Prologue
“THEY’VE SURE GATHERED QUITE THE FORCE,” a young man murmured under his breath as if he could hardly believe the number of troops milling about the encampment. Mercenaries, the lord’s personal soldiers, and even militia were preparing to head out.
Another man standing nearby cleaning his sword chuckled as he overheard him. “Of course they have. You can never be too prepared, eh? It’s a witch we’re hunting, after all.”
Witches.
They were said to wield unknown arts called “magic” that could manipulate even the weather. It was said that long ago, a witch destroyed a country that provoked her wrath overnight. Another created a flood that swept a village away just for fun. Those were but two of the countless rumors illustrating how dangerous they were.
It had been many years since the creatures known as “monstrosities” roamed the continent, and so people from other countries were seen as the biggest threat as of late. But the one mysterious entity that still remained in these lands was the witch—the epitome of terror and dread.
“Was it really necessary to go so far just to win an inheritance dispute?”
“That’s not for us to judge when we volunteered for the job.”
“Touché.”
The driving force behind the mission was the succession issue faced by the lord of these lands. He had two sons—twins. Both were equally skilled and possessed the same stubbornness that prevented them from reaching a compromise.
They quarreled incessantly over who should succeed their father, constantly trying to outdo each other and earn brownie points. It seemed the elder of the two had finally taken it upon himself to distinguish himself by hunting one of the witches of legend.
Apparently, he had determined that he would need the aid of more than just his private soldiers. As a result, he threw money around to attract men ready to fight, resulting in today’s massive gathering.
“I’ll do anything as long as the coin is good…” the young man said to himself as he crossed his arms. “Still, this is my first time going after a witch.”
He looked to be in his midtwenties, with short, cropped gray hair and a large frame rippled with muscles. His face, covered in scars, gave him an intimidating presence that left no doubt as to what his profession was.
This young man was Zig Crane, a mercenary.
“Magic, huh? I suppose I could turn to fairy tales for tips on how to deal with it.”
Zig tried to imagine battling this unknown enemy, racking his brain for ideas on how to handle the situation. Some of the idle chatter he heard at taverns mentioned how witches could conjure balls of fire without using any tools or call forth the wind, but he remained dubious that these kinds of feats were even possible.
“Regardless, witches do exist. Putting aside whether magic is real or not, it’d be wise to assume they’re capable of all the tricks the gossip suggests.”
Zig had his doubts when it came to magic, but he accepted that the threat witches posed was very real. There were too many stories about the damage they caused to dismiss them all as fairy tales, and many major powers were eager to subjugate them. In the past, several other forces had been sent after the very witch they were tasked with hunting today, but they all ended in failure. This mission was clearly far beyond the scope of any lone individual.
Because of this, Zig originally believed witches weren’t a singular entity, that perhaps they were representing some sort of group. Maybe they’re part of a state-sponsored coalition, or perhaps a crime syndicate…
But whatever the case, the pay wasn’t anything to scoff at, and the request was a legitimate one that came through the guild. The hefty commission showed how hazardous this mission was, but taking on dangerous tasks was the very nature of this line of work, no different from his previous jobs.
I can’t let my guard down, but there’s nothing to be afraid of either.
That was all Zig was thinking as he waited until the time of departure, blissfully unaware that this misconception would greatly influence his future.