No Leaving the Camp
Whenever territory wars broke out and troops moved, certain wagons always followed in their wake.
There were the lord’s supply wagons, and after them came the war merchants’ wagons.
The war merchants’ wagons carried everything needed for daily life and the war itself—goods, weapons, and more. Beyond those were mobile taverns, restaurants, and even brothels on wheels.
Ion left the village and headed into the mountains.
He suspected the near-disaster in the village trap had happened because his movements had been too obvious.
For half a month he traveled along the mountain ridges until he reached the area near Kuluji Estate. Instead of entering the estate, he questioned passing merchants.
Between Kuluji and Gorzi Estates lay a separate encampment.
It was where the mercenaries stayed after winning Kuluji’s territory war, before moving on to the next conflict.
From a distance, Ion gauged the camp’s size. It was no five hundred men, but the cluster of tents clearly held more than a hundred.
He had come to fight them, yet walking straight into their midst would be suicide.
He hid Yan, warned Lotte to guard the horse, and began scouting the area around the camp until he found a group of wagons set apart from the main tents.
The mercenaries stayed in the main camp during the day, but at night they came out to the wagon village to drink, often staying until dawn before returning.
From what Ion could see, they behaved more like soldiers than typical mercenaries.
After three days of observation, he removed his armor.
Leaving Yan hidden with Lotte, he made his way to the wagon village wearing only a gambeson and a single longsword at his waist.
At a glance, he looked little different from the drinking mercenaries, so he blended in easily among those coming and going.
Following the sound of singing and music, he found several wagons arranged in a loose semicircle. Tables and chairs had been set out in front, turning the space into an open-air tavern where mercenaries drank.
From the wagons themselves came the laughter of women. It seemed the camp followers were inside.
A short distance away from the semicircle stood other wagons, more sparsely placed. Whenever a drunken mercenary and a woman disappeared into one together, it was clear those were the mobile brothels.
One mercenary stumbled out of a wagon, drunk and swaying, and bumped straight into Ion, who had been waiting in the shadows.
“Huh? Sorry.”
“……”
“Whoa, friend, you’ve been training hard. Why’s your body so solid?”
The mercenary, still fumbling with his belt, grinned at Ion.
“Waiting for your turn?”
“No.”
“Yeah? Just finished, then? Haha, I’ll buy you a drink. Want another round?”
“Sure. Come this way.”
Ion slung an arm around the mercenary’s shoulders and led him into a darker corner.
“Where we going? There a tavern over here?”
“There is.”
“Hold on, who are you? Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
“You haven’t. First time.”
Ion clamped a hand over the man’s mouth and twisted his neck with a sharp crack.
He dragged the limp body deeper into the darkness.
One at a time would be safer than trying to handle them all at once.
He hauled the corpse farther away and tossed it down a slope. To anyone who found it, it would look like a drunken fall.
Ion returned to the open-air tavern.
Two more mercenaries were heading back toward the main camp, already drunk. Ion casually stepped between them and threw an arm around each man’s shoulders.
Startled, one of them squinted at him through bleary eyes.
“Huh? Wh-who’re you?”
“It’s me.”
“Eh? Who?”
“Me. Can’t recognize me after all this time?”
Ion smiled warmly. The mercenary shook his head to clear it, stared at Ion again, and scratched his scalp.
“Huh? S-sorry. Must be too drunk. Where’d we meet again?”
“Does it matter? It’s fine. Want another drink? My treat.”
“Haha, sounds good to me!”
“Let’s go over there.”
Ion guided the pair to another secluded spot, covered their mouths until they suffocated, and dumped the bodies in a shallow pond. The water only reached the knees, but it was deep enough to drown a man.
That first night, he made five deaths look like accidents.
But there was a limit to this method.
The next day he left Yan and Lotte behind and traveled alone to Gorzi Estate in the west. There he bought a shovel and a pickaxe, then returned.
