Golden Fang (2)

It had already been ten days since Balun left Milford. In that time, the Marco Merchant Group's journey had proceeded without any major issues. Aside from running into a few stray goblins, there hadn't been a single problem, making for a smooth trip so far. But Balun's expression wasn't great.

The nagging unease wouldn't go away.

Why?

"Hey, barbarian! Come eat!"

"My name's Balun."

"Ah, right. Balun. Hurry up and eat. It's best when it's hot."

"Be there soon."

Pushing aside his irritation, Balun received his dinner ration. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Tonight's meal was stew—a mushy slop made by throwing in whatever ingredients were on hand.

Balun polished off his bowl faster than anyone, then grabbed his weapons. That's when Morris, the captain of the Golden Fang mercenaries, approached.

"Balun. Why are you arming up? Go rest in your tent."

"Not resting. Gonna stand watch."

"No need to stand watch yet. Night shifts are enough. Plus, didn't I say we'd cover your turns?"

"No exceptions. Balun stands watch too."

"Stubborn guy, aren't you?"

Morris shook his head at Balun's firm tone.

"I told you, escorting this caravan is entirely our responsibility. Ours alone. You don't need to step up. Get it?"

"Got it."

"Then go rest. Please. A strong warrior like you needs proper sleep to handle emergencies."

"……."

"If enemies show, I'll call you right away. You've been on watch every night this past week."

Just as Morris said, Balun had insisted on night watch every single night for the past week—even after they offered to exempt him. It left Morris in an awkward spot. How could he not be, when he'd shown consideration and Balun still stubbornly refused?

"Why force it? Balun wants to do it."

"I'm sorry. That's why."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah. Out of everyone here, you're the only one who hasn't taken a single day off. As the head of security, how guilty do you think I feel?"

Balun looked at Morris. He was scratching the back of his head with an embarrassed look, seeming genuinely sorry.

"Was it like that? Had no idea."

"Now ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you know—go rest?"

"Fine."

"Thanks! Saying barbarians lack flexibility is total nonsense! Haha!"

"Call if there's trouble."

"Got it! But there won't be any. Aside from wild goblins, this route's dead safe. Haha!"

Morris laughed as he headed back to the campfire where the group sat. Balun entered his tent, lay down, and thought.

Am I being too sensitive?

Truth be told, Balun had volunteered for watch duty because of that nagging feeling. The ominous hunch wouldn't fade, so he'd stood watch to ease his anxiety. But with ten days passed and nothing happening, even Balun's vigilance had softened a bit.

Maybe catch a quick nap.

Balun shook his head.

Sensitive? No way. Always test the bridge before crossing.

He opened his eyes again. Why was this sensitive? It was just being cautious.

That Morris guy looks suspicious no matter how I slice it.

Balun suspected Morris. For two reasons: his gut told him so, and Morris was too nice to him.

A guy already giving off bad vibes treated him without a hint of reluctance. It only heightened Balun's guard.

Come on. Why be so nice to some barbarian?

Anyone else might've been touched, but Balun grew suspicious. Blame his experiences in Milford. He'd nearly died how many times? And everywhere he went, people stared like he was an animal. They hid it, but it stung. Balun was human too. Denying it would be a lie.

Everyone else is dying to discriminate against me, so why's this guy so nice?

Once suspicion took root, everything looked shady. What? He likes barbarians? Finds strong warriors reliable? Giving gifts on first sight? And crappy bone trinkets at that—useless junk.

Suspicious. Definitely suspicious.

Even just now. When Balun offered to stand watch, why push him ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to rest? Sure, maybe genuine guilt. But Balun was already trapped in confirmation bias.

Endless suspicion fueled by unease! It chained together in his mind.

So why was Morris acting like that? Why force a guy who wanted to watch to sleep?

The chain of doubt led to one conclusion.

He wants to kill me.

Not baseless. He had a hunch.

That mage, Malik or whatever. Has to be him.

The mage backing Viper Guild. He'd mentioned a magic tower. Kalente said towers were massive powers—practically nations.

They're out for revenge. Orchestrated this whole thing.

Balun ground his teeth. Ruthless bastards.

