Novels2Search

07 - An Old Friend

The wagon wheels turned steadily, pulled along by royal steeds through the birch trees. Jean and the others pressed onward toward Plainfil Hillside as dusk settled around them. A chill wind stirred, scattering fallen birch leaves across the forest road that wound through Mensheim.

The sun, now setting, dipped below the western edge of Plainfil Hillside, casting long shadows. From his place at the reins, Cedwyn began to activate his Elven gift,True Sight.

As the road narrowed, flanked by dense trees, Farramir grew curious about the route Virgil had chosen.

“Are you sure this wagon will fit into the mine you mentioned?” Farramir asked, glancing around at the thickening woods.

“Yes, the Kittendust Mine has been in operation for a long time,” Virgil replied, drawing one of his arrows.

“It’s a vast place. They used to haul the mined goods out by a large cart.”

Virgil squinted, took a deep breath, and lost his arrow.

'Thud!'

The arrow struck true, piercing the heart of a deer in the forest. As the deer fallen, Virgil signaled to Farramir to retrieve it. Farramir leaped off the still-moving wagon and sprinted swiftly toward the fallen deer.

“Are you two seriously going after that deer?” Rouvin asked Virgil, watching Farramir race off.

“Are we out of food?”

“Ask Karn,” quipped Aslan, who was busy fastening the tarp over the wagon as they traveled.

“He managed to burn through all the meat in the barrels, and the ‘Greatest Ursid’ took care of the last of the fish.”

Cedwyn overheard and smiled, glancing at Ursid, who sat beside him while looking around.

“That little bear devoured the last fish greedily,” Jean added.

“Seems like we’ll need to stock up on plenty of meat and fish.”

Thud!

A freshly slain deer landed right in front of Aslan just as he was securing the tarp to the wagon. It was the deer that Virgil had just hunted down.

"Hey! Why did you bring the deer up here?!” Aslan grumbled at Farramir’s behavior.

“You could’ve just stowed it in the barrel by the side of the wagon.”

“I’m getting it ready now,” Farramir replied, walking over to open the side barrel as the wagon rolled along.

He took hold of his catch and slid it right into the barrel. With that done, Farramir climbed back into the wagon.

“You run quite fast,” Jean remarked, watching Farramir keep pace with the wagon as he retrieved the game.

“It’s nothing,” Virgil replied, glancing at Farramir, who was catching his breath

“We do things like this all the time.”

“Virgil, are you certain this is the easiest route?” Farramir asked again, still unsure about the path, as this was his first time entering a mining area.

“I’m not sure this wagon will fit into the mine.”

“Can’t you trust your friend?” Aslan was a little annoyed by Farramir’s question.

“Listen, that damned mine belongs to Jovial Jumbo Mines. A company that’s been in the mining business since you were in your mother's womb.”

“Uh… He doesn't know who his mother is.” Virgil interrupted.

The atmosphere grew awkward, and Jean tried to lighten the mood.

“Who cares? We’re family now!” Jean said, patting Farramir's shoulder.

Aslan, taking a deep breath, continued explaining to Farramir.

“They hired the Horizon Raiders, mercenaries from the Frostcrest region, to protect it,” Aslan continued, steadying his tone.

“At least fighting mercenaries is easier than dealing with the kingdom’s guards who are hunting us. Besides, with bounties on our heads, there’ll be plenty of people in the town after us.”

“There won’t be any fighting. We’re just passing through,” Jean interrupted.

“We’ll toss them a few gold coins, and they’ll let us through without question.”

“We need to clear our names quickly,” Aslan said, settling beside Ivan.

“The longer we’re on the run,the more this noble child here seems to enjoy it.”

“Let’s hope your family can help us out of this mess,” Virgil said, glancing at Ivan, who sat quietly in the corner of the wagon.

“Surely, it’s just a misunderstanding, right? This shouldn’t be too hard to resolve.”

Ivan laughed at that. They had no idea just how complicated his family’s affairs truly were.

