Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 662 - 395: Numb_1

The arrival of the caravan undoubtedly injected new vitality into Hamlet; the bustling handover and inventory work instantly enlivened the town. More than a hundred people had arrived with the caravan; some were skilled personnel, and the rest were their family members. These people were given priority in arrangements and processed through a separate channel.

The camp here boiled a large pot of thin gruel every day. However, the original refugees, who had either died or been taken to the development zone, could no longer partake. This conveniently allowed the gruel to be served to these newcomers. Although the caravan was not short of food, they generally didn't spend time cooking proper meals to save time on the road, so their diet consisted mainly of dry, hard black bread. In this unbearable heat, a bowl of gruel was a sheer delight for them.

However, the refugees who trailed behind the caravan did not receive this treatment; they were stopped in an open area outside the town. Seeing those who had entered with the caravan being fed while they themselves were barred entry, the refugees' eyes took on a ferocious, animal-like glare.

"Why can't we go in?!"

"Weren't we promised food and drink?"

"I want to eat too!"

These people probably didn't realize what Hamlet had experienced that morning. The first signs of unrest immediately caught the administrators' attention.

"What are you shouting about?! If anyone here has technical skills, step forward now, and you can get gruel immediately! If not, then wait patiently. Your turn will come. Hamlet may not have much else, but we guarantee enough food. But if you stir up trouble again, get the hell out! You want gruel? You'll get my club first!"

At that moment, a few men stepped forward, each wielding a short club. They had fierce expressions and spoke harshly, their eyes sweeping over the refugees as they twirled the clubs in their hands, looking ready to strike at any moment. These few men managed to control the refugees with just their clubs and coarse words. They themselves had once been refugees and had been dealing with them for days, so they knew how to communicate with these "hungry wolves." They had to appear even tougher than the refugees; any sign of weakness would invite an aggressive advance from these hungry wolves, eager to press their advantage. It was this approach that temporarily restored the refugees to a semblance of their "docile and submissive" demeanor. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"Sir, when will it be our turn?"

"Sir, we've been hungry for days."

"Please, have mercy, sir. The Holy Light will bless you."

"To hell with your blessings! If the Holy Light were any good, would you still be here?" The administrators were not receptive to such words and swung their clubs even more aggressively. "All of you, shut up! If you want to eat, you'll do as you're told!"

Meanwhile, these men used their shouting to announce Hamlet's terms: It was simple: they were recruiting laborers. Those willing to work would receive food and lodging, and good performance could even lead to becoming one of Hamlet's People.

Initially, the refugees didn't think much of it. But when they learned about the various benefits of becoming Hamlet's People, they grew excited. Most of these people, aside from a few skilled individuals, could only be assigned to develop the wilderness, as Hamlet did not support idlers. The conditions were the same for everyone: to become a true member of Hamlet's People, one had to accumulate sufficient labor hours and merits, and, of course, refrain from causing trouble.

Hamlet's terms were undeniably attractive. To refugees who hadn't eaten a proper meal in days, these requirements were entirely acceptable. Even if it only meant getting a piece of bread in these chaotic times, they chose to stay in Hamlet.

Meanwhile, those who had lagged behind the main force slowly approached, led by the figures pulling the carts.

"How did they manage to follow us?"

"Why don't they just go die!"

"It must be these bastards who attracted divine punishment! May the Holy Light protect us..."

The refugees completely forgot that it was that man, wielding Broken Blade, who had saved them from the Heretics not long ago. Otherwise, very few of the two to three hundred people here would have survived. If it were merely fear of a contagious disease, that would be understandable. But the contempt and disgust on their faces were impossible to conceal. They even blamed these people for the earlier encounter with the Heretics, naturally attributing it to the "divine punishment" they kept mentioning.

"What's all the shouting about?!" an administrator barked, moving to suppress the commotion immediately.

The refugees immediately pointed to the group at the very rear, the ones who seemed so out of place.

"Sir, those people look like they've suffered divine punishment! It's contagious!"

"That's right! And some madmen attacked us earlier because of them! We were only spared by the grace of the Holy Light!"

The administrators at the front, preoccupied with shouting orders, hadn't noticed the situation at the rear. But as soon as they were made aware, they sprang into action. As they drew a little closer, the administrators realized the severity of the problem. The Church, which controlled the common folk of the Empire, had descriptions of such afflictions. There was no doubt: these individuals were cursed by divine punishment. What was even more terrifying was the belief that this divine punishment could be transmitted to anyone who attempted contact with them, making this notion all the more horrifying.

"Stop where you are!"

"Oh, damn it! Get away from here, quickly!"

"Go, go, go!"

The administrators panicked for a moment. They knew how to handle refugees but had no experience with this kind of situation. They didn't dare approach too closely and could only shout frantic warnings from a distance, trying to drive away these Punishers of the Gods.