Summer monsoon season had begun.
Torch Fortress had recovered from last year's damage, and people were lining up at the gates again. Torches blazed everywhere like active volcanoes. Up close, each torch was as thick as a ship's mast.
The strange thing was that even though the massive torches were burning, the wood didn't disappear like a wick. It just stayed there, blackened and charred.
It was Torch Fortress's trademark Antorcha (Torch of Contradiction)—torches that called monsters while simultaneously burning them to death.
Because of the Antorcha's existence, Torch Fortress was the most visited place. It was considered the safest location.
A whole group of soldiers stood at the gate. As the strictest checkpoint, it had lots of soldiers deployed. The inspection was so intense that complaints about it kept coming up.
"What, strip my clothes off too! Are you crazy?"
One word and you got hauled off immediately.
"Agh! This is insane! Ahhh!"
His arm got twisted and he cried out in pain. When he screamed, one soldier punched him in the head. Another soldier kicked him in the ribs. The soldiers' faces were hidden by helmets, and they all wore heavy armor, making them incredibly intimidating.
'Another one getting torch-grabbed.'
It was one of the most common mistakes made by people coming to Torch Fortress for the first time. Lots of people called this "torch-grabbing." It was considered a kind of initiation ritual unique to Torch Fortress—getting dragged to jail before even passing inspection and doing hard labor for a day.
Once you got inside the fortress, it was actually more relaxed than other fortresses. By establishing the atmosphere right at the checkpoint, big problems rarely happened, and the fortress guards' morale stayed high.
"Always so brutal, no matter when you see it."
The youngest, Sen, clicked his tongue watching a peddler get torch-grabbed and dragged off miserably. He couldn't understand beating up ordinary citizens like that.
"Keep your mouth shut."
Keireon said quietly. When it came to inspections, they were the weak party—that was reality. Four mercenaries with completely different body types stood before the soldiers.
"Identification papers."
Yuval, the one with an average build at the front, pulled out his mercenary badge. On the front, an axe and sword crossed each other, with writing above and below where they crossed. The lord's crest of the Medio region was engraved on the back.
The soldier stared carefully at the back.
Overall it was shaped like a torch, but that wasn't the important part. If you focused on the handle, an optical illusion made sparks seem to fly out around it—that was the lord's crest of the Medio region.
'It's genuine. The lord's crest.'
The soldier's eyes turned to the four mercenaries. Their appearance wasn't impressive enough to suggest they were employed by the lord he'd sworn loyalty to. Just some ordinary mercenaries.
"Skull Mercenary Group? Funny name. Never heard of it. You can enter the fortress interior after we make a composite sketch."
"Yes."
After having their luggage checked and composite sketches drawn inside the barracks, the four members of Skull Mercenary Group finally entered Torch Fortress.
"The inspection really is the toughest, just like they say."
Scrawny Bedum answered.
"Torch Fortress isn't the Medio region's strongest for nothing."
"Merein lives in a place like this? Seems like she'd end up in jail right away."
"How about we hit the jail first?"
They headed to the promised location while talking nonsense. They looked for an inn in the far west, where the sun set. In this world without developed information and communication, it was the most reliable method.
"Excuse me. Is there an inn near here?"
Yuval, who had an average build and a friendly face, asked a passing citizen.
"This is a residential area... I haven't seen any inns."
Every time they asked, they got that kind of answer.
"Since there's no inn, maybe she's working as a restaurant employee?"
They shifted their search to restaurants. It was a place called Restaurant Tom. You could tell at a glance they'd put thought into the interior.
"Welcome~."
With a sultry voice, a female employee nodded in greeting and waved. Her wavy light brown hair was attractive at first glance—well-maintained and oiled to a glossy shine.
Long eyebrows, big eyes, and clear features. Her shoulders were pretty broad, so she looked really strong-willed.
"I'll show you to your seats~. You can sit by the window."
The female employee placed the menu on the table and bent forward slightly. Her ample cleavage was naturally visible to the seated customers.
"Why'd you come so late? You wanna die?"
A husky voice popped out. It was completely different from her customer service voice.
"Damn. Now that's Merein. Bring something simple to eat. Two of the cheapest things and a beer each."
"Yes~. Got your order. Two lunch sets~ and four beers~."
As she shook her hips and disappeared, it was clear she'd earn plenty of gold coins during busy hours.
While eating, they received a torn piece of parchment from Merein. It showed the house where she was staying.
After finishing their meal, the four people didn't head there but unloaded their luggage at an inn instead.
Since they made their living as bounty hunters, they were most wary of humans. On their way there, they used alleyways throughout the city. A map on the back of the parchment showed the route.
If someone had been tracking them, this was one of Merein's tail-removal routes—she knew Torch Fortress well enough that any pursuer would lose the trail.
They didn't move until midnight. The guards patrolling by torchlight could never catch the movements of Skull Mercenary Group, who moved expertly through darkness.
Screech—! Screeech!