“Hahaha! You’ve no idea about my family,” Ivan chuckled, a weary smile crossing his face.

“Let me tell you—being part of a noble house isn’t that happy. I chose the life of an adventurer because I was fed up with my own family.”

“Even Karn would rather fight monsters than get involved in royal intrigue,” Ivan said, hunching down in his seat.

“Don’t expect my family to help. They’re all useless, only thinking about their own thrones.”

“Except your mother.” Jean responded quickly.

"Yeah, that’s true! Except for my mother," Ivan replied, a hint of softness in his voice as he thought of her.

‘Mother, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.'

Only Jean and Aslan knew the story of Ivan’s family. No one else knew. Shortly after seeing Ivan asleep, Aslan made his way over to Karn.

“Has Ivan ever spoken to you about his family?” Aslan asked, glancing over at Ivan, now fast asleep.

“No, he’s never mentioned them to me,” Karn replied curtly.

“Alright, then—you must stay by his side, no matter what happens.” Aslan patted Karn.

“He was ostracized by his brother, even in his family the throne is contested.”

The others tried to understand Aslan’s words about Ivan and his family. Virgil and Farramir just looked at each other trying to understand.

Ivan was the youngest son of the noble Elven house of Syan. His mother, Iris, a human, married Arlen Syan, an Elven noble.

For years, Iris and Arlen lived together without children,but with the need for an heir weighing heavily on him, Arlen could not ignore his duty to his lineage. He decided to marry another woman, Rosiel Valsa, also an Elven noble.

From this marriage, Arlen and Rosiel had five children: Auberon, Teniya, Titania, Noel, and Emilion.

Ten years after Emilion’s birth, Iris’s hope for a child was finally fulfilled with the arrival of Ivan, the son of Arlen and Iris—a half-elf who is very talented in magic.

Unfortunately, as a half-elf, Ivan often faced discrimination and was continually shunned by his siblings, who held pure Elven blood. This makes him lazy if there is a family event and prefers to go away from his village. He found more comfort among the common folk in the nearby settlements, choosing their company over the distant airs of nobility.

–==--

The flames had finally begun to die down, leaving behind scorched branches and burnt grapes. Conrad’s vineyard lay in ruins, entirely consumed by the blaze. He was furious to see his fields destroyed by fire.

“I’m sorry, m’lord… I had no idea they’d come this way and set fire to your vineyard,” one of the guards said, his head bowed, blaming himself for what had happened.

“It’s not your fault. Even if you’d been here alone, you wouldn’t have been able to stop them,” Conrad replied, sparing his worker from blame and instead focusing on salvaging whatever was left.

“How about the wine cellar in the south?”

“I-it’s all burned as well, sir,” the guard stammered, worried about Conrad’s reaction.

“B-but… a witness saw them taking several barrels, sir. They left in a wagon.”

“A wagon, you say?” Conrad, who was very angry, was distracted by his curiosity.

“On my way here, I received word that the horses in the stable were all slain—every last one of them dead, yet not a single one missing.”

“Who is the eyewitness?!” Conrad looked around and whispered.

“Don’t let anyone know about the eyewitness, quickly bring him to my room now. Remember! Don’t let anyone know about him.”

‘I will make sure whether it was Aslan’s doing or not,’ Conrad muttered as he clenched his fists.

‘This is an act of war, yet I must first unmask my true enemy.’

–==--

Some time passed. Conrad sat drinking tea, accompanied by a long-haired, golden-skinned concubine in a pink dress. She gently stroked Conrad’s broad chest, her touch soft and deliberate.

The sound of footsteps echoed from outside the room, followed by a firm knock at the door.

‘Knock!’

‘Knock!’

“Come in!” Conrad called, inviting his two guests into the room.

With a subtle gesture, he signaled his concubine to leave.

“Please, have a seat,” Conrad said to his guests.

A short black-haired man named Zenon, one of Conrad’s officers, and Kasin, an elf who was an eyewitness to recent events, took their seats before him.

