Arthur listened in silence, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table.
He knew Olivier was right; they had to find a way to sustain their expenditures, but the most important thing right now was to stabilize the situation before they could discuss anything further. A potential riot of three thousand people could directly paralyze the territory.
After a long while, he finally spoke, his voice not loud, but it made everyone quiet down: "Golden dragons are not the problem."
"What we need to do now is stabilize the territory."
"Everything can start from scratch."
He stood up.
"Tomorrow, I will go to the refugee camp to establish order."
"Of course, the establishment of order will inevitably be accompanied by violence."
In the council hall, Olivier, Hakon, Lucien, Brin, Evelyn, and others looked at Arthur's figure. Although they didn't know what kind of violence he meant, for some reason, they felt a sense of reassurance.
Early in the morning, Arthur did not linger for a moment. He immediately called Brin, Lucien, Olivier, and over forty riders from the territory, and they galloped towards the refugee camp, the place with the most concentrated problems.
Hooves trampled the dry dirt road, kicking up a choking cloud of dust.
Arthur turned to look at the three men.
His voice clearly reached Brin, Lucien, and Olivier beside him: "Remember, always listen to my command."
The three men tightened their reins, nodding heavily in response.
Before his words had fully faded, a sudden commotion erupted ahead.
A team of Arthur's soldiers blocked the center of the road. Some of their chainmail still bore dried blood from Willow Wood City, and their faces now showed an expression of immense fury.
They were like a group of enraged bulls, circling a woman, yelling and cursing loudly, their hands tightly gripping the hilts of their weapons, so hard that their grips creaked.
Arthur reined in his horse, and the cavalry behind him stopped in perfect unison.
Lucien rode forward, asking in a deep voice, "What's going on?!"
"Why is there such disorder?!"
When the soldiers blocking the road saw their lord's banner, the agitated crowd immediately parted, forming a path.
The officer leading the soldiers, upon seeing Arthur, seemed to find his backbone, and the angry expression on his face instantly turned into excitement and grief.
He quickly stepped forward, dropping heavily to one knee, his voice hoarse and trembling with barely suppressed rage: "Lord Arthur! You must do us justice!"
Arthur's gaze passed over him, and he saw the scene protected by the soldiers in the middle.
A woman was slumped on the ground, her hair disheveled, her linen clothes torn to shreds. A red, swollen handprint on her face was particularly jarring. She tightly embraced a fourteen or fifteen-year-old boy, whose mouth had bloodstains, and who was glaring with hatred towards the direction of the refugee camp.
Arthur dismounted swiftly and decisively.
He walked to the officer who was still kneeling on one knee and reached out to help him up.
"Stand up and explain clearly, slowly."
His voice was calm, yet it carried an irresistible force.
"Tell me what happened."
The officer straightened his body, pointing to the woman behind him, and accused with grief and indignation: "Lord! This is Margaret! Her husband, Johnny, is still serving in your army!"
"We were just performing guard duty on the main road! We saw her and her child being bullied like this by those refugee bastards!"
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his emotions.
"We were just about to go find that group of refugees to demand an explanation! We didn't expect to meet you here! Lord Arthur!"
Arthur's gaze turned to the woman named Margaret. When she saw her lord personally walk up to her, she struggled to stand up and bow, but her legs gave out, and she fell back down.
She wiped her tears, her voice choked: "Lord..."
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