After commissioning the mercenaries again to go to Torch Fortress, Rowan paid the price first, then told the villagers he was getting his mercenary badge in advance since he was already out. They took 10 copper coins per person while receiving Rowan's money.
It was a service fee and also a management fee for managing it until Rowan returned. 50 copper coins would disappear, but for Rowan it was the best option. There was a big difference between going with 440 copper coins and going without a single penny.
'There are too many blind spots in the law here.'
Not carrying it was the best option. The reason for forming a mercenary group also came from an underlying thought: leading a group from the start because there was a limit to succeeding alone.
That was because he'd seen the mercenary group that made subjugation their business during the goblin incident. Because he'd continuously witnessed the power that numbers had while experiencing the bandit gang. Also, it was natural for Rowan since he'd benefited from the wolf.
Rowan considered the power he possessed not great enough to travel alone while fearing betrayal.
It was a misunderstanding born from setting Handless Sendabil, who'd had hundreds under him when he had hands, as the minimum condition for military power. The very fact he was a bandit boss even with his hand cut off was absurd.
Moreover, with even a badly scarred adjutant by his side, you could tell what terrible notoriety he'd had when he had his hands.
Consensus Yuval was closely watching Rowan's cautiously acting moves.
'Even though he's experienced many troubles, he's excessively cautious.'
He discussed that thought with the mercenary group. Merein said something.
"You're overthinking it. Think about it, boss. He's a kid with ambition who pays one silver coin monthly to retired veteran Rakson."
"Doesn't look like a kid though. What kind of fifteen-year-old is that."
Youngest Sen laughed hollowly and retorted to Merein's words. Unlike him whose nickname was youngest, Rowan had a quite stylish nickname called deep forest hunter. And he was a whole 3 years younger.
Suspicions about Rowan flowed like that. In the first place, there didn't seem to be any secrets in the mountain village. Even Rakson, who was quite famous among soldiers, was unheard of to mercenaries.
Because they easily sold things cheaper than market price and sometimes showed off discounts to sell goods early, they arrived at the inn as the sun set. They ate dinner early and had lots of time left over. So the youth association people ate dinner quite big and went out to tour the big village.
Rowan didn't go and just closed his eyes in the room. He had zero desire to tour around this country village. Even towering landmarks hadn't impressed him in his past life, and that was Rowan.
'What would even be there if I went.'
It was better to close his eyes and have a shadow battle about secret techniques. Now real combat had passed 3, 4 times too, and thanks to the hunter's experience of moving his body in various ways from lots of hunting, his imagination was quite realistic too.
'This time surrounded? Should I try fighting with my back against something? Who should I set as the enemy?'
Rowan spread the wings of imagination while rolling his eyes with them closed, then quickly fell into sleep. Unlike Rowan who fell asleep early, the others came in making noisy sounds. Rowan opened his eyes at that commotion.
'How much did they drink. There won't be any money left when returning to the village.'
He wanted to go right out the door and give them a piece of his mind but held back. But Rowan would remember this. He had the intention to use it as a weakness at a better time, and it was good to bring this up when quarrels arose to crush their spirit.
If he went out now, it would just be an emotional clash for nothing.
That was the shittiest choice. He might feel one macho pleasure, but conversely he could greatly grow resentment.
If you don't drink when everyone else is drinking, you'd become a piece of meat bitten by everyone, getting cheerfully picked on from the next day as well as at the company dinner.
Waking from sleep, Rowan felt his mind completely clear.
After tossing and turning, he got up and opened the window. And rather than covering himself with blankets again in the dark, he practiced instantly finding equipment in the darkness. Stretching here and there, doing exercises in place, then instantly pulling out what he needed from his belt.
'I need to become skilled.'
Rowan wasn't doing this training for nothing. This world's light was hard to see except for the sun and moonlight. Torches had less illumination distance than you'd think compared to the burning fire, and were very inferior lighting devices where brightness broke with each step.
He had to get used to darkness. Shadows and darkness were everywhere. The modern abundance of lighting fires even at night couldn't be expected.
Right now, even just inside the room, to light a fire at night you had to separately pay money to rent candles. Service didn't exist. The good-hearted thing about this inn was that eating and sleeping were quite cheap. Additionally, the liquor was also good to drink without burden.
'The wild strawberry moonshine has quite good fruit flavor... Should I take some before leaving?'
He also had other thoughts while practicing. It was quite familiar.
Rowan's time thinking busily passed quickly rather than being blank. Moonlight illuminated the room's floor white.
Because his body was comfortable, sleep didn't come well either. Rowan's body, stimulated at once while experiencing real combat, could already be called a warrior's body. It was also the age when blood energy was most vigorous, sleeping soundly even with heated stones placed under dirt.
Creak.
At the sound of wood hitting, Rowan opened his eyes. He raised only his upper body like a ghost. Because of darkness, he couldn't confirm anything.
'Feels off.'
As he quietly raised his body and adapted to the darkness, a wooden hook hit the window frame through the open window where moonlight clearly entered, then fell again.
'What are they doing?'
Rowan, who instantly found where the dagger was, drew his weapon. The dagger blade shone sharply in the moonlight. The wooden hook caught after being hooked two or three more times, and once it caught firmly, he could hear someone climbing up.
Rowan waited for the guy while pressed against the wall.
'Striking before they come up is foolish.'
Because he didn't know how many enemies there were. To definitely strike 1-2 people, it was best to strike the back of the neck after they came up.
"..."
A sturdy man entered inside. Couldn't confirm his face. Because shadow covered it. He looked like a fairly young guy. Rather than experience, you could feel boiling blood energy, and one more thing. He could smell alcohol.
