Delphina
Ralph’s reaction was far from ordinary.
“Do you know that name?”
“There’s a mercenary band active in the Bask Kingdom, right next to our Badfeld Kingdom. Their name… well, the Kval Mercenary Group. I know the leader is Heringen.”
“If it’s reached this far, it must be famous.”
“Indeed. They say the group numbers around five hundred.”
A small estate could barely gather three hundred men by mobilizing every soldier and forcing even the serfs to pick up a spear. Yet a mercenary band of five hundred would mean any lord who contracted with them would win the estate war hands down.
Recruiting the men was hard enough; keeping them loyal was harder still.
“The leader’s younger brother, you say?” Ion asked, nodding. “I understand.”
“Mm… We haven’t been told his name. Rumors fly, but the delays are bound to follow.”
“Thank you.”
If the elder brother’s fate became known—if one party had hired him and the other had carried out the deed—Graf Estate, Ion, and everyone involved would suffer. The justification of “capturing robbers” lay on their side, and it was righteous, yet mercenaries ignored such distinctions.
Ralph opened his coin purse and slid it across the table.
“Here. The three gold you were promised. I feel I should add more, but my word is my own.”
“It’s enough.”
“Good. Then guard yourself well, Sir Ion.”
“Thank you.”
Ion rose, bowed, and stepped out of the lord’s manor. From his previous life in the southern regions, he knew little of famous mercenary bands in the central lands. Yet the chief of security had taken the matter seriously enough to call him. Kval’s power must be considerable.
‘If they come looking for me, I won’t run.’
Even if five hundred mercenaries descended, he had no intention of fleeing. He had returned to live freely in this new life, not cowardice.
He would fight bandits fairly and never run because of lingering vengeance or fear.
Back at the inn he rested deeply, waiting for the armor to be completed.
Ten days later he returned to Dieter’s smithy and received the repaired plate armor. The dwarf paused while fastening the final straps and smiled with satisfaction.
“I’ve been using only tiny scraps of dwarf steel for the armor I’ve worn so far, but this time I used every piece. Can you feel the difference in weight?”
Ion wore the basic set—torso, shoulders, forearms, both hands, shins—but nothing covering the head or legs. The lighter design was deliberate; most knights fought in such suits to preserve mobility. Though not all knights did so, the weight reduction was noticeable now that the full armor had been fitted and worn.
“It feels lighter.”
“And once you’re used to it, you’ll notice the strength has improved too.”
“You worked hard, Dieter.”
“It was a pleasure. I’ve always wanted to test a new project while working.”
“Thank you.”
Ion placed a silver coin in the blacksmith’s palm. If the man enjoyed his work so much, he deserved every coin he earned.
After a cheerful farewell, Ion left the smithy and returned to Graf Estate.
Leaving Graf, he reached Luplin Estate seven days later and took a room at Holger’s inn. The place was crowded with mercenaries, as expected from an ex-mercenary landlord.
He unpacked, bathed, fed Jan in the stables, and entered the dining hall with Lotte in tow. They had been traveling together for two months now. Lotte had grown considerably in size; though still young, she already measured like a large hound.
Lotte received a massive bone from Ion’s own meal and began gnawing contentedly as he ordered beer and scanned the room. Then a newcomer paused directly in front of him.
“…?”
When he turned, a wolf beastperson stood there, large bone in her mouth, staring at Lotte. Lotte looked straight back.
Beastpeople—wolf, cat, bear, tiger—roamed the entire continent. They lived in small tribes or family units, hunting and herding, and some, like the woman before him, had taken to mercenary work. Most remained unincorporated, too numerous to conquer yet too stubborn to oppress, and were quietly left alone.
The woman before him belonged to the wolf tribe—wolf beastpeople. Her fur was long and blue, with short white hair; she wore a halter vest and leather gauntlets with a short sword at her hip. She had seemed harmless at first, but her eyes never left Lotte.
“What now?”
Only then did she meet Ion’s gaze with a serious expression.
“You know whose wolf this is?”
“A red wolf.”
The woman blinked in surprise. She had assumed it was an ordinary pet.
“Oh? Then how do you keep it?”
“What business is that of yours?”
“If you stole the cub, its mother will follow until she finds it. These beastpeople never forget a grudge!”
The fact that she knew red wolves never forgave meant she was well-known among them. But the worry was groundless.
“I took it on its mother’s behalf. And its name isn’t just any wolf—it’s Lotte.”
“Oh! A request? Ah… I see.”
She scratched her head, then introduced herself with a smile.
“I’m Delphina Lobo, a mercenary.”
“Ion from Berg.”
“Did I intrude? Here, let me buy you a drink.”
“Thank you.”
“Then go on. Take care, and I’ll see you later.”
She bought the beer, ascended to her room, and greeted Lotte before lying down. Lotte wagged its tail happily, then returned to gnawing the bone.
The surname Lobo that Delphina had offered carried no human meaning. In beastperson tongues, wolf was “Lobo,” cat was “Gato,” tiger “Tigre,” bear “Oso.”
The next day Ion met the estate’s chief of security and learned that no knight-worthy task awaited him. There were minor problems, but nothing that required a wandering knight’s strength.
He left the manor with a bow.
Such offers were common. Hiring a knight cost a fortune, so estates preferred to handle issues themselves or delegate only urgent ones.
‘No help for it. Stay today, then move on tomorrow.’
At the market he bought dried meat and fruit, then returned to Holger’s inn. Most inns were quiet during the day, but Holger’s was lively with idle mercenaries playing dice and arm-wrestling for coin.
