Chapter 80

Translator: Willia

Hayden Crossroads was an unusual place. It was neither a village nor a city, merely a place where merchants, travelers, and pilgrims constantly came and went.

That was why few businesses had established permanent branches and put up buildings there, maintaining a presence for generations as the Lokir Merchant Company had. Most simply pitched tents, bought or sold their goods, and moved on.

In other words, if this had been a village or city, it would have had facilities to defend the entire inhabited area, but there were none here.

Everyone simply looked out for themselves, and the peace was maintained in the name of safe trade and through their mutual interests.

Valery and his companions bathed with the warm water provided by the branch staff, then got some sleep in comfortable beds.

When he opened his eyes again, it was shortly past noon.

Knut was still asleep, and despite being no child, he had kicked off his blanket. The weather had been chilly lately, and there was no hearth in the room.

Valery pulled the blanket back over him properly. Knut cracked his eyes open in his sleep, saw that it was Valery, then closed them again.

“Mmm...... I'm going to sleep a little longer......”

“I wasn't waking you. Go back to sleep.”

Valery left the room, went straight to the one next door, and opened it. It was the room where Brynhildr was staying, but though there were signs that someone had been there, she was gone.

When he went downstairs, the bodies had already been removed, and the people were diligently scrubbing away the blood.

“Eek!”

Someone spotted Valery and drew a startled breath. The others stopped what they were doing and stared at him, fear and tension in every eye.

Valery calmly ignored their gazes and left the building. He wore only a thin shirt, so the cold air after the rain swept over his body, chilling him.

He went to the stable and found Brynhildr there. She was cleaning the horses' hooves. Hoof care was not something just anyone could do, but she looked practiced at it.

She bent each leg, braced it between her own, and used something like a pick to scrape out the packed dirt. It was hardly a comfortable posture, and tending all four legs left one's back aching.

The sight of a Valkyrie doing such work herself was rather remarkable.

Her hair was tied roughly behind her, and she worked hard without caring that her clothes were becoming rumpled and dirty. To Valery, that only made her look more attractive.

When a shadow fell over her, Brynhildr looked up.

“Oh? You're awake?”

“Didn't you sleep?”

“I did. I only just woke up too.”

“Then tie the front of your shirt properly before you do that.”

“Huh?”

Brynhildr looked down at the front of her shirt. It was a man's shirt like Valery's, and it left her cleavage in plain view. It had been even more visible while she bent over to clean the horses' hooves.

“Oh, sorry.”

There was no need to apologize, but she did so anyway and properly laced the front of her shirt shut. She did not seem particularly embarrassed or flustered.

She had behaved like a lady in front of her mother, but her natural disposition was rather boyish, so she had often acted without much concern for appearances.

“How far have you gotten?”

“I'm almost done. Just a moment.”

Brynhildr finished tending the hooves of all three horses, then cleaned the stable. She swept away all the horse manure, scraps of fodder, and other debris.

Then she washed her hands at the trough, splashed water over her face as well, and wiped it roughly with her shirt.

“Let's go inside.”

“Okay.”

Valery took Brynhildr back into the building. The staff had not yet finished cleaning away all the blood, but the two claimed a table and sat together.

Even as they merely sat there, he could feel everyone watching them warily. After a while, Wilfred approached hesitantly and spoke.

“Sh-shall I have a meal prepared for you?”

“Before that, where did you put the bodies?”

“The b-bodies? Ah, we buried them nearby for now.”

“Dig the heads back up and hang them outside.”

“......Pardon?”

“Put them where those mongrels and everyone passing through can see them.”

“......”

Valery did not want the heads displayed merely as a threat. He also intended to show others that the merchant company remained strong and to see how their enemies reacted.

“......Yes. It shall be done.”

“And where are they?”

“Pardon?”

“Those mongrels' main camp. Did they set it up far away, or are they staying nearby?”

“They have a camp. You'll find it if you cross the bridge to the south and keep going.”

“How many are there?”

“I don't know the exact number, but I believe there are close to fifty.”

Fifty was no small number. Fifty grown men, especially fifty grown men experienced in combat, could destroy an entire village with ease.

Even a count could feel threatened by a force that size if he had only his peacetime troops rather than troops mustered for war.

“Fifty seems excessive.”

Valery considered the matter. Twenty men should have been enough to smash the branch. Bringing fifty meant their purpose was pressure above all else.

By sending a force the Lokir Merchant Company's headquarters, or rather Lucas, could not immediately counter, they meant to tell him to swear an oath of fealty if he did not want to lose the branch.

“In the past, when the Silverreach Mercenary Company was still intact, they did most of their business with us, so we could have responded fairly quickly. But not anymore. I heard they joined the Northern War, lost their captain, and suffered heavy casualties.”

Wilfred was the one who said it.

