Inside, the sharp crack of billiard balls echoed off the walls. Three men stood around a table, focused on the game, a tankard in hand.

  Vaunn made his way toward a man sitting apart, near the wall. Broad-shouldered, with a salt-and-pepper beard.

  “Do you have any jobs for me, Gun?”

  “No C- or D-rank missions.”

  “Then give me something else.”

  “There is an S-rank mission that just came in.”

  Gun stood and walked over to the counter, where he took a poster and handed it to Vaunn.

  No portrait. No face. Just a few lines traced in black ink.

  At the bottom of the page, one detail stood out: the reward on his head, two bags of gold.

  “Do you have any other information, Gun?”

  “Apparently, he’s killed hundreds of people. They say he’s a monster. If I were you, I wouldn’t go there.”

  “Where was he last seen?”

  “In the northern villages. He’s been attacking the hamlets one by one. Mercenaries will be leaving tomorrow morning, accompanied by the guard, to go kill him.”

  *****

  Dawn was still pale when Vaunn arrived at the gathering point. Men stood in small groups, checking their weapons. There were about twenty mercenaries, while a little farther off, around thirty soldiers stood in formation.

  A man stepped forward, tall and upright. He wore leather armor reinforced with dark metal plates, and a sword hung at his side.

  “Assembly! Everyone here, now!”

  The mercenaries stopped their conversations and moved to stand beside the soldiers.

  “I am General Goute. Each of you, take a pack : it contains bedding, a canteen, and rations. We leave in fifteen minutes.”

  Vaunn turned and was about to leave when a hand settled on his shoulder.

  “Hey, kid,” the man said. “I don’t like taking orders any more than you do… but if we want the reward, we’ll have to listen.”

  The man had a few days’ worth of stubble. A cloak hung over his shoulders, and a stringed instrument stuck halfway out of the pack on his back.

  Vaunn shook him off and headed toward a patch of grass where the packs were waiting. He picked one up and slung it over his shoulder. When he straightened, the man was behind him, taking one of the bags in turn and moving to stand beside him.

  “You’re not much of a talker. Name’s Kyt. Where are you from?”

  “Vaunn. I’m from the north, near the Shiskika steppe.”

  “I don’t know that place, and I’m from the north too. A small village near the citadel… you know the one?”

  Vaunn shook his head.

  “Surprising you don’t know it, it’s one of the largest citadels in the country!”

  “Interesting,” Vaunn replied.

  “One day, I hope you get to see it. You won’t be disappointed. They sell apples with honey and ginger, absolutely incredible.”

  The soldiers began to move, and the mercenaries followed.

  As they walked, Kyt turned his head toward Vaunn and opened his canteen.

  “You look young, Vaunn. How old are you?”

  He raised the spout to his lips and took a gulp.

  “Sixteen.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The next instant, he spat the water out, coughing.

  “Sixteen? You’re way too young to be a mercenary. What would your parents say?”

  “They’re dead.”

  “…I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  Kyt placed a hand on Vaunn’s shoulder and gave it a pat.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Vaunn replied.

  The hours stretched on, marked by the sound of boots, the clatter of weapons, and the wind whispering through the tall grass. Gradually, the sky took on an orange hue, then darkened until night began to fall.

  When darkness settled over the road, the order to halt was given. The men left the path and set up camp a short distance away, in more open ground. Everyone got to work: packs were set down, a few fires were lit, bedding was laid out. Before long, the camp took shape under the flickering glow of the flames.

  Vaunn sat near the fire and opened his pack. He pulled out a ration of dried meat and tore off a piece. No sooner had he brought it to his mouth than a sharp burn pricked his tongue. He chewed with a grimace, brows knit.

  Kyt, sitting across from him, burst out laughing.

  “They spice the meat heavily when it’s poor quality. That way you taste it less… or what’s left of it, anyway.”

  Vaunn finally swallowed the bite without replying, his gaze fixed on the crackling flames before him.

