The sun set in the west.
The clouds in the sky blazed like fire.
Golden sunlight spilled across the scene, adding an ancient atmosphere to the old mill. The waterwheel turned slowly.
Splash~ Splash~
The churning wheel stirred the calm river, causing ripples that shimmered like silver.
Hoo~
The crisp sound of flowing water, interspersed with rhythmic breathing, made the mill feel even more tranquil.
Following the sound of breathing around the waterwheel, the scene shifted to the barn.
On golden straw lay nine witchers dressed in leather armor, their hands resting on their thighs, eyes closed in meditation. Suddenly, the rhythmic breathing faltered.
Two pairs of eyes snapped open and exchanged glances. Without standing, they observed the remaining seven witchers.
Moments later, as if by prearranged signal, the witchers began to awaken one after another. Under Allen and Vesemir's watchful eyes, they fell silent, casting amused glances at those still meditating.
Finally, the last witcher woke, his confused expression meeting a wave of teasing gazes. Startled, he glanced around before smiling bitterly.
"Me again?"
The group burst into laughter.
"Take it easy, Ajax. At least you got a bit more rest than we did," said Krei, patting his shoulder.
"Alright, everyone, pack up. It's time to move," Vesemir ordered. "Ajax, clean up the blood and corpses of the drowners."
The young witcher, who was the last to awaken, sighed in resignation. Grimacing, he began tossing the increasingly foul-smelling remains of the drowners into the river.
This was a small game they played during meditation training.
Just like when Allen, Hughes, Bond, and Fred first left Kaer Morhen, any witcher who failed to wake on time had to pay for their meals for the day. However, since they needed to conceal their tracks, the group could not travel openly or accept contracts like before.
Except for Allen and Vesemir, the rest of the witchers were broke, making the old reward-and-punishment rules inapplicable.
So, after some discussion, Vesemir and Allen decided that the last witcher to awaken would be responsible for cleaning up any traces left behind.
The cleanup was simple.
For example, disposing of corpses in the river to avoid anyone identifying the wounds on the creatures, especially those caused by signs.
It was enough to prevent any tracks from being traced.
After all, what were the odds? How likely was it that in such a remote and dangerous place, someone would stumble across their tracks, recognize the marks of witchers, and also hold a grudge against them?
The probability was simply too low.
Clip-clop~
The sound of hoofbeats echoed over the empty cobblestone ground.
The younger witchers readied their horses, laughing as they watched Ajax struggle with the foul-smelling remains of the drowners, occasionally tossing out jokes.
Plop~
Plop~
The last of the scattered drowner remains was thrown into the river.
"Krei…" Ajax mounted his horse. "You really had to shred that last drowner to pieces—arms, head, intestines, legs, and feet! Now I'm covered in their stench. Couldn't you have sliced it up a little less?"
"Why should I? I wasn't the one cleaning it up," Krei replied with a mischievous grin, making a face at Ajax.
"Hahaha!" The group burst into laughter.
"You—" Ajax said angrily.
"Alright," Vesemir intervened to mediate. "Ajax, pay more attention during meditation to sense changes in your internal state. And Krei, when hunting monsters in the wild, try to avoid causing excessive wounds or blood loss."
"The drowners we encountered earlier this afternoon were all drawn by the scent of blood."
Ajax and Krei could only lower their heads and mutter their assent.
"Yes, Master Vesemir."
"Understood, Master Vesemir."
Satisfied, the witcher master nodded and looked at the sky.
The sun was almost touching the horizon, and the light was dimming.
After a moment, Vesemir glanced at Allen, who gave a slight nod.
"It's time."
"Hide your silver swords and put on your hoods… Move out!"
-------------------
Elsewhere.
Since the most experienced hunter in the village, who was familiar with the surrounding area, had been found dead at home the previous night, and many workers from the Banra Mill had either fled or hidden, the village chief had to go to a neighboring village to find someone who knew the terrain.
The group from Ban Ard only began their journey to Banra Mill in the late afternoon.
This delay irked Sunny, who usually maintained a facade of warmth and humility.
Of course, the deeper reason for his frustration was not merely the sluggishness of these lowly people—though that was part of it.
