Chapter 58 | Fear Not, Witch — A Player Is Here to Rescue You

The moment the door was pushed open, everyone froze.

The clerk holding the account books was the first to react. He saw clearly that only two women were standing at the door.

One wore plain cloth clothes, while the other, though dressed elegantly, had no servants around her; clearly, neither was anyone of high status.

The panic on his face was instantly replaced by hostility, and he shrieked, “Who let you in? This is the town hall, a restricted area. Loiterers, get lost immediately!”

As he spoke, he reached out directly to shove Benita's shoulder.

“Are you deaf? Get out!”

That hand stopped a few inches from Benita's shoulder.

A hand reached out from behind Benita, gripping his wrist with swift, accurate, and ruthless force.

The hand was not large, with rough knuckles and scars from years of hard labor on the back of it. As five fingers squeezed simultaneously, the clerk's entire arm felt like a branch clamped by iron pliers, letting out a teeth-gritting creak.

Suren stepped out from behind Benita.

With a blank expression on her face, she gave her wrist a gentle twist. The clerk bent over with a scream like a puppet with broken joints, and the account books fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

His knees buckled, sending his entire body dropping halfway to the floor as beads of cold sweat rolled down his forehead one after another.

The side hall fell so silent that only the clerk's whimpers of pain could be heard.

The others seemed to realize that the newcomers were not to be trifled with. They exchanged glances, none of them willing to stick their necks out anymore.

Rhythmic footsteps echoed from outside the door. Hort jogged over with a squad of guards, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his forehead.

When he rushed into the side hall, the first thing he saw was the mess scattered all over the floor and the clerk cowering to the side, clutching his wrist.

The second thing he saw was the women standing at the door, and his heart sank.

“Madam,” Hort took a deep breath and apologized to Benita, his voice kept very low. “This subordinate has failed in his duty. Please punish me, Madam.”

Benita looked at him. He was someone she had chosen on a whim anyway, so his current performance wasn't exactly a disappointment to her.

Suren, however, had far exceeded her expectations.

Hort explained through gritted teeth, “These clerks were supposed to be guarded under your orders, but someone feigned compliance while secretly letting them go while I was away dealing with the corpses on the streets. As soon as I received the news, I rushed over with my men. Offending you, Madam, is a result of my lax discipline. Please punish me, Madam!”

Benita's gaze swept over the pale-faced clerks. They were still clutching the stolen account books and land deeds, and their pockets were more or less stuffed with items from the town hall.

These people were all former subordinates of Ohm and Hawkley. If they were cooperative, they could have been useful tools, but since they insisted on being parasites, they had to be completely weeded out.

Now was not the time for mercy. She had to stabilize the situation as quickly as possible, and the first step was to make everyone see clearly—what the new rules were.

“Throw them all into the dungeon,” Benita made her decision.

Hort immediately gestured to the guards behind him. A few young soldiers stepped forward, their movements still somewhat hesitant.

They used to receive their pay from these clerks. Now that they had to arrest them instead, they weren't sure how much force to use for a moment.

Just as she finished speaking, Eleanor, who had been standing silently on the side, spoke up.

“Mayor, I believe that is inappropriate.”

Benita turned to look at her. Eleanor's expression remained calm, but her green eyes held a sharp, bright glint, like an unsheathed blade.

“How is merely throwing them into the dungeon enough?” Eleanor's tone was measured.

“These people dared to steal the account books and land deeds. They clearly have no respect for you, Mayor.”

She paused, her cold gaze sweeping across the faces of the clerks one by one. Everyone she looked at lowered their heads, breaking out in cold sweat.

“Imprisoning them without punishment only tells everyone that stealing public property carries no real consequence. Such a rule cannot be established.”

Eleanor and Benita exchanged a glance. Her words, spoken in her distinct aristocratic drawl, made those who heard them shiver with cold.

“According to the laws of the Holy Empire of Atoranca, those who steal public property shall receive twenty strikes of the cane, have all their property confiscated, and perform three years of hard labor in the mines. I suggest we deal with them strictly to serve as a warning to others.”

A chorus of pleas for mercy erupted in the side hall.

Benita realized that Eleanor was using this method to offer her allegiance.

Of course, there might also be a slight desire to vie for power, but she didn't dislike it.

Benita nodded slightly, accepting Eleanor's suggestion.

Seeing this nod, the clerks' pleas for mercy suddenly spiked in pitch as they were dragged out one by one by the guards.

With the unrelated personnel cleared out, Benita's gaze fell back onto Hort. “As for you...”

Hort tensed, instinctively straightening his spine.

“Since you cannot manage your subordinates, there is no need for you to remain as the captain.”

Benita's voice was not cold; in fact, it could even be described as gentle.

Hort's lips parted as if to say something, but in the end, he only clenched his fists in dejection. No matter how he defended himself, it could not change the fact that he had failed. He had lost his own opportunity.

Benita did not look at him again, turning instead to Suren.

Suren stood in the corner of the side hall, as quiet as a piece of furniture placed there at random.

From the moment they entered the town hall until now, Suren had only stepped in once to block the clerk, but that single action was enough to leave a deep impression.

A person who had the courage to kill a noble in rebellion.

A person who could pin down a man with one hand without even batting an eye.

Benita looked into her eyes earnestly. She was about the same height as Suren, so when their eyes met, neither had to look up or down.

“Suren, are you willing to take on the heavy responsibility of being the captain of the guard?”

Suren froze. Her first reaction was not pleasant surprise or gratitude, but confusion.

She instinctively turned her head, looking for someone with more authority, and then she saw Eleanor and her furrowed brow.

Her brow was knitted tightly. Eleanor was usually excellent at managing her expressions, but this time she did not try to hide it.

She clearly had objections to this proposal, but out of respect for Benita, she didn't speak up on the spot.

The highest office Suren had ever held in her life was the manager of the village threshing floor, responsible for spreading the grain to dry on sunny days and gathering it back before it rained. She had only gotten that assignment because of her great strength.