The Orlandian Mountains' night thickened like ink. In the darkness, flickering green and amber gleams marked lurking beast eyes, accompanied by owls' piercing cries that shattered silence—enough to raise any traveler's neck hairs.
The Azure Rose Company moved like phantoms merged with night, not a single torch kindled. Heavy packs bent mercenaries' backs, stuffed with this expedition's spoils. A train of rope-linked, stumbling young beastkin captives was driven forward along treacherous mountain paths. Darkness brought occasional low curses from mercenaries tripping over roots, or disturbances when unknown predators lunged from shadows.
Yet those attackers rarely approached the column. Arrows flew like silent death from deepest darkness, instantly ending beast lives. Occasional escapees charging close met only sudden blazing flames—Adeline's magical fire consuming them entirely, leaving only acrid burned-fur stench.
The company trekked through deathly darkness for nearly a full night. Only when gray-white dawn struggled through cloud layers did the mercenaries finally halt. This rest came not by choice—no matter how viciously mercenaries cracked whips, the young beastkin captives had exhausted their final strength, collapsing unable to move another step. Mercenaries hastily posted sentries before exhausted men could collapse in rotation.
Arthur remained silent throughout, sharp gaze tracking mercenaries' every action. Some behaviors he couldn't fully comprehend, but this didn't prevent him from memorizing every detail.
Combat excitement and all-night marching fatigue soon dragged mercenaries into heavy slumber. Even vigilant sentries couldn't help drooping eyelids, heads nodding gradually downward—daylight had come, danger seemed past.
"Ahh—!"
A terrified shriek shattered morning tranquility. Every mercenary sprang up like scalded cats, weapons gripped tight, gazes sweeping surroundings warily.
"Tony! Damn it, what's that death wail?" Kaines sat up yawning, voice thick with sleepiness and disturbed irritation.
"Boss! That lion cub... he's gone!" Tony's voice peaked with shock.
"Gone?" Kaines' brow furrowed, sleep vanishing completely. "Didn't I tell you to tie those ropes securely?"
"Look at this!" Tony rushed to Kaines, holding two rope segments with mirror-smooth cuts. "These were knife-severed! Someone rescued him!"
Kaines took the severed rope, fingertips tracing the clean cuts, brow creasing slightly. "The other cubs? Any escapes?"
"No, just that lion cub ran." Tony answered urgently.
Kaines fell silent momentarily, then waved dismissively, face showing barely detectable relief: "Forget it. Let him run. Have everyone rest a bit more, then we move quickly. Avoid complications."
"Huh?!" Tony's jaw nearly hit the ground, eyes bulging wide. "Boss! How can we just forget it? That was our biggest prize! A living golden lion cub! And..." His gaze swept the company like a venomous snake, finally fixing on Arthur. "...there's definitely a traitor! Outsiders couldn't slip in so easily to cut ropes without alerting us!"
Kaines raised his hand, stopping Tony with low, unquestionable authority: "No investigation needed. That lion cub escaping might not be bad for us."
"Bad? Boss, this... how is this good?" Tony scratched his disheveled hair in confusion.
"Tony," Kaines dropped his voice lower, gaze sweeping approaching Angus and other mercenaries before meaningfully glancing at Arthur. "Did you notice the Combat Aura flash when he struggled? That wasn't ordinary aura—it was Crimson Solflare, the Golden Lion family's supreme inheritance, only cultivated by recognized heirs. Golden Lions are one of the three great beastkin royal clans, their claws reaching across the entire continent, including our human territories. Imagine if word spread to the orc wastelands that we'd sold their heir as a slave... what do you think they'd do?"
Tony, Angus, and every mercenary hearing this felt icy serpents coiling their necks, collectively drawing sharp breaths. What did this mean? It meant border warfare reigniting, corpse-strewn battlefields.
Kaines' gaze returned to Arthur with unfathomable depth, lightly winking. Arthur returned a polite, calm smile as if completely ignorant of this heart-stopping revelation.
...
Three days later, when The Azure Rose Company finally emerged from The Orlandian Mountains' oppressive shadows, everyone breathed collective sighs of relief.
