The Secret Gift and the Bloodied Pickaxe
In a hidden valley near the mountain stronghold, thick fog swallowed the ravine at noon. The sharp clang of silver armor cut through the damp air. The elite forces of the Silver Wolf mercenary band—feared and famed across the continent—filled the valley completely. Before that forest of razor-sharp blades stood Veronica, poised with elegant grace.
Dagan and Gil followed behind her, swallowing nervously at the overwhelming pressure of the mercenaries. Only Veronica remained unfazed. She gave the heavy box she’d reclaimed from Gareth a light kick with the toe of her shoe.
A box brimming with gold bars that gleamed even through the mist.
“This is the down payment. If the contract is fulfilled, I’ll give you ten more boxes just like it.”
Veronica’s voice was calm, yet carried an unmistakable arrogance. Vargas, commander of the Silver Wolf, removed his helmet and stepped forward. The scar across his face twitched.
“I’d heard the rumors, but I never imagined a bunch of bandits would have this kind of financial power. Did you raid the imperial treasury or something? What are your terms, Princess?”
“Just one. You will take full responsibility for the outer defenses of the stronghold. Make it so perfect that our boss doesn’t have to lift a single finger. Not one ant, not one breeze, may approach without his permission.”
Vargas burst into loud laughter. Every time he laughed, his silver armor clashed with a chilling sound.
“We Silver Wolves are the best on the continent. That’s child’s play. But who is this boss of yours that you’d spend such a fortune? Some cowardly lord?”
At that moment, Veronica’s gaze turned ice-cold in an instant.
“He is someone you wouldn’t dare look at directly. Watch your tongue. The only reason I’m hiring you is for his peace of mind.”
“Whoa, they really do sparkle! Sister-in-law, it was worth every coin! With this kind of gear, we don’t even need walls!”
Dagan made a fuss beside her, reaching out to touch one of the mercenaries’ armor before a sharp glare made him pull his hand back. Veronica scanned the mercenary band with a satisfied smile.
“All you need to do is become sturdy, obedient shields. Bloody shields that root out every little rat disturbing Rodin’s peaceful sleep.”
Veronica cradled the contract—sealed with an ornate crest—close to her chest. The scent of ink that drifted from the paper smelled as sweet as victory itself.
Finally. Rodin would no longer have to patrol every night with that heavy pickaxe, eyes blazing. The sight of him forcing himself awake, tormented by the ghosts of the battlefield, had torn at her heart. Now it could finally rest.
“Tomorrow morning, march proudly through the front gate. Rodin will be so surprised, won’t he?”
Veronica’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. She was already imagining Rodin, moved beyond words, pulling her into a tight embrace.
“I’m looking forward to seeing his face. Having elites like us guarding his stronghold—he might shed tears of gratitude. It’s almost too much honor for a bandit chief.”
Vargas replied arrogantly. Yet Veronica accepted even that arrogance with pleasure. It only meant they were that strong.
“I don’t expect tears. Just… if he can sleep a little longer on my lap, that will be enough.”
“Hehe, the boss is gonna love this! Only Sister-in-law could pull off a surprise gift this perfect!”
At Dagan’s gushing, Veronica pressed a finger to her lips.
“Be quiet. Until tomorrow morning, this is an absolute secret. I’ll only tell him I’ve prepared a ‘special gift.’ The day he no longer has to carry that bloodstained pickaxe… that is my one and only mission.”
In the cabbage patch behind the stronghold, the afternoon sun shone with honest intensity, and Rodin worked the soil with even greater honesty. Bent at the waist, he used tweezers to delicately pluck a tiny bug from a young cabbage sprout. The same focus that had once terrified the continent was now entirely devoted to eradicating pests that threatened his cabbages’ growth.
“Mm, these cabbages have excellent color. Good moisture balance too. If they keep growing like this, we’ll have incredible wraps this winter.”
Rodin wiped sweat from his brow with a dirt-stained hand. It was peaceful. It should have been peaceful. Yet for some reason, a chill ran down his spine and the back of his head itched.
“Why does the back of my head keep tingling? Is the princess up to something again? Dagan and Gil have been snickering in that corner for a while now. It’s making me nervous.”
Rodin lifted his head and looked toward his two subordinates in the distance. The moment their eyes met his, they flinched violently and either stared at the distant sky or pretended to count ants on the ground.
“How bothersome… They’re not planning anything big, right? They wouldn’t break another wall or something, would they?”
Rodin lowered his head again and returned to tending his cabbages. His wishes were simple: to grow cabbages under a warm sun, eat plenty of meat with dinner, and sleep without nightmares.
“I hope I can sleep deeply tonight. I’m sick of dreaming about digging through piles of corpses with a pickaxe. Maybe I can sleep in tomorrow? The princess will handle the ledgers anyway.”