Conrad, dressed in a striking black robe, cut a commanding figure as he regarded them.

He was a man from the Bresser region. He appeared calm in facing the situation, his extensive experience keeping him from making rash decisions.

If he were at war, Conrad would be pleased to know who he was facing. It allowed him to gauge the strength of his enemy and attempt to exploit their weaknesses. Of the three other advisors, Conrad likely had more experience than the rest.

"Introduce yourself and tell me everything you saw from the incident." Conrad didn’t want to waste time.

He wanted the answers to the questions on his mind, and he wanted them tonight.

“Y- yes, sir... please allow me," Kasin stammered.

"My name is Kasin. At the time, I was clearing the grass on the hill behind the warehouse.”

“I heard the sound of horses below. When I looked down, I saw four people getting off a wagon and taking four barrels of wine." Kasin went on, explaining the details to Conrad.

"They seemed normal taking the barrels, so I thought it was simply the officers sent to collect the wine."

“So, you saw only those four?” Conrad pressed, his gaze sharp as he weighed Kasin’s words.

“Could you discern their faces or what attributes they wore?”

“Hmm… not quite,” Kasin murmured, straining to recall.

“What I did see clearly, from the silver gleam, was something that resembled a royal badge.”

“Virgil was wearing royal armor.” Conrad tried to match it with Aslan and the others’ identities.

“Oh! Yes… they all wore royal armor,” Kasin confirmed.

“I used my True Sight, and the silver of the badge reflected by the light from the armor they were wearing.”

In the vision of one who uses True Sight, dim light within sixty feet appears as if bathed in brightness, and the darkness yields to shades of gray. Users can't distinguish colors in the darkness, only shades of gray.

"All wearing royal armor?" Conrad's brow furrowed,he was confused by Kasin’s explaination.

“Are you sure about that?” Zenon confirmed what Kasin was talking about.

Kasin just nodded. Zenon glanced at Conrad as if in disbelief.

Conrad fell silent, his mind turning over the details. He looked at the royal ledger, detailing the losses inflicted by Aslan and his company. Yet, nowhere did it mention any stolen royal armor. Even the prison guards who had perished—each of their armors remained untouched.

"Zenon," Conrad began, his voice measured,

"We both know there were no shipments scheduled for today, correct?"

"Indeed, my lord. There were no shipments," Zenon confirmed without hesitation, for he managed the wine trade on Conrad’s behalf.

"None of our wagons left the estate."

"You may review the records yourself, if you wish," he added, offering the logbook with a confident hand.

Conrad gave a slight nod, his eyes shifting back to Kasin.

“Do you know where they went?” Conrad asked, the curiosity still gnawing at him.

He had yet to find a satisfying answer to the questions swirling in his mind.

“N-no, my lord. Forgive me,” Kasin replied, bowing his head in apology.

“I was distracted by the fire in the vineyard and rushed there at once.”

“Very well. You may all go,” Conrad said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

Once the two men were out of sight, Conrad swiftly moved to the back of the room. He slid aside one of the towering bookshelves, revealing the elegant figure of the concubine from before.

“Adora,” Conrad’s gaze was cold and calculating as he addressed her.

“You know what must be done.” He handed her a pouch filled with five thousand gold coins.

“Use this to make your preparations and track down the wagon.”

“Of course, my lord,” Adora replied with a graceful nod, a subtle smile gracing her lips as she accepted the pouch, she turned and swiftly departed to begin her task.

–==--

The moonlight bathed two sturdy brown steeds as they pulled the wagon, the horses galloped quickly.Cedwyn, Seated at the reins, guided them with a steady hand toward the southeastern Plainfil Hillside

Before long, they reached the entrance of Kittendust Mine. Looming before them was the mouth of a vast cavern, its edges worn by the passage of time and the labors of miners. Nearby, weathered signs displayed the names Kittendust Mine and Jovial Jumbo Mines, their letters faded but still visible in the pale light.

"Aslan, are you sure we’re going to this cave ? " Farramir, who had been awake on the journey, glanced warily around.

