Gnolls
Before long, the caravan that had broken free of the Fran road came face-to-face with them.
Heads that looked like a half-breed between dogs and wolves. Muscular bodies. Skin mottled with black speckles and gray in equal measure. The creatures hid their lower halves beneath shabby animal pelts, and each one came armed.
Maces with iron balls fixed to the ends. Quivers of quarrels and crude crossbows. A few even carried shields patched together with leather.
Their builds were not especially intimidating. Smaller than orcs, larger than horn boars. Oddly enough, the smaller ones were small, and the larger ones were large. It was enough to make Lawrence snort; the whole sight gave him the absurd impression of well-fed gnolls and underfed gnolls being sorted into separate piles.
Funny as they looked, there were plenty of them. By rough count, dozens. Even goblins—monsters generally dismissed as weaker—became dangerous once they gathered in numbers like that. That was why the mercenaries, who had otherwise rushed in the instant the horn boars appeared, were reluctant to move.
The gnolls’ weapons were shabby, but their crossbows and quarrels were another matter. A quarrel fired straight enough could punch through armor. Lawrence knew that better than anyone, having handled a crossbow himself.
At least they weren’t armored, which was one mercy. Even so, the skins exposed beneath the clear sky looked terribly tough.
For now, there was no sign of any gnoll warriors. More importantly, the monsters still hadn’t noticed them. While the gnolls were off guard, a preemptive strike was what mattered.
Lawrence returned to his place, where Dunstan had already gathered the mercenaries.
“If any of you are fighting gnolls for the first time, raise your hand.”
Four mercenaries did so. Lawrence was one of them.
“Not many, fortunately. Pair up and look after the mercenaries who’ve never fought gnolls before. Our first objective is to lure them out, nothing more. There are a lot of them, yes, but if we draw them in and then fight, we shouldn’t see a single wounded man.”
The mercenaries split into their pairings and scattered. Lawrence naturally ended up partnered with Dunstan, with the exception of Marris, who stayed behind to guard the wagon.
The nineteen mercenaries taking the commission finished preparing for battle.
“Fine, luring them out and all that. But how are we supposed to fight them?”
“They’re gnolls. We can handle them even if we fight a little rough.”
“That’s the client’s request,” someone said sourly. “They said not to worry about the spoils and to wipe out the gnoll pack as quickly as possible.”
A grumble rose from within the mercenary ranks.
“So the instructions are different from the horn boars.”
“If we’re killing them anyway, it’d be better if there was money to be made.”
“Gnoll hides are bulky, and they stink to high heaven. Maybe they decided it wasn’t worth buying them when you think about wagon space.”
The muttering soon died down.
Once the group had gone quiet, Dunstan went on. “We weren’t told the details. For now, the caravan gave us a little oil, and I’m planning to use it for a trap. I’d appreciate everyone’s help.”
Gnolls were drawn to fire. Dunstan used that trait to his advantage and set the trap with it. Dry leaves and branches were gathered together, and once oil had been poured over roughly ten piles of brush, the preparations were complete.
“Anyone here confident on foot?”
“That’s the wrong question. You should ask whether there’s an extra reward for volunteering.”
“I’ll need to speak with the client about that, but it’s the Black Rose Caravan we’re talking about. I’d imagine they’ll pay enough not to leave anyone disappointed.”
“Then I’m in.”
“I’m confident in a run, too.”
“The Lion of Fran himself right here!”
Three mercenaries with swift feet stepped forward as bait.
After removing their armor and taking only a small shield apiece, they listened closely to Dunstan’s explanation.
“So we just run straight here, right?”
“Exactly. You won’t even need to attack them. The moment they catch your scent, they’ll react.”
“Of course. They’re dogs, after all. What else would you expect? Their noses are probably their only good feature.”
“What are you talking about? If we’re doing this, we might as well bring them in cleanly. Trust me—you’ll see them with the blood rushing clear to the tops of their heads.”
Once the preparations were done, the mercenaries set out.
The rest of them took their positions and checked their equipment.
“Could I ask for a little fire?”
It wasn’t difficult. Following Lawrence’s will, a tongue of flame blossomed in the air.
Fire set the brush piles alight. Soon a bonfire, like a proper campfire, was roaring up.
The trap for the gnolls was ready.
Lawrence and Dunstan hid themselves behind a thicket.