  At dawn, Vaunn rose, gathered the canvas, and folded the tent stakes still damp with dew.

  Kyt came over and knelt to help him. They rolled up the tent and packed each piece away, tightening the straps until everything was securely fastened.

  “Leave it,” he said, grabbing a rope. “You’ve got the look of a man who didn’t sleep.”

  “I barely slept,” Vaunn replied. “The mercenaries were partying all night.”

  “Same as always,” Kyt muttered. “They drink, they sing, they make noise… Some think it keeps the fear at bay.”

  Once the packs were secured, Vaunn and Kyt joined the rest of the group. The mercenaries gathered near the soldiers.

  “Form up!” an officer shouted.

  Boots scraped against the ground as the men took their positions.

  “Hurry up,” another voice added. “No dawdling.”

  “Looks like things are getting serious,” Kyt murmured.

  By late afternoon, the column slowed. The village wall rose before them, its gates standing wide open. In front of the entrance, the ground was covered with bodies, dozens of them, torn apart, broken, scattered all around the passage. A heavy, metallic, acrid stench saturated the air, clinging to the throat and stinging the eyes.

  “Positions! Stay together!” General Goute shouted.

  The soldiers immediately spread out, spears and shields raised. The mercenaries took their place behind them.

  “Move forward,” Goute continued.

  The column passed through the village gates, stepping over the bodies. Inside, the sight was even worse. The streets were littered with corpses, dozens… then hundreds.

  “The guard is here! Come out!”

  Curtains stirred behind several windows. Here and there, silhouettes appeared briefly before vanishing at once. At last, a man stepped out of a house. Old and hunched, he leaned on a wooden cane to walk, shoulders slumped, casting anxious glances around him. He approached them alone.

  “Oh, great god, thank you for coming…”

  He dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks. He grasped the general’s hand, which was pulled away at once.

  “What happened?” General Goute asked.

  “Last night, we were attacked by a monster. It killed all these people… my son… my grandsons. Avenge them, I beg you.”

  “Did you see it?” the general asked.

  “All those who saw it are dead.”

  The general looked down at the kneeling old man.

  “Pathetic. Fall in. We’re leaving for Qkashsa. It’s the nearest village.”

  “Please, don’t leave us alone here…”

  The general started walking again, and the troop immediately moved after him. The old man clutched at Goute’s cloak.

  “Please… don’t leave us…”

  The general brought his hand down across the old man’s face. The blow made him let go; he toppled backward and collapsed onto the ground.

  Vaunn stepped toward the old man. A hand closed around his shoulder.

  “Let it go,” Kyt murmured. “Don’t do this.”

  “Let go of me,” Vaunn said.

  “You’ll turn the whole troop against you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Vaunn knelt beside the old man lying on the ground.

  “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  “I… I don’t think so,” he replied in a trembling voice. “My legs… they won’t support me anymore.”

  The colonel turned around.

  “Is there a problem, kid?” he shouted.

  “You struck this old man. I thought soldiers had honor.”

  “Honor?” the colonel scoffed. “Respect has to be earned. That old man is nothing but a coward. What do you think he was doing while his village was under attack? Hiding like a rat while his family was being butchered.”

  The old man looked away, lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

  The general released him.

  “Cowardice disgusts me,” he spat. “I don’t want to see you again.”

  The colonel stepped toward Vaunn.

  “The next time you lecture me about honor, I’ll beat you senseless,” he growled.

  Then he turned to the troop.

  “Move out!”

  Vaunn rejoined the group and took his place among the mercenaries. The ranks tightened around him as the column set off once more.

  “You’re lucky,” Kyt said. “I’ve done several missions under Captain Goute’s command, and I can tell you he’s already dismissed… or even slaughtered mercenaries for less than that.”

  “I would have beaten him,” Vaunn replied.

  Kyt rolled his eyes toward the sky.