“Aye, we’re in,” Cedwyn confirmed, approaching the mouth of the cave.

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His eyes settled on Ursid, who stood motionless—a sign that no immediate danger was present.

“I thought it’s safe.” He continued.

“The watchman must be inside,” Aslan murmured, his gaze sweeping the area with cautious intent.

Farramir and Cedwyn both invoked their True Sight, but the shadows revealed nothing.

“Shall we go on?” Jean’s voice broke the tense silence, cutting through their uncertainty.

“We’re halfway there. Let’s not waste time.”

With a nod of agreement, Cedwyn and the others pressed forward into the cavern. As they crossed the threshold into the mining grounds, Ursid grew restless. The small creature scurried into Cedwyn’s pocket, seeking refuge in her familiar hiding place.

‘This place shouldn’t be so silent.’ Aslan mused, his thoughts troubled by the unnatural silence that hung over the area—no voices, no movement, not a soul in sight.

“Seems like something strange, Aslan ?” Jean asked when he noticed Aslan was pondering something.

“Karn, take position ahead and keep Cedwyn covered,” Aslan commanded, his tone firm as he took charge of the situation.

“Cedwyn! Farramir! Use your True Sight and stay aware.”

“I can cast Invisibility if you want,” Jean offered a spell that required a lot of power.

“I still have the power to make everything here invisible, the wagon and all.”

“No need,” Aslan replied, his gaze shifting toward the front of the wagon tent.

“We’ll save it for when the situation grows dire.”

Not far ahead, as they entered the deepest of the mining area, the sounds of many voices reached their ears. Laughter echoed through the cavernous expanse.

“I’ll go ahead and check the situation,” Farramir said, stepping from the wagon and vanishing into the shadows.

As he moved further, a small group emerged from the darkness—dozens of people gathered around tents. They didn’t appear to be mercenaries, but something more barbaric.

Unsure how to describe what he had seen, Farramir decided it was best for the others to witness it firsthand.

“It would be wiser if you see it for yourselves,” he murmured, guiding the group to the vantage point overlooking the gathering.

“I don’t think they’re mercenaries… but I’m not certain. I don’t fully understand.”

Aslan and Jean approached cautiously, peering into the scene where Farramir had been observing.

Aslan’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“These people…” he muttered, rising to his feet.

“Wait here. I’ll speak to them.”

Just as he took a step forward, Jean caught his arm and pulled him back into the cover of the shadows.

“Hold, Aslan. Those aren’t mercenaries,” Jean whispered urgently, his senses heightened by his active hearing ability.

“They’re preparing to attack the mercenaries.”

“Is someone there?” one of the men called out, his eyes scanning the darkness where Aslan and the others hid. Yet, the shadows revealed nothing.

They had managed to stay concealed.

To divert attention, Jean cast his silent image skill. Conjuring the illusion of a bat. The spectral creature flitted past the group and vanished into the depths of the mine.

“Ah… just a bat,” the man muttered, turning back to rejoin his companions.

“They’re bandits—all of them,” Rouvin whispered, his brow furrowed in thought

“We should fall back and make a proper plan.” He continued.

The morning crept steadily onward, but no information could be obtained from the bandits. Some of them rested, stood guard and a few practiced their combat skills. It was difficult for Aslan and the others to break through using the wagon.

“When will they make their move?” Farramir muttered, his patience wearing thin as he sat idly beside Karn.

“Can’t we just force our way through?”

Jean exhaled, his tone calm but resolute.

“I’ve heard nothing of their plans yet. Forcing our way through now would be reckless.You can go back to the wagon as long as you don't get caught."

"Hmm, I'll stay here." Farramir said, leaning back and closing his eyes, seeking a moment’s respite from the tedium.

Unlike Farramir, Karn remained vigilant, his eyes sharp as he carefully studied the layout of the mine—a skill honed through years of ambushing unsuspecting foes.

Suddenly, a figure burst from the cave, sprinting into the centre of the encampment.

