[ Chapter Five - Escorts On the Way ]
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As the sun dipped low bathing the courtyard in a warm glow, the mercenaries hustled about. Carriages' wheels squeaked under inspection for the upcoming journey.
After discussing the escort mission, everyone busied themselves preparing to depart. The air buzzed with the sound of armor clinking into place, straps being tightened, and murmured conversations. The mercenaries checked their equipments, making sure each was ready for action.
Then, an individual signaled the impending departure. The mercenaries, now ready and assembled, mounted their horses and gathered around the awaiting carriages. The carriages has ornate gold designs. It has large wooden wheels and a sturdy frame. The interior appears spacious too.
With noon nearly past, it was time to depart to ensure an early arrival in town.
As Ashran observed the others, a voice spoke behind him. "Good thing you came." He turned around, only to see that it was Hector, the man he had spoken with yesterday night.
"Oh, it's you, Hector. Well, you threatened me, what choice do I have," Ashran replied as he shrugged.
Hector laughed and said, "The escort mission will take about three days, so I hope you can bear it."
"Surely. There won't be any problem. But putting that aside, I didn't expect that you were a butler here . . ."
"Right, I'm a butler serving the House Chanler, but not only that, I am also a Knight in service," said Hector, followed by a grin.
"I see. . ." Ashran replied. After hearing Hector's response, he paused for a moment, thinking he should start addressing him as "Sir" now.
'Good thing I didn't carry out the second option I had in mind yesterday,' Ashran thought, letting out a sigh of relief.
". . . ?" Sir Hector simply tilted his head, the grin still on his face.
After a few moments, the group set forth on their mission.
...
A day had passed since Ashran and the group departed. So far one could say that nothing seems to be out of place, for now.
They are currently in a dense forest, surrounded by tall, thick trees with vines crawling up their trunks on either side. The leaves and branches almost completely covered the forest floor, allowing only slivers of sunlight to filter through. The forest path stretched ahead, and the mercenaries marched in line. Ashran was positioned in the middle part, along with the wagons loaded with supplies.
As Ashran march forward, a fellow mercenary approached him. The fellow called out then fell into step beside him.
"Are you a newly Merc?" the fellow asked curiously. He has a brown hair, and he is clad in leather armor. A heavy-looking crossbow rested on his back, its parts crafted from iron and copper, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder. "You're the only new face for the first time in a while among us."
"Yeah, I am," said Ashran after throwing a glance at him, and then turning back to face forward.
"I see. And you look youn' enough to pass for a student. Though, not uncommon for someone like you to be a Merc," he said, adopting a friendly tone. Then he added, "By the way, I'm Trent, you can call me just the way it is. We'll be togethe' for a while, wouldn't hurt for us to get to know each other, right?"
Ashran nodded slightly and began introducing himself. Moments passed as Trent dominated the conversation, firing questions at Ashran as if conducting an interview about his entire life.
"Say, I noticed earlier, is that a musket on your back?" Trent pointed at Ashran's weapon.
"Yes, it is. And if you're going to ask me about the cost, it set me back twenty gold coins."
"Whoa, you must be some kind of noble, right?"
"No, not really. I wish I were though."
As Ashran and Trent exchanged words while marching forward, a group of five individuals approached from the front, heading towards the rear of the line. Among them was a woman with short red hair, clad in half plate armor.
As they neared, the woman accidentally or maybe she did deliberately, bumped into Trent's right shoulder. Trent staggered a bit backward from the impact.
". . . ! !"
"Oh, sorry about that." Trent said in a worried voice.
"Move aside, you third-rate!" the red haired woman snapped, accompanied by her piercing glare and a raised eyebrow.
"R-right, sorry, I wasn't paying attention," Trent said, letting out a rueful smile. He continued to apologize, but upon seeing this, Ashran decided to step in.
"He already said his sorry, so shouldn't that be enough?"
"And who are you new guy?" the red-haired woman tilted her head as she responded to Ashran. She glanced at him from bottom to top.
The woman then runs her mouth, insulting the both of them. Because of the sudden commotion, murmurs could be heard from the surroundings and the others are starting to gather around them
Feeling a bit irritated, Ashran attempted to talk back to the red-haired woman. But he stopped shortly after Trent grabbed his shoulder and said, "H-hey, it's no use."
The red-haired woman caught Trent's words. "Oh~? So you know," she said with a wide grin. "You two aren't even worth my time, so I'll let this go. Just be careful next time. Otherwise, you'll regret it," she warned, throwing a sharp sideways glance at them before continuing to walk away with her companions.
Then, a man wearing a tailored black suit, riding a white horse with full leather armor, arrived from the front line.
"What's the ruckus about?" Sir Hector questioned, scanning the surroundings until his eyes landed on Ashran.
"Well, it is—" Ashran began, but Trent interrupted him.
"It's nothing, Sir. Just a slight misunderstanding, won't happen again," Trent said, bowing to show his apologies.
"Alright then. If there's any problem, call me immediately."
"Yes, Sir!"
.. .. ..
"Arrrghhhhhh!!!"
"Help!!!"
Not even three minutes had passed but another incident occurred. A loud scream was heard from the back where the group led by the red-haired woman had gone to.