After more than a month of travel, the caravan finally reached the city. It was not as large or noisy as Lowden, yet it carried its own quiet pulse of life. The mercenaries gathered in one place to receive their payment. The caravan leaders distributed coins first to the two major parties, then to the lone mercenaries who had travelled alongside them. Kaisel received twenty silver coins.
Money had never been Kaisel's concern. He had come here for another purpose—to obtain a fake identification and gather information. After collecting their shares, Hans and Sergi approached Kaisel, exchanged brief goodbyes, and left with their respective party members.
With the long journey finally over, Kaisel chose to rent a room at a nearby inn. He desperately needed proper rest; throughout the entire trip, sleep had been scarce, as they were forced to take turns standing guard each night.
As Kaisel began to walk away, a voice called out from behind.
"Mark!"
He turned around to see Merlin approaching, a faint smile on his face.
"So… are you leaving?" Merlin asked.
Kaisel gave a short nod.
Throughout the journey, Merlin had spoken with Kaisel whenever he found the chance. Despite knowing little about him, Merlin had already begun to see Kaisel as a friend.
"Where will you go now?" Merlin asked. "Take another request or something?"
"Maybe," Kaisel replied.
Merlin scratched the back of his head. "Well, me and the others will be staying in this city for a month or two. So… come by if you have time."
Kaisel gave a small smile and nodded.
Merlin returned the smile. "See you again, sometime."
Kaisel nodded again and walked away. There were things he had to do .
.....
As Kaisel walked through the crowd in search of an inn, a sudden commotion erupted from a tavern along the street. Curious, he turned his gaze toward it.
"Hah… this old man is annoying," a brute scoffed. He looked like a local—broad-shouldered, red-faced, and reeking of cheap ale.
His thick fingers were clenched around the worn black jacket of an elderly man.
The old man, strangely enough, was giggling.
With a grunt, the brute hurled him into the street. The old man's body hit the ground as passersby slowed, whispering among themselves.
"That's the mad old man, right?"
"Yeah… he came to the city a week ago. Calls himself the Wandering Philosopher or something."
"What philosopher? All that old fart does is ramble to himself, talking about how he's lived his life."
"He says he can divine the future," another snorted. "Asks for money so he can get drunk. He's really something."
The old man slowly pushed himself up from the ground, dust clinging to his clothes. A crooked smile stretched across his face as he chuckled.
"Hehe… kid," he said, voice rough yet amused, "all I did was tell you what I divined. Now then… what about my booze?"
"Booze my ass," the brute growled. "Get out of here, or I'll cripple your already crippled leg."
The brute snorted and turned, disappearing back into the tavern.
The old man let out a long sigh and began to walk away. Watching his retreating figure, it became clear that his left leg was crippled, each step uneven and strained.
The small crowd that had gathered soon dispersed, losing interest just as quickly as they had stopped. Kaisel didn't bother to linger either and continued on his way.
Or at least, he tried to.
The old man was walking toward him now, mumbling something under his breath. His whispers were low and constant, as if he were speaking to someone only he could hear.
When he reached Kaisel, he stopped.
Slowly, the old man raised his head. His cloudy eyes locked onto Kaisel's face, and a wide, shameless smile spread across his lips.
"Hey, handsome kid," he said lightly. "Can you spare a few coins?"
Kaisel remained silent.
Why me? he wondered. Of all the people here… why did he come to me? And he's asking so casually.
He stared at the old man's grin, at the complete lack of shame or hesitation.
'There was definitely something wrong with this old man's head', Kaisel thought.
Kaisel looked at the old man more closely.
He wore a black jacket riddled with holes, paired with black trousers and a dusty white shirt, all of them worn thin by time. His hair and beard were white like dirty snow, tangled and unkempt. The boots on his feet were torn open, his toes peeking through the leather.
Resting on his head was a crudely made straw hat, held together by a black strap with a few uneven strings sewn into it.
He looked frail—almost pitiful—and reeked of cheap booze.