He had no idea what kind of unwelcome guests were coming in exchange for the late morning he dreamed of.
At night, when silence had settled over the stronghold, Veronica stood before Rodin’s door, humming a soft tune. The sound of his even breathing from beyond the door—or rather, the occasional grinding of teeth and rough groans—felt especially tender today.
Veronica gently stroked the doorknob with her fingertips.
“Rodin, tomorrow I will lift that heavy burden from your shoulders. All you need to think about is me and your cabbages. The blood-scented outside world will be blocked completely by the shields I’ve bought.”
“Princess! We’ve finished preparing the mercenaries’ meals and barracks! Wow, they really do shine. It looks like a real army!”
Gil appeared from the darkness and reported in a hushed voice. His face was clearly excited.
“Good work. Wake Rodin early tomorrow morning. Tell him very special and reliable guests have arrived.”
“Yes! Don’t worry! But Princess, that grinding sound coming from inside… it doesn’t sound normal. Is he fighting a battle even in his dreams…?”
“He’s just tired. His nerves have been on edge protecting the stronghold. But starting tomorrow, he can rest properly. That terrible insomnia will be a thing of the past.”
Veronica’s eyes were filled with certainty. To her, mercenaries were the most efficient tools money could buy—a perfect substitute that would let Rodin rest.
“Now, everyone go get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a historic day for our stronghold. Let’s fall asleep dreaming of Rodin smiling brightly.”
The next day, at dawn, the heavy thunder of hooves shaking the earth woke the stronghold. The cold scrape of armor against armor pierced the fog. The tollgate opened wide, and a blue banner emblazoned with a silver wolf emblem fluttered in the morning breeze.
The Silver Wolf mercenary band. Over a hundred elite cavalry and infantry, known as the continent’s finest, entered the courtyard in perfect formation.
“The Silver Wolf mercenary band hereby begins its contracted duties of stronghold defense and outer patrol, effective immediately!”
Vargas’s booming voice shook the training grounds. They formed ranks with military precision, their presence so imposing it couldn’t even be compared to a common bandit crew.
“Whoa! Look at the big brothers’ aura! Our stronghold really looks like an imperial fortress now! We’re invincible!”
Dagan and Gil ran into the courtyard, cheering wildly. Veronica stood at the center, smiling with satisfaction as she gazed toward the main building’s entrance.
“Now, please bring Rodin out. He needs to see this glorious, reassuring sight. My heart is already racing thinking about how happy he’ll be.”
“I’ll go get him. He’ll probably be so wide-eyed he’ll hug me!”
Gil dashed inside the main building, brimming with excitement. Veronica placed a hand over her heart and took a deep breath.
“Hurry. I can’t wait to see Rodin smiling brightly at these reliable shields. From today on, we will be the safest and most peaceful stronghold in the entire empire!”
The mercenaries’ silver armor glittered brilliantly in the morning sunlight. To Veronica, the magnificent sight looked like a monument to her victory.
Thud. Thud.
Rodin slowly emerged from the shadows of the main building’s entrance. His hair was still tousled from sleep, and he wore his usual worn cotton shirt. But the moment he saw the courtyard packed with mercenaries, the air around him froze instantly.
“……”
What Rodin saw was not splendid silver armor. It was the cold iron that had once pierced his comrades’ hearts, and the arrogant eyes of traitors who had sold their honor for money. The screams of the battlefield he wanted to forget, his comrades’ final words, flashed through his mind like hallucinations.
His vision began to tint red.
“Rodin! Did you see? This is the gift I prepared for you! You don’t have to patrol and suffer anymore! The continent’s strongest mercenary band will protect you…”
Veronica ran toward him with a bright smile. But she had to stop. Rodin’s steps had turned to stone, and an overwhelming killing intent—something she had never seen before—poured from his body, threatening to devour the entire continent.
“…Hey.”
Rodin’s voice was low. So low it sounded like it had been scraped up from the bottom of hell.
“Yes? Rodin? Are you so surprised you can’t speak? These people are—”
“Who the hell let these bastards in?”
Every mercenary in the courtyard turned their eyes to Rodin at once. Vargas frowned in displeasure and gripped his sword hilt.
“What? Bastards? You ignorant bandit, who do you think you’re—”
“I’ll give you three seconds. If you don’t disappear from my sight, I’ll grind every last one of you—armor and all—into fertilizer for next year’s cabbage field.”
Rodin slowly raised his head. His eyes already belonged to a god of war who had lost all reason. The moment he picked up the old pickaxe leaning in the corner, a bone-chilling cold swept over the entire stronghold as if the temperature had plummeted below zero.
“One.”
The blade of the pickaxe began to vibrate, radiating a frigid aura.