Settling an Old Debt
The night in Rodel was deep, and the lights along the mercenary street were fading one by one.
Yet, right in the middle of the street, the grandest stone building remained brightly lit.
It was the office of Gerkin, the leader of the Black Fang Mercenary Group.
"Damn it."
Gerkin emptied his glass. He was drinking the finest imperial brandy, but it tasted no better than bitter lye as it burned down his throat.
"Those damn mages... treating people like livestock."
Gerkin slammed his glass down in irritation.
This commission was extraordinarily lucrative. The gold coins he had received as an advance were enough to fill an entire carriage.
But perhaps because the pay was so high, his clients—the dark mages—were incredibly demanding.
They found fault with everything, complaining that the 'merchandise' was in poor condition or that their mana sensitivity was too low.
Of course, thanks to this job, he had been able to lease the finest building on Rodel's mercenary street, but to Gerkin, that was cold comfort.
"Damn it, if only it weren't for that bastard Raygan..."
His teeth ground together at the sudden memory of that face.
The traitor who had run off with several months' worth of the mercenary group's funds half a year ago.
If not for him, Gerkin wouldn't have had to resort to such a filthy job.
Well, to be perfectly honest, Gerkin had done it because he loved money.
Weren't mercenaries the type to sell their own souls for a handful of gold?
"Tsk. Still, it's giving me nightmares."
Gerkin had caught a fleeting glimpse of what his clients did with the 'merchandise' they took.
Even for a man as money-mad as Gerkin, the sheer brutality of it had made his stomach turn.
But it was too late to back out now. Gerkin had already pocketed the dark mages' gold, and he knew far too many of their secrets.
Fleeing at this point would be like jumping off a cliff to escape the guillotine.
"What else can I do? I just have to play the hand I'm dealt."
He muttered to himself, pouring another glass.
Bzzzzzt—
The crystal ball on his desk vibrated with an eerie hum. It was his direct line to the client.
"Damn it, what are they going to complain about now?"
Gerkin swallowed hard and straightened his collar.
"Mercenary, is the merchandise ready?"
"Ah, yes! Of course. I've handpicked only the freshest ones!"
"Hurry. The ritual is close at hand. We cannot afford to have defective goods mixed in like last time. He is watching closely. If there is any delay, your head will be on the chopping block."
"Ah, ahahaha... Of course, of course..."
Gerkin forced a groveling laugh as he continued the conversation.
His throat felt parched. The sheer tension seemed to instantly sober him up.
These dark mages spoke of such horrific things so casually. It was truly driving him mad.
"Do not worry. They are exceptionally lively this time. We even raided an orphanage for them."
"Ensure they are sent by tomorrow. Time is of the essence."
"O-Of course! In fact, I was just about to have them dispatched!"
Gerkin bowed repeatedly, then turned his head toward the door.
"Hey, Hector! Is the carriage ready to go? Our esteemed guest is waiting!"
Normally, his lieutenant, who always waited outside the door, would have immediately shouted an acknowledgment and rushed in.
"Is there a problem?"
"Ah, no! No problem at all."
Gerkin broke out in a cold sweat and barked in irritation.
"Hey! Hector! Didn't you hear me? Get your ass in here!"
Creeeeak.
The office door opened.
His lieutenant, Hector, stumbled inside. Gerkin opened his mouth to hurl an insult.
"You lazy piece of shit, when I call, you're supposed to—"
Thud.
His words cut off. Hector collapsed face-first onto the floor.
It wasn't because he was drunk, as was often the case.
Embedded in the back of his neck, precisely between his cervical vertebrae and spinal cord, was a needle made of ice.
"...W-What?!"
Gerkin gasped in horror.
His lieutenant was dead. Hector was one of his favorites because he could use aura, yet he had been killed. And silently, right inside the mercenary group's own headquarters.
"Mercenary? What is happening?"
But Gerkin did not answer.
He couldn't.
Shhhring.
A cold piece of steel had wrapped around his throat before he even realized it.
The icy touch of metal.
A sharp, skin-piercing intent to kill.
Someone was standing right behind him.
W-When did they get in?
How on earth had they slipped into the room, killed Hector, and held a blade to his throat without making a single sound?
His mind went completely blank.
Was it an assassin sent by the Guild?
Was this the karma of all the evil deeds he had accumulated catching up to him?
