Chapter 93
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 093
Chapter Title: The Monster and the Curse (1)
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Before leaving Stonehill, we disguised ourselves simply.
We needed to hide our identities.
'Let's keep the fact that I'm Heros under wraps.'
Alistair had spotted my true identity right away.
And he'd tried to set a trap for me.
So to avoid that kind of hassle, hiding who I was had been essential.
Plus, concealing our identities would make it harder for the black mages up north to track our movements.
Disguises were a must for a smooth journey.
Ah, but I didn't plan on anything elaborate.
'Just enough that no one spots it immediately.'
I ordered the burly trio to ditch their surcoats and replace them with black cloaks.
I wrapped my magic staff in cloth to hide it.
This made us far less conspicuous than before.
Of course, a sharp-eyed black mage might still pick up on our fine warhorses or the swords at the trio's belts and realize we weren't ordinary folk.
But there was nothing for it.
I only wanted the bare minimum disguise.
As long as they couldn't identify me at a glance, that was enough.
'This is the best I can do.'
As I finished up and thought that, Cedric, who'd been watching us, spoke up.
"How about pretending to be a mercenary band?"
"A mercenary band?"
"Everyone else is evacuating because of the barbarians, but we're heading deeper in. That's suspicious. But mercenaries doing it? Not strange at all. If we act like one, people will just think we're chasing battlefields for coin."
"Not a bad idea."
Pretending to be mercenaries to hide our identities.
Solid plan.
No extra prep needed.
If anyone asked, we could just name some mercenary group and be done.
"So, what should we call the band?"
I asked the group.
One of the mercenaries piped up immediately.
"Since Sir Heros is the leader, how about the Heros Mercenary Corps?"
We were disguising ourselves and pretending to be mercenaries to hide my identity, and this guy wanted to name it after me?
Ridiculous.
The moment I thought that, Cedric cut in.
"We're faking being mercenaries to hide our identities, and you want to name it that? Get your head on straight."
Cedric chewing out his comrade.
The scolded mercenary let out an "Ah!" of realization and scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
The other mercenaries, who'd been nodding along like it was genius, couldn't escape Cedric's rebuke either.
Meanwhile, Conal offered his take.
"What about the Oak Mercenary Corps?"
Oak.
The Evergreen family crest.
Conal must have had that in mind.
Good name.
But then Bear let out a deep sigh.
"Sir Bear, what's wrong?"
"Ah, Sir Conal's suggestion matched the name I came up with."
"Great minds think alike."
Bear and Conal both recoiled at my words.
It was so funny I barely held back a laugh.
Then I addressed the group.
"From now on, we're the Oak Mercenary Corps."
It was like covering my eyes and pretending not to see, but this way, we'd cut down on annoyances at least a bit.
That's what I believed.
After resting for three days in Stonehill, I decided to resume our journey.
Word got out that we were leaving, and crowds of villagers gathered at the gates to see us off.
"Come back, and we'll treat you right!"
"Thank you!"
"Stonehill's savior!"
Villagers lining the sides, waving goodbye.
The sight warmed my heart.
It confirmed we'd done the right thing.
If we hadn't helped, we'd never have seen this.
I waved back as I thought that.
The cheers swelled.
And finally, when we'd fully left the village behind...
'I hope the road ahead stays smooth.'
Did that wish come true?
We traveled north without incident for a few weeks.
We ran into refugee groups now and then, but nothing noteworthy happened.
At this rate, we'd reach our waypoint without issue.
Stott—the village where Baylor, the former employer of those four idiot mercenaries, lived. The one we'd sent a letter to.
"How much farther to Stott?"
"At the latest, three days."
Cedric answered my question promptly.
At the latest, three days.
His estimates had never been off so far.
This time wouldn't be different.
That's when it happened.
"A group approaching from over there. Well-armed, so probably not refugees."
Bear said, glancing to the side.
We were at a spot where paths converged.
Besides the road we'd come from, there was one other dirt track leading here.
He meant a group coming from that one.
Truth be told, I'd already sensed someone approaching—though I hadn't gauged their numbers.
Mana was in the air.
One of them was a mage.
"Enemies?"
"Too soon to say."
"Then we keep going. If they mean no harm, they'll keep their distance."
I said that and turned my attention away.
But they seemed to have business with us.
A mounted man broke off and rode over alone.
"We're the Chapman Mercenary Corps. And you?"
The man introduced his group as the Chapman Mercenary Corps.
All eyes turned to me.
"Oak Mercenary Corps."
I spurred my horse forward and replied.
He peered at my face and spoke.
"I'd like to meet the leader of the Oak Mercenary Corps."
"That's me. Say what you need to say."
