Chapter 2: Northbound
The winter wind howled through the open window, biting and cold. Outside, a young mercenary walked alongside the carriage.
“What is it?”
“The leader asked if there’s anything you need,” the boy said, his voice tense. He seemed a bit intimidated by Dalen’s imposing figure and deep voice.
For an unregistered mercenary like the boy, the status of a gold-ranked mercenary like Dalen must have seemed unreachable.
“Tell him I’m fine.”
“Ah, there’s one more thing!”
“Go on.”
“The leader wanted you to have this,” the boy said, handing over a small wooden box with trembling hands. It was adorned with simple tassels.
Dalen took the box, and the boy continued, stammering slightly. “It’s a popular snack from the merchant city of Benil, or was it Benningham? It’s made with cane syrup instead of honey. He thought you might enjoy it when you’re bored.”
“Thank you.”
Dalen’s large hand reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair, which crackled like frost under his bear-like grip.
“What’s your name?”
“Parn.”
“And your age?”
“I’ll be fourteen on my next birthday,” the boy replied, his voice just beginning to change. His face still held the innocence of youth.
Dalen recalled the brief introductions before their journey began. “Ah, I remember now. Unregistered mercenary Parn. This is your third assignment, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you’ll earn your bronze badge after this. Congratulations.”
Parn’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment, joy, and surprise at the unexpected praise.
Dalen chuckled at the sight. Despite the rough life of a mercenary, the boy’s innocence remained intact, reminding Dalen of a distant home that felt worlds away. He pulled out an empty leather pouch, filled it with a handful of the snacks, and handed it to Parn.
“Eat these in secret. Tell the leader I enjoyed them.”
“Thank you!”
“Shh. Remember, it’s a secret. Now off you go.”
Dalen tousled the boy’s hair once more as he watched him run off. Just then, Lucia spoke up.
“That’s unexpected.”
“What is?”
“To see someone as fierce and formidable as you, who stands unyielding before demons and paladins alike, be so gentle with a boy.”
Dalen chuckled, and Lucia joined in with a smile. “And here I thought you’d never share your food with anyone.”
“What nonsense is that?”
“Mind your language around a paladin, Dalen.”
Dalen shot her a bewildered look, recalling their first meeting when she’d greeted him with a string of curses. Lucia laughed and turned her attention back to the window.
Dalen followed her gaze outside. The caravan stretched out in a long line, with horses, mules, wagons, and people all moving together. The size of the Gallios caravan had more than doubled since they left the city.
“We’ve hired about sixty mercenaries,” he mused.
Sixty swordsmen, practically a small army. Most of the mercenaries guarded the caravan’s perimeter, either bronze-ranked or unregistered like Parn. The silver-ranked ones took turns keeping watch from atop the wagons or horses. As a gold-ranked mercenary, Dalen was given a separate carriage, a mark of respect for his skills and reputation.
“Peaceful, isn’t it?” Lucia murmured suddenly. Dalen popped a snack into his mouth, savoring the taste reminiscent of bear-shaped cookies from a bakery.
The caravan traveled southward for about a week without incident. As Lucia had noted, the first few days were indeed peaceful. Within the patrol zone of the labyrinth city, even bandits were scarce.
Once they left the patrol zone, bandits and goblins began to appear, but they posed no real threat to the caravan. It was simply too large a target for ordinary bandits to consider.
With sixty mercenaries and over a hundred workers who could wield weapons, the caravan was a formidable force. A few naive bandits attempted an attack, but they quickly fled when the mercenaries drew their weapons. Neither Dalen nor Lucia needed to intervene.
Eight days had passed since they left Falcion.
“Yawn.”
Lucia stretched and rubbed her tired eyes, glancing at Dalen beside her. He sat with his eyes closed, swaying gently with the carriage’s motion.
“Doesn’t he get bored?” she wondered, stretching her stiff limbs.
When she first joined the caravan, she was thrilled at the prospect of traveling in a carriage. But after a day inside, her excitement turned to discomfort.
The cramped space, constant jolting, and cold air made the journey more grueling than she’d imagined. As a paladin accustomed to physical training, she felt like a bird trapped in a cage.
Even if she could endure all that, the real challenge was the boredom.
“There’s nothing to do,” she thought. “At least when walking, I could look around and do things myself.”
Traveling on foot was more like a pilgrimage, requiring constant movement, vigilance, and preparation for camping before nightfall. But now, the caravan workers and mercenaries handled everything, even cooking her meals.
“I can’t spend sixteen hours a day praying,” she mused. Even her usual morning and evening prayers felt burdensome.
She considered stepping outside to walk alongside the caravan when suddenly—
Neigh!
The horses whinnied, and the carriage jolted to a stop, throwing her forward.
Startled, Lucia instinctively opened the carriage door and jumped out.
