Chapter 32
The waitress asked again, "...Even if it's a job that no one has ever completed?"
Ian nodded his head as he took another bite of his sausage.
After a sigh, the waitress nodded her head, "The lord himself has put a bounty on it."
"What's it about?" Ian asked.
"There's an underground waterway. It was made by fairies a long time ago, so nobody really knows the entire structure. People just use it because whatever is thrown in there goes out through the drain on the other side. Anyway, something lives there. Sometimes, you can hear it growling through the sewer," the waitress replied.
"I've heard rumors. A cannibal crocodile." Ian nodded his head.
"Of all who went in to subdue it, only one came back. Thanks to that person, the monster’s identity was revealed. A crocodile with four eyes, they said. But it's impossible to know if that's true since no one else has returned. So, it's better if you don't go. Besides, if you go there..."
She lowered her voice, "They say you have to wade through water full of feces."
Ian and Philip simultaneously grimaced.
"If we kill that thing, where should we bring it?" Ian asked, exchanging glances with Philip.
"Just bring it here. The guards will come for it." Ian nodded.
He then handed over another silver coin and said, "Give us a room with two beds and buy us each two sets of clothes to change into tomorrow. And prepare water for us to wash up after we return. This should be more than enough, right?"
"Are you really going to do it?" The waitress asked.
"Tomorrow at noon. Immediately," Ian replied.
"...I advised against it. I did my best to dissuade you," said the waitress.
She showed them to their room and walked away, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Water full of feces, huh... Ha...." Philip sighed as he soaked his hard bread in the stew.
"To my eyes, this place is no different from a water full of feces anyway," Ian shrugged his shoulders.
"Cannibal crocodiles living in the underground waterways. Marquess Burchard really leaves such things unattended."
"He probably doesn't want to sacrifice soldiers. Since he's preparing for war."
"If he's only going to send a hundred or two hundred soldiers, he seems exceedingly stingy."
"Well... he must have his reasons.”
Philip looked at Ian, wondering what he meant.
Ian didn't respond and just put a sausage in his mouth. He needed to eat well, even if the food was tasteless, as they would be moving intensely tomorrow.
***
As usual, the mercenary Patton woke up only when the sun was high in the sky. Clutching his throbbing head due to last night's drinking, he went out alone and, unusually for this early hour, noticed mercenaries gathered around.
"What are you guys doing?" Patton asked.
"Eh? We were betting. Want in?" One of the mercenaries replied.
"Betting...?" Patton approached the table. He then continued, "On what?"
"About the guys who came last night." A man known as Six-Fingers, due to missing two fingers on each hand, lit up his eyes meaningfully.
"They went into the underground waterways," said Six-Fingers.
"To the waterways...? Surely not to catch that monster by themselves," said Patton.
"That's exactly it," said Six-Fingers.
"They're mad." Patton's brow furrowed. He signaled to the waitress for some stew and sat down. He asked, "So, what's the bet?"
"Whether they come back by midnight or not," Six-Fingers replied.
"...That's too obvious," said Patton.
"So we were discussing who bets on them coming back,” said Six-Fingers.
"If they come back, the one who bet wins all the money. If not, he buys everyone a drink." Another mercenary chimed in.
"Better off just treating everyone to drinks..." Muttering to himself, Patton suddenly scratched his cheek.
Just then, the waitress brought the stew. As he gulped it down, he remembered the wanderers he had seen last night. One seemed like a youngster, but the other had a strange aura of intimidation. Not because he was big or had a fearsome face. So, he thought about approaching them to talk, considering they might be useful recruits.
"Then, I'll bet on them." Patton eventually said after putting down his plate.
"Seriously, Patton?" The mercenaries' lips curled up.
"Yeah. If they come back alive, I make money for good. If not, I buy you bastards a drink for good." Patton put down a silver coin on the table.
"See, you're a good man."
"The lord favors you for a reason. You two are alike?"
Teasing and transparent flattery flew around, and Patton snorted.
"Cut it out, you brats. Save those sweet nothings for some other-"
Rumble.
