Chapter 66 - Offered a Second Job
"Let's kill them all."
Some had already dropped their weapons, and others had even wet themselves.
Standing before them, Rem held a bloodstained axe and spoke.
"P-p-please, spare us."
Their terror was understandable.
They had already lost the will to fight.
Rem believed they should be killed.
As a person from the west, often derogatorily called a barbarian, Rem had spent his childhood in the western lands.
In the harsh frontier, leaving loose ends was never an option.
"Seems like they're the ones who sent assassins, so what's the point of debating who's guilty? Let's slit their throats and end this cleanly."
The terrified men couldn't even open their mouths.
With Rem standing between Enkrid and the kneeling criminals, axe in hand, it seemed like he could strike at any moment.
They stayed silent.
"Where did you throw your blanket?"
Rem was ready to handle things himself if Enkrid refused, but the question caught him off guard.
"What?"
"Your blanket."
When he had left the lodging, he had been wrapped in a blanket.
At some point, though, he had discarded it.
"Near the alley entrance, I think."
That was before encountering the beggar.
His instincts—beastly and sharp—had made him prepare for battle.
"Then, how do you plan to sleep tonight?"
Rem didn't understand why Enkrid kept asking about such trivial things, but he had a plan from the moment he discarded the blanket.
"I'll just use the blanket of someone who spends every night out. Don't worry. I won't take yours, squad leader."
"Touch my stuff, and I'll kill you. No, I will kill you."
Jaxen, the one always spending nights away, understood and reacted.
Jaxen had many women and often left the lodging whenever they entered the city.
"Stingy bastard, you don't even use it."
"Don't touch it, barbarian."
"Typical sneaky stray cat, always so petty."
As their bickering began, Enkrid clapped his hands to gather their attention.
"That's unnecessary, Rem."
From the beginning, Enkrid had a plan for targeting the thieves' guild.
Half of it was due to suspicion that they had sent assassins; the other half was for a different purpose.
'This is unexpected.'
More than half of him thought they might not actually be behind the assassination.
After all, wasn't it clear that Aspen was the one behind it?
If someone had bet money on whether the guild was the mastermind, the odds would have favored them not being involved.
Even if the bet was lost, it wouldn't have cost much.
Regardless of whether they were behind the assassination or not, there was a bigger plan at stake.
"The night's pretty cold, don't you want to stay warm?"
Rem tilted his head, unsure of where this conversation was going.
"Huh?"
Only Krais, with his sharp intuition and quick thinking, understood.
He blinked his large eyes and looked at their squad leader in disbelief.
Enkrid gave a slight nod.
Years of hard labor in the mercenary world had taught him more than just swordsmanship.
For instance, the philosophy that "if a thief tries to rob you, it's only right to empty their pockets first."
Enkrid made up his mind.
This wasn't going to derail his dreams.
After all, these were criminals.
Their accumulated wealth wasn't exactly obtained by honest means.
There were concerns about loose ends and other issues, but—
'Doesn't matter.'
With his growing skills, he felt confident in solving whatever came his way.
Breathing out visible condensation in the cold air, Enkrid spoke again.
"Let's loot them. Maybe we can even set up some heated monster pelts back at the lodging."
The silence that followed was due to sheer surprise.
Then Rem burst into laughter.
"That's right. Anything found on conquered land is mine."
A very Rem-like way of putting it.
"Warmth, huh?"
Ragna reacted, too.
Nobody liked the cold.
"Ha! The scriptures say, 'Take from thieves and use it for good,' after all."
Would such a thing actually be written in the sacred texts?
Or taught at the temple?
Probably neither.
But Audin, with unwavering conviction, made his argument sound righteous.
"Not a bad idea."
Jaxen also nodded.
"Are we just looting, though?"
Krais added a more ambitious suggestion.
"Let's discuss inside. It's freezing out here."
The air was cold enough to quickly dissipate the heat from the blood and entrails of the dead.
The group soon entered the mansion.
Those who hesitated and lingered were urged inside by Krais.
A few with broken legs were left behind.
"Help everyone inside," Krais ordered, addressing the stragglers.
They exchanged uncertain glances, wondering if running away might be the better option.
Their hesitation was obvious.
"If you run, we'll hunt you down. Either the axe wielder or the guy who enjoys breaking legs will catch you."
Ragna and Jaxen had fought well, but for the gang, the true nightmares were Rem and Audin.
"Do you think you can hide from the Border Guard's standing army? Or explore the wilderness at night during this end-of-season cold? You'll either freeze to death or be devoured by beasts. We won't kill you. Just come inside."
Krais had a way with words.
As Enkrid entered, he overheard Krais and offered a compliment.
"You'd make a great conman."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Yes."
"Doesn't feel like one."
Inside, a fire was already burning in the fireplace.
The warmth and the presence of the criminals' belongings confirmed that someone had lived here.
Above the fireplace, two blunt swords and a shield were mounted in a cross pattern.
On either side of the room, a few paintings hung on the walls.
