∼ Trouble in Meadesborough ∼

Chapter - 072

It was closing in on night time. The moon taking to the cloudless sky. Under the gloom of evening, the town of Meadesborough revealed itself as a strange place, even more so up close. From how all the buildings were built in with the same dank, dark oak, to the humid mist that hung about the valley. The whole place was a different world from everything Nyx had seen before. The demon honestly kept getting awed by how this new world of his kept pushing the boundaries of what he knew possible. Compared to the endless wastes he had known before, all these places were truly magical. If there was anything to be envious of regarding humans, it was that.

Slowly riding through one of the outlying streets by a river, a dwarf in his open-aired smith hammered away at a piece of glowing metal. The humidity and sweat that clung to his hairy form seemed not to even bother him as heat billowed in his face, sparks flying. Seeing Nyx, the dwarf gave him the stink eye. However, Nyx merely returned a rude hand-sign that Eric had taught him, making the dwarf blink. Surprisingly enough, the dwarf then simply smiled toothily and summarily went back to his work.

"Dwarves - as weird as humans..." Nyx supposed.

Looking around, the demon noticed how all the humans seemed mostly carefree, though when they spotted his mysterious figure, they made sure to steer well clear of him all whilst casting suspicious glances his way. They really were on edge, not just the guards. Although there were no walls to this odd town, they were a great many militiamen patrolling the streets. These weren't nearly as well-equipped as those at the city of Guard's Crossing or Boreas, but they at least seemed somewhat competent.

It made Nyx wonder how bandits and raiders were terrorizing this town. With the simple fact of how many militiamen were walking the streets, keeping the peace. It didn't make much sense. For there were not only attacks on the roads and outskirts of Cragspire, but even the borough itself was reportedly being sacked whenever a blind eye was turned.

Suddenly, the many soldiers roaming the streets stirred like a disturbed anthill. "A bandit attack?" Nyx thought excitedly, thinking he had arrived just at the most opportune moment. However, it wasn't so, as Nyx was suddenly surrounded with spears and swords pointed at him from all directions. The humans all held the same hostility in their eyes.

"Hold! Surrender quietly, or we'll have you dropped before you manage to draw your weapon." A man outfitted in chainmail called out, standing out from the growing crowd of men. It would seem the two guardsmen had made it back to town. Nyx was grumbling to himself when luckily, for him - or the humans, someone called out over the hubbub. "Make way! Make way!" It was an elderly voice, the crowd splitting as an older man in gray robes came panting. His clothes were damp with the humid air and sweat and the flimsy hair on top of his balding head ran like wet noodles.

"Elder, what are you doing here?" The soldier in charge said with worry, helping the old man stand upright. "Please, it's dangerous."

He pointed at Nyx with a struggling urgency. "You dumb lad, he's a mercenary! Look there - at his tag." He shook his head, catching his breath. Giving a glare at the men frozen in place all around, he scowled. "Lower your weapons, already! Dammit."

The soldiers hesitantly looked at each other, weapons wavering, not quite sure what to do. Follow the old man's command or keep to their training and the orders of their direct superior. "You heard the elder!" The man in charge finally called out, fixing Nyx with a hard look.

At once, every blade and tip was pointed elsewhere. Silence fell on the street. "Are you sure?" The armored man asked, not taking his eyes off the stranger. "What if he's a bandit and stole it off some corpse?"

"You foolish boy, don't you remember anything I taught you?" The older man reprimanded as if to some child, though the man had to be at least in his mid-thirties. "Mercenary tags are enchanted, they turn red with crimson-rust when the owner dies or it is reported stolen. It stops anyone from misusing them."

"Besides, I was the one to send for help..." He added with weary in his old voice.

"-You did what?" The man sputtered. "But-but, we don't need their help! We did not before, and do not now. We, the people of Meadesborough, have never relied on anyone else!" The men around seemed to echo the sentiment, though most dared not speak up against the elder.

The old man looked to age even more as he looked into the man's eyes. "Liam, please see reason. This pride in your home... it's admirable, but also misplaced. We cannot let it be our downfall."

Bored, Nyx was absentmindedly picking his teeth, not really paying attention to their heartfelt conversation. He couldn't be bothered. At least, this old man seemed to be able to solve this bothersome situation for him. It wasn't long until Nyx was then grudgingly hustled to the large town hall in the center of the borough by the militia, the older man having spoken some sense into the hot-blooded man.

Sitting at a table that stretched the hall lit by torches and a hearth at the head, all the eyes around the table were focused on the small figure that could barely even see over the wooden board. There were three elders in total; the old man who had put up the commission in the first place, flanked by two women in their later years. Making up the rest of the room were the heads of each sector of the borough. The militia. The farmsteads. The artisans. And so-on.

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The general consensus seemed to be of disdain towards Nyx, seeing as all of them held a great amount of pride in their town and independence. Having to rely on outsider help definitely did not sit well with them. And it showed in their eyes. The only one who looked amiable out of the bunch was the elder. Old man Harrod, as some had called him. Just one amongst three elders, he seemed to be the head figure of this whole borough out of pure merit rather than station.