“Everyone! Our comrades in the Northeast and Southeast are in position, ready to spring the ambush!” the man shouted.

“Rest while you can! At dawn, we strike against those cursed soldiers!”

At his command, the bandits began retreating into their tents, their numbers thinning as many settled in for the night. There were only two people left to patrol around the tents.

The echo of the announcement stirred Aslan’s curiosity. Silently, he crept toward the source of the commotion. Jean, noticing Aslan’s movement, quickly raised a hand, signaling Aslan to stop the movement and also he signaled he would go deeper to see the situation, leaving Aslan and the others behind.

Without hesitation, Farramir and Karn followed close behind Jean, their footsteps silent and their senses sharp.

Jean’s intent was clear—he needed to determine how many bandits were preparing for the fight.

As they crept past the tents, Farramir’s sharp eyes caught sight of several chests brimming with gold. His fingers twitched with the urge to investigate, but Jean’s firm grip on his shoulder halted him mid-step.

“Stay focused,” Jean whispered, pulling Farramir back.

“We must move quickly and try to avoid fighting." He continued.

They had passed the bandits and were walking in a wide hallway. It was wide enough for three wagons to line up. Jovial Jumbo Mines was a large mining company. The mine was rich with ore that supplied vital materials for forging armor, bound for the cities of Ironvale and Osmeria.

“This mine is beyond my expectations, I thought it was small.” Farramir said while looking around.

“Jean, have you been here before?” He continued.

“No, why would you think that?” Jean replied coldly.

“And why do you always ask me unimportant things?”

“Mmm… who knows?” Farramir grinned, teasing.

“Perhaps you’ve been here before, after all.”

“Do I look like a miner?” Jean’s annoyance deepened, his voice laced with irritation.

“Karn, this place is perfect for us to kill one very talkative person. Do you want to do it?”

“My pleasure! Hahaha!” Karn chuckled, playing along with the jest.

“Just asking, why are you upset?” Farramir continued to tease, clearly enjoying Jean’s frustration.

Jean, ignoring the banter, turned and headed south, deeper into the mine. The three of them soon arrived at the heart of Kittendust. There, they saw several barricades, hastily thrown up by the mercenaries.

“These wooden barricades were likely builded by the mercenaries,” Jean noted, scanning the area carefully.

“Farramir, take the lead to the southeast. We don’t need to enter their camp.”

“Stay close,” Farramir instructed, eyeing the wooden barricade erected by the mercenaries. Inside, several guards were on watch.

“Stay alert, there are elves among them.”

“There are no more than thirty men inside,” Farramir mused as he crept forward, casting occasional glances at the soldiers.

“Are they truly so strong? Can they fight off dozens or even hundreds of bandits here?” He continued.

“No,” Karn replied,

“They’ll lose here.” He continued after he noticed the conditions around the mercenaries.

“Aye… that’s why I headed straight for the southeast,” Jean agreed, his tone calm but measured.

The three of them began to circle around the barricade, moving with caution and purpose.

“They will be dead if they stay here.” Karn looked at the Barricade that formed a trap formation.

“This barricade will be useless.”

“Eyes forward, Karn,” Jean whispered, urging him to stay focused.

Thud! A man lunged out of the shadows, aiming for Farramir.

With swift reflexes, Karn struck back, his halberd slicing through the air. The ambusher barely escaped with his hand intact, releasing Farramir just in time.

Karn swung again, but the man deflected the blow and quickly retreated behind the barricade. Moments later, the barricade stirred, and a group of ten men charged out, weapons drawn, rushing toward the trio.

Karn gripped his halberd tightly, ready to face them all.

“Hold,” Jean commanded, his voice firm yet calm.

“Remember, we must avoid open conflict.”

He glanced at Farramir.

“You good?” Jean asked.

“I’m fine,” Farramir replied, brushing the dust from his clothes as he rise to his feet.

“We are not bandits, as you seem to believe,” Jean spoke calmly, addressing the men before him.

“We just want to pass through to Redwood Valley.”

