"Huh?"
"C-Captain?"
The mercenaries stared at their captain in fear, wondering if he had always been like this. But the captain's face was merely frozen with a strange expression.
"W-What do you want from me?"
"I want to requisition the post village, loot anyone passing through, and find the one who stole my belongings."
The mercenary captain spoke with a smile, but his eyes gleamed with a murderous glint.
"You want me to do such things under my name? If I do that…"
The king's church would punish Tarkiev, his father, and Count Kazel, the margrave of Salasma. Perhaps even King Korasar himself might wield the iron hammer directly.
"It's fine. If we quickly find my belongings before things escalate, there won't be any problems. Besides, doesn't your father already plan to defy the king? That's why he's looking for a copy of the Book of the Divine King, isn't it?"
"..."
"This method is good for finding my belongings and the copy of the Book of the Divine King as well. If not…"
The mercenary captain whistled once again. Tarkiev clutched his stomach and collapsed. The excruciating pain eating away inside him was unbearable.
"Argh! Alright! Fine! Let's do it! Damn it!"
Unable to withstand the agony, Tarkiev finally surrendered. The pain disappeared as if it had been washed away.
"Now then, young master, let's work together."
With a sly smile, as if to confirm their newly established master-servant relationship, the mercenary captain extended his hand to Tarkiev. Tarkiev had no choice but to take it.
***
"Hmm?"
Perched on a tree, watching the distant mercenary camp, Azadin felt something odd.
"It seems it's no longer possible to get any closer."
The behavior of Tarkiev and the mercenaries had changed. They were now pulling out their weapons and tending to them.
They were cutting wood nearby to craft arrows, sharpening blades, and polishing rust off swords. Their armor was being brushed and meals were being prepared.
They were making sure to eat well and prepare their weapons—an indication that a major battle was imminent.
Furthermore, their vigilance had heightened, making it dangerous for anyone to monitor them too closely without being detected.
"We can't approach them while the sun is up. They're skilled enough to set up guards along every path to the mercenary camp," Midiam observed, noting the mercenaries' preparations.
"What's your plan now? Should we fall back and come back at night to continue watching them?"
"No. We'll get ahead of them and reach the village first."
"Pardon?"
"There's a chance they might attack the village."
"But the village below has a post station. It's practically a fortress."
With over 500 households, the village was large enough to be considered a small city in the sparsely populated northern regions. It wasn't a frontier settlement either—if a mercenary band looted a village with a post station, the king's church would surely hold them accountable.
Both Midiam and Ishmael believed this, but Azadin knew something they didn't.
'Those bastards had a bone wand infused with the magic of the Kurt Clan. Judging by the fact that it was found among their supplies rather than as random loot, there's definitely more than one Kurt cultist among them.'
If there were only one cultist, he would have kept the bone wand on himself. The fact that it was in their supplies meant that someone with authority over the supplies was a Kurt cultist.
'Considering the wand's performance and the magic it contains, their objective must be the Book of the Divine King. But now that they've lost the wand, the cultists among them will soon reveal their true colors.'
Based on information unknown to his servants, Azadin deduced that the mercenaries were aiming to occupy the post village.
The post village was located where several roads converged, making it an ideal location for controlling passing travelers. For the Kurt cultists who had lost the bone wand provided by their superiors, there was no longer any reason to hold back.
"I have sufficient reason to believe that's what they're planning, so let's get to the village before them," Azadin said, refraining from mentioning the bone wand as he quickened their pace.
***
The sun was slowly setting in the west.
Once again, Azadin easily passed through the gate and entered the post village, pretending to be blind.
People let their guard down, thinking a blind man posed no threat. The people of Hubris believed strongly in the afterlife, so they welcomed blind pilgrims, seeing them as opportunities to accumulate virtue.
At that moment, a market was being held in the village. Caravans had parked their wagons in the village's open space, setting up camp.
"Oh, that's…"
"The Korasar Peddlers' Guild is here. That's good," Midiam and Ishmael said, delighted to spot wagons bearing the flag of the Korasar Peddlers' Guild.
The Korasar Peddlers' Guild had started as a group of small, itinerant merchants carrying goods on their backs. But after accumulating wealth, the guild had grown into a powerful trading organization with significant influence and resources within Korasar.
Moreover, the Peddlers' Guild was a front for the Herald Clan, the Aragasa people's secretive organization.
"The Peddlers' Guild, huh…" Azadin smirked as he headed toward the wagons.
***
The Korasar Peddlers' Guild caravan had arranged its five wagons in a circle, forming a defensive perimeter like a herd of buffalo protecting their young from predators.
