Chapter 20 …
Goblin (3)
As soon as dawn broke, the mercenaries began preparing to leave.
Bruno headed to the carpentry workshop with two of the mercenaries.
It was to retrieve the wagon they had entrusted the day before.
In the meantime, they unloaded the cargo.
The mercenaries carried a sack in each hand as they descended the stairs. Rael, on the other hand, found it effortless, though he groaned slightly as he went down.
Lorina stuck close to him.
She wanted to help, but he refused.
He found himself putting on a show in front of a woman. It felt strange. Was it like this for all men?
He wished he would grow quickly and become as strong as everyone else.
He could use magic in battle, but everyday chores were inconvenient. Even in daily life, there were plenty of situations that required physical strength.
When they gathered the cargo in front of the stable, the wagon arrived. They had to load it again. As they brought the sacks, a mercenary took them from the wagon.
They climbed aboard.
They were immediately tied with ropes. Bruno sighed.
Lorina’s hands were tied as well, though only her hands. That was at least a small relief.
“Where’s the guide?”
“He’s coming right now.”
The guide approached, carrying a heavy load on his back.
Only after he climbed aboard did the wagon begin moving.
The old man looked at Bruno’s bound hands but didn’t say much.
He was old. Perhaps his long life had taught him what not to ask.
The wheels turned slowly, carrying them out of the village.
The guide sat at the back, moving closer to the driver’s seat, unfolding something—it was a map.
Bruno turned his head halfway to look at it.
“So this is our current location.”
He pointed his index finger at a spot marked with a red dot. The guide looked surprised.
“You know how to read a map?”
“A little.”
“That usually requires learning. Impressive.”
Reading maps required skill. Anyone who didn’t know would be unable to make sense of it. Bruno, as a noble, must have received a proper education. He could indeed read maps.
“Here, you look.”
“Am I allowed to?”
“Of course. Just follow the red line. That’s the safe route. I discovered it back when I wandered around. If you encounter an unfamiliar area, ask me.”
Bruno nodded.
The guide unfolded the map on the driver’s seat and, at every fork, directed the mercenary holding the reins. Occasionally, he would ask the guide.
Then it happened.
A mercenary in the backseat coughed.
“I can’t stop coughing.”
“It’s from the volcanic ash.”
“Volcanic ash?”
“There’s a volcano nearby with boiling lava. This ash came from there.”
The mercenary looked bewildered.
“Why would anyone live there?”
“The soil enriched by volcanic ash is extremely fertile.”
“Fertile?”
“It’s good for crops. Things grow fast. You won’t starve here.”
The mercenary seemed to accept the explanation. Food was the primary concern.
No taxes were required. The tax collectors wouldn’t come to such a place.
The guide also had a keen eye.
“Wait!”
“What is it?”
“Goblins. Seems like they’re heading this way.”
The guide stroked his chin, thinking.
“Didn’t you say this path was safe?”
“I did. They shouldn’t be here. I don’t know why.”
The guide frowned, deep in thought.
“The wagon!”
“What?”
“Stop it! Quickly!”
Bruno didn’t ask again, sensing the urgency in the old man’s expression.
The old man rummaged through his supplies. A certain pouch contained what he was looking for. He also pulled out a basin. Bruno wondered what he was planning.
“Do you have water?”
The mercenaries exchanged glances.
Water was precious. They seldom shared it willingly.
Bruno nudged one mercenary’s side with his elbow.
No words were needed now. As soon as the mercenary untied the rope, they immediately prepared the water mixture.
“A mage?”
The old man looked surprised.
“How much do you need?”
“Enough to fill the basin.”
They poured the water. The old man sprinkled some powder from the pouch into it and stirred. The water turned yellow.
“Rub this all over your body.”
The party each took some water in their hands and applied it to themselves.
No one complained—they could sense something approaching from afar.
The old man also advised them to hide in trees, in case the wagon was targeted.
He cautioned them not to stick too close to the trees.
Only after they hid did a mercenary ask,
“What was that we just applied?”
“It’s a potion to repel monsters.”
“A potion?”
“I brought some herbs just in case.”
“You mean the powder in the pouch?”
“It’s made from an herb called Quichen, dried and ground into powder over a month.”
“What does it do?”
“It stinks horribly.”
“I don’t smell anything.”
“Humans can’t sense it, but monsters recoil from it.”
The mercenary frowned.
“Shouldn’t we have used this earlier?”
“It doesn’t work on goblins. It only works on more dangerous creatures.”
“Dangerous creatures?”
“You must never think about fighting them. You’ll all die otherwise.”
At that moment, the old man turned his head. His face was filled with terror.
“If you had two lives, maybe you could fight, but if not, think about fleeing first. It’s best not to be seen at all.”
The mercenaries stayed silent.
Not because of his advice, but because something approached, making the ground tremble.
Boom… boom.
Heavy footsteps shook the earth.
Something massive was passing by.
“What in the world is that?”
The mercenaries shivered in fear. It was enormous—they had never seen anything like it.
“It’s a fire-covered lizard.”
“A lizard? That?”
“That’s a small one, probably only five or six years old. If you meet one decades old, it’ll obliterate everything. Be careful.”
“Exaggerating… how big can a lizard get?”
The mercenary forced a smile, his voice trembling. He probably didn’t want to accept that something bigger existed than what they just saw.
The old man didn’t advise them further. He told a story instead.