The group exchanged wary glances, suspicion etched deep into their faces.

“Liar!” one of them roared, rushing forward toward Jean and his companions.

Karn's grip tightened on his halberd, every muscle coiled and ready to strike.

“STOP!”

The commanding voice echoed through the air, freezing the scene in place.

A figure stepped out from behind the barricade, emerging into the dim light with an air of authority.

The man stopped immediately hearing his leader's shout from inside.

“Jean? Is that truly you?” A figure stepped forward, clad in heavy armor, a sturdy shield resting in his left hand.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

“By the gods, it is you, Jean!” He continued as he approached with a broad grin.

“I’ve prayed to my new god for deliverance, and here you stand.” The man’s short brown hair caught the dim light as he observe the group.

"Eh... Where's Aslan?"

"Rubin! My friend." Jean replied, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“What brings you to a place like this?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” Rubin replied, casting a wary glance around before motioning for Jean to follow.

“Hmm… let’s talk inside, now those damn bandits want to take over this mine.”

He paused, a mischievous smile crossing his face as he draped an arm around Jean’s shoulder.

“Wait… you’re not with the bandits, are you?” He chuckled softly.

“It’s been too long, my friend.”

Together, they entered the wooden barricade that shielded the Horizon Riders’ mercenary camp.

“What brings you to this forsaken place?” Rubin asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and relief.

“Your arrival eases my mind… though I wonder if fate itself guided you here.”

“It’s a long story,” Jean replied calmly, his gaze shifting to Karn and Farramir. “Aslan and I are now wanted by the kingdom of Ironvale and its allies. There was a misunderstanding between Aslan and the crown, and now we’re fugitives, along with the two of them.”

“My destination is Redwood Valley. To evade the kingdom’s soldiers, Aslan directed us this way,” Jean continued, explaining their course.

“Hah! It seems this is our fate!” Rubin laughed, slapping Jean’s back with a grin.

“My god still loves me! He grants me another chance at life.”

“In truth, Rubin, your god doesn’t love you,” Jean quipped.

“The proof lies in the fact that He hasn’t called you to His heaven.”

“Damn you, Jean!” Rubin laughed, shaking his head at the jest.

“Farramir, Karn… If you wish to head to Redwood Valley first, do so,” Jean said, rising from his seat as he turned to Farramir and Karn.

“I’ll stay and tend to my friend here a bit longer. But before you go, take a look to the northeast and southeast to determine how many bandits lie ahead.”

“There’s no need for that,” Rubin replied, rising to follow Jean.

“We already know their numbers. A total of one hundred and twenty.”

He then called out to the others, his voice firm and commanding.

““Listen up, everyone! The plan has changed, We are ready to fight!”

“What was the plan before?” Jean asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Of course to run from here.” Rubin replied with a laugh.

“But that would show I’m a coward, wouldn’t it?”

Karn, standing beside Jean, offered his counsel.

“If you want to survive, you must strike first. Don’t let yourself rot in this forsaken place.” He suggested.

Rubin merely nodded, a smile tugging at his lips as he heard Karn’s suggestion, unaware that it was Karn—the living legend of Weznorands—who had spoken.

“Very well, Karn and I will fetch Aslan and the others,” Farramir said, hurrying alongside Karn to find Aslan.

“It’s best if we all go for Aslan together,” Rubin declared, joining the effort.

“Together is better,right?”

“If your plan is to strike first, then so be it.” Rubin clapped Karn on the shoulder as he passed him.

“If your plan is to strike first, then so be it.” Rubin clapped Karn on the shoulder as he passed him.

“We’ll set our sights on those in the northwest.”

With that, Rubin led the other soldiers toward the northwest, with Jean, Farramir, and Karn following behind.

Their footsteps echoed through the passage, sending faint tremors through the cavern walls as they advanced toward the cave entrance in the northwest. Along the way, they extinguished the torches lining the path, snuffing out the flickering light one by one. Jean and his companions exchanged uneasy glances, puzzled by the mercenaries’ peculiar behavior.

