The four men who were covertly watching Balgair nudged one of their co-workers, who approached the Reeve. “Sir?”
“Yes?” Balgair turned to the man in mismatched clothes. “Ah, yes. All of you, including the new deputies, will get uniforms like this.” He met the man’s eyes, seeing a look of long-forgotten pride. “You can pick up your uniforms at the quartermaster’s.” He gestured to all of the men. “One man and one woman can go get new uniforms now; when that pair comes back, the next pair can go.” He addressed the office as a whole. “We are all parts of the whole, and we will restore pride to this department.” He snapped his fingers at one of the women. “Can you shoot downstairs and get me the head jailer?”
When nobody moved, he raised his voice. “What are you waiting for? I expect as many of us as can be to be in the new uniforms by close of business today.”
Before he finished the order, the women had returned, followed by a stocky man wearing mismatched clothing. He stomped …
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