"Um… are we really going to catch the bandits?"
"Seems like it…"
"Are there a lot of them?"
"Has the captain gone mad?!"
"Shh! Don't let him hear you!"
The new recruits followed Lillian quietly, whispering among themselves. Just outside, he had handed them a file detailing a gang of roaming bandits in Stohess District.
There were roughly ten in the gang — ruthless, murderous, robbers, and traffickers. Criminals like these would be executed immediately upon capture, which only made them bolder.
Hundreds of citizens had already been victimized, and no one in the Military Police had acted despite countless complaints. After all, these bandits were desperate men — no one wanted to risk their lives catching them.
Years of negligence had left them free, but now that Lillian was here, he would not stand by. He had ambitions, yes, but he also had responsibility. If he took the paycheck funded by the people, he had to deliver real results.
"Stop complaining," Marlo said to the group. "We've got a dozen people and guns — are we really scared of a gang of bandits?"
"You don't understand!" a slightly older recruit, transferred from the Garrison, snapped. "They may not have guns, but tell me this — if one of them appears, can you shoot him immediately?"
"I…"
Marlo hesitated. The older recruit sneered. "No, you can't. But they can! They'll come at you with knives, trying to kill you. That's a desperate criminal."
"Exactly," Lillian said suddenly, stopping in front of them. He turned to face the recruits. "Bad people win because they have no limits and because good people hesitate. Remember this: the moment you find them, shoot to kill. Their crimes are so severe that we have the right to. Understood?"
The recruits nodded, though doubt lingered in their eyes. Talk was one thing — facing them would be another.
For Lillian, it was no problem. Years ago on the Marleyan ship he had killed many people. And during the days back outside the walls… it wasn't just giants threatening him. When food ran out, humans and beasts were barely different.
---
"Oh, by the way, you haven't been divided into squads yet," Lillian suddenly remembered. He was now a squad leader with twelve people, but all twelve functioned as one unit, which made command cumbersome.
"Let's split into two squads," Lillian said, scanning the group while running through their profiles in his mind. Then he began calling out names: "Garcia, Wilson, Wright, Hall, Hill, Annie — you six will form Squad One, with Annie as squad leader."
The recruits exchanged glances, and when they heard the squad leader's name, everyone froze in surprise.
Even Annie herself was taken aback, frowning at him. "Change the leader."
"No," Lillian said firmly. "Do you intend to disobey orders?"
"…"
"For Squad Two," Lillian continued, "Green, Baker, Adams, Robert, Evans, Marlo — you six will form Squad Two, with Marlo as squad leader."
Marlo's face lit up with barely contained joy. His dream had always been to rise through the ranks, and this squad leader role was a promising start.
However, someone in the squad was clearly unhappy. Baker's expression darkened; he seemed ready to argue. Lillian knew he had transferred from the Garrison Regiment and was the oldest at 26 — a full ten years older than Marlo, who was only eighteen. Baker clearly resented being commanded by someone so much younger.
But with the strict hierarchy of the Military Police, dissent could only show in his face — he dared not voice it.
"That's settled then."
"Yes! I'll do my best as squad leader!" Marlo exclaimed, thrilled. Annie, on the other hand, remained cold and indifferent, paying no mind to her role.
"Good. Let's keep moving," Lillian said, turning and continuing forward. He didn't care who was unhappy. Marlo might lack Baker's skills, but as previously noted, the Military Police valued relationships over raw ability. Marlo's loyalty and rapport with him made him the obvious choice. In this organization, influence outweighed strength.
I suppose this is nepotism in action, Lillian thought, smirking. Not bad — I have potential to become a high-ranking officer.
---
Knock, knock.
A wooden door rattled, then slowly cracked open. A pair of eyes peeked through the gap.
"Hello, we're from the Military Police. We'd like to ask a few questions," Lillian said with a smile. The moment the girl heard "Military Police," fear and hesitation filled her eyes. She slowly opened the door.
The interior was squalid: broken furniture, two wooden chairs missing legs. On the bed lay a woman.
Lillian focused on the girl at the door — about ten years old, wearing tattered clothes, with long unwashed hair tangled into clumps. Her face was streaked black and white with dirt.
"Hello," Lillian said gently. "May we come in?"
The girl hesitated, then nodded. "O-okay."
"Thank you."
Lillian and his team entered. An unbearable stench hit them, making them wrinkle their noses. No one wanted to stay, but Lillian hadn't given permission to leave.
"One week ago, your family filed a report, correct?" Lillian asked, glancing at the woman on the bed — emaciated, her skin purplish, her chest unmoving.
"She's dead," the girl said instantly, sensing his gaze.
"…"
"Dead and left in the house? You should bury her…" a soldier began, but Lillian's look silenced him immediately.
"Did she die of illness?" Lillian asked, noting no visible wounds.
The girl nodded. "We couldn't afford medicine. Our father, who earned money for the family, was killed by the bandits."
This was the latest report on this gang — submitted a week ago but left unattended. The reporting citizen may have given some clues, but the responsible officer had apparently been drunk and forgot to record them.
"Do you know anything about those bandits?" Lillian asked softly, crouching to meet her eye level.
"My mother knew…"
"But your mother is dead," Marlo interrupted.
The girl nodded, then ran to a nearby table, picked up a piece of paper, and handed it to Lillian.
He examined it. The handwriting was messy and mostly illegible — the only clear word: "farm."
"Did your mother write this?"
"Yes…"
Lillian nodded, realizing this was all the information they would get for now.
"Thank you," he said. "We'll catch those bandits. Some of the recovered goods will be returned to you as compensation."
The girl said nothing, her eyes vacant, unsure whether he spoke the truth or was just being polite.
Lillian sighed silently and rose, leading his team out.
"Captain, are we really leaving just like that?" Garcia asked, looking troubled.
"What else can we do?" Lillian replied. "What do you think we could do differently?"
"…"
"Channel your sadness into anger against the bandits. The sooner we catch them, the fewer tragedies like this will occur. This is all we can do."
"Exactly!" Marlo clenched his fists, furious. "We must catch those bastards! Return the stolen goods to the victims!"
Lillian nodded. Even if they really did catch the bandits, whatever money was recovered would be skimmed off by those above—who knew how much would actually remain in the end? No matter the world, some things never changed.
"Let's move," Lillian said as he slipped the note into his pocket. "If it's a farm, there are plenty of those in the Stohess District. We're going to be busy today."