The number of caught bandits was eight. Among them, three were injured. One whose wrist was cleanly cut off by Rowan's shortsword. One whose ankle bone had broken from rolling after getting hit by Shield-bulk Keireon's shield. Finally, one who got hit in the thigh with an arrow while fleeing.
The recovered weapons were all clubs.
Dark-colored clubs had clearly been soaked in water for a long time, so hard they could even block swords. Even with a longsword that could blow off not just wrists but even arms in one strike, cutting a club in one slash was difficult. Clubs could be made readily if you just had quality wood.
You could say it was the trademark of bandits and mountain bandits.
Just as some lands favor bamboo spears, clubs were the weapon of choice here. That's how much clubs were the best weapons for have-nots to hold.
'They're useless.'
The clubs were immediately discarded. They had no marketability. No one would try to buy them. It'd be better to just buy firewood instead.
Rowan felt the bandit's glare looking like he'd kill him and turned his head. Their eyes met, and the guy looked down.
'Should I kill him?'
He feared the aftermath. Even ordinary guys here would live ten or twenty years for revenge. If you wanted to kill, there were many places to kill. Because it wasn't like modern society with lots of things to enjoy, there was little attachment to life.
That was Rowan's thinking. So wariness arose even more.
"What do you plan to do with them?"
When Rowan approached and asked Yuval, Yuval spoke impassively.
"We plan to transport them to Torch Fortress. Since they committed crimes, they'll become criminal serfs or criminal slaves."
Words he'd heard from Rakson came to mind. Criminal serf. The punishment of living a life where marriage was possible, but you couldn't earn from work and your feet were bound in chains, unable to go elsewhere. Slaves were worse than serfs.
"What punishment they'll receive is up to the judge."
Hearing that, the bandits all prostrated themselves and crawled like worms. They screamed loudly to be spared. Keireon and Bedum kicked while using violence to quiet them.
"Haak!"
"Ak!"
Unlike Rowan, they aimed for thighs safe to step on or places thick with flesh and muscle. When pressing hard with boot heels, the bandits jumped like freshly caught fish.
They quieted from pain. But among them, a guy in fairly good condition with a good build shouted viciously.
"We live in Mushroom Mountain Village! If you return us to the village, we'll give ransom!"
Though they couldn't attack and got beaten instead, Yuval was tempted by talk of giving money.
"How much?"
"We'll give 1 silver coin per head."
"Nonsense. Would guys doing bandit work have saved any money?"
They carried clubs. Looking at their outfits, they hadn't properly plundered once so weren't wearing a single piece of armor. They couldn't help but look broke.
"Wouldn't the village hall have money to spare us?"
They seemed to think it'd be fine to sell firewood or do day labor in the village later. Rowan got angry at those words but swallowed his anger. He didn't like it.
'If banditry and plunder works out, good, and if not, the village pays ransom?'
It didn't sound like something a human being would say. He wanted to draw his sword right away but couldn't because it wasn't his decision to make. He had some say, but the one who directed the Skull Mercenary Group wasn't him but Consensus Yuval.
'I can't step forward to do it.'
Rowan thought of his goal. Moreover, it didn't seem like he'd dream black dreams from catching bandits like these. Even catching a two-legged bear, he hadn't dreamed a black dream. A mere bandit didn't seem like it would give him abilities.
'I'd need someone special.'
For example, a mercenary captain who was amazingly skilled at shooting goblins with arrows. A bandit chieftain who wielded numerous weapons while committing crimes and lived in the underworld.
He speculated he could only dream black dreams by killing those who'd each surprised Rowan. Seen that way, bandits were pathetic.
"1 silver coin per head is 8 silver coins total."
Merein said while leaning her butt against the cart. Naturally, 8 silver coins was an absurd amount. Very big money. While doing bounty hunter work, they had few memories of receiving that much at once. Usually even criminals' heads were worth around 50 copper coins to 5 silver coins.
'Even giving Rowan just 1 silver coin, it's 7 coins.'
Because he cut a wrist and stood at the front, they couldn't not give Rowan anything. More than you'd think, for veteran mercenaries, the front position was terrifying, and Rowan had chosen that position on his own. Unnecessary interference.
It was Rowan who trusted the darkness enough to stand at the front. Others would call it recklessness, but darkness in the forest was pitch-black beyond what everyone thought. And Rowan was a deep forest hunter. Based on just one short year, it was Rowan who'd wandered mountains and forests more than the mercenaries.
His confidence wasn't for nothing.
While the mercenaries exchanged opinions about the bandits' treatment, Rowan took out boar hide treated with waste oil. Inside, the bow was disassembled. It had the form of a short bow, but to become a longbow, there were additional pieces—something very thin but wide like a bandage, and the extension of the bow itself.
Because there could be times when he'd need either a short bow or longbow, it was something Rowan had agonized over and made with blacksmith Malrux.
Composite bows or mechanical bows—such things were what Rowan couldn't even dream of. Modern people's superficial knowledge was most pathetic in places like this. Even explaining was bullshit, and even earnestly requesting to make it was extreme hardship.
What he ultimately chose was a simple, brutish attachable longbow. That was all—tying both ends with rope reinforcements to withstand tension and extending the length.
Naturally it was very time-consuming work.
He opened the leather pouch, loosely tied with short leather straps, which spread open on the thick boar hide to prevent moisture. He smeared oil on the bow shaft with his hand. The maintenance cloth had black oil stains here and there.
