The Black Rose Caravan (1)
The caravan bound for the great city of Mistra was enormous.
There were no fewer than ten wagons in plain sight, and the area around them was crowded with hired hands and laborers hauling cargo from place to place.
It was nothing like the peddler who gambled everything on a single wagon.
This was the escort job Raul and Ulric had introduced him to, and Lawrence could not help thinking that, for a caravan he knew, it was far too professional.
The larger the scale, the more escorts it naturally needed. Twenty mercenaries hired by Franc, plus thirty guards belonging to the caravan, brought the total to fifty people protecting the wagons.
Of the mercenaries taking part in the escort, there was no one he knew personally.
Still, faces he recognized came into view now and then.
They were all people he had seen while hunting the Horn Boar.
Whether they remembered him or not, they gave him a light nod in greeting.
Even if the boy did not know them, the mercenaries certainly would. Lawrence had been the only one among the hunters who had used magic while they brought down the Horn Boar.
As the departure time drew near, a man approached the place where the mercenaries were gathered.
“I’m Bastille, captain of the Black Rose Caravan’s escort.”
Bastille was a sharp-looking man.
Over his chainmail he wore a handsome gray cloak, and on that cloak was embroidered a black rose, the same symbol as the caravan’s name.
“I’d like to speak with the leader in charge of the mercenaries.”
No one stepped forward.
Everyone was simply pretending not to hear him, avoiding his gaze.
“Then the leader should come forward.”
Again, there was no answer.
While the mercenaries exchanged awkward looks, an older one finally spoke up.
“We haven’t chosen a leader yet.”
“You haven’t?”
Bastille frowned.
“We only just gathered here not five minutes ago.”
“Just look at how many of you there are. If you had eyes, you should’ve come by sooner and told us what needed doing.”
“He’s right. You only told us to come here, then left us to sort ourselves out. If someone had come to check our numbers earlier, this wouldn’t have turned into a mess like this.”
Discontented voices rose among the mercenaries.
It was a matter of simple numbers.
With this many people gathered, nothing could be handled by guesswork alone.
“I see. My apologies. I’ll offer my apologies on behalf of the caravan.”
Seeing the change in the mercenaries’ faces, Bastille promptly bowed his head.
Then, after calling someone over, he began issuing orders and sorting out the matter.
Once he understood what had gone wrong, one of the caravan staff bowed deeply as well.
“Goodness… I’m sorry. This was clearly our mistake. We were busy, and it seems the instructions weren’t properly relayed in the middle of everything. I’m truly sorry.”
It did not sound like an empty apology offered just to smooth things over.
The sincerity in his words eased the mercenaries’ expressions a little.
“Forget it. It’s not like this is some huge deal that requires bowing your head over it.”
“We weren’t exactly in the right either. Let’s just pick a leader first.”
“More importantly, isn’t it almost time to leave? I don’t think it’d be too late to decide after we get moving.”
The edge drained out of the rough voices.
Once they had taken the job, mercenaries wanted to maintain a good relationship with the client too.
They would have to keep seeing one another throughout the escort. An uncomfortable atmosphere would do nothing but harm the request.
And the report submitted to the guild after the job was over could not be ignored either.
This wasn’t going to be their last contract, after all. Mercenaries with good reputations were more likely to receive good requests in the future.
“First, I’ll confirm the people gathered here. If there are no problems, you can choose the leader afterward at your own pace. And don’t worry about departure. We won’t miss our schedule over something like this. We are the Black Rose Caravan, after all.”
He declared it with complete confidence.
Just as the caravan staff had promised, the situation was quickly brought under control.
They pulled out the roster, checked each mercenary’s identity and rank, and went back over the request details. It was clear they had no intention of repeating the earlier mistake, and they handled everything with meticulous care.
“Then it’s time to choose a leader.”
“Any volunteers?”
“If there were, they would’ve stepped up already. I think it’d be better to recommend someone instead.”
At least for now, that was true.
No mercenary was willing to volunteer for the nuisance of the role.
It might look good on paper, but once you became leader, responsibility came with it.
If something went wrong, the risks you had to bear were far too great.
“Looking through the roster, I think there was a Silver Plate mercenary here.”
“If there’s a Silver Plate, that makes things easier. Is there anyone here who absolutely wants the job? If not, I’d like to choose from among the Silver Plates.”
There was no reason to object.