As Gerkin's thoughts raced, the intruder thrust a piece of paper in front of his eyes.
Do not cut the connection.
"Gerkin? Answer me. What is that noise?"
"T-That is..."
Just as irritation began to creep into the dark mage's voice, the intruder flipped the paper over.
Tell him it's nothing.
The moment he saw the words on the back, Gerkin swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed against the blade, and a sharp sting flared as the edge nicked his skin.
"I-It's... it's nothing, esteemed elder! One of my men just had a bit too much to drink and fell over..."
"Keep your men in line. If anything goes wrong, you will be the first one sacrificed."
"I-I will keep that in mind..."
"Deliver the merchandise by tomorrow. I will be waiting."
Bzzzt.
The connection severed, and the light within the crystal ball faded.
A heavy silence descended upon the office once more. Drenched in sweat, Gerkin didn't even dare to look back.
"You're as obedient as ever, Commander."
"...Huh?"
When the intruder finally spoke, Gerkin let out a dumbfounded gasp.
The voice was incredibly familiar.
"Your security is even worse than it was back at the camp. You used to be so sharp. What happened to you?"
Gerkin slowly turned his head.
The young man standing behind him was someone who, until just a few months ago, had been a mere low-ranking member of the Black Fangs.
"It's been a while, Gerkin."
"Ray...gan!"
"Keep your voice down. Unless you want me to start by cutting out your tongue."
With eyes as cold as ice, Raygan pressed the tip of his blade right under Gerkin's chin.
Infiltrating Gerkin's office hadn't been difficult.
In fact, it was remarkably easy.
The building occupied by the Black Fang Mercenary Group wasn't open to the elements like a wilderness camp, and the stone structure was as well-soundproofed as its luxurious exterior suggested.
Moreover, this wasn't the stronghold of some elite mercenary group; it was a den of third-rate-or-worse rabble. Slipping past their sentries was as easy as walking into his own living room.
But what had made the biggest difference was Rune Magic.
Flash!
A blue runic character materialized in the air.
Perthro (ᛈ).
Having reached the 4th Circle, he could now manipulate this rune at will. Fitting for a symbol representing mysteries and secrets, it possessed the effect of concealing the caster's presence.
No matter how sharp one's senses were, detecting a presence erased by magic was nearly impossible.
If I'd known it would be this useful, I would have learned magic a long time ago.
A wry smile tugged at his lips.
He had undertaken infiltration missions countless times during his days in the resistance.
If he had known how to use this rune magic back then, he wouldn't have had to roll in sewage to mask his scent, nor would he have had to stuff snow into his mouth to hide his breath.
"It's been a while, Gerkin."
And so, he had entered the office.
As Raygan greeted him with his sword drawn, Gerkin's eyes trembled.
"R-Raygan... How are you here..."
"Who knows? A lot has happened since then. But tell me... were we ever close enough to catch up over drinks?"
I let my voice trail off as I raised my sword.
I had caught his left hand creeping toward his waist.
Slash!
With a swift stroke, Gerkin's severed left hand flew through the air.
"Aaaaargh—mph!"
Before he could scream, I shoved my blade into his open mouth.
Of course, I didn't pierce his skull. There was still too much information I needed to squeeze out of him.
"I wouldn't try anything foolish if I were you. With your current skills, you don't stand a chance against me."
Gerkin knew how to use aura, but he was nowhere near my level.
If battles between mages of the same circle were decided by their accumulated mana, then a duel between swordsmen was decided by the depth of their experience.
"Don't worry. I have no intention of killing you just yet. You just need to answer my questions. Blink three times if you understand."
Once Gerkin blinked, I pulled the sword out of his mouth.
At that moment, a knock sounded at the office door.
Knock, knock-knock.
One loud knock, followed by two soft ones.
It was the signal we had agreed upon beforehand.
"Come in."
Contrary to Gerkin's desperate hope for an ally, the person who walked in was Brock.
Brock flinched slightly at the sight of the corpse on the floor, but at my nod, he quickly locked the door behind him.
"You weren't spotted on your way here, right?"
"Y-Yeah. They all seemed busy drinking."
"Good."
I turned my attention back to Gerkin.
His jaw was slack, his eyes glued to the Benheim crest partially visible beneath Brock's coat.
