Side Story:
Witch and Mercenaries
SCHWEIGEN WAS A LAND LOCATED IN A BASIN SURROUNDED by mountains. Its geography made it a natural fortress, a peaceful country in its remoteness. Aside from rivers, there were plenty of forests nearby, meaning there was no shortage of wood and other resources. It was a compact, well-behaved, backwater country with little development potential.
Such was Schweigen. As long as you stayed out of the deep woods, that is.
This land also had mercenaries. Some of them turned to banditry after they went broke fighting wars for the kingdoms over the mountains. Other times, neighboring kingdoms would kill them just so they wouldn’t have more mouths to feed.
Maintaining an army still cost a lot of money. The nation’s small standing militia meant that there would always be demand for temporary fighting forces.
There was a run-down hole-in-the-wall bar here famous for its cheap liquor. Mercenaries and unsavory types frequented the place, turning it into an information hub for those in the underworld.
“Thanks for the tip.”
“Just hope the silence doesn’t eat you alive.”
In the corner of the bar was a scruffy bearded man who worked as a sleazy informant. Today, he had managed to sell questionable information that could be used dubiously.
Giving the large mercenary a moody warning, he watched him leave the bar.
“Heh.” He thought about the big man as he sipped his watered-down drink. It’s only redeeming quality was that it was safe to imbibe.
That had been a strange customer. Definitely a mercenary, but he was decked out in gear that made him stick out like a sore thumb. He paid well and certainly looked like he could crack some heads, but the informant was unfamiliar with the rougher way of life and was therefore a bad judge of that sort of stuff.
However, none of that actually mattered. All he wanted was the thrill of getting paid for ripping someone off.
With the gaze of a passionate lover, he looked at the gold coin at the bottom of his cup. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw one.
“Someone’s in a good mood. Just make a good deal?”
He must’ve been really ogling that coin. He wanted to give himself a pat on the back for not jumping or squealing in joy. He emptied his cup, hiding the coin as he turned to the familiar mercenary. However, the mercenary wasn’t even paying attention to him, instead looking at the one who had just left the bar.
“That merc… Was he a demon?”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“The Hundred Demons, man. Come on, you’re an informant. Act like one.”
“Can it, bum,” he spat out, embarrassed and annoyed at the same time. “I specialize in local information.”
He wasn’t about to let this merc tell him he didn’t know his stuff.
“Hey, I’m no bum! I just pick the safe jobs. But the Hundred Demons are famous. Think they’re officially called the Hundred Wings Brigade. Everyone just calls them the Hundred Demons, though.”
How was their nickname more popular? Out of interest, the informant ordered some cheap wine and had the bartender slide it in front of the mercenary. He could afford it, he was rich. For today anyway.
“Shiiit, you’re in a real good mood, huh? That deal must’ve been huge.”
“Just get to talkin’. I’ll have that if you don’t want it.”
The informant made a display of displeasure, masking his true intent. The mercenary greedily grabbed his glass before the other man could take it away from him.
He downed half of it in one gulp as if to underscore that the informant couldn’t take it back. He burped loudly, his stinky breath billowing around the counter. It was a disgusting gesture, but no one in the bar batted an eye.
“They’re a medium-sized brigade but they’re all top notch. I don’t know who’s in charge, but they’ve put a king’s standing army to shame with how they march. I’ve seen them myself too. Monsters, every last one of them. That’s why they call them demons on the battlefield.”
“So… Hundred Demons?”
“Gya ha ha! At least they don’t have wings coming out their backs!”
With an alcohol-inflamed laugh, the mercenary drained his cup to soothe his dry throat. He signaled the bartender for another round, prompting him to tell the mercenary to pay his tab.
“Damn it… Anyway, those guys have eagle emblems on them. That big guy you were talking to had one on his chest, so they’re the first thing I thought of.”
The informant looked at the mercenary, waiting for him to continue, but that seemed to be the end of the merc’s knowledge.
He didn’t know whether his information had been legit, but he did know that no mercenary from these parts would just fork out a gold coin like the big man had done. What would a big shot like that be doing in the sticks?
“He was asking about the Silent Forest,” he said, telling him about the information he just sold. He had no qualms violating his customers’ privacy as long as he got money out of it. Besides, the big man hadn’t paid to keep his mouth shut.