Ever since the reckless Jenks had secretly triggered a Conjunction of the Spheres and caused the king's death, their radical faction had been on a downward spiral.
Their once-strong alliance with Hen Gedymdeith had fractured due to the chaos and damage caused to the academy by the conjunction and the king's death.
This rift had caused untold harm and limitations to their group.
More than half of the sorcerers recruited for the war of the new king came from their faction. Research funding had been slashed. Some studies were now restricted, and even their movements were being closely monitored.
The radicals were now like griffins trapped in a cage, bound with reins.
Their every move was restricted.
The only small solace was that the old king's death had weakened the monarchy, bringing the dream of a sorcerer-ruled nation closer than ever to reality.
Yet even this glimmer of hope was overshadowed.
Nobles' insincere cooperation and the unusual activity of the Wolf School made the dream of their utopia seem increasingly distant.
"Master Mage…"
The sycophantic tone of a commoner interrupted Sunny's thoughts.
"Beyond this small grove lies…"
The man's sentence was abruptly cut short.
A commotion arose at the front of the group, where the handpicked elite guards had taken defensive positions.
Sunny turned toward the source of the disturbance.
Through the dense woods illuminated by the dim evening light, nine riders emerged.
They were clad in leather armor, wearing black hoods, and carrying long swords at their waists.
The riders seemed equally startled by the encounter, quickly pulling on their reins in caution.
Neigh~
The golden twilight reflected off the scene, and the horses whinnied loudly.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The metallic sound of swords being drawn filled the air.
The two groups came to a halt less than thirty meters apart.
"Who are you?"
The lead guard shouted, raising his sword in vigilance.
Sunny, along with four other sorcerers, reacted swiftly, discreetly activating the magical items they carried, enhancing their defenses and abilities.
Under the dim sky, colorful magical glows flashed rapidly, lighting up the scene like a sudden fireworks display.
Their caution was well justified.
Because they were only heading out of the city to deal with drowners causing trouble near Ban Ard, each of them brought only one mage guard.
Every year, for materials or to ensure the safety of nearby workshops and farmlands, the academy routinely cleared out powerful monster nests.
Even now, with drowners running rampant, given the drowners' speed and intelligence, these guards were more than enough. But the armed group that suddenly appeared in front of them was a different matter entirely.
Within thirty meters, a charge from the warhorses...
The mages might not even have enough time to cast a single spell before the guards were overwhelmed, and their hearts pierced by enemy swords.
The tense atmosphere was like black powder nearing a flame—ready to ignite with a single spark.
They faced off for several seconds.
"Honorable mages, we are a mercenary group from the Hengfors Alliance. We heard that the war between Kaedwen and Aedirn is intense, and King Lado's bounty is generous. So we've come to lend our support," said the leader in a somewhat hoarse voice.
"Why are you wearing hoods, not showing your faces?" the guard demanded sharply.
The five fully armed and armored knights, upon hearing the mercenary explanation and the stern questioning, nudged their horses a few steps closer.
The hoarse voice hesitated for a moment, not answering immediately, and the mercenaries behind the speaker did not remove their hoods.
The tension thickened once again.
"All right, Evan," Sunny suddenly spoke. "Since they're brave warriors coming to fight for the frontlines, there's no need to be overly harsh."
"Yes, Master Sunny," the guard at the front of the group replied, though he didn't move his horse back. His eyes remained fixed on the figures before him.
"I've heard the mercenaries of the Hengfors Alliance are formidable and disciplined. What's the name of your group?" Sunny asked warmly.
"Master... Master Mage, we're called the Wolford Mercenary Group," replied the hoarse voice, sounding strangely off and oddly familiar.
It seemed to be just a regular group of mercenaries looking to profit from the war.
Sunny didn't dwell on it further.
"We are few in number. Let the brave warriors heading to fight for Kaedwen proceed first," Sunny said calmly, pulling his reins and moving to the right side of the path where the terrain rose slightly.
The other mages and guards followed his lead, shifting as well. However, their eyes remained fixed on the mercenary group.
"Thank you, esteemed mages," the strangely familiar hoarse voice said.