After a short while, two mercenaries stepped forward.
One was the older mercenary who had spoken with Bastille.
He gave his name as Dunstan.
The other was a mercenary whose face was hidden behind a mask.
His name was Marys, and he seemed to be a quiet man, because he said little.
But it was not hard to recognize him.
That was because his weapon was unusual compared to the others.
He carried a spear with a blade that had been formed by fixing a wing-shaped metal piece to the tip, a weapon known as a partisan.
Among the twenty mercenaries, there were two Silver Plates.
Seeing it laid out like this, Lawrence found himself thinking again how impressive the four Silver Plate mercenaries Ulbaniaro had hired had been.
Still, remembering the herd of cattle they had protected then, ten wagons no longer seemed like much of a challenge.
“Wait. There’s one more person who should come up.”
Suddenly, Dunstan spoke up.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Could there be another Silver Plate?”
Bastille, who had been watching from one side, shook his head.
“Given your skill, you should be standing up here as well. Don’t you think?”
He raised a hand and pointed at someone.
There was no need to follow the line of his finger with his eyes.
The mercenary he pointed to was Lawrence.
“I believe there’s been some misunderstanding. I’m a Bronze Plate mercenary.”
“A Bronze Plate isn’t the issue.”
As if he already knew everything, Dunstan answered at once.
“Why? What’s with that kid?”
“I’m sure there are others besides me who know. He’s a mage.”
At once, the mercenaries began to murmur louder.
“A mage?”
“A mercenary who’s also a mage?”
“I remember hearing about him in Rombamel.”
“They said there was a mage who used shadows.”
“Right. A shadow mage!”
Lawrence frowned.
Since he was on the job with them, he had never intended to hide the fact that he was a mage.
But there was a huge difference between revealing it yourself and having someone else do it for you.
“I don’t think I’m in a position to step forward. If there weren’t any certain Silver Plate mercenaries with the skill and experience for it, that would be one thing. But there are two of them. I don’t want special treatment just because I happen to be a mage.”
“When it comes to reputation alone, there’s nothing strange about you already being Silver Plate. As you can see, just your name is enough for everyone here to know who you are, isn’t it? It’s only because you have relatively little experience and few achievements that you’re still Bronze Plate.”
Dunstan’s tone was calm in a way that did not seem very mercenary-like at all.
“If you have power, responsibility comes with it. This isn’t the sort of position you can avoid simply because you don’t want it. Just like the two of us. For our sake, would you mind taking a step back this once?”
It was not an order.
But he clearly did not want to be refused.
Lawrence shifted his gaze slightly.
Was it because they had heard he was a mage?
Bastille looked genuinely curious too.
It was already too late to back out.
At a time like this, objecting would only make him look like the villain.
“All right. In that case, I’d like to serve as an interim leader only when the two of you aren’t available. As you said, I’ve never taken on a role like this before.”
“Thank you for yielding.”
“Then the three leaders we’ve chosen will follow me.”
With that, Bastille turned and started walking.
“Marcus. You’ll relay the precautions to the mercenaries.”
“Understood, Mr. Bastille.”
The three of them followed after him.
The caravan’s responsible officer seemed to be at the head of the formation.
“I’ve dragged you into this against my better judgment. If you’re displeased, I’ll apologize here and now.”
“It’s fine. Dunstan… sir. There’s no need to apologize.”
The age difference made him a little hard to deal with.
He would rather Dunstan acted a little more casually, like the other mercenaries.
But the older man’s seriousness carried a certain gravity with it, the weight of long experience.
“Avoiding things isn’t always the answer. Perhaps the timing was just right. If I can use this as a chance to gain good experience, that will be good for me too.”
To be honest, he was somewhat annoyed. But it wasn’t because of the leader issue; it was because his being a mage had been made public without his permission.
Setting aside that personal feeling, the situation itself was not bad.
For now, Dunstan and Marys were the practical leaders.
When the time came, they would be the ones bearing responsibility.
Lawrence, standing one step back, would be able to observe how things developed.
It was too early to judge conclusively, but Dunstan seemed decent enough.
He did not strike Lawrence as the type to look down on others just because he was older.
Nor did he seem inclined to blurt out every passing thought that came to mind.
Above all, he was still working as a Silver Plate mercenary despite his age.
There was surely plenty to learn from him.
As for the other Silver Plate, Marys, Lawrence could not really read him.
