Faerun: The arcane mage is still too imprisoned.

Cielsa walked to the window, looked down at the bustling street below, and turned back to Lance with a smile, saying, "Lord Lance, this environment is quite nice, more luxurious than home."

"really."

Lance nodded and used [Mage's Hand] to take a law book from the bookshelf to read.

One minute later.

"...Why should I look at this?"

Lance closed the Codex.

"If my judgment is the same as the legal code, then what's the point of having the legal code?"

"If my judgment differs from the legal code, then the legal code must be flawed, and I should rule according to my own interpretation. What's the point of even looking at this then?"

So Lance tossed the code aside.

"Knock knock knock"

There was a knock on the office door.

"Come in," Lance replied casually.

The door opened, and two guards escorted two men in.

No—to be precise, it was two men who walked in, supporting each other, with the guards merely offering support to prevent them from falling.

The older one's leg was clearly broken; he dared not put any weight on one leg and relied entirely on his younger brother to support him on his shoulders. With every step he took, the flesh on his face trembled.

The coarse cloth trousers were rolled up to the knees, revealing calves that were swollen like steamed buns, covered in bruises, and the skin was stretched so tight it was shiny.

The younger one wasn't much better off; he was as thin as a bamboo pole, one eye was swollen shut, and there were dried scabs on the corners of his mouth. His hand, which was supporting his brother, was trembling, whether from pain or hunger, it was hard to tell.

The clothes the two were wearing could no longer be called clothes—they were full of holes, and their exposed skin was covered in bruises, with new wounds piled on top of old ones.

The two of them paused for a moment when they saw Lance sitting behind his desk as they entered.

"This is Lord Lance, the highest judge of Rield City. Tell him about your matter," a guard said softly.

Then the older one suddenly pushed his younger brother away and knelt down with a thud.

His knee slammed onto the floor with a dull thud; it looked painful.

The younger one also knelt down, banging his head on the ground repeatedly, like pounding garlic.

"Lord Lance! We beg you, please do us justice!"

The older man cried out, his voice trembling with sobs, tears mingling with the blood on his face.

"Goodness, he just kneels down like that? He's obviously used to being bullied."

Lance raised his hand, and the two of them stood up uncontrollably.

"Get up and speak, what's going on?"

The two men knelt on the ground, trembling all over.

The older man looked up, his face wrinkled like a dried orange peel, his eyes red-rimmed.

"Sir, my name is Colin, and this is my younger brother, Toby."

"We...we are workers who work for Amat Ras. He...he owes us six months' wages, and he won't pay us. He even had us beaten up like this..."

He tapped the table: "Let's start from the beginning."

Old Colin took a deep breath, enduring the excruciating pain in his leg, and recounted the events—

Six months ago, Amat built a warehouse in the west of the city and hired the two brothers and a dozen other workers, agreeing that each of them would receive four gold coins after working for six months.

The two brothers worked from dawn till dusk for half a year, and the warehouse was finally built.

Amat turned hostile.

First they said the project quality was poor and they would have to pay them, then they said the delayed delivery would require them to pay compensation.

They went to demand their unpaid wages but were beaten and thrown out by the guards. They took it to court, and the court ruled that Amat had to pay them.

Amat still wouldn't give it to him.

Not only did they not give it to him, they also had someone break Colin's leg, the ringleader. Little Toby, who was protecting his brother, was also beaten and had to lie in bed for half a month.

The other workers were scared and dared not take any more.

Only the two brothers refused to give up—they had an elderly mother at home who was bedridden and needed money to buy medicine to save her life.

Yesterday, when they went to demand their unpaid wages again, the guards threw them onto the street and threatened them: "If you come again, we'll break your other leg."

Old Colin knelt on the ground and refused to get up, crying, "Sir, you don't know... our mother has been sick for three years, and this money is all we have to pay for her medicine."

Last winter, my mother coughed up blood, and we went to Amat to ask for a month's wages in advance.

"He ordered the guards to beat us out. My mother lay in bed for three days without medicine, but she endured it..."

Little Toby wiped away tears, his shoulders shaking with sobs: "After my brother broke his leg, we didn't have money to see a doctor, so we just braced it ourselves with a splint. He couldn't sleep at night because of the pain, so he would bite on the splint so as not to wake me..."

Old Colin lifted his trouser leg, revealing a swollen, shiny broken leg with bruises visible beneath the bluish-purple skin.

Little Toby turned around and lifted the back of his shirt. His back was covered in whip marks, crisscrossing, some with black scabs, others still oozing yellow fluid.

The thickest cut ran diagonally from the shoulder to the waist, the flesh turned inside out, red and white, like a centipede crawling on the back.

"This is from when we went to demand our unpaid wages last month; he personally whipped us like that," Little Toby's voice trembled violently.

He said that the more peasants like us die, the less we'll lose, so as to save the city's food from being wasted.

Sissa stood beside her, her hand gripping the hilt of her knife tightly.

Lance tapped the table. Most people would probably choose to investigate or ignore it.

But Lance was different; he chose to check the ingredients directly.

[Bewitching humans!]

A pale pink light flashed in old Colin's eyes.

"Is what you just said true?" Lance asked.

"Every word is true."

"Is there something you're hiding?"

"no."

"OK."

Lance dispelled the spell and looked towards the door: "Curry!"

The office door was flung open instantly, and Sheriff Curry darted in like a rabbit, bowing and scraping: "Lord Lance, what are your orders?"

"Amat Ras, you know him, right?"

Curry nodded respectfully: "I know, I know. He's a wealthy businessman in the city, in the building materials business."

"Go and bring him here," Lance said. "Now, immediately, right now."

Without the slightest hesitation, he immediately saluted: "Yes! I'll take care of it right away!"

Curry turned and ran outside.

Lance frowned as he looked at the injuries on the two men.

"Don't move." Lance stood up and walked in front of the two.

He raised his hand, and a faint white light emanated from his palm.

【Healing Mantra! 】

Light emanated from his palm, flowing like warm water over Old Colin's broken leg.

Old Colin shuddered and his eyes widened. He could clearly feel something moving, making a sound, and growing back inside his legs.

The bones cracked a few times.

The swelling subsided, the bluish-purple color faded to normal flesh color, and the wounds on the skin healed, scabbed over, and fell off at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Old Colin stared blankly at his legs, his mouth agape, speechless for a long time.

Lance turned to Toby.

The white light fell on his back. The whip marks, revealing raw, red flesh, began to itch. Little Toby wanted to reach out and scratch, but he held back.

After the itching subsided, Little Toby felt much more relaxed on his back.

He turned his head to look, but couldn't see anything. He reached out and touched it—his back was smooth, and all the pitted scabs were gone.