The man tilted his head at my words.
Probably thought I was too young to lead.
But he set aside his doubts and asked again.
"Our leader wants to talk to you. What do you say?"
"Talk? Fine. I'll wait here."
He nodded at my response and rode back to his group.
"First time I've seen a mercenary band with cavalry."
I remarked, watching his retreating back.
Never seen mercs with horsemen before.
Conal, beside me, said flatly.
"Sloppy posture means he's no great rider. And that's a packhorse, not a warhorse. So cavalry in name only—combat-wise, he'll be lacking."
Conal sized him up in seconds.
Still, his band had to be better off than most.
Regular mercs didn't bother with horses.
Too expensive, too much upkeep.
As I mulled that, they closed the distance.
'Ten men? Manageable.'
The Chapman Mercenary Corps totaled ten.
Two on horseback.
One was the messenger; the other a middle-aged man at the front.
Likely their leader.
"Greetings, Oak Mercenary Corps!"
As they drew near, the presumed Chapman rode up to us.
Chainmail covered his torso.
The links were thin, suggesting middling quality, but chainmail was chainmail.
A heavy item for a mere mercenary.
He'd probably been at it a long time.
Hence the horse and armor.
'Might be stronger than he looks.'
I watched the middle-aged man, thinking that.
He reined in before us and spoke.
"I'm Chapman, leader of the Chapman Mercenary Corps."
"Pleasure."
I rode forward in reply.
I deliberately omitted my name.
Chapman eyed me up and down, then quickly scanned the burly trio behind me.
He looked back at me and asked.
"Noble?"
"No."
I shook my head.
But Chapman clearly didn't buy it.
I didn't bother correcting his misconception.
It worked in my favor.
"Anyway, I wanted to talk because I'm curious about the Oak Mercenary Corps' destination."
"Why do you want to know where we're headed?"
"Might be the same as ours."
"Where to?"
"Stott."
"Same here."
Chapman smiled at my answer.
And spoke.
"Heading to Stott means you've heard the news."
"What news?"
"Hm."
Chapman shut his mouth at my question.
Couldn't give it away easily, I suppose.
So I persuaded him.
"We're going to Stott either way. Once we're there, we'll find out whatever you're hiding."
"Fair point."
Chapman nodded.
And spilled the beans.
"Stott's under barbarian attack right now. That's why we're headed there. Any lord with brains will hire mercenaries soon."
"Word is plague's spreading among the barbarians. They might be infected. Could spread to us. Not scared?"
"Plague? Terrifying. But poverty scares me more. Isn't that why you're going to Stott?"
"Who knows."
I shrugged.
Chapman grinned, showing yellowed teeth.
"You're full of secrets."
"Doesn't that make me more intriguing?"
Chapman snorted at my reply.
Then met my eyes and got to the point.
"We've talked enough. Here's the ask: the Chapman Mercenary Corps requests to travel with the Oak Mercenary Corps."
"Travel together?"
"Exactly. Same destination. More fighters mean we handle road hazards better."
Not appealing to me.
I hated wasting energy watching strangers.
So I turned him down flat.
"We'll go alone. But we won't stop the Chapman Mercenary Corps from following at a distance."
Chapman tried to sway me.
"Times like these, mercenaries should stick together. Safer against big threats. Plus, a bigger group means the Stott lord won't push us around. Better pay, too."
There was his real angle.
Pretend we were one outfit to gain leverage in negotiations with the lord.
If I were really a mercenary leader, I might've bitten.
But I'm a mage.
Money wasn't my goal.
I was about to refuse again.
Then Chapman continued.
"Plus, our band has a mage. Huge asset in battle. Not a bad deal for you."
Chapman glanced at someone.
A young man there.
He'd overheard and smirked confidently our way.
'Wind Mage.'
The mana from the youth.
It carried the feel of wind magic.
Meaning he was a Wind Mage.
Even as I sized him up, he hadn't clocked me as a mage.
Didn't sense ambient mana, it seemed.
'Novice, then.'
That let me peg his skill level quick.
Not long since he'd become a mage.
Or insensitive to mana.
Lucky for me.
He hadn't outed me.
"Leader. Someone approaching from ahead."
Bear came up on my right and said.
The road to Stott.
People running from that direction.
Too far to identify clearly.
Then Conal chimed in perfectly.
"Looks like refugees fleeing barbarians. And... the barbarians chasing them are off. Not a little— a lot."
Strange-state barbarians.
Could be plague-related.
Needed to check.
If the symptoms were worse than I thought, I'd shelve greed and head back to the domain.
"Battle stations."
I told the group.
First barbarians since entering the north.
No room for carelessness.