Chapter 26

Creak—

Urich and the mercenaries followed the servant into the parlor.

“Ah, you’re here.”

Two men stood in the room. One was Count Havilond, and the other was the captain of the guards of the city.

Count Havilond was dressed in a red robe with golden embroidery with a ring glittering with gems of different colors on his finger.

The captain of the guards was blind in one eye. A deep scar ran across his blind eye and the other one scanned the mercenaries.

“Hey, Mr. Lord,” Urich said as he sat in front of Count Havilond. The wolfskin he had wrapped around himself made him look as fierce as a beast.

“I heard that your Urich’s Brotherhood are the most renowned mercenaries these days,” Count Havilond commented with a calm and low voice.

“I heard you have a job for us. That’s what we’re here for.”

Urich grabbed an apple that was on the table and bit off a mouthful.

“Do not be rude, mercenary. You are in the presence of our lord,” the captain of the guards said coldly. He looked as if he was ready to draw his sword at Urich at any moment.

“Count Havilond, you should get a new guard captain. This one’s very rude! Look at him frowning at me at our first meeting.”

Cling!

The captain unsheathed his sword halfway after hearing Urich’s words.

“You draw the rest of that sword, and you can say goodbye to your hand,” Urich warned the captain.

“That’s enough, Sir Setton!” Count Havilond scolded his captain. Setton tilted his head slightly and sheathed his sword.

“Is it rude to eat an apple here, or is it rude to be friendly to your lord? I’m not rude—in fact, I’m doing my best to show you my manners. If you don’t like that, then we’ll be on our way. Might as well go work as a security guard and make some pocket change instead,” Urich retorted and tried to get up from his seat.

“I apologize for Sir Setton’s rudeness. However, it is true that your behavior is considered quite mannerless from our perspective,” Count Havilond calmly assured Urich his seat. Urich sat back down.

“I am Urich, the barbarian. It’s even in our song. Surely you expected something like this?”

There was only one reason why people hired barbarian mercenaries: their battle ability. Even the southern barbarians were considerably tough if they were fit enough to work as mercenaries. The fact that they were able to roam around the Empire as barbarians vouched for their strength. That barbaric strength had been proven time and time again by Urich and Sven. The only reason that the Empire was able to conquer the barbarian lands was their superior battle strategies and equipment. In terms of pure physical prowess, no one was above the barbarians. The state-of-the-art armory such as weapons forged with imperial steel and gold-plated full-body armor were seldom available outside of the Imperial military, and the nobles were no exception to that scarcity.

In the mercenary world where the same level of armory is available to barbarians and civilized men alike, the superiority of the barbarians became obvious.

‘The barbarian title is not a bad thing to have in the world of mercenaries.’

Count Havilond nodded to show that he agreed with Urich and opened his main proposal.

“...I can offer you eighty million cils as your compensation. However, if you prove to offer a significant contribution, then I will consider bringing that up to a hundred. I would say that’s not a bad offer for twenty-eight men, is it?”

Urich’s mercenary squad had grown to twenty-eight strong after a youthful young man, a wandering mercenary, a bandit, and a leftover soldier joined the group. He was tempted to blow up the size of the squad at once, but too many new additions wouldn’t have been able to assimilate with the existing mercenaries, only creating conflict and hierarchy within the squad. It was best to introduce a few at a time for smooth growth, like adding ink to a cup of water one drop at a time.

“Considering that this is just a bandit extermination mission that won’t cause any fatality, it’s not a bad offer, Urich,” Bachman whispered to Urich with his hand covering his mouth.

Urich glanced at the mercenaries that accompanied him to the meeting. None of them seemed to object to the offer since it was quite a big pay.

“Eighty-million cils is enough for us to replace all the old armory. A bunch of the guys are still using the same armory as they did back in our gladiator days, and my chainmail is thinning out and getting rusty as well,” Donovan said after thinking about the offer for a bit. He thought that this remuneration should be used as a way to launch their future, rather than for instantaneous luxury and pleasure.

‘If we want to be ready for any kind of job, we need to prepare a heavy armory for at least half of our squad.’