Yet the one who had killed that captain and inflicted those heavy casualties was none other than Valery, back when his rune power had run wild in the city of Grinnen.

Valery felt no particular guilt. They had been enemies, after all. He merely thought it strange how the affairs of the world could connect in such ways.

“How far away is the camp?”

“Half a day's walk.”

Their captain did not seem to be entirely lacking in common sense. If they stayed here, in a place that was not technically a city but functioned like one, he would have been unable to keep his men under control.

No matter how disciplined soldiers were, they quickly grew lax when stationed in a city, drinking, gambling, and frequenting brothels.

While Valery was considering this, Knut came down the stairs with his hair sticking up. He did not look fully awake and still seemed somewhat groggy.

“Bring us a meal.”

At Valery's command, Wilfred went to the kitchen and told them to bring out food. The serving girls had just finished cleaning away the blood and withdrawn.

As Knut sat down, Brynhildr reached over and smoothed his tousled hair. It did not immediately return to normal, but overall it looked a little tidier.

“What are we going to do?”

Knut came a little more fully awake and abruptly asked the question. He had no idea what was going on, but he was asking what Valery had in mind. He would do as Valery said anyway.

“I'm going to take a look around later.”

“Wouldn't that be dangerous?”

Brynhildr asked.

“We killed everyone who came here, so if their camp is half a day's walk away, they won't know yet. Once the heads are on display, I'll ride out and see what the situation is.”

Valery always looked for himself before making a judgment. To be honest, with only fifty men, he could probably go alone and kill them all, but there was always a chance something could go wrong.

No matter how powerful he was, that strength lay in his attacks. As long as his body was made of flesh and bone, a stray blade or arrow could still wound or kill him.

Moreover, Valery always targeted his opponent's openings and weaknesses. He considered whether they were careless or exhausted, as well as factors such as terrain and weather.

Their numbers were not particularly important. What mattered was their level of preparedness. If they knew Valery was coming and were fully prepared, even fifty would be difficult, but if they were exhausted and off guard, he could charge five hundred alone.

Still, it was hard to imagine the War Dogs mercenaries being fully prepared under the current circumstances. It was only common sense. In that case, he intended to exploit their carelessness as much as possible.

A short while later, steaming food was brought out, and the three began to eat.

But before Brynhildr and Knut had eaten even half their meals, Valery's habit of eating quickly had already left his plate empty, and he rose from his seat.

“I'll go alone, so the two of you stay here and guard this place. You will need to show me the way.”

Valery looked at Knut and Brynhildr, then finally at Wilfred as he spoke.

“Pardon? Me?”

“Yes. Let's go and return before nightfall.”

Valery went outside to the stable, saddled Snow, whom Brynhildr had groomed so well, and mounted.

Wilfred followed with a bewildered expression and climbed onto a riding horse. Only then did he seem to realize that something was amiss, and he looked at Valery.

“Surely we aren't going to the mercenary camp?”

“We are.”

“......But you killed those mercenaries this morning, did you not?”

“I did.”

“Then the others will bear a grudge against us.”

“They won't know yet.”

“But if by some chance they do......”

“Then run away. You're on horseback, so what are you so afraid of?”

“I believe they have several cavalrymen as well.”

“Never mind. Don't come. I'll go alone, so just explain the route in detail.”

“......No. I will guide you.”

Wilfred could not reconcile this with common sense, but he had seen what Valery did that morning and did not want to behave like a coward.

That did not mean he rode out with confidence. His thoughts were in turmoil, and he kept wondering whether this was truly the right thing to do, but he urged his horse onward all the same.

As they left the building, the people were in the middle of mounting the heads on poles.

They followed the main road across Hayden Crossroads and continued south until a bridge spanning a gorge came into view.

The gorge seemed deep enough that someone who fell might die, though with luck they might survive.

A long succession of arched stone pillars rose from the gorge to support the bridge. The stone bridge was magnificent in both height and length, and it was extraordinarily sturdy. So sturdy that even the people of the present day could not have built it.

That was why people believed giants had built the bridge in the distant past.

Valery and Wilfred crossed it.

Wilfred had said it was half a day's walk, so by riding at a decent pace, they reached the camp pitched in the fields before sunset. It was the War Dogs' mercenary camp.

Valery calmly surveyed them from horseback as the wind blew over him, while Wilfred needlessly fidgeted and anxiously kept watch in every direction.

As Valery surveyed the enemy, he judged the camp's location appropriate, but they had dug no trenches or driven in any stakes, so the position itself did not look well fortified.

That was grueling labor for the soldiers as well, and they appeared not to have felt it necessary.

Should he charge through on horseback and sweep over them? Even then, he doubted he would inflict serious damage rather than merely throw the camp into confusion.