“Seeing gnolls here means Mistra isn’t far now.”
“The road has been more comfortable than I expected. This commission has passed in the blink of an eye.”
“Hmm… I honestly thought you’d be a little disappointed.”
“Disappointed?”
Dunstan checked the remaining quarrels as he answered. “Wasn’t there really no chance to show off your magic? If you’d made a good impression on the caravan this time around, you might’ve gotten a letter of introduction or a recommendation. Your reputation could’ve climbed in all sorts of ways.”
“I don’t know. I think it’s more of a relief that I didn’t have a chance to use magic.”
“May I ask why?”
“If I were to use magic in earnest, the situation would probably be pretty dangerous.”
It had been the same in the Ulbazar Swamp. He had used Shadow Spear only when the bugbear appeared, and how many people had been wounded then? Before worrying about his personal reputation, Lawrence would have preferred such things simply not to happen.
There was no one in the world who liked seeing people die or get hurt.
“Ulrick said something similar, but you’re unusual for a mercenary.”
“Are you trying to say I don’t fit?”
He was tired of hearing that.
“No. That’s not mine to judge. If you were an ordinary bronze mercenary, perhaps. But you have the skill and resourcefulness to back yourself up, don’t you? I don’t think you need to pay too much attention to what people around you say.”
He added, almost casually, “It would be fine to walk your own path.”
Lawrence gave a silent nod.
The words of someone with power and the words of someone without it were never the same. He still thought he had a long way to go as a mage, but as a silver-plate mercenary, he might have drawn somewhat near.
“What do you think about going north after this commission ends?”
“North? The way you say that makes it sound like there’s good money up there.”
“If you keep heading north from Mistra, you’ll reach Winterglen. It’s close to Saint Wall, the roof of the north, and Winterglen regularly hires mercenaries to cull wendigos.”
“Wendigos….”
The name sounded familiar, as if he’d heard it somewhere before.
“They’re the monster most closely associated with the north. At first glance, they look like snowmen with pure white fur. Their hides and fur fetch a staggering price. Clothing made from wendigo hide is treated as high-end wear even in the north. If you’re thinking of traveling north, you might want to prepare a set for yourself.”
“A price that high… if they were easy to hunt, they wouldn’t be worth that much. So they must be pretty strong.”
“Exactly. You’d need at least five silver-plate mercenaries just to have a chance. But you’re a mage, aren’t you? A shadow mage who killed a bugbear in a single blow, no less. I’d imagine you could even—”
Unfortunately, the conversation could go no further.
Something came from not far away.
Was it a dog’s bark?
Or a wolf’s howl?
Not long after the sound reached them, one of the bait mercenaries came sprinting into view.
“They’re coming!”
All around them came the sound of quarrels being loaded.
Then, the moment the three mercenaries dashed through the bonfire, the gnolls finally revealed themselves.
The monsters were splattered with spit, furious at whatever the bait had done.
All except the gnolls that had chased the mercenaries from the front.
The ones following behind hesitated at the sight of the fire. Some even approached with curiosity, but they were few.
Still, it was enough.
At the signal, the mercenaries drew their crossbows in unison.
Gyaaack!
The sound they made when struck was unmistakably that of a dog.
The gnolls, hit by quarrels before they understood what was happening, rolled across the ground. A few of them fell into the flames scattered around the area. Once their pelts caught fire, they let out shrieks of agony.
And it didn’t end with just one burning to death. The gnolls, thrown into utter chaos, ended up spreading the fire from one another.
Once the flames caught, they were finished. Their oil-soaked hides went up like dry kindling.
As the panicked gnolls multiplied, the situation only grew worse. The mercenaries took their heads while the monsters writhed in the fire.
That said, there was still reason to be careful with their attacks. Call it a final act of desperation, but the gnolls, disregarding all defense, lashed out wildly.
Weapons had no eyes. If he were struck and injured by a blind swing, he wouldn’t even be able to laugh about it.
Even so, the effect was better than he’d imagined.
The alligators of the swamp were weak to fire as well, but even they hadn’t been brought down this helplessly. The fire clinging to the oil on the gnolls’ hides was killing them without anyone needing to do anything further.
Lawrence rose from his hiding place.
At first, he had planned to watch the situation unfold and then use magic as needed. But seeing how things were going, that no longer seemed necessary.