He dug a pit not far from the mercenary camp.
After that, whenever he lured and killed a mercenary, he dropped the body into the pit and covered it with dirt.
In half a month he had disposed of twenty men.
He had gradually increased the numbers, but this approach was nearing its end. The mercenaries would soon react.
Among the dozens of tents in the Kval Mercenary Group’s encampment stood one noticeably larger tent—the commander’s.
Inside, a man sat at the head of a long meeting table.
He resembled Frederick, the bandit Ion had killed in Graf Estate, but looked at least ten years older. This was Klaus Heringen, leader of the Kval Mercenary Group.
With his rough beard, Klaus was even larger and more powerfully built than his brother. Frederick had already been mistaken for a descendant of giants; Klaus was bigger still.
At the moment, Klaus’s brow was furrowed. Seated before him were two men—Daniel and Julio, two of the group’s six executives. Daniel kept his head bowed low.
Klaus glared at him.
“You’re saying the missing men didn’t desert?”
“Yes, sir. They went out for drinks and simply vanished. They left their weapons and gambesons behind in their quarters. As you know…”
“Right. No one runs away and leaves their weapons behind.”
“Exactly.”
“Then where do you think they disappeared to?”
“We’ll need to search the surrounding area first.”
“Do it. Wait a moment.”
Klaus turned to Julio.
“So they’re all dead?”
“Yes. Wagner and the mercenaries with him—everyone.”
“And the man responsible?”
“He’s gone to ground.”
“How long has it been since then?”
“At least a month.”
Klaus tilted his head and looked back at Daniel.
“The men we’ve been losing lately—could it be that free knight from Badfelt? Wouldn’t be surprising, would it?”
Daniel nodded.
“I don’t know if he’s capable of it, but the timing fits.”
“If he could handle Wagner and twenty men alone, this wouldn’t be difficult. He’s supposed to be a knight, yet he hides and kills people. Not the rigid type, then.”
“No, sir.”
“Rigid knights are easier to deal with. This one’s going to be a headache.”
“I’ll increase patrols around the perimeter.”
Klaus nodded, then added as if remembering something.
“Also, tell them that anyone going out to drink or visit the brothels must go in groups of at least two.”
“Sir? Drinking, I understand, but…”
“If anyone goes alone and gets caught, tell them they’ll die by my hand.”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
At Klaus’s growled order, Daniel bowed his head again. Klaus waved them both away.
“Everyone out.”
Daniel and Julio bowed and left the tent.
Klaus rose with a dissatisfied expression and moved to a chair covered in bearskin. He picked up the sword resting on the small side table beside it—a black longsword that looked almost small in his massive hands.
His brother Frederick had been slightly smaller than Klaus yet had wielded a greatsword. The black blade looked special.
Klaus took a cloth from the table, dipped it lightly in a bowl of oil, and began carefully polishing the sword.
As he worked, he muttered to himself.
“If it weren’t for that man, my foolish brother would have died by my hand eventually. But I can’t leave his death unavenged.”
His eyes grew colder.
“Ion Rise. How do I draw him out?”
Klaus continued polishing the blade.
Ion waited for the mercenaries’ reaction, and it came.
Those heading out to drink now moved in groups of at least two, usually three or four. Fewer mercenaries were seen entering the mobile brothel wagons. Pairs patrolled in front of the wagons before disappearing inside.
Ion could still lure and kill one or two men, but three was pushing it.
Even the number of drinkers had dropped.
Ion did not grow impatient. He avoided notice and searched for anyone who had wandered off alone, but the warning had clearly taken hold—there were no loners to be found.
This is getting tedious.
Ion opened the door of one of the mobile brothel wagons and stepped inside.
A sheer red curtain hung across the entrance. He pushed it aside.
A beautiful woman in a revealing tunic sat on the bed. Her black hair and green eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Ion, then she smiled and greeted him.
“Welcome.”