After some time, they reached the edge of the bandits’ camp, where the raiders lay sprawled in restless slumber. The vibrations caused by the soldiers' footsteps caused vibrations in the mining area and were enough to wake the bandits from their rest.

“What was that?” one of the bandits muttered, jolting awake.

His eyes darted down the passage, spotting Rubin and his men advancing toward them. Panic flared in his voice as he shouted,

“We’re under attack!”

Without hesitation, Rubin and his troops charged into the camp. Chaos erupted as they tore through the bandits’ tents and toppled their campfires. Some drove their blades into the sleeping bandits, ensuring they would never rise again. The battle was swift, brutal, and decisive.

The Bandit Chief did not remain idle. Gripping twin steel war axes, he surged forward, his eyes locked on Rubin.

"Attack!" he bellowed, his voice a thunderous command. "Drive them back into the passage!"

Hearing that, a necromancer emerged from one of the tents, dark robes swirling around him. With a withered hand raised high, he uttered a grim incantation. "Faithful Hound."

In an instant, three spectral hounds materialized before him, their eyes gleaming with an unnatural light. Snarling, they charged toward the mercenaries, fangs bared and jaws snapping.

Amid the chaos, Farramir moved like a shadow. He sneaks through the fray, weaving between tents for the calling of Aslan and the others. Along the way, glimmers of gold caught his sharp eye—bandits' plunder left unguarded. Whenever he could, he deftly scooped up a few coins, his hands swift and sure, before disappearing once more into the darkness.

The sun rose over the Plainfil Hillside, spreading its golden light across the land—but its warmth did not reach the depths of Kittendust Mine. Within the cavern, the clash of steel and the cries of battle echoed, reverberating all the way to the cave’s entrance.

"Ugh... Really?" Aslan grumbled, stirring from his rest.

Grabbing his weapon, he moved swiftly toward the source of the commotion.

“They’ve started a war at dawn?” He continued grumbling.

Virgil, likewise roused from sleep, followed close behind with bow in hand.

“It seems the three of them have stirred up trouble,” Aslan remarked, glancing at Virgil, who was already knocking an arrow to his bowstring.

Virgil narrowed his eyes, aiming at the mass of combatants locked in fierce battle, his focus steady and unwavering.

“They’re all engaged in battle,” Virgil said, while loosing an arrow that found its mark among the bandits.

“It seems the three of them have joined the mercenaries against these bandits.”

“Very well. I shall join the fray,” Aslan replied, a spark of eagerness in his eyes as he advanced toward the battlefield.

With the bandits’ focus locked on the mercenaries, Aslan struck from behind with ferocity. His twin silver swords flashed in the dim light, each swing swift and precise. His strikes found their targets with deadly accuracy, and at times, he delivered a critical blow that felled his enemies with a single stroke.

Behind him, Virgil remained ever vigilant, his bow at the ready. His sharp eyes scanned the battlefield, releasing arrows at any foe who dared to approach Aslan from the rear, ensuring the warrior’s path remained clear and guarded.

The mercenaries, along with Jean and his companions, had overrun the bandits, driving them to the brink of defeat. Amidst the chaos, one of the bandits attempted a desperate escape, slipping past the mercenaries and darting toward the alley’s mouth where Jean stood watch.

Slash! Karn’s halberd cleaved through the bandit’s light armor with lethal precision, severing his head from his body in a single, decisive blow.

At the front line, Rubin spotted Aslan locked in combat with the remaining bandits at the rear.

“Aslan!” Rubin called out, his voice ringing with joy.

“By the gods, it’s good to see you again, my friend!”

“Rubin?!” Aslan exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock at seeing his old friend in this place.

“What are you doing here?”

“You really have to ask?” Rubin shot back, fending off a bandit with his greatsword, the blade cleaving through the air with force.

“Last time we met, I might’ve been on death’s door, but here I stand.”

“Slaying these damn bandits!”