The first prey in front of him was a gnoll with fire clinging to its back. It had apparently left its weapon somewhere else and was rubbing itself against a tree, trying desperately to scrape the flames away.
“Fire Tail.”
He put an end to its suffering.
Even after its head was gone, the body kept rolling on the ground for quite some time.
The gnoll’s pelt had been burned pitch-black. It hadn’t even looked like there was that much oil on it, either. Seeing it like this made the meaning of “weak to fire” impossible to miss.
It seemed like a good chance to test a few more things.
Lawrence took advantage of the chaos to confirm the gnolls’ habits.
“Fire.”
When flames burst up in front of it, the gnoll hastily retreated. Smoke rose faintly where the fire had touched its nose.
The creature was so flustered it shoved its snout into the dirt and rubbed at it with both hands.
It reminded him of old times.
It was like the first commission, when he’d fought goblins. Even back then, he had used Fire in the same way.
A quarrel pierced the helpless gnoll’s head.
The creature toppled over at once, burying its face in the ground.
When Lawrence looked over, he spotted Dunstan. He gave him a silent look of thanks and searched for the next target.
The gnolls did not react to shadow or water. The information the caravan had given them had not been a lie.
The gnolls’ weakness was fire.
By the time he finished testing things, the fight was over.
There had been no injuries on the mercenary side.
The burned gnolls gave off a vile stench. Whether it was the reek of singed hide or something worse mingled with the smell of burning flesh, it was enough to make a person cover their nose on instinct.
“Anyone get a magic stone out of these bastards?”
“A magic stone, my ass. Look at the state of the hides. I doubt anyone would even buy them.”
“What about taking the gear, at least? This much ought to count as scrap.”
Some mercenaries really did have strong stomachs. In that stench, they were still sorting through the remains for anything useful.
“Since the escort captain’s coming this way anyway, I’ll ask him.”
It looked like the split groups had been dealt with as well, because Bastille was approaching with the guards. He could leave the cleanup to the mercenaries.
Lawrence moved away from the gnoll corpses, whose stench was getting worse by the second, and went to meet Bastille with Dunstan.
“That’s the end here too, then. Any casualties?”
“As you can see, none.”
“Good. You all have excellent skills. Then let’s return to the wagons.”
“Before that, there’s one thing I’d like to ask. Never mind the gnoll hides—I wanted to ask whether you’d be willing to buy the equipment they were using.”
“The equipment?”
Lawrence pointed at the mace the gnoll had been carrying.
At the sight of the fire-scorched weapon, Bastille frowned.
“If it were equipment used by horn boars, perhaps. But what gnolls use is far too crude. And the smell is terrible as well, which makes it poor for keeping in the wagons. I understand the desire to make money from what you’ve killed, but we have no intention of buying it.”
“Then it’s fine if each of us keeps what we want?”
“That doesn’t concern me. But if it interferes with the commission, I’ll hold you responsible.”
“Understood.”
The moment the conversation ended, the mercenaries began searching through the gnoll corpses. They might not compare to the hides in value, but anything taken could be turned into money.
The problem was competition. Several mercenaries were already shouting at one another over a few pieces of equipment worth something.
After watching that spectacle, Dunstan let out a sigh.
“I’ll take the right side.”
“Understood. Then I’ll take the left.”
It was also the leader’s job to settle disputes among mercenaries.
Lawrence quietly took the mace and walked into the middle of the squabbling men.
* * *
Not many days later, Lawrence could feel it: Mistra was close now.
Not that he could see the city in the distance, or the walls, or anything like that. Rather, the roads had become neatly maintained, with signposts standing at intervals along the way. More travelers heading for Mistra appeared as well, including mercenaries with commissions of their own. The farther they went, the more numerous those travelers became.
Eventually, they even crossed paths with soldiers patrolling the city’s outskirts.
According to Dunstan, the great metropolis of Mistra was a relay point linking the north and the central regions. Its citizens were apparently brimming with pride at living in what they considered the most developed city outside the royal capital of Corintos.
Among all the towns Lawrence had visited so far, this might well have been the largest.
“We’ll be arriving in Mistra shortly. Mercenaries, please gather together to enter the city. To avoid confusion, I’d appreciate it if you followed instructions until we’re inside. Thank you.”
The Black Rose Caravan became busy all at once. Marcus, who had been driving the wagon, was suddenly darting about with sweat forming on his feet. The great city of Mistra was now just ahead of them.