Donovan was a soldier. He was well aware of the importance of heavy infantry—that they were the crucial component that could hold an entire squad together in any battle situation. Shields raised by warriors in metal armor were practically a solid wall.

“Great, we’ll begin our preparations,” Urich smiled as he got up.

After the mercenaries had left the parlor, the guard captain Setton looked at Count Havilond with a face full of complaint.

“Those are rude men, my lord. We can do this without the help of those merc...”

“That’s enough, Setton.”

“Those bandits are no match for our forces! The proud soldiers of Havilond don’t need the support of those mercenaries, let alone a barbarian!” Setton carried on with his rant. Count Havilond released a long sigh.

“The proud soldiers that you talk about are people who were born and raised in my city. They are someone’s father, child, and even husband! If hiring those ‘rude’ mercenaries reduces the casualty in our military by even one man, then I am willing to spend whatever their price is.”

Setton was speechless.

Bandit extermination was not a risky operation because even the bigger bandit groups were nothing but a bunch of hooligans. But it still being a battle, there was bound to be at least a few soldiers who didn’t make it back home. A noble or lord who cared about his people the way Count Havilond did was incredibly rare.

‘This is truly the lord of Havilond.’

Setton couldn’t say another word.

“Your wish is my command.”

* * *

Guard captain Setton and his eighty-five standing soldiers, along with the twenty-eight mercenaries of Urich’s Brotherhood—in total, over a hundred armed men stepped out of the castle gates. They were headed to the mountain where the bandit hideout was said to be. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Who’s that?” Urich spotted a man who didn’t look like he belonged among soldiers. He was dressed in clothes that had the symbol of the sun on the chest and was headed into the battlefield without a single weapon.

“That’s the priest of Solarism. Sometimes, they accompany the outgoing soldiers,” Bachman answered.

“A priest? Oh, you mean their ‘shaman.’ Why is he coming with us?”

“They follow the soldiers to give them their blessings before a battle or lead the funeral services for those who don’t make it. Without their prayer guiding them to Lou’s embrace, their souls have to wander the living world for a long time before eventually finding their way up to the sun,” Bachman said as he clenched the sun pendant hanging on his neck. Death was always a close and relevant topic for mercenaries and gladiators, so they were naturally the group with the most interest in the afterlife.

‘Where do we go after we die?’

Urich curiously looked at the priest.

“He probably knows a lot of things then, right?”

“Priests are basically scholars,” Bachman answered, and Urich paced toward the priest.

“Hey,” Urich’s rugged hands made contact with the priest’s shoulder, making him flinch.

“Ah, you’re the mercenary leader! My name is Gottval,” Priest Gottval said to Urich as he looked at him.

Urich carefully scanned Gottval, not missing a single detail from his outfit down to his hand gestures. He looked like he was in his early twenties, at most, but even Setton the guard captain treated him with the utmost respect as if he was his superior.

“My name is Urich, and it looks like you already know what I am.”

“It’s my pleasure to meet you, Urich. I’d like to thank you on behalf of my city’s faithful people.”

“Thank me? For what?”

“For fighting the bandits for the innocent people.”

Urich laughed in disbelief.

“I’m getting paid to do this, so you have no reason to thank me. I’m being compensated.”

“Even if you are getting paid, putting your own life at risk to fight is not something that everyone can do,” Gottval said with his eyes sparkling. Urich was irritated and called Bachman over.

“Hey, Bachman, are all priests out of their minds like this guy?”

Bachman was appalled. He angrily interrupted Urich by plugging his mouth with his hand.

“Haha, Father Gottval, it’s our leader’s first time meeting a priest.”

“That’s quite alright. I understand that his customs and speech are different from ours,” Gottval showed a faint smile, which gave Urich a vague sense of discomfort.

‘What the hell is this?’

Urich stared at Gottval. It was a sensation that he had never felt before.

‘Why is a man being so sweet to me?’

Gottval’s words were warm and kind without asking for anything in return. For Urich, who was brought up in an environment where human relationships were similar to that of a wolfpack, it was an unfamiliar kindness.

“Urich, I don’t want my soul to wander this world after I die. Don’t do anything to piss off the sun god—people like him have practically devoted their flesh and soul to the god.”