"B-Benheim? Raygan... Don't tell me you...!"
"Shut up. I ask the questions. You just answer them."
I kicked Gerkin in the shin, forcing him back onto the sofa. Keeping my blade pressed against his throat, I continued.
"Explain everything from the beginning. Who was that on the crystal ball?"
"T-That..."
Gerkin turned pale as he looked at Brock standing beside me. It seemed the weight of the Benheim name was the perfect truth serum. Without me having to resort to further violence, Gerkin began to spill everything he knew.
"...He's... a dark mage."
"I know that. I'm asking who that dark mage is."
"I-I don't know! I'm just... a pawn to them...!"
Gerkin cried out in despair, his words tumbling over one another.
"Because of you... because you ran off with all my money, the mercenary group was on the brink of ruin! That's when they approached me. A guy in a black robe told me that if I just transported a few carriages, he'd give me enough gold to live comfortably for the rest of my life... I had no choice!"
"...Raygan?"
Brock turned to look at me, his expression filled with disbelief at the accusation that I had run off with a mercenary group's funds.
"It's a long story."
I brushed it off and studied Gerkin's face. Judging by his eyes, he wasn't lying.
It was likely the truth. The Gerkin I knew wasn't brave enough to spin a web of lies while staring down the length of a blade.
"You mentioned 'merchandise' earlier. What is it?"
I already had a good idea, but I needed to hear him say it.
"It's..."
"Answer me."
"People..."
"What are they doing with them?"
Gerkin swallowed hard and reluctantly confessed.
"They called them... vessels. I don't know the details... but it looked like they were killing them to extract something from inside."
"..."
It was a sickening answer.
I looked down at Gerkin with eyes that had turned freezing cold.
"Where are they?"
"...Huh?"
"I'm asking for their location."
"I... I don't really know—argh!"
As the tip of my sword bit deeper into his skin, Gerkin shrieked and spilled the truth.
"I-I don't know exactly where their main base is... but I know the drop-off point for the merchandise!"
"Where is it?"
"The abandoned northern mine, along the road leading from Rodel to the Mist Valley!"
"How do you get in?"
"The carriage! There's a barrier that only the carriages they provided can pass through! Once the carriage carrying the captured humans is sent in, the gate opens! I swear, I don't know anything beyond that!"
A barrier.
One of the dark mages' specialties.
During the last hunting festival, they had used a barrier to isolate us as well.
"Fine. One last question. Where is the 'merchandise' right now?"
At my question, a trembling Gerkin pointed a finger toward the floor.
"The b-basement...! They're locked up in the basement of this building."
"I see."
I sighed and pulled back my sword.
Shhhring.
Instead of wiping the blood from the blade, I raised it high.
I had all the information I needed.
It was time to finish this.
"W-Wait!"
Sensing his imminent end, Gerkin shrieked. He looked up at me with a pathetic, pleading expression.
"Ha... haha... Raygan. Calm down. There's no need to go this far between us, is there?"
"Between us?"
"Yes! Even when you ran off with my money, I didn't hunt you down. So this time..."
With a trembling hand, Gerkin pointed toward his desk drawer.
"Y-You want money, right? There's a ton of gold in there. It's the advance I got from the dark mages. I'll give it all to you! And to the young mage lord over there too! It's enough to live in luxury for the rest of your lives!"
He seemed utterly convinced that I had come for the gold.
Then again, to a mercenary, there was no stronger motivation than money.
I let out a dry chuckle and pulled open the drawer. It was indeed packed with heavy pouches of gold.
"It certainly is a lot. I suppose that's the going rate for selling out your own kind."
"R-Right? So just take it, and we can pretend we never saw each other..."
"Gerkin."
When I spoke his name, his shoulders flinched.
"I'm no saint, but I'm not a villain either. And that comes with a certain advantage. I don't feel a single shred of guilt when I kill scum like you."
"What?"
"Farewell."
Those words would be the last thing Gerkin ever heard.
My sword sliced cleanly through his neck.
Brock stared in absolute horror as Gerkin collapsed, blood pooling rapidly around his lifeless body.
"R-Raygan... Why did you kill him?"
"Why did I kill him?"
I frowned, looking at Brock.
"Do I really need a reason to execute a piece of trash who colluded with dark mages?"
At least to me, no reason was necessary.