"I thank you on the behalf of Meadesborough, for accepting our request. For coming to aid our people in times of great hardship." Harrod opened, smiling. Some of the people sniffed at that, but he effortlessly ignored them. Nyx also just ignored it, waving the old man off. He wasn't doing it for them. He was here for the sweet, sweet taste of violence and gold.

"So, Sir Nyxel. When do you suppose the rest of your party will arrive?" He asked once everyone had calmed down.

Nyx blinked, confused. "Who? No one's coming, old man." Was this human not right in the head? Does old age do this to humans?

Harrod hesitated. "It's... just you?"

"Of course, it's just me! You humans, you always- gah!" Nyx flailed with his hands, giving up. The lord of the homestead had done the exact same, and he really was getting tired of having to explain himself. Instead, Nyx supposed he might as well just make a show of it. Nyx snapped both his fingers, purple flames hovering above his robed hands. Two spells waiting to be discharged, a little trick he had managed to learn on his way here. "It's just me - because I don't need no others."

"Certainly, not any smelly, stinkin' human." He added under his breath. Though the mundane people did not realize the difficulty of dual-casting, the display of magic was more than enough to make them gasp in surprise - or alarm. Either one worked.

"You're a mage," Old man Harrod said with some awe in his old voice.

As much as Nyx enjoyed their reactions, he winked out the spells and corroborated the old man's realization.

"Still... are you sure you're enough? I mean no offense, Sir mage. But we are facing a considerable amount of bandits, some of whom have a great deal of competence. As far as I understood, my request was evaluated at the Silver-rank of difficulty. For a whole party of mercenaries."

"I am," Nyx said dismissively, getting somewhat irritated. "So tell me where they are already, oldie."

He just nodded solemnly. He then turned to look to the head of the militia, a man by the name of Liam, the very same one that had accosted Nyx in the streets. Liam got to his feet reluctantly, closing his eyes for a moment before facing Nyx. He was still clearly not happy that the elder had requested help from the guild.

"The bandits... they attack and disappear like ghosts." His teeth gritted as if he loathed to admit what he was just about to say. "Regrettably, our people stand almost no chance. As before we ever manage to put up a good counter offense, they're gone. Along with whatever they came to steal. We've only managed to put down a couple, whilst they've taken... nearly two dozen of my men."

He fell back into his seat, his gaze averted from facing Nyx.

"We think they might be making use of the valley and underpasses to slip away," A woman by the man's side added, appearing to be the lieutenant to the young and hot-headed captain. "It is also where their camp should be, up in the northern region of Cragspire, where the terrain is much more impassable. But we haven't been able to locate it as of yet."

Looking around at the faces of the people, Nyx felt like there was something they weren't telling him. "What?" He asked once it was obvious there weren't going to present it on their own. They all looked with hesitancy at each other, though old Harrod was the one to speak up.

"You see... the old head of the guard." He looked to Liam who hung his head. "He's now the leader of the bandits. He's a very skilled man, and if anyone knows Cragspire, it's him. We've had no luck in stopping the raids ever since his turn traitor." The old elder looked as if he was drowning in shame as he said that, and the others in the room showed their distaste for the man who had betrayed his home, his people.

Nyx's brow rose. Not because he was surprised, but more so, excited. He wasn't sure what qualified as skilled for this place, but he was intrigued by the fact that he might have a good fight on his hands here. The only other human that Nyx would've considered skilled, that he had fought, was Iggy. Though, he had been quite pissed off at that time, ending the fight before he even managed to test his mettle in a fair fight. This might just be a new opportunity, one that didn't mean Nyx going out of his way to fight a random human and getting in trouble for it down the line.

Giving Liam a pointed look, the old man clearly wanted him to say something. But it was the lieutenant who made him speak with a kick underneath the table. "My men and I. We are at your disposal - sir..." Liam gritted out.

"No need, I'll take care of it myself," Nyx said offhandedly, shaking his head.

All the humans blinked at that, Liam shooting back to his feet. He was irate. "Your arrogance!"

"Liam! Stop it." Harrod reprimanded. But the man did not relent.

"I won't have him looking down on my men! Magi or not."

Nyx's eyes squinted underneath his hood. What was this human's problem? He just didn't want stupid humans getting his way. So why was he getting his panties all up in a bunch? Suddenly, one of the double doors to the hall was practically kicked open, a young soldier in leather armor panting as he tried to locate his boss.

Nyx's words forgotten, Liam turned to the man. "Toby? What is it?"

He gasped for air, looking to have run here from the edge of town. "T-the ah- the granary and ah- storage, has been attacked!"

Everyone suddenly bolted to their feet, anger and worry intermixed on their faces. Liam didn't even hesitate as he ran for the door. "Get the men! Now!"

As he ran past, the lieutenant following after him, old man Harrod met Nyx's gaze. "Sir, please follow them. You must hurry."