Ion sat on the edge of the bed beside her.
“What’s your name?”
“Marina. And you, sir?”
“Ion. How much?”
“One silver.”
One silver was enough to buy a gambeson. Ion handed the smiling woman two silvers.
“I’m going to sleep for a bit. Wake me when time’s up.”
“Excuse me?”
“The bed looks comfortable.”
Ion lay down without removing his boots, feet hanging off the edge. The mattress was indeed soft.
Marina stared at the coins in her hand, then tucked them away. Easy money was nothing to complain about.
She watched the sleeping Ion. Unlike the older mercenaries she usually saw, he was young and powerfully built. His complete lack of interest in her was oddly intriguing.
He wasn’t bad-looking either. She found herself curious.
Ion woke on his own after a short nap. Marina hadn’t even needed to rouse him.
“…!”
He opened his eyes to find her staring down at him.
Ion sat up.
“How long has it been?”
“There’s still plenty of night left.”
“Good.”
As he stood to leave, Marina asked, “You’re just going?”
“Yeah. I got some sleep.”
“Come again.”
Ion left without answering.
Marina thought he was strange, but that was all. Occasionally men paid just to talk and leave; she was simply glad to have earned money for nothing.
After that, Ion returned every few days, paid, and slept. During those visits he heard rumors of missing mercenaries.
Come to think of it, the disappearances seemed to happen more often on the nights he came to sleep.
Today, too, he paid and lay down on the bed, closing his eyes.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
Ion answered without opening his eyes. Marina flinched.
She swallowed and asked, “The rumor about people disappearing… was that you, sir?”
“Yes.”
She hadn’t expected such a straightforward answer. Her eyes widened. She swallowed again and nodded.
“I… I won’t say anything.”
“You can.”
“What?”
“If anyone asks, tell them. I am Ion Rise, the free knight of Bergen.”
“Even if someone like me says it, they probably won’t believe it. Is that why you don’t mind?”
Ion opened his eyes and looked at her.
“Tell them, and save your life.”
“I understand.”
Ion closed his eyes again and fell asleep.
He woke after several hours and left the wagon.
Surveillance around the camp had grown much tighter lately, making it harder to kill mercenaries as before.
Still, if he waited patiently, he could catch the occasional drunk who wandered off and deal with him.
The Kval group was disciplined, but it wasn’t a real army. There were still gaps.
They were tightening their grip to find him, but they couldn’t keep it up forever.
Then the buried bodies were discovered.
Crash!
“Thirty men! More than thirty of my subordinates died right here in my camp!”
Klaus slammed his fist on the meeting table so hard one of the legs cracked and tilted.
Five executives sat with their heads bowed.
“If anyone has something to say, speak!”
No one answered.
Responding to a superior as furious as Klaus was no easy task.
When no one spoke, Klaus pointed at one man.
“Daniel!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Is it really thirty? Is that all?”
“At least… that many were buried in the pit. Given what’s happened, we should re-examine every death that occurred around the same time.”
“Other deaths?”
“There were absurd accidents—men breaking their necks after missing a step, two men drowning in knee-deep water at the same time.”
Daniel answered Klaus’s question. All of them were deaths Ion had staged as accidents.
Such incidents were difficult to prove. Foolish mistakes happened more often than people liked to admit.
“Hmph… Drunk mercenaries die in stupid ways all the time. But the timing makes it impossible to ignore.”
Klaus ground his teeth and slammed the table again.
“I shouldn’t have to waste my time on something like this!”
The Kval Mercenary Group could decide the fate of an entire estate depending on which side they supported. Now they were being troubled by a single knight, and Klaus was furious.
Worse, he suspected the whole mess had started because of his brother’s reckless behavior. That only made it more irritating.
Klaus swept his gaze over the men at the table and gave his orders.
“From now on, no mercenary is allowed to leave the camp! If they want to drink, bring the alcohol here!”