Patton's words stopped. A heavy vibration spread from somewhere. As the mercenaries looked puzzled, one of them spoke up.
"What was that just now?"
Shhhish.
There was another vibration. Only then did they realize that this tremor was spreading from somewhere underground. As the mercenaries exchanged glances,
Bash, rumble, bang.
The vibration continued. If they could feel it this strongly here, it must have been even more pronounced between the outer and inner city walls. Then, silence returned. After exchanging glances for a while, Six-Fingers finally laughed.
"It was impressive, I'll give them that. Looks like it's over, doesn't it?"
"Right? Whatever they did down there—"
Boom!
Suddenly, an explosion sounded, shaking the entire building as if an earthquake had hit. Glasses fell from tables, rolling on the floor, but no one thought to pick them up. Such an event had never happened before.
Amidst the sound of someone swallowing hard,
Screeeeech.
An unearthly scream echoed from all directions, utilizing every drain in the city as its amplifier. Then silence fell again, casting an eerie calm over the inn. No one dared to speak until the inn door burst open.
"Did you hear that? What was that?!" A mercenary who had been out in the city entered first, followed by others converging on the inn.
Gathered in groups, they eagerly shared what they had heard and seen.
"It sounded like someone was smashing the underground to pieces. Those crazy guys must have blocked the sewer to catch the crocodile."
"I heard cursing and shouting. Someone was yelling to block it off so it couldn't escape through the drains."
"Oil. They must have taken oil and set the sewage on fire. The burning crocodile screamed."
Amid wild speculation and assertions, bets flourished.
Creeaak.
The inn door slowly opened again.
The setting sun cast a long shadow into the room, silencing the crowd. The silhouette of a man entered. It was Ian, covered in filth and bodily fluids, but no one mentioned his appearance or the stench emanating from him. They were captivated by what he carried. Ian spotted the waitress and tossed what he was holding.
"Go get someone," said Ian.
Thump.
A giant head landed on the inn floor. It was the head of a crocodile, as large as a cow's body, with four eyes.
"I've killed the monster in the underground waterways." As Ian finished, Philip, following behind, threw down something next to the head—a similarly mangled tail.
"Didn't you hear? Call the guards or the captain, now," ordered Philip.
"Yes, yes!" At Philip's irritated command, the waitress ran out as if set on fire.
The one who broke the silence that had once again fallen was Patton, who stood up abruptly.
"Bring me all my money, you bastards! Brother, thank you! I hit the jackpot because of you!" Following Patton’s shout, cheers and shouts erupted everywhere.
Mercenaries sprang up from all sides, crowding around Ian and Philip.
"How did you do it? Oil, right?"
"Did you really smash it with a hammer? I bet on that."
"You actually killed it! That's incredible! How did you do it?!"
Amid the barrage of questions and cheers, Ian's brow furrowed tighter. Philip felt the same. While they understood the reaction, this was hardly the conversation to have while drenched in sewage. Just as Ian's patience began to wear thin,
"Enough, you lunatics! Can't you see their state? I'll buy everyone a round of beer, so just drink that instead!" Patton, who had made a fortune thanks to Ian, managed to quiet the mercenaries.
"I heard you asked for bathwater to be prepared. It should be ready inside. You guys really stink, you know." Patton exchanged a friendly smile with Ian.
"...A single tub won't be enough," said Ian.
"I'll talk to the waitress when she returns. Thanks to you, I'm set for a month, so I ought to help out. It's the least I can do," Patton replied.
Ian nodded and moved on, with Philip muttering curses as he followed. An early drinking party sprang up around the crocodile's head and tail.
Patton, watching their retreating figures, murmured quietly, "Looks like some impressive folks have rolled into town... Better fetch the young master quickly."
***
The captain of the guard had taken the four-eyed crocodile's head. The bounty would be paid within three days, he had said before leaving. Ian had neatly wrapped up the aftermath, not forgetting to mention that the underground waterways were slightly, just slightly damaged during their battle, and suggested dispatching stonemasons to repair it. It was a precaution to avoid any potential backlash. He didn't want to create conflict with the Lord of Orendel before clarifying the truth behind the ancient tree incident.