'He's drunk.'
He didn't stagger, but you could smell strong alcohol.
The guy who entered glanced at the bed then soon took interest in other things. First he coveted Rowan's leather backpack. When no additional people entered, Rowan immediately struck from behind. He grabbed his hair and slammed him into the wall.
"Guk!"
Couldn't make a proper sound.
Whack! Whack!
After hitting twice, he felt the thief's strength rapidly drain. As soon as Rowan yanked backward, he flopped over. He was even holding a dagger in one hand, so Rowan kicked it to send the dagger far away.
"You son of a..."
The drunk guy tried to yell but shut his mouth as soon as he saw the sharp dagger blade illuminated by moonlight. Something cold pressed slightly on his neck and made a wound. Rowan knew very well that just cutting a bit was more effective than placing it on the adam's apple.
It was suppression know-how learned from Rakson. Know-how soldiers couldn't easily acquire. Naturally, he'd been taken hostage. As a victim, a dagger pressing to the point of bleeding had truly scared him to death.
That experience carried over intact to Rowan too. One silver coin per month. Its value was considerable. It was tuition difficult to keep, to the point of sometimes doing work in exchange and paying in goods. He'd gained that much indirect experience, and Rowan could faithfully ruminate in the peaceful and boring mountain village until his thoughts went blank, making indirect experience into his own habits.
"Be quiet. You don't want a big scar coolly carved on your neck, right?"
"Y-yes... yes..."
The fallen thief's face was brightly illuminated by moonlight. On the other hand, the fallen one couldn't see Rowan's face. Darkness hung heavily, covering his face. Because he couldn't see Rowan's expression, the thief naturally swallowed.
Because of that, the dagger scratched and cut the skin a bit more. He let out a slight groan at the pain.
"What the hell are you?"
"I-I'm Jebcon. I just followed the guys..."
Rowan was dumbfounded. When he removed the dagger, he couldn't stand the relieved expression so he punched him. He was so sick and tired of thievery now. He was angry, too angry. It was disgusting to the point of being horrified that he'd reincarnated into this shitty world.
The destructive desire to smash everything inevitably blazed like an active volcano. On Earth, whether he was lucky or not, he'd never had a thief once in his life.
The feeling of having to live in a place where if you lost your wallet the police station would contact you versus a place where night visitors unfailingly came whenever there was talk of something valuable or making decent money made Rowan feel like his entire sensibility was being smashed.
"Eok!"
"You son of a bitch, are you crazy?"
Only after grabbing his hair and slapping him five times did he let go. Rowan's hands, climbing mountains, training in weapon arts, and even brawling with a scarecrow alone, were spicy, too spicy. Jebcon, who instantly bled from his face and swelled up puffy, collapsed.
Coming outside, Rowan raided rooms throughout. He didn't even hold a dagger. He only entered the youth association people's private rooms. He figured the mercenaries, being mercenaries, would handle things well on their own.
Slam!
"Huk!"
As soon as he opened the door, a young man hunched in the darkness gasped sharply and was startled.
"Y-you! What the hell!"
Rowan moved his hands here and there, then unhesitatingly kicked the groin with his leg.
"Heuk!"
Even swinging fists, his anger didn't subside. There was anger as a modern person at this place's ethics, but more than anything because they'd crossed the minimum line he considered acceptable.
Rowan, who had to live in a place full of deprivation to the point of doing things he didn't even do in kindergarten, had made theft and lies what he hated most.
One lie could turn the company upside down.
Rowan's rough side that couldn't usually be seen poured out.
When Rowan, who'd instantly smashed four village youth gang members, opened the door and came out to the hallway, the mercenaries' figures were visible. Each one of them was grabbing youths' hair or had them under their feet.
"How many over there?"
"Three."
"Four guys sprawled in private rooms."
Rowan said that while heading toward the mercenary group. They were quite familiar with it. Not a single youth was badly hurt. Among them, the last one being dragged out had his arm folded by Merein and while groaning, yelled loudly.
"You sons of bitches! Let go! I said let go!"
"Stay still! Can't you read the situation!"
"Ptui! Where does a butcher bastard eating by the sword..."
He even spit on youngest Sen's shoe who'd quickly approached to help Merein. Every time he spoke, the alcohol smell came out terribly.
Sen made a scary expression and raised his arm, but Yuval stopped it.
"This is a village. Even regular soldiers will take the village's side."
Having said that, Yuval frowned seeing the four people Rowan had completely destroyed.
"No, if you use your fists like this..."
Coming down to the first floor, when torchlight hit the guys seated in chairs, it was miserable.
"I didn't hit them this hard though..."
Rowan trailed off.
One guy, one guy.
Very carefully beaten. In modern times, the one who got hit in the groin was so badly bruised his balls were too blue to ever throw a punch again, fearing settlement money. Starting from his face, swollen puffy so they hurried to scoop water to soak him in.
One brat on the floor hunched with pants off desperately trying to save his groin.
One guy like Anpanman with torn eyebrow, one eye swollen puffy, both cheeks swollen up full.
One pathetic guy who had one broken finger and barely got a splint attached while sobbing tears to Merein.
One guy whose nose was twisted, had traces of double nosebleed, front teeth collapsed, and mouth area covered in blood.
Like that, four were village youths destroyed by Rowan.
'Not good.'
Yuval shook his head. And soon sighed. Because with his friends all smashed up like half-cripples, the guy who'd spit on youngest Sen was loudly bragging.
'Boss of the brewing association, Galteum's son.'