"You're really going to do it?"
While Rowan put more effort into persuading the youth association, Merein spoke to Consensus Yuval while chewing jerky in her mouth since she was out of tobacco. Yuval, captain of the Skull Mercenary Group, nodded.
"Because I'm curious where the guy's really going."
By "the guy," he meant Rowan.
"What do you mean...?"
Yuval made a dry laugh, a sneer asking if that's all there was to it. Merein got annoyed and her head cooled down. When angry, rather than flaring up, she cooled down—she was excellent both as a informant and warrior.
"He's walked everything calmly until now. But suddenly going to Torch Fortress with mercenaries out of nowhere? Front and back don't match."
It meant something was there.
"You're overreacting. We showed quite a bit of trust."
Yuval shook his head.
"In all my mercenary work, I've never considered guys with characteristic calluses to be ordinary."
The symbol of knights. Secret techniques secretly transmitted. The common knowledge widely known in the world that you'll inevitably lose if you face a knight without understanding their techniques.
Knights' secret techniques that inevitably dealt fatal damage were no different from special moves you'd only see in novels. These techniques that viciously took lives with unique movements required training proficiency, and naturally, you could see calluses not visible on other swordsmen.
Rowan possessed the twelve secret techniques Rakson had gained through a lifetime of military service. Of course, among them, only three secret techniques came out naturally during combat.
"It's overestimation."
Merein said that but couldn't refuse Yuval's opinion. For mercenaries who sometimes did illegal things, belonging to a mercenary group practically meant listening to the captain. He asked for opinions, but ultimately judging and deciding was Yuval's role.
In that sense, Rowan's mistake was clear.
Showing an appearance unsuited to his age and walking a calm, calculated path, but suddenly being with the Skull Mercenary Group was an act contrary to that. And Yuval thought Rowan wouldn't make such mistakes.
But Merein didn't.
"Just a lucky greenhorn. Deep forest Rowan? Bullshit. Like an idiot, he screwed up four brats. A 15-year-old brat who doesn't think about the consequences."
Yuval shook his head.
"He's not just angry. Unless it's anger with reason, he can't exercise violence that creepily. Actually, Rowan has quite a quiet personality."
Unless he was quite worked up emotionally, there was no way Rowan would exercise violence like this. Yuval thought that. Based on what Rowan had shown, he coldly and clearly found the answer to what he'd done.
Merein shrugged. The others listened quietly while hearing the two's conversation. Because they had no particular thoughts, they just listened to the direction the mercenary group would move.
Operating the five-member Skull Mercenary Group wasn't easy. Rear-picker Bedum, who was slim and tall like a pole, and Shield-bulk Keireon, who was big-bodied like a bear, found operating a mercenary group bothersome, hated it, and considered themselves talentless at it.
Yuval and Merein were no different from holding up the mercenary group as the big pillars.
Because Merein had a lot of information, she could keep up with veteran Yuval.
Watching Giten, Kiten's brother, finally nod, Yuval smiled inwardly.
'Rowan isn't unaware of how the world works. But his nature itself hadn't been worn down by worldly hardships.'
Everyone looked after their own safety while having desires. That was the same for Rowan. But if you looked at that in detail, who ultimately held responsibility in their hands? Rowan held it.
In the end, he's a greenhorn. He should've gone all the way but couldn't. That's why Merein called Rowan a greenhorn. It meant acting his age.
'Not simple enough to dismiss as just playing the hero.'
If Yuval had been in the same situation as Rowan, he would've done as Rowan suggested. It couldn't be dismissed as simple hero play. If you had skill, that was enough. That's exactly what this world was.
The wit shown by a skilled 15-year-old made 34-year-old Yuval nod. And Giten nodded as soon as he sensed the mood and got some consideration for his age. He was just an impatient guy who, while putting on airs, had merely passed this matter to Rowan.
The skilled guy also had considerable responsibility. That was never a good thing.
It was a human character you couldn't usually see, and a personality that would rarely appear except in mountain villages. Yuval was watching that directly with his own eyes.
The guys scattered across private rooms were gathered once again in three private rooms, and in the opposite side's private room, youngest Kerteum, son of brewing association boss Galteum who was the local power figure of Big Village Dudun's Barrel, entered alone.
Rowan wasn't there. It was a role unsuited to Rowan with his young-looking face. Instead, Keireon and Yuval were in the private room. The bed was overturned and against the wall, and there was one table. Next to it, one piece of furniture with lots of holes drilled and gaps slightly widened were covering those holes.
"What?"
There was a hole drilled so large that anyone could see it was strange. It was Keireon's work. So Kerteum immediately noticed something fishy.
"Because I want to make a bet. Honestly, you were quite impressive. You moved fearlessly even with mercenaries here. Everyone followed you. Did you have outstanding talent for handling people?"
"So what. You murderer bastard."
Saying that, Kerteum was forcibly and roughly seated in a chair. Yuval proceeded with the story regardless of such curses. It was a proposal that even Kerteum would drool over.
"You cause quite a lot of trouble, so if you cause problems like this time too, what are you going to do? So let's settle it cleanly with one round."
"...Let me hear it."
Even at the sneaky response avoiding an answer, Yuval continued talking without changing expression while throwing and catching a dagger with a whirl.
"If your entire gang swearing loyalty to you stays loyal, it's your victory. But if it's the opposite, it's our victory."
"If I win?"
"We'll release everyone, give you five silver coins, of course, and tie up the guy who beat up your subordinates and give him to you."
