“Then I’ll get straight to the point.”
Aldo took the ale Rex handed him, drank it in one gulp, and wiped his mouth.
“The route we’re taking is the Greyrock Ridge Pass. This path cuts through the valleys, cutting the distance in half compared to the main road, but it’s certainly not without its troubles. That place is often frequented by giant bears, and with worse luck, you might even run into bandits. Not long ago, a merchant caravan was robbed there, vanishing completely, people and goods both.”
Rex leaned back in his chair.
“What are you transporting that’s worth taking this risk?”
Aldo, upon hearing this, immediately offered an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, sir. The cargo is the merchant guild’s secret. I hope you’ll understand that I can’t disclose it.”
“Alright.”
Rex didn’t press further.
“Since it’s inconvenient, let’s leave it at that. When do you plan to depart?”
“It seems you agree, sir.”
Aldo stood up, slightly excited, and gave a small bow.
“Tomorrow morning, at sunrise, we’ll assemble at the town’s east gate.”
“Acceptable.”
“Also…”
Aldo hesitated for a moment.
“I still don’t know your name, sir.”
“Just call me Rex.”
Aldo noted the name, bowed respectfully once more, and turned to leave the room.
The moment the door closed, Hilda emerged from the corner.
“He wasn’t telling the truth.”
‘Normal.’
Rex toyed with a coin in his hand.
‘Merchant guilds have their rules. It’s understandable.’
“Aren’t you bothered?”
‘Bothered by what? I wasn’t really trying to find out what he’s shipping.’
Rex looked out the window.
‘I just wanted to see what interesting things might be happening on this road.’
At the same moment, on the other side of town, Scarface knelt on the floor, his forehead pressed against the cold tiles.
The room was warmed by a fire of high-quality charcoal, cozy and comfortable.
On a carved armchair draped with soft furs, a man reclined.
His left arm was wrapped around a woman in a red dress, while his right hand held a cigar, smoke curling in the lamplight.
“Boss, that kid—”
“Worthless.”
The man on the chair exhaled a puff of smoke, not even glancing at Scarface.
“Several of you got taken down by one outsider, and you still have the face to come here and whine?”
Scarface trembled all over, burying his head lower.
“Boss, that kid really isn’t ordinary. He was fast and ruthless, I didn’t even see his movements clearly…”
“Enough.”
The man waved his hand dismissively.
The woman in his arms obediently poured him a glass of wine.
“I have serious business to attend to. I don’t have time to clean up your mess.”
Scarface looked up, stunned for a second, then understood.
“Boss, are you… going to handle it personally?”
The man didn’t answer, merely picking up his glass and sipping slowly.
Scarface’s gaze fell on a map spread out on the table.
The marked route was unmistakably the Greyrock Ridge Pass.
“I’m heading out tomorrow.”
The man stood up, crushing his cigar out in a crystal ashtray.
“You stay here and watch the place. Don’t cause any trouble for me.”
“Yes, yes!”
Scarface nodded repeatedly, but his mind was already turning.
The boss was going to rob that caravan he’d had his eye on for a while.
He remembered the silver-haired woman from the day, a wave of resentment washing over him, but in the end, he didn’t dare say anything more.
Dawn.
The east gate of Windwatch Fort.
The sky was just beginning to brighten, but the caravan was already assembled.
Over a dozen wagons were lined up, covered with tarps that completely hid their contents, ropes tied securely.
Dockworkers were making final checks.
Aldo stood at the head of the line, holding a cargo manifest and checking quantities.
The sound of hooves came from within the town.
Rex appeared at the street corner, riding his horse at a leisurely pace.
Hilda followed half a step behind him, wrapped tightly in a deep gray overcoat, a silver-white scarf covering half her face, revealing only a pair of calm eyes.
“You truly are a man of your word, sir.”
Aldo smiled as he went to greet them, the wrinkles on his face smoothing out.
He turned and clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Everyone, gather around!”
The mercenaries gathered in twos and threes.
There were seven or eight in total, their equipment varied, their weapons of personal preference.
The leader was a tall, burly man with a polished copper badge hanging on his chest, looking like a retired soldier.
“This is Mr. Rex,” Aldo pointed to the young man on the horse.
“He’ll be traveling with us this time. Look out for each other on the road.”
The mercenaries sized up Rex, their gazes carrying undisguised scrutiny.
‘A pretty boy.’
That was everyone’s first impression.
His young face bore no traces of hardship, his skin paler than the girls in this town.
His riding posture was quite standard, but his hands were clean, without a single callus.
The material of his overcoat was plain, but the tailoring was impeccable, clearly the work of a good tailor.
A noble.
And the kind who’d never known hardship.
The lead mercenary’s mouth twisted down slightly at the corners.
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes said it all.
People like him were lucky if they didn’t cause trouble tagging along with a caravan.
Then their gazes fell on Hilda.
Though her overcoat hid her figure, the face visible outside the scarf still made several mercenaries’ eyes widen.
“Ahem.”
Aldo cleared his throat dryly, interrupting the overly heated stares.
“Everyone, return to your preparations. We depart shortly.”
The mercenaries finally withdrew their gazes, dispersing in small groups.
But the whispering didn’t stop.
“What’s the story with that woman?”
“Don’t even think about it. That kind of woman is out of your league.”
Rex heard these words, his expression unchanged.
He just glanced sideways at Aldo.
Aldo looked embarrassed.
“My apologies, sir. I can control my own men, but these mercenaries…”
“It’s fine.”
Rex tugged the reins, making his horse take half a step back.
“I hope you don’t mind if we take up the rear of the caravan.”
“Of course, of course. As you wish, sir.”
