Meliora stepped forward, her voice calm but commanding. "You're Garrik, I presume. A former knight turned mercenary. Tell me, why throw away your honor for this?"
Garrik's smile faded, his eyes narrowing. "Honor? That's rich, coming from a lapdog of the nobility. You think the Baron sent you here to play savior? You're nothing but pawns in his game."
Kieran frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Garrik spat on the ground. "Drennor hired us first. Paid us to clear out the villages along the trade route so he could buy up the land for cheap. When we refused to go further, he turned on us. Sent his dogs to wipe us out."
Fredrick looked confused. "That can't be true. The Baron said you were the ones terrorizing the villages."
"And you believed him?" Garrik barked a laugh. "Drennor's been bleeding this region dry for years. We only took up raiding because we had no choice. He cut us off, left us to starve."
Meliora's expression darkened, her gaze shifting to Kieran. "If Garrik is telling the truth, then we've been misled."
Kieran groaned. "Great. So we're working for the villain. Just my luck."
Garrik raised his greatsword, his grin returning. "You've got two choices, adventurers. Walk away and forget you ever saw us, or join us. The Baron's time is coming to an end, and we could use people like you."
Fredrick tightened his grip on his broom, glancing at Kieran. "What do we do, Master?"
Kieran ran a hand through his hair, weighing their options. They could walk away, but that wouldn't solve anything. Fighting Garrik's group here and now would be suicidal. But joining them? That might just buy them the time they needed to figure out the truth.
He sighed. "Alright, Garrik. We'll hear you out. But if you're lying to us, you'll regret it."
Garrik lowered his sword, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Smart choice. Follow me. There's someone you'll want to meet."
+
Garrik led them deeper into the forest, to a hidden encampment nestled among the trees. The Iron Fangs' hideout was rough but functional, with makeshift tents and campfires scattered throughout.
In the largest tent, they were introduced to a woman with sharp features and piercing eyes. She wore no armor, but the air around her crackled with energy.
"This is Elyra," Garrik said. "She's the one who keeps this group alive."
Elyra studied them for a moment before speaking. "So, you're the ones the Baron sent to deal with us. Tell me, how much did he offer you to do his dirty work?"
"Enough," Kieran said. "But we're starting to think he left out a few details."
Elyra's lips curled into a smirk. "Details like how he's been using mercenaries to drive out the locals so he can claim their land? Or how he's been selling supplies meant for the frontier to the black market?"
Kieran frowned. "That explains the raids on his shipments. You're hitting him where it hurts."
"Exactly," Elyra said. "The Baron is the real threat here, not us. Help us expose him, and you'll be doing this region a favor."
Fredrick shifted uncomfortably. "But if we side with you, won't that make us criminals too?"
"Sometimes," Meliora said quietly, "doing what's right means stepping outside the bounds of the law."
Kieran sighed, rubbing his temples. "Fantastic. So now we're stuck choosing between working for a corrupt noble or teaming up with mercenaries. This just keeps getting better."
Elyra's eyes softened slightly. "You're not like the others Drennor's sent. Think it over. But don't take too long. The Baron won't sit idle for long."
As the trio retreated to a quiet corner of the camp to discuss their next move, Kieran couldn't help but wonder if there was a way to turn this mess to their advantage. Whatever they decided, one thing was clear: their mission was no longer as simple as it seemed.
+
The Iron Fangs' camp buzzed with muted activity. Men and women sharpened weapons, patched armor, and kept a wary eye on their unexpected guests. Kieran, Meliora, and Fredrick sat around a modest campfire, discussing their next move as the smell of roasted meat wafted through the air. Garrik stood nearby, leaning against a tree with his greatsword planted firmly in the ground.
Kieran poked the fire with a stick, his frustration evident. "I still don't trust them. Garrik's story might check out, but he's hiding something."
Meliora nodded, her gaze distant. "Perhaps. But there's truth in his hatred for Drennor. The Baron's reputation, even in the capital, is...questionable."
Fredrick, for once, remained silent, his eyes darting between Garrik and the other mercenaries. He was clearly itching for action, his hand occasionally drifting toward his broom-turned-weapon.
"You know," Garrik said suddenly, his voice carrying a hint of mockery, "for someone sent by Drennor, you're a lot more hesitant than I expected."
Kieran looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe because I'm not an idiot who jumps into a fight without knowing what I'm up against."
Garrik smirked. "That's a coward's excuse. You don't look like much, anyway. I'd bet a gold coin you've never swung a real weapon in your life."
Fredrick bristled, standing abruptly. "Take that back."
Garrik turned his smirk to Fredrick. "Or what, boy? You'll swat me with your broom?"
Fredrick's grip tightened, his voice steady but laced with anger. "I'll prove to you that Master Kieran's teachings aren't something to mock."
Garrik laughed, the sound carrying across the camp. A few of the nearby mercenaries stopped what they were doing to watch. "You want to duel me? With that glorified mop? Fine, kid. Let's see what you've got."
Kieran groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Fredrick, don't—"
"I'll be fine, Master," Fredrick said, stepping into the clearing. "This is a chance to show them what we're capable of."
Garrik strode forward, his greatsword resting on his shoulder. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But guts won't save you from this." He swung the sword once, the sheer force of it kicking up a gust of wind.
The gathered mercenaries chuckled, some whispering bets to one another. Fredrick, undeterred, twirled his broom with surprising dexterity, the faint glow of mana beginning to shimmer along its length.