"Are they valuable?"
Glancing at the paintings, Enkrid asked.
Krais dismissed them without a second look.
"No. They're cheap junk. I can't imagine why anyone would buy those."
Even to Enkrid, who had no artistic sense, they seemed awful.
"I could paint better than that with my feet."
Rem seemed to agree with the idea.
As they gathered by the fireplace, their long shadows stretched behind them.
"Light the torch stand. It's dark," Enkrid said, warming himself by the fire.
His words weren't directed at anyone in particular.
No one moved.
He added, "Gilpin's dead. The next guy, step up and do it."
"Gilpin isn't dead."
One of the uninjured men stepped forward—a man with a bald head like a white sand dune instead of hair.
In the daylight, it would've been blinding.
A long scar ran above his eyebrows, but even the combination of the scar and bald head failed to make him look threatening.
His drooping eyes and thick lips made him appear anything but intimidating.
Wait, what?
"Gilpin isn't dead?"
Could he have some kind of monstrous regeneration ability?
Like, surviving after having his neck cut?
That corpse in the clearing outside the mansion?
No way.
The bald man spoke again.
"I'm Gilpin."
What was this situation?
"So, he's not the leader? Ah, I get it now—like a lizard cutting off its tail?" Krais gestured outside, answering his own question.
Enkrid recalled stories he'd heard while working as a mercenary and sharing drinks.
"Sometimes those criminal guild bastards pull stunts like naming their group after a subordinate."
"Why?"
"So they can sell out the subordinate and run if things go south—like when the army shows up to wipe out criminals. A cowardly tactic."
"And how do you know so much about that?"
"Spent some time in that crowd. Anyway, scumbags who pull that kind of stunt aren't common. They're the worst of the worst."
Enkrid had never encountered someone who actually did this.
Typically, leaders named their groups after themselves for pride or recognition.
Using a subordinate's name suggested the dead man outside was a sly, conniving bastard.
"What a scumbag."
As Enkrid muttered, Ragna asked for an explanation, and the quick-witted Krais filled him in.
Enkrid's plan had been simple but effective: raid the thieves' guild, take their cooperation in exchange for leniency, or beat them senseless and take what was needed.
Sure, messing with a thieves' guild might lead to retaliation, but he was confident his unit could handle any backlash.
Now it turned out these thieves were linked to the assassins targeting him.
So what?
'Why should that matter?'
"Are you really going to warm things up for them?" Rem whispered from behind, uncomfortably close.
"Get lost," Enkrid muttered before turning his attention back to Gilpin.
The bald man nervously rubbed his head before speaking.
"If you're going to kill someone, just kill me. Spare the rest. Some of them are just struggling to take care of sick mothers."
"Struggling doesn't justify stealing from others."
No amount of hardship granted the right to threaten others and profit from it.
"Still, I'd appreciate it if you let us live."
Enkrid, standing straight with his arms crossed, scrutinized Gilpin.
The man had a certain resilience, even asking to be the sole sacrifice.
So why hadn't he fought earlier?
When asked, Gilpin replied, "Why would I fight for some guy who would ditch me at the first sign of trouble?"
The two bodyguards who had barely survived nodded in agreement.
The way things were shaping up, the deceased leader was clearly a schemer.
"Willing to cough up what you've got? Then we'll leave it at that," Enkrid said, sticking to the plan.
"Sure, if handing it over means we can avoid being killed," he agreed, shrugging.
The others didn't argue.
"Well, the safe's key was hidden by that bastard, the dead guy," Gilpin said.
"Don't worry about it."
After all, they had a mage who could unlock any door with just a knock.
A safe wouldn't be a problem.
Gilpin, being pragmatic, handed over all the amassed loot.
"Whoa, heated leather!"
"Take everything, and the ones guarding the streets will all die."
Gilpin was referring to the beggars in the alleys.
They had already been dealt with on the way in.
Apparently, their ragged clothes were lined with monster leather. When Krais learned this, he remarked, "Can't use it if it's bloodstained."
Taking it off the dead beggars was no longer an option.
Enkrid couldn't help but reevaluate Gilpin.
Despite the situation, the man seemed to care about his subordinates, ensuring their well-being even at his own expense.
"Leave some," Enkrid ordered, ensuring there was moderation in their actions.
Fortunately, no one seemed particularly greedy.
Well, except Krais—he was the unit's resident hoarder.
Yet, strangely, Krais didn't pocket anything this time.
"You're not taking anything?"
"No, but I do have something to discuss, Captain," Krais said, his large eyes blinking in mock innocence—a telltale sign he was scheming something.
Though Krais was clever and knew how to use his looks to his advantage, Enkrid was immune to such tactics.
"What are you up to this time?"
Krais's question, however, hit home: "Don't you need Krona?"
Money was always needed.
Equipment was costly, and while this haul eased immediate concerns, funds would be a recurring necessity.
"This, we keep for ourselves," Krais said matter-of-factly.
And just like that, he proposed a second job for Enkrid.