"I think once is enough for this kind of experience. I definitely can't do it a second time." Philip muttered gloomily across the table, barely touching the food in front of him.
"I agree." Ian nodded.
Despite having washed three times and changed all their clothes, it felt like the smell of ammonia was still clinging to them. Their equipment was cleaned and dried as best as possible, but it hardly felt thoroughly clean.
Nonetheless, the way they were treated had dramatically changed. Gone were the wary glances of last night; now, everyone nodded or raised their glasses even with a mere glance. This change was familiar to Ian. In the world of mercenaries, it was all about how you handled yourself and your skills. No one would dare question their actions now. Or so he thought,
"May I intrude for a moment?"
Someone from the other side initiated contact. Ian turned to the approaching man. It was the affable guy who had calmed the mercenaries earlier. Behind him stood a rather refined-looking young man, apparently his subordinate.
"If you could get to the point"
"Ha ha. Just as direct as your reputation suggests. A pleasure to meet you. I'm Patton." With a smile, Patton took a seat.
"Ian,” Ian very briefly introduced himself.
"Philip here." Philip, eyeing the young man behind Patton as if he were an annoyance, also nodded.
"It's odd I haven't heard of folks with your skills. Where are you from?" Patton asked.
"The swamp," Ian replied.
"Eh...? Ha ha. I see you don't wish to share. Then, where have you been active before? With your abilities, you must have made a name for yourselves somewhere," said Patton.
"If you're going to dig into that kind of nonsense—" Philip started to bristle but silenced himself under Ian's gaze.
"The fact that I'm not a criminal should be evident from my tolerance for this drivel alone. Spit it out, and not you..." Ian looked at Patton.
Ian’s gaze shifted to the young man standing behind Patton, "...but the person who actually has something to say."
"...!" Patton looked surprised, while Philip's frown deepened.
"Why is a noble playing commoner? Or is it the mob boss you're imitating?" Ian gestured for them to continue.
"...?!" Philip's eyes widened in realization. The young man, until now politely standing, let out a sheepish laugh.
"I didn't think I'd be found out. Was my acting really that bad?" The young man asked.
"If you want to pretend to be a veteran mercenary's escort, you might want to add a few scars to your face or hands," said Ian.
"Appreciate the advice, but that'll be difficult. This face is somewhat of an asset, you see," said the young man.
"I'm sorry, my lord. We've been found out." Patton stood up, and the young man chuckled, patting his shoulder.
"It's fine. It seems they were never going to be fooled from the start." The young man smoothly took Patton's seat, smiling at Ian.
"I apologize for the rudeness. As you know, among mercenaries, there are those with quite dangerous pasts. A minimum level of verification was necessary. I'm terrible with swordplay, haha." The young man’s tone was more akin to a freeman than nobility.
"I understand. I accept your apology." Ian nodded.
"Thanks. I'm Declan Burchard."
"Burchard, as in..." Philip's mouth fell open.
Ian, unfazed, continued, "The lord's son, I see. What interest does someone of your standing have in verifying the identities of mere mercenaries like us?"
"Managing the mercenaries in this city falls under my responsibilities. Plus, you two are notably skilled," said Declan.
Ian nodded in understanding. The excessive peace amidst the bustling presence of mercenaries had seemed odd. He wondered if this was how it was portrayed in the game, but he couldn't be sure. In fact, there were many aspects of the story and its supplementary settings that Ian was either unaware of or had changed.
"It's impressive that a young lord like yourself would undertake such arduous tasks. Please forgive our earlier rudeness." Philip spoke politely.
"I'm tasked with this precisely because I'm not the young lord. I'm a bastard, after all." Declan smirked.
"Ah... I see," Philip replied.
"So, are you convinced of my identity? Do you require any more proof?" Ian asked leisurely.
Declan shook his head.
"No, that won't be necessary. There's no need to verify your abilities either. I was thinking of getting straight to the point if that's alright with you?" Declan looked between Ian and Philip.
With Philip glancing at Ian, the latter nodded, "We'll hear you out."
"Great. How about you folks come and work together under me?" said Declan.
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