Kaisel sighed. Reaching into his pouch, he took out a single silver coin and handed it to the old man.
"Oh… a silver," the old man said, eyes lighting up. "Thanks, kid."He smiled.
Then he didn't move.
He simply stood there, staring at Kaisel in silence.
"Is there anything else?" Kaisel asked, unease creeping into his voice. "What are you waiting for?"
The old man's smile twitched.
"Soul mended by corruption… and madness," he muttered.
"Death by war… birth by death… hahaha."
Laughing softly, the old man turned and limped away, vanishing into the crowd.
Kaisel remained where he stood, watching his back disappear.
What was that about? he thought.
.....
The next morning.
Kaisel woke before sunrise. While the city was still wrapped in silence, he set out to meet those capable of forging a new identity.
This time, it went smoothly.
No questions were asked. He was simply told to pay thirty silver, and the identification would be ready in two days.
The price was low because the papers described him as a commoner mercenary from a remote village—perfectly matching the simple backstory he had prepared for his current disguise.
Now, all that remained was to wait.
With two days to spare, Kaisel decided it would be best to take on a few mercenary tasks. Working openly would help cement his false identity and draw no unnecessary attention.
As for gathering information… That could wait until the papers were in his hands.
As Kaisel approached the Mercenaries' Guild, he noticed a man desperately stopping other mercenaries along the way.
The man looked like a farmer—a typical commoner dressed in a plain shirt and worn trousers. His face was drawn tight with worry, eyes sunken from sleepless nights. He looked troubled… almost frantic.
Again and again, he pleaded for help.
Yet every mercenary he approached brushed past him, as if his words were nothing more than an inconvenience.
When the man spotted Kaisel, his eyes lit up with sudden hope. He hurried over and grabbed his attention.
"Hey—y-you're a mercenary too, right?" the man asked hurriedly. "Please, can you take a job for me?"
"I live in a nearby village. People there have been going missing for some time now. Two… sometimes three people vanish every three weeks." His voice trembled. "My son… my son is gone too."
The words spilled out of him in desperation.
"Please help us. I think it's a beast from the woods taking people." He fumbled at his belt and thrust a small pouch forward. "Here… this is all I have."
As Kaisel looked into the pouch, he finally understood why none of the others had taken the job.
The pouch held many coins—but almost all of them were copper. Only two silver coins lay among the rest. Altogether, the amount barely reached four, perhaps five silver at most.
For a mercenary, money was everything. A job was only worth accepting if the pay matched the risk.
And this was a beast-hunting request.
Even the lowest-ranked mercenary would demand at least fifteen to twenty silver for such work.
No wonder they had all walked away.
Kaisel nodded, he was here to do something instead of waiting for two days for the identification. So he didn't mind hunting a beast. And the man said he came from a nearby village.
I will take the Job, Kaisel said.
The man was relieved, Thank you, please, follow me , we need to hurry. I don't know how many that beast will take the more we wait.
Kaisel nodded.
....
As they walked toward the village, the road growing narrower with every step, Kaisel spoke again.
"This beast you mentioned," he said calmly. "What do you know about it?"
The man's grip tightened around the strap of his satchel. He avoided Kaisel's eyes.
"I… I don't know what it is," he said after a pause. "No one has seen it clearly. People just disappear. Always during the same weeks, always without warning."
He swallowed, his voice lowering.
"When we searched the woods, we found blood. Not much—never enough for a body. Just stains on the leaves, on the bark. Like something was dragged away."
"There were signs of struggle too. Broken branches. Scratches in the dirt. One man's knife was found snapped clean in half."
The man let out a shaky breath.
"The village hasn't been the same since. People don't laugh anymore. They carry weapons even when fetching water. At night, we take turns standing guard, torches lit, listening to the forest."
Kaisel listened in silence.
Missing people. Blood without bodies. A pattern tied to time, not chance.
This isn't a mindless beast, he thought.
Something about it felt deliberate.
To be continued.