Then—
Clop, clop, clop.
The sound of hooves filled the air as the nine members of the mercenary group slowly moved along the narrow path.
Although they kept their hoods on, Sunny's keen senses detected watchful, cautious gazes directed at them.
The distance between the two groups shrank steadily.
Except for the two leading mercenaries, the others moved stiffly and tensely.
"Two veterans leading seven rookies..." Sunny smirked. "What an odd formation for a mercenary group."
"Are they wearing hoods to hide their age?"
Growing curious, Sunny, who hadn't encountered a male mage among mercenaries for many years, carefully observed the group, pondering.
He wanted to see what had changed in mercenary groups compared to decades ago, aside from the hoods and their formation.
His observations revealed peculiarities.
As the mercenaries rode closer, the faint light revealed details previously obscured against the background of the distant forest.
For some reason, apart from the two leading mercenaries whose movements were relaxed and steady, the others kept their left hands on the hilts of their sheathed swords, while their right hands hovered slightly above the air rather than holding the reins.
"What kind of defensive posture is that?" Sunny wondered.
Additionally—
All nine horses were draped in black horsecloth, a luxury typically reserved for noble mounts. Beneath the saddles, subtle bulges suggested hidden items.
More intriguingly...
As the mercenaries passed near, Sunny noticed that, aside from the speaker, the other mercenaries' figures under their hoods and leather armor seemed significantly smaller.
"Could this be a mercenary group primarily composed of women?"
"If so, their reluctance to remove their hoods to avoid harassment or being underestimated would make sense..."
Sunny reconsidered his earlier assumption.
It wasn't uncommon for women to be mercenaries.
But for a group to extensively recruit women? That was something Sunny had only heard of from Zerrikania, a nation on the far side of the Blue Mountains, known for its dragon-emblazoned banners and the world's most dangerous women.
There, women clad in lion-maned garments and adorned with tattoos were natural-born warriors, undefeated on both the battlefield and... elsewhere.
The more Sunny thought, the more perplexed he became.
He even speculated that this group wasn't mercenaries at all but traffickers.
However, every individual on horseback was free-moving. Despite their inexperience, the rear members had displayed remarkable speed in drawing their weapons during the initial encounter.
Every hypothesis he conjured was quickly dismissed by logical counterarguments.
This vexed the ever-proud mage, his brows furrowing deeper with curiosity gnawing at him like a cat's claws.
He wanted to use a mind-reading spell, but the distance between him and the mercenaries was just beyond his range.
"Wait—"
Sunny couldn't hold back any longer and opened his mouth to stop them.
But—
"Thank you for making way, esteemed mages!"
The lead mercenary interrupted just as Sunny uttered his first word.
Before the mages could respond, the group of nine spurred their horses and galloped away, heading far from them.
"Master Sunny, shall we pursue?" the leading guard asked. "At this distance, we can catch up…"
Sunny stared at the rapidly disappearing figures, his expression shifting.
Magic glimmers of blue, red, brown, and green danced in his pupils.
However—
Even as the suspicious mercenaries disappeared into the birch forest ahead, Sunny made no move.
After a long pause—
The sun had completely dipped below the horizon.
Only a faint, chilly afterglow remained between heaven and earth.
"No need," Sunny finally said. "Let's keep moving. Besides the Banra Mill, there are still many areas near Ban Ard where drowners need to be dealt with."
Sunny shook his head, retracting his gaze.
Then, he turned coldly to the trembling commoners who had shrunk into a corner, suddenly unwilling to maintain his usual gentle facade. In a frigid tone, he said:
"Lead the way."
"Y-yes... Banra Mill is just ahead."
Whoosh~
Whoosh~
Amid the sound of the wind, several glowing orbs floated forward from the hands of nearby mages.
Sunny watched as the illuminated woodland revealed its eerie pallor and suddenly had a premonition.
At Banra Mill...
He would uncover the truth about these strange mercenaries.
.....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
329. Vilgefortz.
330. Ancient Blood or the Child of Miracles.
331. Crashing the Necrophage Party.
332. The Envoys of the God Kreve.
333. A Bountiful Harvest!