“I know. They’re your ‘shamans’.”

“I just thought I’d let you know because it doesn’t feel like you know, at all.”

“You’re taking the piss again because I’m a barbarian, aren’t you? This is just like that time you lied to my face about the sea being so vast and whatnot. Is everything that comes out of your mouth a lie? Huh?”

Urich and Bachman bantered away. Gottval walked ahead of them with a smile on his face.

“Stop! We’ll camp here tonight.”

After walking for half a day, the captain of the guards stopped his army. The mountain where the bandits operated was three days away, meaning that the army would have to camp for at least two more nights before reaching it.

As soon as the captain’s order fell, the soldiers prepared for the campout. The men responsible for cooking started the campfires and brought out the pots and pans.

“Hey, which idiot left their used leather gloves in the pot?”

A ruckus erupted from the mercenaries’ corner.

“Oh, those gloves were all torn up and worn out, so I put them in there. It’s rawhide, so shouldn’t we be able to eat it after we boil it?”

“Is there an arrow stuck in your head? All that grime and shit from your hands are going to boil into the stew.”

The mercenary squad’s staple was a mixed stew with all sorts of random ingredients boiled together. At times, they would see one or two strange ingredients, but they were mostly edible.

“Hey, that’ll season the stew nicely!” The owner of the gloves said nonchalantly.

“Grab that dickhead’s throat and hang him upside down. We’re gonna have human meat today, fucking idiot,” the cooking mercenary drew his sword in anger, and the others followed suit.

Urich laid on a slant and watched his mercenaries banter away. He let out a big yawn.

“Mister Priest.”

“You can call me Gottval, Urich,” Gottval stopped and turned to respond to Urich’s call.

“What’s that in your hand?”

“This is the bread for my dinner, ah!”

Urich snatched the bread from Gottval’s hands and dug his teeth into it.

Crunch.

It felt like his strong barbarian teeth were going to shatter. The dumbfounded Urich rubbed his jaw and looked at Gottval.

“Y-your teeth must be surprisingly strong, Gottval. They do say to never judge a book by its cover.”

“No, no, you’re supposed to cut the bread into bite-sized pieces and let your saliva slowly dissolve them inside your mouth. It prevents you from letting your hunger and appetite take over your discipline. It’s a great way to train your patience,” Gottval said as he gave a demonstration. He gave a cut to Urich for him to try. Urich tossed the bread around in his mouth for a good few minutes, but his expression was grim.

“You live a tiring life, Gottval. This tastes like nothing, yuck.”

“Delicious food makes our flesh rejoice, but our souls sad,” the priest showed a serene smile.

“Is that the life of a priest?”

“We priests are tasked with the holy duty of guiding the souls that have been corrupted by earthly desires to the embrace of Lou. It would make no sense to allow ourselves to fall to the same desires since there is no way that a corrupted soul can lead another soul to the right path.”

Urich’s eyes brightened. He wanted to learn more about Gottval’s way of living. It was something that he had never seen or heard of before.

“Then, do you know how to write?”

“Of course.”

“Teach me how to write. This is what I know, so far.”

Urich snapped a twig off a tree and wrote all the letters and words he knew on the ground.

‘This barbarian knows how to write?’

Barbarians were seldom interested in learning how to read and write. Most of them couldn’t see the value of recording their history in writing.

“These letters that you people use... they’re amazing. They allow you to leave a record of something that can last through time and place. Whatever you leave in writing gets passed down, unchanged, right?”

Gottval’s eyes widened at Urich’s remark. Urich was fully understanding the importance and value of writing and recording.

‘Even most of the people who call themselves ‘civilized’ don’t fully understand the value of writing, yet this pagan barbarian...’

Writing and recording was one of the lifelong tasks of a priest. They carefully transcribed books, letter by letter. Along with scholars, priests were among the greatest lovers of writing and books.

‘It must have taken this barbarian ages to learn what he wrote on the ground. I never thought I’d find someone so eager to learn in a place like this! This must be Lou’s will.’

Gottval was overjoyed and grasped Urich’s hands firmly. He felt like he had just received a sacred task and revelation.

“Please come find me after supper, every day. I will set aside a time for your learning.”