He wiped the bow with the maintenance cloth, clearly showing traces of frequent use. Wood expands when moisture enters, and when it dries, it shrinks, creating gaps inside. The moment you use the bow, damage increases all at once, causing the bow to break.
Even long-used bows, once exposed to moisture, could have their lifespan rapidly shortened. Rowan had heard this from hunter Geric, who was strict about following proper procedures to the letter. Of course, Geric, despite teaching Rowan so meticulously, could himself only make bows roughly at best.
The reason was that it was bothersome, and every month he just made and replaced bow shafts himself. He'd even boasted to Rowan that woodwork becomes familiar as you do it. The only thing Geric maintained was bowstrings.
At least bowstrings were oiled, and the reason was simple. To withstand the bow shaft's elasticity, at least good bowstrings had to be used. Wood's elasticity was more fearsome than imagined.
Swish! Swish!
He perfectly removed moisture by applying small amounts of oil evenly and covered it again with boar hide. With many eyes watching, this wasn't the time for practice.
The shortsword had already had the blood wiped off and was put in its scabbard. Actually, even scabbards could be called a luxury. Many just covered or tied the blade part with leather. To save one or two pennies, even scabbards were rough. In fact, even Keireon hated maintaining swords so much he replaced scabbards with cloth.
They'd done mercenary work too long to care about appearances, and convenience was more important than style.
"Isn't maintaining bows hard?"
Youngest Sen approached. Among the Skull Mercenary Group, he was the only one using bows. Yuval and Keireon favored crossbows. Thick crossbows had better durability than bows, so they didn't need maintenance either.
If you just drew them in advance, you could definitely shoot faster than bows, so the advantages were significant. In that the first shot was fast, crossbows were hard to give up.
"I maintain it often so it's quick. You carry two bows?"
Rowan's head turned. Youngest Sen used a classic longbow and short bow.
"Can't be helped when you don't know where and how we'll fight."
Yuval approached them as they talked about bows. Youngest Sen smiled.
"What did you decide?"
"We'll have to stop by the village briefly. It's not going greatly out of the way. That's okay, right? We'll give Mr. Rowan 1 silver coin."
Rowan nodded without haggling. That alone showed the mercenaries conceding considerably. Eight bandits were something Rowan could never handle alone, and even if he could slaughter them, he couldn't make them prisoners.
"Stand up one by one."
He raised those roughly tied with rope one by one and pulled one knot of the rope. The rope immediately came undone. They were going to tie the rope anew.
"Arms forward."
With bear-like Keireon in front, the bandits moved crisply. They answered readily too. From Keireon wearing heavy armor came an iron smell that made their blood run cold. For them, the iron smell immediately brought blood to mind.
He tightly bound their arms with rope. Next, grabbing the rope, running it along the body, he tied the rope behind the body, through the elbows, toward the neck.
"Ugh."
When the rough rope bound his neck, the bandit flinched. The binding rope that ended at the neck like that headed to the next guy's arms. If the rope wasn't long enough, he tied more rope to make it long enough.
Eight bandits became one in a line like that. On necks and arms, rope was thickly woven, about two inches thicker than other places because it was woven in layers.
Making them into one group like that so they couldn't escape, the party then prepared to depart. Cleanup was the mercenaries' share. Rowan was the client, and he should just be grateful for picking up firewood. He'd offered to help when they bivouacked.
"You really live in Mushroom Mountain Village?"
"Really."
"It hasn't already become a bandit den?"
"..."
The bandit shut his mouth. Because he could see Rowan and the mercenaries were different. Rather than spending emotion on Rowan, reading the mercenaries' expressions was more important.
Rowan, at that sight, breathed deeply through his nose and cleared his mind. Mushroom Mountain Village should've been half a day's walk from here, but because the bandits were tied together with rope connecting their arms to their necks, movement speed was slow.
But the mercenaries' expressions were bright.
'Jackpot, jackpot. Money fortune burst.'
Selling to taxidermists and nobles could get them big money, plus 7 silver coins as ransom? Smiles naturally leaked out. Walking ahead, Merein continuously changed positions while quietly starting to talk one-on-one.
"No one will enter the village. You know that. We'll send just one bandit and wait for them to come out."
"What else?"
"If things go wrong, the bear hide is top priority. Youngest and Bedum will seem to flee to the forest then come back around to catch pursuers. Until then, you just worry about the cart."
Keireon nodded. If things went well, it'd resolve smoothly, but they had to think about when things went wrong too. The mercenaries put Rowan's safety as second priority and put the bear hide as first priority. Greed itself. And that was very natural.
Rowan's commission fee was only 50 copper coins. On the other hand, the bear hide's value would drop sharply each time one wound appeared.
"The bandits?"
"You have to cut their thighs or wrists. Don't kill, just cut enough to make them scream in pain. Quite a bit of blood has to come out, so be sure to cut fairly deep where the veins are."
She recited Yuval's advice.
Merein whispered even to youngest Sen, and Rowan couldn't know what she was saying. Tension arose for no reason.
Mushroom Mountain Village was right at the mountain's entrance. Fearing beasts, the palisade was also sturdy, and in preparation for bandits, mud was plastered and hardened here and there on the palisade. Setting fire to the palisade covered with dried mud looked difficult.
"Go and convey."
Arriving just before sunset as darkness descended, while making and lighting torches, Yuval cut the rope of the guy at the very front with a knife and pushed.
"Huh!"
After briefly staggering, the bandit hurriedly entered the village.
"It's me! It's Ken!"
The palisade's wooden gate opened without much difficulty. It looked fairly big even to Rowan's eyes, but seeing it open, it didn't look heavy at all.