When camping in open fields, they used the wagons themselves as barricades, creating a fortified camp in the center. The interior housed large tents for lodging, while the wagons outside doubled as shops to attract passing customers.
To draw in more visitors, acrobats performed outside, mesmerizing the crowd, while the shopkeepers—all members of the Herald Clan—attended to customers.
As Azadin approached, the acrobats and caravan guards noticed him and began chuckling.
"Well, well, who do we have here?"
"Isn't this the renowned 108th Hearld, Azadin?"
"Kehehe."
"Have you been enjoying your three-month stint pretending to be a Herald?"
"..."
Azadin let out a sigh.
It was always the same. To the Herald Clan, he was the son of a traitor, the child of Akre who had ruined their ambitions. They would never forgive him.
Yet, when it came to Arael, they would bow and scrape as if offering their very hearts. Arael had proven his strength, beauty, and brilliance, earning their respect.
In the past, someone who had mocked Arael had ended up with a broken jaw. Arael ensured that anyone who challenged or ridiculed him paid the price—something Azadin hadn't done.
So, the underhanded harassment was entirely Azadin's burden to bear. As Midiam and Ishmael followed behind him, the others sneered at Azadin even more.
"Well, well, even brought along some servants, huh? Quite the skill you have."
"Enough. These two aren't my servants."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yes. But since we're from the same clan, why don't you shoe my goat? You can at least do that, can't you?"
"Of course, how could we not? Especially with such a command."
"A man who received Elder Kazas' recommendation and became a herald despite failing basic training without going through the proper procedures—how could we ignore his orders?"
Their words were laced with venom, but Azadin calmly pulled out a silver candlestick and some silverware from the saddlebag on his goat.
"Convert this into money. Also, do you have any steel-tipped arrows in stock?"
"Well, well, you've brought some valuable items, haven't you?"
"Did you steal them somewhere like a common thief? Don't you have any pride as a herald?"
"..."
Their sarcastic remarks were clearly meant for Azadin to hear, and the mockery was relentless.
Midiam and Ishmael exchanged glances. They knew Azadin wasn't well-liked among the Herald Clan, but seeing it firsthand was far worse than they'd imagined.
Originally, the merchant guilds created by the Herald Clan existed to support heralds.
Although the roles had somewhat reversed over time, the Korasar Peddlers' Guild still had the duty of providing heralds with funds, supplies, information, and safe houses.
Yet, the guild members seemed displeased even with this obligation.
"I need a change of clothes. I'll borrow some. Can you handle the laundry as well?"
Azadin handed over his dirty clothes and received a fresh set—but it was women's clothing.
"What's the meaning of this?"
"Well, it's the only thing left. You might as well wear it, right?"
"It's not like anyone will notice the difference, haha."
"Sigh. Don't be childish. I'm only ignoring you guys because I'm tired from the forced march. Besides, I'll be relying on the Korasar Peddlers' Guild in the future, and I don't want to cause trouble by leaving you guys half-crippled out of spite."
Azadin sighed as he returned the clothes.
"What did you say, you little punk?"
"Look at this guy! Telling us to wear women's clothes—is he insulting us?"
"Threatening to cripple us—are you trying to provoke a fight?"
Though Azadin had only returned their insults, they focused solely on his words without reflecting on their own actions.
"This bastard only became a herald thanks to Elder Kazas' recommendation…"
"Why is it that we, who trained alongside you, are stuck as servants while you became a herald?"
"You couldn't even complete basic training! Do you think it's fair for someone like you to be a herald?"
The Korasar Peddlers' Guild staff members were Azadin's former training comrades.
They had witnessed Azadin fail to complete the basic training course, so their frustration at seeing him become a herald was palpable.
Midiam, observing the situation, asked, "If it bothers you that much, why don't you challenge him to a duel?"
"A duel? You're out of your mind, kid. Are you talking to us right now?"
"Do you want to get beaten up first?"
Despite their threatening tone, Midiam remained unfazed.
"So, you're content to whisper behind his back but don't have the guts to face the risks of a duel, huh?"
Hearing this, Azadin chuckled.
"The risks of a duel, huh? It sounds impressive, but isn't it a bit hypocritical for you to say that?"
Sure enough, as soon as the word "duel" was mentioned, his former comrades snorted.
"Fine. We were planning to challenge Azadin to a duel anyway."
"If we beat him, we become heralds, right?"
"The only issue is deciding who goes first. The first one gets too much of an advantage, haha."
They treated Azadin as if defeating him would be as easy as pulling a coin from a pocket. Seeing this, Midiam smirked.
"Oh, is that so?"
In that instant, Midiam moved!