It seems you know what you’ve done." Listening to their excuses, Lance found it amusing. A smirk touched his lips, yet this smile exuded an indescribable pressure.

"When the bandits came, the Church abandoned you and left you to be ravaged. It was I!

"It was I who fed you, who pulled you back from the brink of death.

"It was I who eradicated the bandits to give you a safe home.

"It was I who provided them with jobs so you could support your families.

"Everything you have now was given to you by me!"

Lance stopped before them, leaning slightly forward, his gaze bearing down on them.

"Is this how you repay me? Have I been too kind, making you think I’m easy to bully?"

This barrage of questions became the final straw that broke their psychological defenses. The desperate need to survive drove them to fervently deny any involvement, trying to shift all blame onto others while simultaneously starting to renounce the Church’s legitimacy.

Lance looked at them with a cold chuckle. They weren’t Fanatics, just opportunists who had become believers seeking the promised pleasures of the afterlife. A bunch of fools.

But even trash has its uses, if placed correctly.

Lance turned and sat back down, observing their pathetic display. The more they reacted this way, the more panic and fear filled them.

"You have openly defied my orders, which is undoubtedly a capital offense. However, I am not a cruel man. I will offer you a way out. You will be responsible for renovating the graves in front of the church. When you finish, you will regain your status and treatment as freemen."

Truthfully, desecrating ancestral graves was a despicable act. Lance knew it was a dirty job, so he intended to let these ’faithful’ people deal with this nuisance for him.

Hearing this, the men went stiff, struck dumb. Their faith must have been somewhat stronger than that of more superficial believers; otherwise, out of so many, they wouldn’t have been the ones to step forward. And an act of grave desecration, such blasphemy, was more tormenting to them than death itself. If the Church were to find out, they might be branded heretics and burned at the stake, not to mention they would certainly fall into Hell to suffer eternal torment after death.

They hesitated...

"I don’t like to coerce others," Lance said, his tone indifferent. "Since you’ve made your choice, then like Sam, take your families and get out of Hamlet. Go to your Church. See if it will save you, if it can offer you this kind of life."

Lance wasn’t worried at all.

But the men facing him were distraught. Although they had faith, an example had been made of Sam. They didn’t want to forgo the benefits that came with their current status and were even more afraid of being expelled. These former refugees also knew the situation outside: chaos and war were rampant. Leaving Hamlet was a death sentence.

"I agree! I am utterly loyal to the Lord!"

"In my heart, there is only Lord Lance, the one true Holy Light!"

"The Church? What Church? I don’t even know it."

"..."

These men were reluctant to relinquish the privileges that came with being residents of Hamlet. After the first one declared his stance, the rest quickly wavered, and soon all of them pledged to undertake the task.

"Very well. You may leave now." Lance wasn’t too surprised by their reaction; his will was being implemented step by step.