As the first rays of dawn shone upon Hamlet, the central square was overflowing with people. Most of them were neatly dressed and unified in appearance, their faces lacking the pallor common among refugees. However, they bore a look of uneasiness and couldn't help but fixate their gaze on the man speaking from the high platform at the center.
"I am the Lord of Hamlet..."
Lance had never been one for long-winded speeches, for no amount of words could compare to the stark reality before their eyes.
Yet, to inspire these refugees who had migrated here, he found himself compelled to employ his powers of oratory.
Lance recounted the tragic sights he had witnessed along the way, evoking painful memories for those listening, and some, remembering their former lives, were moved to tears.
Crushed by the Empire, the Church, and the Nobility above, and exploited and oppressed by the villains among the refugees below, no one but they could understand their suffering.
