The preparations for running away was all finished by sundown.
For food I packed small things that preserve well, which will probably only last until tomorrow.
Carriable gems and coins, valuables, medicine, then magic tools that might be saleable, and tools from the studio for making them, and the bare minimum of clothes all add up to two large trunks.
Just in case, I placed watching “eyes” as far I can stretch them around the inn, the furthest one was on top of a tree, looking at the village from a distance.
I probably won’t be using them but I prepared weapons and traps and made them ready to use at any moment.
I wished that the coming mercenaries were blockheads or people serious about their contracts who would grumble doing things outside of those. The more so the more time I can buy for my escape.
The mercenaries who often come to the village were small scale ones, but almost all of them were mother’s acquaintances or former lovers.
He probably chose to hire a mercenary band we don’t usually interact with from a neighboring town.
Of course, it’s hard to imagine the Nobles’ private armies coming.
It was my hope that the enemy was unfamiliar with the land.
I took a nap before it went dark, and got up while the night was young. It was several hours before daybreak.
All that’s left is to wait until dawn and meet up with Dahlia if she decided to leave and sneak out of the village.
Luckily, during this season we would be able to meet with familiar traders or mercenaries going on their rounds once we reached the riverside hut.
They were closer to me than the villagers. We would likely have to pay some money but we could ask them for a ride on their wagons and could probably run far away.
“….. Master Elliott, the flowerpot …”
I hurriedly faced the flower pot, peeking at the scene from the farthest “eye” … the one overlooking the village from a distance.
Despite the dawn still far away, this image alone was brightly lit.
The village was on fire.
“Looks like the mercenaries are attacking the village for some reason”
If you ask someone whether or not they could trust the bunch called mercenaries and adventurers, the answer you’ll normally get is, “well, no”
I suppose the mercenaries turned their fangs on their masters too this time.
The mercenaries who’ve been coming to the village are those my mother trusted and brought along.
However, it was exactly because he’d been seeing obedient mercenaries almost ten years that the Village Head had misunderstood what mercenaries are.
Whether the mercenaries were going to arrive here at noon today or would they come to attack in the dead of night, that wasn’t something I could judge.
“… There’s a good chance they’re coming to attack this place, let’s lay some traps”
“I only have less than an average person’s fighting strength you know. If I did I would’ve become a mercenary and left the village”
…. In the corner of my mind, I was uneasy, wondering whether Dahlia was all right, but it would be foolish to go out and leave the place now.
It looks like they found out about this place.
“Three of them. One is carrying a bow. Armaments are light armor and spears … they don’t look too well-equipped”
“… Looks like they’re going to kill me just in case. Are there any good fighters?”
“Astarte, how good are you in a fight?”
“If I were so inclined, I can kill all of these very easily, but we have to get Master Elliott used to killing people first”
…. I wouldn’t want to be someone who’d gleefully kill people but it’s a different matter when the sparks were falling on me like this.
But I can’t help seeing this as Astarte’s trap.
“… I’m not strong enough to show mercy to people who want to kill me”
The fact that I was able to get information ahead of time was a big boon.
If Dahlia didn’t come and warn me, I wouldn’t even be able to make these preparations.
I don’t know whether it’s a good thing or not, but both Astarte’s visit and Dahlia’s coming here was certainly a blessing for me right now.
In that case, I should make use of it as much as possible.
The vice-captain of the mercenary band “Claws of the Black Bear”, the bowman Gerrick was cursing his misfortune.
Attacking a village and assaulting their women was one of the great pleasures of pillaging.
That said, if he didn’t go there himself, these blockheads will definitely destroy or burn down the magic tools and everything.
Magic tools!
If this mixed-blood was really an enchanting magic user, he could beat him up to submission and bring him along as a specialist for the mercenary band.
But then again, most of the ones not having graduated from the academy are phonies. If he had magic items he could take them all and kill him later. If he had a tavern, then he’d at least have drinks, right?
Since he doesn’t seem to be a farmhand, he probably wouldn’t be up at this time. The screams of pillage coming from the village won’t go through the forest and to the inn, either. It was a tiresome but easy job.
Coming out of the forest, Gerrick finally saw the inn. He signaled his men with his eyes and sent one of them to the back door.
He would make a small fire, causing a bit of panic, and aim for when the mixed-blood would defenselessly run out of the in. In the unlikely chance that he would come out armed, there’s only one of him against two of them, so they surely wouldn’t lose.
There was a rustling sound from the forest. Gerrick turned around, thinking that it was a wild animal. But he then saw something unbelievable.
Then, the man sent to the back door raised a scream.
It was then that Gerrick finally realized he was under attack. He restored his posture and tried to ready his bow, but the young man tossed his crossbow away and jumped in holding a short sword.
He seems to have a bit of training, but he’s still an amateur. Gerrick gave up on the bow and tossed it at the young man. He used that chance to draw the sword on his hip. Having avoided the bow thrown at him, the young man slashed but it was at the level where Gerrick could easily avoid now that he was calm.
No matter how used to battles he was, in the woods away from the road he had no way of knowing that there were lots of rope stretched around low, mixed with the grass.
His flank was shallowly cut through his leather armor and into his flesh. However, that’s all there was to it.
The man’s posture was broken because of this attack and he was practically defenseless.
Anyway, he should think after killing this man.
Gerrick raised his sword … and died from an attack coming from behind him, piercing his throat.