Chapter 9
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: The Red Pouch
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The Red Pouch
I managed to shove it in my mouth and swallow, but I just couldn't bring myself to take that last bite.
To disinfect my tongue, which had been tortured by the vile taste, I drank more than half of the moonshine from my wooden canteen.
“Wow, this stew is really good. I want more… Slurp.”
Jokjebi licked his empty wooden bowl. The stew must have been truly delicious, as his voice dripped with regret.
I couldn’t just ignore his disappointment.
“Here, eat this.”
“…Yes?”
Jokjebi blinked, staring at the horrible bread I offered. When I scowled, he hesitated before taking it.
“Am I supposed to eat this?”
The suspicion brimming in Jokjebi’s eyes was a small relief. It seemed Brick’s mother was just a… uniquely bad cook, not that the medieval palate was this depraved.
Jokjebi held the bread for a moment, pondering, then glanced at me. When I clenched my fist and shook it, he squeezed his eyes shut and put the bread in his mouth. Then he froze.
A moment later, his eyes went wide, and he scrambled away to throw up what he’d eaten. Seeing that confirmed my own sense of taste hadn't failed me, which was a comfort.
‘Making a fuss after eating just one of them.’
I clicked my tongue, watching Jokjebi retch on his knees. The guy had no grit.
“Ahem… Greetings.”
A man with wrinkles around his eyes spoke up from beside me. He looked quite old, but he was small and thin. It was only after spotting the sword at his waist and the dagger on his thigh that I realized he was a mercenary.
The man wore worn leather armor covered in scratches, but its thickness suggested it was padded with something underneath. He didn't look particularly strong, but the fact that he’d survived as a mercenary to his age meant he had something up his sleeve.
After all, most mercenaries developed a long wrinkle on their necks before they ever got them on their faces.
Guys like this were trickier than the big, strong ones. When dealing with his type, you had to watch your back. When he stabbed you from behind, he wouldn't bother shouting the obligatory ‘Die!’.
“The name’s John.”
The man held out a red pouch.
[Put one Cooper in. Your misfortune will be contained within.]
A memory surfaced, and I let out a small laugh. It had been a while since I’d seen a red pouch.
It was a mercenary tradition.
When mercenaries gathered for a job like this for the first time, the oldest among them would walk around with a pouch that had been dipped in blood.
The other mercenaries would then take out one Cooper, whisper the most terrible curse they could think of onto the coin, and place it in the pouch.
Once the job was over, the coins would be buried in the ground. If, however, someone met an untimely end and couldn't be there, the curse they’d placed on their coin would be directed at the survivors. It was an utterly unscientific and barbaric tradition.
Simply put, it meant that if you betrayed them before the job was done, you’d be cursed for life. For men who lived by the sword, working with strangers must have made the backs of their necks itch. This tradition was born from that anxiety.
It was a promise with no legal standing, the very height of barbarism, but it was surprisingly effective. After all, this was the Middle Ages, where people were crazy about superstitions, and mercenaries who lived by the sword were especially sensitive to such things.
I looked at the pouch for a moment, then took out a coin.
“Ah! Hyung-nim! This is a time-honored tradition among mercenaries… Huh? You already know?”
Jokjebi said, wiping his mouth with his arm.
“…You will go to that world.”
I muttered quietly to the coin before dropping it into the pouch.
“Thanks. You put one in too.”
“Right, I’ll get it out.”
Jokjebi slid a hand into his pants and grimaced as if searching for something. When his hand re-emerged, it held a copper coin that was noticeably darker than the others.
‘Honestly, these damn mercenaries…’
The foul smell made me wrinkle my nose instinctively. I couldn't for the life of me understand why they kept their coins in their underwear instead of a perfectly good pouch.
“If you dare stab me in the back! You’ll eat that fucking bread until your stomach bursts!”
Jokjebi, with a remarkably serious face, spat a terrible curse onto the coin and dropped it into the pouch.
“Well then. It’s not for long, but I look forward to working with you.”
The man grinned, revealing yellowed teeth.
***
We walked at a brisk pace, pausing briefly whenever someone collapsed, then moving on again. It was a repetitive cycle.
Jokjebi, who clearly neglected his physical training, already had a glazed look in his eyes. He stumbled a few times but didn't fall. Of course, whenever we rested, he would collapse flat on the ground, but it seemed he had some grit after all.
This time, when one person fell, four others saw their chance and collapsed as well. In response, the soldier at the front announced a slightly longer break.
“Care for a sip?”
The man who had introduced himself as John offered me his canteen. It was wine, with a fragrant aroma.