He set down his purchases, ordered food for himself and Lotte, and sat down. Almost immediately Delphina appeared at his table, beer in hand.
“I thought you were another mercenary, but you’re a knight?”
“That’s right.”
“Tsk, you’re so stiff. Do you refuse to speak with a wolf beastperson mercenary like me?”
“Speak. I’m listening.”
Food arrived mid-sentence. Lotte’s portion was a large bone with meat still attached; Ion’s was bread, stew, and beer. He had considered ordering something more elaborate, but stew was reliable and less likely to cause stomach upset.
Delphina continued talking while chewing, occasionally dipping bread into her stew. Ion answered with vague grunts at first, then more naturally.
“Don’t tell me you always speak like that?”
“What, it’s not that different.”
“Ah, so you were always a dull knight?”
“I’ve never been told I’m boring.”
“You don’t look that old. Maybe you’re younger than you appear?”
“Eighteen this year.”
Delphina’s eyes widened. “Eighteen? You’re younger than me, yet you don’t seem immature. Why do you sound so…?”
A muscular, bald mercenary who had been drinking nearby suddenly called to her.
“Hey! Delphina! You’ve got money on the table and you’re not even buying a drink? Where’s the fun in that?”
“Why would I buy you one?”
“You’ve lost enough already today. At least buy a drink. Right?”
He grinned and reached for her shoulder.
“No!”
Delphina slapped his hand away.
“Ow! What’s that?”
“I only bet when dice are fun. But I hate ugly guys—even if they’re human!”
“So that’s why you’re sitting here with that kid?”
The mercenary turned on Ion and pointed angrily. Before anyone could react, Ion drew his sword and pressed the tip to the man’s throat.
“Want to die?”
“U-ugh!”
The men who had been watching the fight jumped to their feet, weapons drawn. The red dots on Ion’s map multiplied wildly.
“Hold on, knight. Drawing your sword here isn’t smart.”
Holger, the innkeeper, approached carefully.
“Sir, this inn follows the rule that fights are settled with fists, not blades. Use your hands. There’s no need to draw steel against these men over a mere scuffle.”
The reason most mercenaries still had their weapons sheathed was clear. Ion sheathed his sword.
“The landlord’s rule, then?”
“Yes. That’s why many of them come here safely.”
Rules were meant to be respected. Ion nodded and replaced his blade.
“Understood. Then I’ll follow that.”
Lotte continued gnawing its bone through the entire exchange.
“Lotte, stay over there.”
Lotte carried the bone to the kitchen. Ion removed his gauntlets, set them on the table, and pushed the table against the wall to clear space. He raised both fists.
“Bare fists, then!”
He drove his right fist into the mercenary’s jaw. The man’s head snapped back with a crack and he flew across the room, landing hard on the floor. Ion stood in the center, red dots now yellow.
“Anyone who wants to keep fighting, come on! All at once if you like!”
The mercenaries charged, shouting.
“Hah!”
“Take that knight down!”
“Kick his ass!”
“Kill him! No, just break one of his legs!”
The closest yellow dot was creeping up behind him. Ion turned without looking and drove his fist into the arm reaching for him. The man’s elbow cracked loudly. He staggered, and as Ion spun again, his knee slammed into the next man’s stomach. The impact sent him crashing into others. Ion’s fists hammered jaws and temple sides in rapid succession—per-per-per-
A backswing elbow into the head, a front kick to the thigh that dropped another man to his knees. In seconds eight mercenaries lay groaning on the floor. The rest froze, eyes wide.
Ion walked to the nearest table, picked up his beer, and drank deeply.
“Don’t stand there—carry these men to the beds!”
The mercenaries hesitated. Ion glanced at the kitchen where Holger watched. “I’ll pay for the drinks. Bring them here.”
“Yes, sir!”
Holger grinned, nodded, and shouted orders to the kitchen staff. When he returned he bellowed at the mercenaries, “Hey! Get these fallen guys to bed! Right this way—chairs up! Our knight bought everyone a round, so say thank you! You almost lost your teeth because of guys like you!”
The tension broke. The men laughed and began chatting again. Ion sat back, and before long a fresh mug arrived from Delphina, who plopped down beside him.
“You started a fight?”
“I expected to help a little. It ended the moment it started.”
“You meant to step in but thought better of it?”
“Correct.”
“Exactly. Because I’m pretty, I attract ugly idiots like that one. That’s why they’re all out of commission now.”
Ion nodded and took a sip. Her reflexes truly were exceptional. Her endurance was only average, but her speed more than compensated. It was no great flaw.
“Beastpeople move well.”
“Right! You know your stuff. Even though I’m short and cute, I can handle a couple of those brutes.”
“I’m sure. Drink anyway.”
They clinked mugs and drank. The mercenaries who had joined the fray soon approached Ion for greetings and left. One called, “Thanks again!” Another laughed, “That knight’s got guts!”
“Fists are no joke.”
“Perfect finish with beer. Haha.”
Ion’s mood was high. He bought more rounds and spent the evening laughing and drinking with Delphina and the others.
“Ugh…”
Ion woke with a pounding headache. Sunlight through the window told him it was nearly noon. His first hangover since returning to this life. While drinking he had passed out, and the mercenaries who had been knocked out had woken up and rejoined the party. The last thing he remembered was lying in bed watching the dawn break. When he sat up, Lotte was still sleeping with a massive bone in its mouth. He called it from the bed.
“Let’s eat downstairs.”
Lotte perked its ears and looked up.