Money didn't greatly interest Kerteum, but he was interested in the idea of getting the guy who messed up his underlings' faces. And the betting method of confirming what Yuval called loyalty was something he'd never thought of.
"Isn't that guy your subordinate?"
"What does that have to do with it? We're mercenaries. We just want to avoid useless problems."
"Even if a person dies? Crazy mercenary bastards."
Ptui!
Kerteum spit, but it was blocked solidly by the dagger. At that sight, Kerteum was surprised.
Yuval naturally wiped Kerteum's spit on his clothes.
"Ah, shit!"
"You smoke too? The smell, ugh."
Yuval waved his hands, a completely different reaction from when Merein smoked. And he could be certain Kerteum had completely fallen for it. Because even at this small mockery, he had other thoughts and didn't shout right away.
The atmosphere of regarding guys belonging to his gang as underlings was strong from the start, and he was so arrogant he seemed never to doubt their loyalty.
'It's funny to even talk about loyalty.'
It was contradictory for a guy with curses stuck in his mouth to even mention loyalty.
The first guy up was a weak-hearted guy chosen carefully. Because his face was covered, Kerteum, who didn't know who came, relaxed and leaned back as soon as he heard the voice.
'It's half-cripple Maxnel.'
A guy who got teased whenever bored, and just laughed even when severe pranks were played. Maxnel was no different from a wooden doll for Kerteum's entertainment.
Rowan dragged and seated him, then stood behind. Bedum placed the table and proceeded with the story while facing Maxnel.
"...So tell us who the ringleader is among you guys. Then we'll release you right now."
"T-tell you the ringleader?"
At the stuttering, Kerteum laughed viciously.
'Retard bastard. The way he talks.'
When released, he wanted to firmly train him not to stutter in any situation. It would be quite fun.
"Right. You need to get out too, don't you? How many people already got out."
"Did... Kerteum get out too?"
"Ah~ that brewing association boss's youngest? Couldn't touch a hair on him. Released him right away. He just left with a whoosh. Seeing how there's still no contact, that guy too really..."
Kerteum's eyebrows twitched. But he waited for Maxnel's answer with doubt, thinking 'no way.'
"R-really?"
Hearing those words, half-cripple Maxnel looked down. He clearly looked like he was worrying. Then Rowan from behind whispered in his ear, with his hand on Maxnel's shoulder, head lowered so the next room couldn't hear. He made his voice as low as possible.
"Kerteum instigated it, right? Say Kerteum. We can't touch him either. We just want to receive minimum compensation for damages from his father about this problem."
At that whisper, Maxnel flinched. But before answering what Rowan said, before thinking it through, Bedum opened his mouth and growled.
"Speak quickly. Don't stall for time!"
A chilling shout was enough. Maxnel, his thoughts frozen, opened his mouth.
"Kerteum. Kerteum planned everything. We did nothing wrong."
Starting with that, they were released from the inn one by one and fled like thieves. Because they thought Kerteum had already been released, some were grateful they were going home. And Kerteum, who watched that entire process, at some point stopped getting angry and just interlocked his fingers, buried his head on the table, and quietly breathed.
Until the last person left the inn like that, and only Kerteum remained.
"The bet is our victory."
"What do you want?"
"Silence about today's matter."
"..."
He stood up. No one stopped Kerteum, and the rope was torn off with one knife stroke. At that moment, Kerteum rushed at Yuval. Yuval grabbed Kerteum's collar and swung mercilessly.
"Ugh! Keuk!"
His vision shook dizzily, and Kerteum couldn't do anything properly. With his sense of balance messed up, Yuval let go. Because he didn't even put strength into the push, Kerteum collapsed ungracefully right there with a plop.
Not a single wound on him.
Caught by the nape by Keireon, he was thrown outside the inn.
"Ugh!"
Kerteum, who rolled several times and sprawled out spread-eagle, slowly got up. Somehow he had no strength in his whole body and felt helpless.
'It's futile.'
Because what had been together since childhood until now was smashed in one night. There was certainly anger at them too, but now the futility was greater.
Kerteum disappeared into the darkness. Rowan confirmed that from the second floor and let out a sigh of relief.
"It's still early to relax. If he thinks differently tomorrow, things will get more troublesome."
At Yuval's words, Rowan couldn't sleep well. Even while dozing, he had nightmares of regular soldiers barging in. The guards playing cards weren't scary, but the patrol's refined appearance was frightening. In dreams, such patrols made Rowan kneel and even tied him with rope.
Even while having nightmares several times, Rowan forced himself to sleep. Because he wanted to relieve fatigue as much as possible.
The party that faced the morning sun under mental pressure ate half-heartedly while constantly looking around.
It was a peaceful morning without incident.
Because there were no particular problems, the youth association took the money and headed back to the village, and Rowan headed toward Torch Fortress with the Skull Mercenary Group.
'It was an experience I never want to repeat.'
Walking away from the big village called Dudun's Barrel, Rowan looked back at the village and thought. Though it was only one night, it was the first time he'd been in such a precarious situation.
People each thought of what would benefit them, and Rowan almost fell into great trouble from his reckless use of force. What he experienced yesterday wasn't overcome by Rowan's skill at all. It was just luck that happened to work out—he'd only been able to escape the situation by fluke.
He truly had no choice but to pray for luck.
Rowan, who'd experienced a night mixed with self-loathing, inferiority complex, and nightmares, turned his head.