"Running late, running late!" Avi hurried down the stairs, hastily dressed, only to find his teammates already done with their meal, engaged in card games and casual chatter in the tavern hall. Spotting their captain, they rose, greeting him with good mornings, creating a serene ambiance.

"Boss, sleeping in, aren't we? The sun's already roasting!" Rafe boomed. "Didn't we have plans for noon today? Anything else we need to prep?"

"You, take a few lads to our camp, tidy up the supplies I had brought back yesterday, and be ready. We'll head out at ten to rendezvous at the square."

"Alright!" Rafe dropped his cards and headed for the courtyard.

The 'Joyous Nightingale' tavern stood just beyond the city walls, nestled on the outskirts of Middenstead. Its somewhat secluded location often drew passing bands for respite, with the surrounding wastelands serving as makeshift campsites.

The tavern keeper personally delivered black bread and mead to Avi. "I heard you lot are gearing up for a journey. When do you plan to settle the accounts for this stint?"

"Right away."

Avi reached for his purse, but the keeper stopped him.

"Money's no bother. We've fared well these days. It's fine if you don't pay." The keeper grinned across the table. "But, given our rapport, could you do me a favor?"

"Our rapport?"

Avi paused, recalling his nights spent keeping watch for the keeper even when all he wanted was some dry bread and cold water. He couldn't fathom what sort of rapport he shared with the man before him.

"What do you say? As long as you help me procure some things from Middenheim—"

"How much?"

The unexpected reply left the keeper momentarily dumbfounded. "Wha-what?"

"I asked you, how much. Let's settle up now."

Avi slapped his purse of gold coins onto the table.

Who's to sneer at who for lack of funds? A peddler like you, won't even find work with the greenskins for this fruitless deal!

Two hours later, the entire band of cheating mercenaries congregated at Middenstead's square. Their attire, somewhat peculiar; alongside the elder members clad in leather armor exuding Imperial army airs, were neatly dressed wounded soldiers, swords swathed in bandages, drawing particular attention.

They stood by the square, drawing curious glances from the townsfolk. Though the passing guards occasionally scrutinized, upon learning Avi led the group, they didn't pry further.

"Boss, a hidden noble, perhaps?" After another group of guards passed, Rafe leaned in. "Why'd they scatter at the sound of your name?"

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"Who knows, maybe our past dealings." Avi thought of the knight commander who claimed the 'Leg-Biting Sword.' Likely at his behest.

"Heard the old knight commander got promoted as a personal guard in Middenheim. Could it be him...?" Avi pondered, "Best keep a low profile. Wouldn't want to ruffle feathers with someone fond of burning bridges."

"Your Excellency, likely our awaited party." Airen suddenly gestured eastward.

Following Airen's gaze, Avi spotted a disheveled caravan approaching. Their attire even stranger, with some barefoot and shirtless.

Six carts brimmed with neatly packed wooden crates, secured with ropes to prevent slippage. The draft horses pulling them, sleek and muscular, clearly well-kept.

"Beast treated better than man. Your Excellency, pardon my candor: such folks aren't worth our association." Airen whispered indignantly to Avi. "Not even clothes provided!"

"Everyone has their own motivations; as long as we can make some coin, that's all that matters," Avi remarked. "We've got to learn patience; after all, isn't that one of the principles in the knightly code you all adhere to?"

"You're absolutely right. I overstepped my bounds. My apologies," Airen immediately took a step back, bowing halfway to Avi. "I shall heed your advice and refrain from letting my emotions run amok."

"No need for all the formality..."

Avi shook his head wryly, then with Rafe and Airen, he prepared to greet the approaching group.

The leading merchant, noticing their attire and intentions, comprehended their identity and swiftly dismounted from his travel horse, striding over to Avi's side.

"Hello, I'm Manid, the merchant in charge of this caravan," he introduced himself.

Manid sported a mane of black hair, long neglected, appearing disheveled and greasy. His unkempt beard, with thick stubble giving his entire jaw a bluish hue, emitted a rather untidy aura.

Dressed in a white travel suit, with a hefty fur pouch hanging from his waist, he epitomized the image of an Imperial merchant.

"Hello, I'm Avi, leader of the cheating mercenary group," Avi replied, then gestured to his two 'associates,' "These are Rafe and Airen, my two lieutenants."

Airen was taken aback to hear Avi refer to him as a lieutenant, but he knew it wasn't the time to voice his concerns, so he remained silent.

Airen, with his tidy appearance and well-built physique, coupled with his somewhat handsome features and well-groomed beard, exuded a knightly demeanor.

Standing next to Airen, Rafe appeared scruffy, his robust frame and rugged appearance reminiscent of a wildling from the northern Norscan lands.

Observing these two individuals from seemingly disparate backgrounds, Manid found it difficult to imagine how Avi managed to unite them.

As politely as possible, he inquired, "So, according to Lord Kees's plan, we should be setting off now. Is there anything else you need to prepare?"

"Everything's ready," Avi confirmed. "But I have a small request: if possible, try to stay in the middle of our formation. That way, in case of any sudden situation, we can better protect you."

"No problem." Manid nodded, reaching into his fur pouch and pulling out a small cloth pouch tied with a string, which he handed to Avi. "This is the agreed-upon payment from Lord Kees."

Avi weighed the pouch in his hand before accepting it. "Alright, it's getting late. Let's depart."

With Kees's pass in hand, the guards on the outskirts of the city were quite courteous. But Avi knew that once they crossed the borders of Middenstead, their only reliance would be on their weapons and armor.

There were two routes from Middenstead to Middenheim: one through the Black Forest, which was riskier, and another longer, safer route along a well-maintained road.

As the caravan progressed, they gradually left Middenstead behind, venturing into the desolate wilderness.

Surrounded by dense thickets and tall grasses, visibility was severely limited, making it an ideal ambush spot. This area should have been avoided by the caravan.

"Normally, Lord Kees would have us take the main road," Manid and Avi conversed as they journeyed. "It's two days longer than cutting through the forest, but it's safer. We should have opted for that route."

"Because he's planning to establish the shortest trade route between Middenheim and Middenstead," Avi elucidated. "You folks must have brought some axes or the like; that's for clearing the way. I—"

"Your Excellency, be on your guard!" Airen drew his longsword with a swish. "There are ambushing enemies on both sides!"