Aldo breathed a sigh of relief, turned, and walked to the front of the line, raising his hand.
“Move out!”
The caravan rumbled out of Windwatch Fort, slowly advancing along the direction of the Greyrock Ridge Pass.
After about ten minutes of travel, Hilda urged her horse closer to Rex.
“My Lord.”
“Hmm?”
“These people seem to have quite a problem with you.”
Rex smiled slightly, his gaze sweeping over the mercenary group ahead.
‘I noticed.’
The big mercenary leader walking at the very front kept glancing back at him, the disdain in his eyes unconcealed.
The others did too, their eyes drifting this way whenever they whispered amongst themselves.
‘No need to worry.’
Rex withdrew his gaze.
‘I’ve observed these people. Their skills are average, but they work by the rules. As long as there’s no trouble on the road, we don’t need to bother with them.’
“And if there is trouble?”
‘If there is, we’ll deal with it then.’
Rex paused.
‘Also, we might encounter a little trouble along the way. You don’t need to intervene.’
“Understood.”
Her tone sounded somewhat reluctant, but she didn’t argue.
At the front of the line, one of Aldo’s men slowed his horse to walk alongside him.
“Boss, what’s the deal with those two?”
“I told you, I hired them.”
“Hired?”
The man scoffed.
“What can that pretty boy do? Pour your tea for you?”
Aldo frowned but didn’t lash out.
“He’s worth the price.”
He said, his tone flat but leaving no room for doubt.
The man looked at Aldo’s expression and wisely didn’t press further.
But he glanced back at Rex at the rear of the line again, muttering to himself…
‘A noble young master like that, probably just out sightseeing.’
As he was thinking, the scout mercenary ahead suddenly reined in his horse, raising a hand in a stop signal.
“Halt!”
The mercenary leader immediately raised his fist.
The entire caravan slowly came to a stop.
The road ahead was blocked.
A pile of rubble had tumbled down from the hillside, scattered haphazardly across the middle of the path.
The largest pieces were half a man’s height; wagons couldn’t possibly pass.
Aldo dismounted, walked over to look, and pulled out a map to compare.
“Looks like a rockfall from the rain a few days ago.”
He frowned.
“We can’t take this path. We’ll have to detour.”
“Which way?”
The mercenary leader asked.
Aldo looked at the map, tracing a curved line with his finger.
“Turn into the side valley from here. It adds half a day’s travel, but we can rejoin the main road.”
“Then we detour.”
The mercenary leader waved his hand.
“Turn around. Take the side valley.”
The line began to turn.
Cart drivers cursed as they urged their horses, wheels grinding harshly on the gravel road.
But Rex, staring at the roadblock ahead, didn’t move.
“My Lord?”
Hilda noticed he hadn’t followed.
Rex chuckled softly.
“Not a bad disguise.”
His voice was low, only Hilda could hear.
“But still full of flaws.”
Hilda followed his gaze.
The pile of stones was stacked too neatly.
A real landslide would have rocks of all sizes mixed chaotically.
But these largest rocks were deliberately placed in the most prominent positions, propped up on smaller stones below, as if someone had arranged them by hand.
Moreover, if it had collapsed days ago, there should be wheel tracks on the road surface.
But the ruts on this path ended right before the stones.
“It’s man-made. And there are many, many footprints here.”
Hilda said.
“Mhm.”
Rex tugged the reins to follow the line.
“Someone is waiting for us ahead.”
Night fell.
The caravan found a flat spot in the side valley to make camp.
A few tents were pitched, a campfire lit.
The mercenaries sat around it, chewing on hardtack and drinking, their rough laughter echoing in the valley.
Rex sat in his own tent, eyes closed as if dozing.
Hilda crouched by a small fire, brewing coffee in a small copper pot.
Her movements were slow, focused, as if performing a very important task.
The aroma of coffee soon filled the tent.
Rex didn’t open his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
“You’re getting better at brewing.”
Hilda didn’t answer, merely pouring the brewed coffee into a cup and bringing it to him.
But just then, “My Lord.”
Hilda suddenly spoke.
“Hmm?”
“Hoofbeats.”
From the direction of the valley entrance in the distance, the faint sound of hoofbeats could be heard.
Not one horse.
Many.
The sound was faint, far away.
Rex was only just barely hearing it now; Hilda had clearly noticed much earlier.
“How many?”
Rex set down his cup.
Hilda closed her eyes, her ears twitching slightly.
“More than thirty.”
She paused.
“All mounted. And armed.”
Rex stood up and walked to the tent flap, lifting it to look outside.
The campfire still burned.
The mercenaries were still drinking and making noise, as if they heard nothing.
Aldo sat by the fire talking to one of his men, a smile still on his face.
And the valley entrance was pitch black, nothing visible.
But the hoofbeats were getting closer.
Rex let the flap fall, looking back at Hilda.
“Let’s get ready.”
His tone was calm.
Hilda stood up, her body beneath the overcoat tensing slightly.
“Shall I intervene?”
“No.”
Rex flexed his wrists.
“Let’s see who they are first. If they’re just passing through, let them pass. If they’re here for the caravan…”
He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
“Then we’ll let them know this road isn’t easy to walk.”
The firelight shone through the gaps in the tent, casting shifting light and shadow on his face.
In the distance, the hoofbeats grew clearer and clearer.
It wasn’t until the ground began to tremble slightly that the mercenaries stopped their noise.
“ENEMY ATTACK!!!”
Everyone stood up, hands going to sword hilts.
Rex also lifted the tent flap and walked out slowly.
He stood before the tent, looking towards the valley entrance.
In the darkness, torches were moving.