If he had brought an army, he could have used the momentum to sweep them away, but without one, it would amount to little more than a moment of satisfaction.

Valery briefly considered what to do, then turned to Wilfred and spoke.

“Let's go.”

“......Pardon? Where?”

“Where else? Over there.”

With that, Valery rode toward the enemy camp.

Wilfred jumped in alarm and whipped his head back and forth between the road they had come down and the mercenary camp. If he was going to flee, now was the time. This was madness.

Then why was his body following Valery?

Doing something he had never attempted even in his dreams seemed to be gradually driving all thought from his mind. There were limits to boldness. This went beyond recklessness and amounted to plain suicide.

Whatever Wilfred thought, Valery remained perfectly calm. Upon reaching the outskirts of the camp, he dismounted.

“I'll be back shortly, so watch the horses.”

Then he entered the mercenary camp alone. Strangely, not a single person was standing guard. They were all too busy amusing themselves with prostitutes or relaxing on their own.

Staying here appeared to have inevitably made them somewhat lax. They had not come to fight, and the operation itself was not particularly difficult.

So it was Valery who stopped a passing mercenary to ask a question.

“Hey, you there. Where is the mercenary captain?”

“......Who're you, then?”

“I've come from the Lokir Merchant Company's headquarters.”

“An envoy? Hmm, over there. Go that way.”

As a mere soldier, he seemed to have little interest in what the men above him might discuss, so he showed Valery no immediate hostility.

He readily pointed out where the mercenary captain could be found.

The mercenary captain's tent was indeed conspicuously larger, and at least a few mercenaries were guarding its entrance.

Valery spoke to them as well.

“I've come from the Lokir Merchant Company's headquarters.”

They stared blankly at Valery, then pulled back the tent flap and shouted inside.

“Boss! Someone's here from the merchant company headquarters!”

“Huff! Huff! Tell him to wait a moment!”

Labored breathing and a woman's moans came from within, making it plain what they were doing.

“You heard him. You'll have to wait a little.”

“......”

Valery thought for a moment, then drew his sword. Even then, the mercenaries guarding the entrance showed little caution. They could not imagine that one man alone would try anything.

Valery spoke to them.

“When a stranger arrives, you should be on your guard, whoever he is. So this is all you're capable of.”

They had shown some competence as mercenaries by making camp a fair distance from Hayden Crossroads, carrying out controlled killings instead of indiscriminate slaughter, and choosing an appropriate campsite. Yet they lacked discipline where it mattered most.

“......What are you talking about?”

“So what?”

The mercenaries thought Valery was lecturing them and found it absurd.

Unfortunately, those were their last words. His sword flashed too quickly to see, splitting one man's neck and cleaving half through the other's head.

Before they could even collapse in sprays of blood, Valery flung the entrance open and stepped inside. A man and woman were tangled together on the bed.

The mercenary captain saw Valery holding a sword, sprang away from the woman in shock, and reached toward where his weapon hung. But his head fell first.

He collapsed with his arm still outstretched.

Thud.

The prostitute had been lying facedown and turned her head, not knowing what was happening. The first thing she saw was Valery holding his sword. She had not yet realized that the mercenary captain was dead.

Still bewildered, she watched Valery pick up the head and walk outside. Only then did her eyes fly wide.

“Ghk!”

She was so shocked that only a strangled gasp escaped her, and no scream came out.

Just then, two mercenaries passing near the captain's tent discovered their fallen comrades. They also saw Valery holding their captain's head.

Unable to immediately grasp what had happened, they first tried to make sense of what they were seeing. It took only a fraction of a second, but Valery moved faster still.

He closed the distance like the wind and swung his sword like lightning, severing both men's necks at once. Then, still carrying the captain's head, he retraced the path by which he had come.

Most of the mercenaries were inside their own tents or scattered about, amusing themselves or resting, so they did not even realize what had happened.

Valery had killed everyone who witnessed the attack before they could sound the alarm.

And so Valery swiftly killed only those he encountered and calmly walked out of the mercenary camp. Wilfred was waiting there, trembling with anxiety and unable to keep still.

Valery tied the mercenary captain's hair to Snow's saddle.

“What is that?”

Wilfred asked, his eyes bulging.

“The mercenary captain's head. By the way, what was this man's name?”

“......”

Wilfred could not answer. A high-pitched ringing suddenly filled his ears, and every sound in the world became muffled as though he were underwater.

Valery mounted his horse and slapped him across the cheek.

Smack!

Wilfred jolted in surprise and looked at Valery.

“Pull yourself together. Let's go.”

Then Valery simply spurred his horse onward. Wilfred scrambled after him. No one pursued them before the two riders vanished beyond the ridge.

The sun was just beginning to set. The evening glow shone upon the peaceful mercenary camp after the rain. It was red as blood.