Every time we stopped, John would come over and chat with me about one thing or another. It wasn't just him; the other mercenaries were also gathering in small groups, getting to know each other.
Sensing that this job wasn't as simple as it seemed on the surface, the mercenaries were desperate to build camaraderie. It was as if they hoped that by befriending the others, someone might throw themselves in harm’s way for them in a dangerous moment.
Of course, such noble mercenaries were exceedingly rare. At best, it would lead to a friendship where the survivor might toast the dead man’s name in a tavern.
I didn't refuse and took the canteen for a drink. It tasted more like grape juice than wine, as if it had been mixed with water.
“I mixed in a bit of water, but it’s still a fairly expensive vintage.”
“It’s good. Thank you.”
John nodded and took the canteen back, putting it to his lips.
The water here tasted so bad that most people diluted wine or cider with it to quench their thirst on the road. Perhaps that was why most of them had flushed cheeks.
‘Is that why they’re so barbaric?’
It occurred to me that being perpetually tipsy might be why they fought at the slightest eye contact and defecated in the streets.
“Were you also hired by the lord?”
“Yes, something like that.”
I didn't feel like explaining in detail, so I just nodded vaguely at John's question.
“Seeing the numbers and the pay, I thought we were heading into a territorial war. But it’s just a simple carriage escort… something feels off. In my experience, things always go wrong in situations like this.”
John muttered, tucking the canteen into his coat.
“It is strange.”
I replied, looking up at the sky. It was filled with dark clouds. It was April, which should have been spring, but the sky rarely cleared.
“…I have a bad feeling about this.”
John muttered in a low voice. The urge to punch him for spouting such a cliché was strong, but I couldn't bring myself to hit an older man. Instead, I smacked the head of Jokjebi, who was dozing beside me.
“Aargh!...”
“We’re moving out! There’s a village just ahead. We’ll rest there!”
Just then, a soldier on horseback shouted loudly. Jokjebi grumbled as he got to his feet.
‘The village in between…’
I knew the place. I had stopped there before coming to Caesedic, and a few times since. It was a tiny village with a population of less than eighty.
In this barbaric place, children were put to work as soon as they could walk, resulting in a child with sunburnt, reddish skin. The child carried a tattered book, worn from too much handling.
[Sir Knight, I love reading books more than anything.]
No matter how many times I told the kid I wasn't a knight, he stubbornly refused to believe me. He would follow me around, chattering about things I never asked.
Children were difficult for me.
A single word from me could leave a color on their blank canvas, and I was afraid of accidentally making an ugly smudge. I knew all too well how deeply such stains could set.
‘I wonder if he’s grown.’
The last time I saw him was half a year ago. If he was still alive, he must have grown quite a bit by now.
‘I didn't prepare a gift this time…’
The boy was probably old enough now that a silver coin would be an acceptable gift.
The corners of my mouth lifted as I thought I could almost hear his chattering voice.
***
The village we arrived at was very quiet.
No, it was beyond quiet. The village was dead.
“There’s no one here. Did they all run away?”
“Ah, I heard that at Blant Castle up there, the tenant farmers fled en masse during a lean year because of the high taxes.”
I stroked my beard, listening to John and Jokjebi’s conversation. The two had become quite friendly, sharing the liquor from their canteens.
Of course, Caesedic Castle also collected a lot of taxes, but it was reasonable compared to other castles. And I hadn't heard any talk of a lean year.
The soldier at the front raised his fist. The carriage slowly came to a halt at the village entrance. The mercenaries gripped their weapons and scanned the surroundings.
“Could… could this be the work of the devil? I know the village chief here, he’s not the type to just run away!”
“Shh! Quiet! Don’t you know the devil appears if you speak its name?!”
‘…The devil.’
I scratched my head at the word ‘devil’ coming from the laborers. These ignorant fools would shriek "devil" if a bowl fell from the ceiling because of the wind.
This time, however, I had a bad feeling.
One of the soldiers, wearing a pointed helmet, approached from the rear. Another soldier was opening the carriage door to make a report. I noted the way the soldier practically prostrated himself before the carriage.
‘The lord’s wife, or perhaps his daughter.’
Only a noble would command such a reaction. It couldn't be the lord himself; a larger force would have been mobilized for him.
And since the lord’s wife was unlikely to be traveling, it was probably the young lady. The destination being Bolt Castle also supported this.
“Spread out and check the village for anything unusual.”
The soldier in the pointed helmet ordered, looking down from his horse.
“Understood. We’ll split into pairs and search.”
John stepped forward to answer, and the soldier turned his reins and went back.