At this moment, Arthur keenly noticed an additional person in their company. A tall, unrealistically handsome man carrying a uniquely crafted great bow wound with emerald vines and carved with intricate, exquisite patterns. Through waterfall-smooth golden hair, pointed ears were clearly visible—this was an elf.
He was that mysterious archer who'd remained hidden in darkness, never missing his mark.
Though human-elf relations weren't as sword-drawn as with orcs, elves remained proudly aloof, rarely entering human kingdoms while strictly forbidding human intrusion into their forest homes. Arthur's curiosity burned: how had this elf named Iraya become part of The Azure Rose Company?
Sensing Arthur's investigating gaze, the elf Iraya turned, meeting Arthur's eyes with an elegant nod and gentle yet distant smile. Every subtle movement perfectly embodied elven-born nobility and etiquette.
Two days later, a majestic city rose from the horizon.
Twenty-meter gray basalt walls resembled massive beast spines sprawling across earth. Watchtowers seven to eight meters high crowned the walls, their battlements lined with massive ballistae glinting with cold metallic light. Uniformed soldiers patrolled the broad ramparts, sharp gazes sweeping movement below.
Before the massive arched gate, the drawbridge lay lowered, awaiting entry queues stretching in long lines. Well-equipped soldier squads meticulously examined every traveler.
This was The Azure Rose Company's headquarters location, the throat fortress of the human Kingdom of Isaac's border—Valorhaven.
Valorhaven, humanity's first steel defense line against orc hordes. Heavy city bricks bore countless blade-carved scars and unwashable dark-brown bloodstains, silently recounting this city's endless battles through long ages—falling, retaking, defending. Even during peacetime, vigilance never slackened. An elite five-thousand-strong garrison maintained permanent station.
Arthur gazed upward at this mountain-carved colossus, heart filled with awe. From his remote village to crude orc camps, this was his first glimpse of such magnificent, seemingly unbreakable human achievement.
The mercenary company didn't join the dragon-like queues. Under Kaines' lead, they walked directly toward the gate.
"Captain Kaines! Quite a haul this trip?" The gate guard captain clearly knew Kaines well, not only skipping inspections but greeting warmly, gaze sweeping the dejected beastkin cubs behind the mercenaries.
"Gods' blessing—decent luck, caught some orc cubs. Buy the brothers some drinks." Kaines grinned, casually tossing a small jingling coin pouch. The guard captain caught it deftly as surrounding soldiers' faces bloomed with fawning smiles.
Throughout human kingdoms, mercenaries ranked just below nobles and wealthy merchants. During wartime, mercenary companies were obligated to assist city defenses, so major cities welcomed mercenary companies, especially powerful large ones. An A-rank company's combat strength might exceed an entire human army division.
As the border's largest city, peacetime Valorhaven thrived extraordinarily. The Orlandian Mountains' rich resources—rare ores, precious herbs, powerful magical beast materials—flowed continuously here. Even smuggled goods from orc wastelands could be found in bulk at markets. Broad stone-paved streets lined with apothecaries, weapon forges, and major trading houses buzzed with shoulder-to-shoulder crowds.
Arthur, never having witnessed such human tides, felt dazzled. Everything before him brimmed with novelty and clamor.
The Azure Rose Company escorting beastkin cubs inevitably became street focal points, drawing countless curious, disgusted, or greedy stares. Bold children even chased the procession, hurling stones at young beastkin captives while jeering contemptuously. Bone-deep hatred between human and beast had already rooted in young hearts, passed down through generations.
At Valorhaven's southern quarter, before a broad courtyard surrounded by massive blue stone walls, stood an unusually tall figure.
A mountain of a man wrapped in leather and muscle. His hard face bristled with gnarled flesh, protruding belly nearly bursting his greasy leather apron. Most striking—he possessed only one thick right arm, his left sleeve cut off at the shoulder, hanging empty.
As the mercenary procession approached, the fat man's harsh face finally creased into a smile. He stepped forward urgently, his remaining arm swinging powerfully as his booming voice carried unquestionable boldness, echoing before the courtyard gate:
"Brothers! Welcome home!"