When the black eagle's cry rang out, Merein's house door opened slightly. The four slipped inside like lightning. There was no way a diurnal black eagle would cry at night.
"That damn black eagle sound. Can't we change it to something else? It's too shitty."
Merein pressed down dried tobacco leaves, lit her pipe, and muttered while twitching her lips. Once she took off her robe, all five members of Skull Mercenary Group were gathered in one place.
Informant Merein
Consensus Yuval
Rear-picker Bedum
Shield-bulk Keireon
Youngest Sen
Each one had completely different personalities.
"Did you find any useful info?"
"Did you catch that guy?"
After Yuval, the leader type, spoke, Scout Merein asked back.
"Yeah. Definitely cut off his head, pickled it in salt, and gave it to the Medio lord."
"Nobody got hurt?"
Keireon pounded his chest irritably.
"If there's nothing else, let's split up quick. There's a really good fishing spot around here."
"You're already thinking about resting?"
"Better than this creepy bastard digging through sewers."
"It's artifact exploration."
Keireon and Bedum bickered. Merein puffed out a ton of tobacco smoke. With no particular reason for living, Merein had few hobbies or interests, so tobacco was her only enjoyment.
Except for her, not a single person put tobacco to their lips. Their only hobby was collecting and drinking expensive alcohol.
"Here's this time's target. I confirmed recent activity."
She handed over several pieces of parchment. Yuval read them first.
"Handless Sendabil? Is it that Sendabil I know?"
"Yeah. The guy we thought was dead for a while is doing banditry with one hand cut off."
"How can he do banditry with one hand missing?"
Youngest Sen said. Nobody was interested in that. Literally a useless question. As if on cue, everyone ignored it and continued sharing information.
"He's a guy who swings a halberd like a ghost. He uses it with one hand."
"Right. They say he fixes a pretty big round shield to his right arm where he lost his hand."
Keireon looked at Merein.
"You know quite a bit of detail?"
Information about enemies' weapons was hard to come by. Since bandits were cavalry, even if you ran away, you usually died.
"The guy who encountered him works at this fortress."
Everyone was surprised. What that meant was huge. It could greatly shorten their approach to him, which was likely why Merein had chosen Sendabil as the next target. There was no trail more certain than an eyewitness.
"What's he do?"
"He's a guy called peddler Yove. He went around every single mountain village in this region. That's probably how he survived. He's running a bar while blabbing all kinds of stories."
A guy with lots of stories opening a bar was bound to flourish and become famous. Someone who provided entertainment naturally became entertainment themselves. There was no way Scout Merein wouldn't know.
"Can we threaten him?"
"Seems possible—he's a coward. But there's a problem."
"Problem?"
"He's got two criminals as employees, so we can't avoid a fight."
Everyone except Merein grimaced. Even as combat specialists, they couldn't help but be tense about combat.
Because people die way too easily.
The more real combat you experienced, the more that reality sank into your chest. That's why they had to be cautious—in veteran fights, hot-headed fighters had lower win rates. In combat, preparation and mental attitude contributed significantly to victory.
"A former peddler who hired criminals."
"His customers are mostly rough men, and he's pretty connected to illegal stuff too. So security will be even stricter."
"What security measures do you know about?"
"Better not to enter through windows. The carpenters were going on about how he spent good money on them."
Bedum was disappointed about this. For someone scrawny and stick-like, having window entry blocked was a big disadvantage.
"The guy who picks rear ends is gonna go pick balls instead."
Since the guy who picked rear ends couldn't use his usual method, it was ridiculous.
"Shut up. What's coward Yove's combat ability?"
"The moment you lose to him, you should retire and farm."
"That weak? Sen, you'll just keep watch then. If you lose by any chance, straight back home. Hehehe."
Keireon teased the youngest. Though only 18 years old, youngest Sen had a good mindset and the talent of a scout, giving him plenty of patience—he simply laughed along.
"Let's hit it in three days."
If they hit right away, they could become suspects. True to being money-conscious mercenaries, once they learned threatening was possible, they didn't even consider other options. Plus, hearing he'd borrowed money from criminals, they felt no qualms about using violence.
For the next three days, they did preliminary work. Youngest Sen handled this. Sen, who looked young because he hadn't experienced much combat, was perfect for spying.
"What's this supposed to be?"
The street vendor owner gave Sen—who was acting like an idiot who couldn't tell two menu items apart—a passionate explanation, then released his grip.
"I'll make it half-and-half separately, so eat it and judge for yourself."
While the merchant made the custom half-and-half food, Sen yawned and looked around, then skillfully slumped against the wall and ate. The bar during the day was quiet. After eating, he went into an alleyway, skillfully looped around to the back, and slipped through a window into an empty house.
"How is it?"
The others had set up in the empty house at dawn and were dealing cards when Sen came through the window. Yuval asked.
"The bar's just like a smokescreen, right? The sun's high in the sky and he didn't even come to work."
Seemed like there was some other secret. That was as good as extra income. A criminal's stuff was basically just stolen goods. Whoever ate it owned it.