“Everyone, pair up and search the village. It’s a small place, so it won’t take long. Let’s finish quickly and have dinner. There’s probably more of that delicious stew, right?”
John’s coaxing words made the mercenaries nod. Though their faces were filled with unease, they didn't object.
He was quite skilled at handling mercenaries.
“H-Hyung-nim. Do you really think there’s a devil?”
Jokjebi, who had already drawn his axe, stammered in a trembling voice.
“Maybe, maybe not.”
I answered, looking at the now completely darkened sky.
It looked like it could pour at any moment.
If I were a devil, I would have rejoiced, calling it a fine day for a stroll.
‘Was it over there?’
I retraced my steps in my memory, heading for a house tucked away in a corner of the village.
“Let’s go together! Hyung-nim!”
Jokjebi yelped, startled, and hurried to catch up.
The houses in the village were all similar. They had straw roofs and wooden frames, resembling thatched cottages, though their sizes and heights varied slightly.
Since the village itself was small, it didn't take long to reach the secluded spot.
[It’s here!]
Even in a village of tenant farmers, there were differences among them. One of those was the size of their homes, and the house where the child lived was particularly small.
- Chris, Bella, and Horn!
I touched the crooked letters carved into the wall next to the entrance, at about waist height.
“Hyung-nim, isn’t this place super creepy?”
Ignoring Jokjebi’s whining, I entered the house.
A crude table and chairs, moldy dishes scattered about. A pile of straw in one corner. The poverty was so thick that a thief would surely leave cursing.
‘Still, they got a table.’
It was a crude table that looked like it would fall apart at the slightest touch, likely made by someone with no skill, but it hadn't been there the last time I visited.
“This hovel is so wretched it reminds me of my old house.”
Jokjebi expertly rummaged through the place, spewing complaints. He seemed to expect something to be hidden in the straw pile and started digging through it.
I picked up the grimy book lying on the table. Next to it were a large inkwell and a frayed feather pen.
[Wow! Is this really a gift?!]
The ink, thin as if watered down, was nearly gone, and the feather pen had lost all its feathers.
*Screeeech!*
A whistle sounded from a distance.
“Tsk… Looks like we’ve come up empty.”
Jokjebi grumbled, covered in bits of straw.
I tucked the book inside my armor and left the house.
People were gathered in a spot slightly away from the center of the village.
“A devil… w-we’re all going to die…”
“…Horrible.”
“I knew the pay was too good. Dammit.”
The laborers, their faces pale, huddled together and shivered. The mercenaries gripped their weapons, cursing under their breaths.
My eyes narrowed at the gruesome sight visible over their shoulders. An interior drenched in red, four men hung on the wall. Their intestines spilled from their bellies, forming an ominous shape.
It was a perfect opening for a horror movie. The problem was that I was one of the characters.
“Move it! Move!”
“Ugh… Bleeghh!!”
“Hey… you bastard! Get over there!”
The soldier with the pointed helmet approached. A soldier next to the door was vomiting repeatedly. The pointy-helmed soldier shouted and shoved him aside, causing the man to fall face-first into his own vomit.
“…Gods above.”
The soldier in the pointed helmet muttered, pressing a hand to his head.
“What is going on?”
A woman’s voice rang out.
I had heard that voice before.
A soft voice, like the song of a fairy.
‘So it was the young lady.’
Vivian, now dressed in a radiant gown unlike before, was so beautiful it felt as if she were pushing back the deep darkness that had settled over the area.
‘Still, she probably bathes at least every other day.’
Beside her stood the same knight I had seen before. This time, he wore a helmet that revealed only his eyes.
“…My goodness.”
The young lady swayed after seeing the scene inside, and the woman in light armor who was always with her caught her.
“What should we do?”
The soldier with the pointed helmet asked the knight. Everyone fell silent, their attention fixed on the knight.
‘We’ll probably spend the night in this village.’
As unsettling as it was to stay in a village with something so gruesome, it was better than venturing out into the dark night where who-knows-what lurked.
‘It might not have been aimed at us.’
We might have simply stumbled upon the aftermath of a devil’s passing.
We had a sizable force and a knight. A sword of humanity against the devil. As long as we weren't ambushed, we should be able to handle a run-of-the-mill devil.
“It’s going to rain.”
The knight spoke, looking up at the sky.
“We will spend the night here.”
The knight commanded in a cool voice that tolerated no dissent.
It was the best choice in the current situation.
*Plop.*
A small drop of water hit my shoulder.
[I’ve thought about it, and you must be a knight!]
I pushed the book deeper inside my armor to keep it from getting wet.
It seemed tonight was going to be a very long night.