“Bronze ranks to the front! Silver ranks, take your positions!”
“What’s happening?”
“Unload the weapons! Arm the workers! Where’s the leader?”
The caravan was in chaos. Mercenaries rushed about, and panicked merchants grabbed anyone they could to ask what was going on.
Lucia quickly activated her holy tattoos, heightening her senses and filling her limbs with energy. Her sixth sense, often called the mercenary’s intuition, kicked in, and she turned her head sharply.
Her eyes, now bright and alert, scanned beyond the people and wagons, catching sight of a green wave at the end of the road between the trees.
“Attack! We’re under attack! Orc pack ahead!”
A silver-ranked mercenary shouted from atop a wagon, his voice echoing through the caravan.
Dalen slowly opened his eyes. Peering into the realm beyond reality had become a habit, a way to pass the time. Though it left him vulnerable, he had no fear of ambush.
His body, honed with superhuman senses and intelligence, continued to gather information from the real world even as his mind wandered the cosmos.
“Hmm.”
He opened his eyes for the same reason now.
“Dalen! Dalen!”
Lucia’s voice pierced the air. Dalen expanded his senses instantly. His awareness, previously focused inward, spread out like wings, encompassing the entire caravan and the road through the forest.
Beyond the range of an arrow’s flight, he sensed the presence of numerous creatures, both light and heavy-footed.
“Dalen! Get up! We’re under attack…”
“Orcs,” he interrupted. “They’ve blocked the road ahead and behind, using the forest path to their advantage.”
Lucia stared at him, slightly dazed. Dalen expertly fastened his armor and strapped his weapon to his waist.
“The situation isn’t good. The mercenaries are too focused on the front.”
He slung the sheathed holy sword over his back, then gripped the carriage roof with his powerful hands. With a single motion, he vaulted onto the roof.
“Whoa!”
A mercenary stationed there with a bow yelped in surprise. Ignoring him, Dalen surveyed the scene.
Sanghaeng was making his way down the main road of the city alliance, a well-maintained but narrow path cutting through the forest.
Blocking his path were about a hundred orcs, with twice as many goblins.
The ground trembled as the creatures charged forward with wild, aggressive movements.
Naturally, the caravan’s mercenaries rushed to form a defensive line against the oncoming horde.
Dalen turned his head. Unlike the chaos ahead, the rear of the caravan seemed deceptively calm.
But Dalen’s keen senses picked up the harsh breathing of orcs hidden among the trees.
As the mercenaries and armed workers surged to the front of the procession, the orcs at the back began to reveal themselves.
There were about three hundred of them.
A pure orc force, without a single goblin in sight.
“Smart move,” Dalen thought, a smirk playing on his lips. Whoever was leading them was undoubtedly a cunning strategist.
Lucia turned her head to follow his gaze, her face paling at the sight of the emerging orcs. Dalen spoke to her.
“Join the front line. The caravan’s forces will struggle against a hundred orcs. We have a long journey ahead, and we need to minimize casualties.”
“But won’t that leave the rear unprotected?”
“I’ll handle the rear.”
Lucia frowned, studying him intently. Dalen simply gave her a reassuring smile.
The young knight bit her lip, gripping her sword tightly. “Be careful.”
“As I said, we need to keep our losses to a minimum. I trust you.”
Without another word, Lucia turned and sprinted towards the front, her limbs glowing with a soft light.
Dalen watched her for a moment before turning his attention back to the rear.
The orcs that had been hiding were now fully visible on the road.
Unlike their noisy kin causing a ruckus at the front, these orcs advanced quietly and steadily.
A simple yet remarkably effective tactic: draw attention to the front and strike silently from behind.
The fact that these typically dim-witted orcs were executing such a strategy suggested their leader was no ordinary foe.
“Who could be their commander?” Dalen wondered.
He drew his axe, his sharp eyes scanning the orc ranks.
Given the orcs’ fierce nature, their leader would undoubtedly be charging alongside them.
Even hidden among three hundred green-skinned warriors, Dalen’s instincts wouldn’t fail him.
“There,” he thought, spotting them.
Amidst the massive, muscular orcs, two figures stood out.
One was an orc shaman, adorned with a necklace of bones and teeth, clutching a large wooden staff.
The other was an orc warrior, nearly three meters tall, wielding a massive sword as large as a grown man.
[Discovered the corpse of a hapless mercenary.]
[Discovered the corpse of a lightning-calling mage.]
Dalen grinned fiercely at the notifications hovering above the two orcs’ heads.
He hefted his hand axe over his shoulder.
Two commanders. One axe.
In a split second, his mind prioritized the targets.
And in the next moment—
A disc of light shot across the road.
“Ruksha… urgh!”
The orc shaman, in the midst of chanting a spell, suddenly jerked backward.
Thud.
The massive body toppled over, an axe handle embedded firmly in its forehead.