“How dare you turn your back on me!” A bandit roared, charging at Aslan, who was momentarily distracted by Rubin’s voice.

Aslan didn’t notice the burly bandit closing in behind him. With no time to dodge or raise his sword to block, he could only brace himself for the massive steel greatsword that was about to strike.

Whoosh! The steel greatsword of the bandit drew near Aslan.

Crank! Rouvin’s gauntlet intercepted the blow, holding the bandit’s strike at bay.

“AARRGGHHH!!” The bandit roared, pouring all his strength into the attack.

The force of his effort pushed Rouvin back, but the bandit began to overpower him, forcing Rouvin to the ground. Seeing an opening, Aslan knew he had to act quickly.

As he prepared to strike, another bandit stepped in, parrying Aslan’s sword with his spear.

“Wow! That’s a fine blade you have there,” the bandit remarked, eyeing Aslan’s weapon with greed.

“It’s gonna be mine!”

“And your head, too!” Aslan retorted, not wasting a moment.

He kicked the bandit in the chest, sending him stumbling back, unable to recover after his bold words.

Aslan immediately charged towards him and started swinging his sword. In a blur of motion, he cleaved through the bandit’s defenses, each strike a brutal cut, until the final slash severed the bandit’s throat.

Crack! Blood sprayed from the wound, staining the ground in a dark crimson mist.

Meanwhile, the burly bandit continued to press his greatsword against Rouvin. The force of the strike drove Rouvin to his knees, struggling to hold the weapon at bay. Through gritted teeth, Rouvin saw Farramir rushing toward him.

With the bandit chief’s greatsword bearing down on him, Rouvin’s gauntlet-gripped hand tightened around the blade. Just then, Farramir appeared at Rouvin’s side, coming up from behind the bandit. Without hesitation, Farramir drove his dagger into the burly bandit’s neck, the blade sinking deep.

The bandit collapsed, lifeless, as Farramir yanked the bloodied dagger free. He wiped the blade clean on the bandit’s armor before tossing it aside with a swift motion.

The bandits in this area were all slain, none left to tell the tale. The Horizon Raider Mercenary Squad had suffered heavy losses, but now they all sat, resting as Jean and Cedwyn tended to their wounds with healing hands.

"It's been a long time since you were dying in Eldeviean," Aslan remarked, securing his silver sword into its sling before offering Rubin a firm handshake.

"Have you cursed your god for bringing you to the brink of death?"

"Damn you, Aslan!" Rubin laughed heartily at the jest.

"My god gave me a second chance to torment you!"

“What brings you back here?” Aslan asked, settling beside Rubin.

“I thought you were done with the fighting.”

“Jovial bastard dragged me back into it,” Rubin replied, glancing around at those nearby.

“He offered me ninety thousand gold pieces and even gave me one of his lands in Eldeviean.”

“The former mercenary chief was slain by bandits who sought to take control of this mine,” Rubin continued, his gaze sweeping over Cedwyn, Karn, Farramir, Virgil, and Rouvin.

“So, being close to the Jovial family in Eldeviean, I was paid to take his place.”

“Enough with my story,” Rubin said as he looked at Aslan and the others.

“So, you’re all on the run?”

“As I’ve said,” Jean replied with a weary smile, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“We’re on the run.”

A support like Jean would be drained when they finished battle, because the support would do their duties like Healing and such. If someone dies it will drain their energy even more. That’s why they need the Ressurection skill.

“There was a misunderstanding between us and the Kingdom of Ironvale.” Aslan emphasized Jean’s words.

“We refused their call, yet it was deemed a betrayal.”

“I’ve heard from Jean,” Rubin said, stretching his weary limbs.

“Is that lad a king now?”

“Aye, but that matters not,” Jean replied, rising to his feet as he prepared to head toward the wagon.

“There’s someone pulling the strings behind him, driving him to act thus.”

At that moment, the ground beneath them trembled slightly, sending a ripple of panic through those gathered.

“Ugh… It’s happening again,” Rubin muttered, leaping to his feet, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.

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