“What? Again? Hang on… The local lord’s son didn’t go on a witch hunt last year, huh?”
The lord of the land had two sons. The twins were well-versed in combat and neither wanted to yield their right to the throne. Disputes kept breaking out, so the brothers started doing all they could to impress their father. Finally, the elder brother went to hunt a legendary witch.
“It was a huge army of private soldiers, local militia, and mercenaries.”
“You didn’t go?”
“I wasn’t invited.”
The mercenary hung his head, his rusty leather armor so pitiful that no one even knew what it was made of at this point. It was a bit understandable why he hadn’t been invited. It was a wonder the merc still had a job.
“Hey, it’s not all bad. At least you’re not dead.”
“Yeah…”
The witch hunt had failed, the hunting squad exterminated after putting up a lukewarm fight. The few survivors that remained left the business for good.
The battle changed a portion of the forest’s landscape, reminding the people of the terrible power of witches. The local lord forbade entry into the area after losing his son. Any violation was punishable by death. The local lord also boldly claimed that he had fought the witch to a stalemate, but no one bought it.
“I guess that explains it. Someone from the Hundred Demons must’ve died there.”
“Guess even a demon’s no match for a witch.”
Crows echoed within the forest, but they couldn’t be seen through the trees. Despite the lush greenery, not a single animal could be spotted. It was all quite eerie, as if walking into another world.
Within the unsettling silence, two men walked through the woods. Their cautious habits and decent pace made it look like they were marching more than walking. The two showed no signs of fear despite having noticed the strangeness of the forest.
One of them had hair that resembled a lion’s mane. He was nearly two meters in height with the stockiness to avoid looking lanky. Trained more in endurance than speed, his movements weren’t sluggish at all, judging from his steady pace through the deep woods.
A large warhammer was strapped to his waist. Although it looked like an ordinary warhammer because of his size, it was actually twice the size of an ordinary one carried by regular foot soldiers. A single swing from the big man could generate enough strength and force to kill a heavily armored soldier in one hit. His faulds were heavy and covered his thighs, but he showed no signs of struggling with the weight.
An old and worn warbow was also strapped to his waist. It was small, about the length of an adult male’s shoulders, but its size allowed for excellent maneuverability in battle.
Daebaltos Crane. Captain of the Hundred Wings Brigade and seasoned mercenary.
“Are you sure she’s here?” Daebaltos said, using a hatchet to clear away some vegetation getting in his face.
The two had been walking through the forest for half a day. The big man was never one for patience and was already bored. A military march was one thing, but he was looking for something that might not even exist. He couldn’t help himself.
“I’ve been in this business a long time, and I’ve never actually seen one for myself. These witches… Are you sure they exist?”
As the big man kept talking to himself, the other man sighed. He knew that there was no shutting up his partner when he got like this and decided to humor him.
“They do. I’ve seen one. It was really far, though.”
If the other man could be described as big, he was sharp. He had eyes as piercing as a finely honed blade, and posture as straight as a weapon’s edge. The vertical scar across his eye made him look all the more imposing.
Though he wasn’t as large as the big man, he was only a mere ten centimeters or so shorter. His body was built and had little body fat. Although he was thinner than the big man, he was just as reliable, giving the air of a steep mountain or an old tree.
He held a pike in his hand. A pike was unfit for environments such as a forest, but the way he handled it made it look like his weapon was just an extension of himself. His expertise was clear from how precisely he held it. The grip of the iron sword at his waist was also worn with age, indicating that it wasn’t just a spare he had just in case.
Viktor Crane. Vice-captain of the Hundred Wings brigade, widely known as the Invincible Mercenary in some regions and the Ultimate Mercenary in others. He was also Zig’s master and taught him everything he knew.
Daebaltos actually made up the Crane name for those who didn’t have surnames or couldn’t use their surnames for one reason or another. It did not indicate a blood relationship. Still, the name was bloodstained all the same since it was taken by those who abandoned their own to become a mercenary.
“I could tell from first glance that that thing was a monster. Even if it looked and talked like a human, it was not human.” Viktor recalled seeing a witch from a distance when he was just a young soldier. The witch had struck an instinctual fear into him, especially when he saw her destructive power. And those bottomless eyes… A mere man would lose his mind just standing next to a witch. The difference between the two species was so great that there was no comparison between man and witch.