How'd they even find out about their member's death so fast? Dane swore he'd handled it clean.

Won't go down without a fight.

Balun pulled an axe from beside his tent and set it next to him. Ready to swing if needed.

Come at me, you dogs. I'll smash you flat.

Five more days passed without incident. Balun stayed on high alert. He never let go of his weapons, slept minimally, ate lightly—keeping his body primed for combat in any situation. He feigned nonchalance but sharpened his mind, eavesdropping on every Golden Fang conversation.

Finally, he hit paydirt. At dawn, whispers between Morris and the Golden Fang officers.

Balun's suspicion hardened into certainty.

They're coming for me soon.

He took a deep breath, gripping his axe tight. Blood would spill.

The next evening, after dinner, as everyone headed to their tents. Morris pretended to relieve himself, slipping away from camp. He called over a few men. The bushes by the forest path hid them well in the dim twilight.

They huddled close.

"Everyone ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"Sleeping potion definite?"

"Of course. Doubled it with nokrin extract. No worries."

"Balun?"

"Out first. Snoring loud."

Morris nodded, satisfied. No issues then.

"Stay sharp. Fail, and we're dead. Clear?"

"Crystal."

"Scared to stab a comrade? Back out now. I'll let it slide."

No one budged. They all knew backing out after sharing secrets meant death.

"Captain. You'll keep your promise? Fat bonuses?"

"Obviously. With extras. Relax."

"Heh. Nice."

Conspiracy sealed, they returned. Camp was empty. Campfire ashes glowed faintly under moonlight. One watchman yawned idly.

Morris approached. The watchman spoke.

"Captain. That piss take forever?"

"Bladder was full."

"Yeah, you've been chugging water."

"Heh, thought it'd burst."

"Get some sleep. Early start tomorrow."

No reply. Watchman tilted his head—then Morris continued.

"Sam."

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"Huh? What the—"

Stab!

"Gah!"

Sam's eyes bulged. Pain bloomed in his chest. A dagger protruded there. He collapsed without a scream. Dead.

Morris yanked the blade free—no blood spray. Clean kill.

He signaled. Subordinates rushed from shadows, fanning out.

Flap!

Tents flew open. Fabric rustled in the quiet woods, followed by piercing stabs. Most silent, but not all. An amateur nicked.

"Gurk!"

A gut-stabbed mercenary screamed awake.

"What the—argh!"

"Tch!"

"Enemies—gack!"

Tents flapped wildly. Chaos spread.

Morris watched from afar, grinding his teeth.

Damn. Getting noisy.

Hurry. He scanned for Balun's tent. Found it. Snoring loud even amid the din. The barbarian slept soundly.

All that vigilance, and this is how it ends.

Morris smirked, plunging the dagger at Balun's heart.

Instantly, Balun's eyes snapped open. He rolled left.

Clang!

Blade hit hard ground.

Shit!

Alarm bells rang in Morris's head. He leaped back.

Whoosh!

A hand axe whistled past.

"Quick reflexes."

Balun smacked his lips regretfully. Rising, Morris narrowed his eyes.

"You were awake?"

"Obviously."

"How?"

"Didn't eat."

"Snoring was fake."

"Duh."

"How'd you know?"

"Long time."

"Long time?"

"Yeah."

"Impossible. Told no one the plan."

Morris's mind raced. Leak? No way.

"Doesn't matter. You're dead either way."

He glanced around. Slaughter in full swing. The barbarian would join the corpses.

Morris sheathed his dagger, drawing a long sword from his belt. Moonlight gleamed off the blade. He channeled power—blue aura flickered.

Balun's eyes widened.

"Aura blade! Real deal after all!"

"Slicing barbarians is easy."

"Hah! Dream on! You magic tower scum! I'll split your skulls!"

Morris blinked. Magic tower?

"Magic tower? What's that got to do with anything?"

"No use playing dumb. Balun knows all! No revenge for you!"

Definite misunderstanding. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠But then—

Balun roared, charging. Morris parried the axe—nearly dropped his sword.

Ugh, what insane strength...

Absurd. Even low-tier, he was Expert level. Pushed back by an aura-less axe?