He only moved forward in silence.
“I see. Just as Raul and Ulric said.”
“You know those two?”
Dunstan nodded.
“We’ve crossed paths now and then. I’m from Rombamel too.”
Soon they arrived at a place crowded with caravan staff.
Bastille exchanged brief greetings with the escort guards.
At the center of it all waited the client.
“Sorry for the delay, Vice Captain. I’m the leader of the mercenaries assigned to this escort request.”
“Bastille! There you are. I was just about to send someone for you. Good. Seeing you arrive like this, it seems the issue was sorted out properly.”
Their conversation was brief.
After dismissing Bastille, the vice master looked at the three of them.
“I’m Brom, vice master of the Black Rose Caravan and the representative in charge of this expedition. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”
One by one, Brom met their eyes and shook hands with them.
The fingers of his hands were thick with calluses in between each joint, and the print of his thumb might as well have been worn away entirely.
It looked like the result of tedious administrative work.
“This is a caravan heading for the great city of Mistra. I hope you mercenaries will do your best. We have our own escort guards as well, so I doubt we’ll be short-handed.”
That was the extent of the greeting.
He seemed to have a great deal to handle before departure.
Brom ended the conversation by saying they should ask Bastille for the details.
“The three of you already know this, but this job is to escort our caravan all the way to Mistra. We’ve prepared wooden tablets with information on the monsters likely to appear along the road, so I’d like you to read them and pass the details on to the other mercenaries.”
“Understood. How should reporting be handled?”
Dunstan moved the conversation along methodically.
“Report to me. If I’m not around, speak to a caravan staff member nearby. Unless something unavoidable happens, they’ll guide you to whoever is responsible.”
“If there are any other precautions, it’d be best to tell us now. There are a lot of people here, so it’s better if we’re careful with one another.”
“Of course. We intend to make things as convenient for the mercenaries as possible, so if anything bothers you, don’t hesitate to say so.”
After asking a few more questions about the precautions, Dunstan received the wooden tablets from Bastille.
“You can read, of course. And you?”
Marys nodded silently.
“Once you’ve read all the tablets, return them to our caravan staff. If you need to check something again, feel free to borrow them whenever you like. But remember that they may not be taken out of the caravan. If one is lost, we’ll deduct its cost from your pay, so please handle them with care.”
Sitting atop the baggage, Lawrence slowly examined the tablets.
The first things listed were the precautions to keep in mind during the request: do not treat caravan staff rudely, and do not touch the cargo.
There was even a more serious note explaining that if a minor conflict arose, the mercenary leaders and the caravan representatives would talk it over first before deciding who was at fault.
As he moved on to the next tablet, the subject of monsters came up.
Gnoll Warrior.
Mistra was a city close to the northern regions.
The Gnoll was a monster that lived in the north, and it survived the cold by relying on its thick hide.
It used a wide variety of weapons.
Some wielded maces or morningstars, and others even used bows.
The tablets also noted that there were Gnolls who used weapons like morning stars.
They wore almost no armor.
Their tough hides were so durable that they could replace armor entirely.
However, it said that dealing with creatures like the Gnoll Warrior was difficult because they wore armor.
In particular, the howling they let out had the effect of drawing nearby Gnolls toward them.
For that reason, if a Gnoll Warrior was found, it had to be eliminated as quickly as possible.
Their weakness was fire.
Since they lived in the northern regions, they instinctively longed for warmth, but it seemed they knew little about the danger fire carried.
On the other hand, as was always the case with fire, the byproducts were a problem.
Gnoll hide had many uses and could be put to all sorts of purposes, but once it caught fire, it became so damaged it could not even be properly processed, much less used at all.
“As expected of the Black Rose Caravan. Their preparation is thorough.”
Dunstan, who had been reading the tablet, muttered the words to himself.
“Is the Black Rose Caravan famous?”
“Among the caravans that have risen to prominence recently, they’re the most famous.”
He went on in response to Lawrence’s question.
“I’ve heard they originally operated out of Albrad. But after the caravan master changed, they started stretching their influence across the entire kingdom. I’d heard the caravan master was quite young. If that’s true, then his ability is remarkable indeed.”
Marys nodded as if he had no disagreement.
“I thought you knew all this because you spotted me and accepted the job. So that wasn’t it?”
“……”
For some reason, Lawrence thought he could hear Raul and Ulric laughing.