“Decades ago, a salamander came down.”
“A salamander? That’s a lizard?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“They moved the village.”
“Moved the village? Just one? Didn’t they have palisades?”
“At the time, the village was long-established, fortified enough. But…”
“Why?”
“You’ll see when you arrive.”
The old man said bitterly,
“Remember this: if you see a big one, run. If you encounter it, it’s over.”
The salamander slowly disappeared.
They continued on the wagon, hearts heavy from the old man’s story.
A monster that could destroy a village alone was alarming enough.
Even the salamander they just saw couldn’t be defeated.
But the real problem came soon enough.
“Goblins!”
They encountered goblins along the way.
Three of them. Small in number, they fled at the sight of the wagon. But the party’s expressions were grim—encountering monsters on a supposedly safe route was unsettling.
“This path seems wrong. Any explanation?”
“It’s the salamander. Their roaming disrupted the territory.”
“A mess.”
“I can’t do anything about it. You’re just unlucky.”
Luck—or the lack of it—was the only reasonable explanation.
The guide surveyed the surroundings and spoke with exasperation.
“First, we must leave this territory. Those that fled earlier will come back with companions.”
No sooner had he said this than more footsteps approached. Not one or two—dozens, it seemed. They chased even as the wagon moved. The goblins weren’t fast, but the wagon couldn’t speed up.
“Their numbers are increasing.”
The forest was uneven, preventing the wagon from going fast. Trees were sparse enough to pass, but caution was necessary.
“It’s better to head for the village.”
“The village that was trampled by the salamander?”
“Yes. It’ll be safer there. Spending the night here would be insane.”
The guide added that the old village was within the salamander’s territory. Monsters valued territory—they wouldn’t enter the domain of a stronger opponent.
“The goblins won’t follow us, right?”
“Not certain. If we’re lucky, they’ll turn back. If not, they’ll pursue.”
“Ultimately, it’s luck. Damn it.”
The wagon sped along.
The number of goblins chasing them increased. The path they passed seemed to be a goblin nest; otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many.
They were suffocating under fear.
They might have to face fifteen deaths.
And these goblins far outnumbered that—an unreal number. Even with Bruno, survival seemed unlikely.
“Go that way!”
The old man pointed to ruins atop a hill.
The burnt remains of palisades were visible.
The wagon entered the village, with cleared paths allowing some speed.
The village was devastated.
Perhaps a fire had swept through—it was mostly ashes, though debris remained.
From the hill, they could see everything below. The burnt palisades offered no cover.
From below the hill, small figures were crawling up.
All were goblins.
“They’re gathering.”
“Damn it! You said it was safe!”
The mercenaries were furious, ready to seize the old man by the collar.
This time, the old man made no excuses.
“You’re really unlucky. Have you committed any foul crimes?”
Everyone stayed silent.
The guide clicked his tongue. Just by tying ropes on the two children, he could guess the answer.
“Repent to God. You might bury your bones here.”
“Damn it.”
Rael approached Bruno.
“Let me fight too.”
“No.”
Bruno refused immediately.
It was frustrating. Despite Bruno’s strength, the mercenaries alone couldn’t win. The numbers were too many.
The goblins were swarming closer.
Chittering grew near, from multiple directions.
Counting them sent chills down their spines.
“Hold the line!”
Bruno shouted, followed by the mercenaries.
They had to fight.
Victory was unlikely.
Yet, they had to resist.
Bruno chose a narrow alley.
Behind them, rubble blocked the path. Likely a collapsed building.
The sides were narrow paths, one person wide.
They piled up the debris.
The wagon was left slightly apart—it might be useful if they survived.
Ahead, a path wide enough for three to pass was clear. Blocking it would suffice.
The terrain was advantageous.
In a narrow alley, the enemy couldn’t leverage numerical superiority. They had to fight in small groups. Yet, the goblins’ numbers were overwhelming.
Bruno clenched his teeth. He had to take the lead. If magic could provide support from behind, their chances would increase. In such terrain, it was critical.
Bruno wondered why they didn’t untie the ropes.
He shouted to the mercenaries,
“Untie the ropes!”
“No, it’s too dangerous!”
“Danger? We’re all about to die! If I lead, our chances improve!”
The mercenary hesitated but ultimately refused.
Death seemed inevitable.
Rael felt tears welling up. Without Lorina nearby, he might have collapsed.
The sound grew louder.
Now, it was distinct.
The goblins were close.
“Luckily, no bows.”
Bruno observed the approaching goblins. Perhaps his ability to handle mana enhanced his vision.
The old man replied,
“The heat and humidity make it hard to maintain bows or crossbows with glue.”
“Is that some relief?”
It was a perilous moment.
Even until the last, Bruno’s ropes weren’t untied.
Trust was lacking.
He was a mercenary, not a noble. Perhaps he had been different before, but now he was a coward, fearing betrayal.
He wasn’t thinking of dying here.
Bruno and the mercenaries couldn’t win.
He had to convince Bruno somehow.
“Bruno!”
Rael shouted.
“You said you’d restore your family! Is this where you die?”
Bruno trembled.
It was as if struck by lightning. He didn’t know why. Perhaps Rael’s words awakened something inside.
His expression was terrifying. A storm of emotions swept across his face.
He demonstrated that a human face could convey dozens of emotions.
“Untie them.”
“Commander? It’s dangerous. They might shoot from behind…”
The mercenaries didn’t trust the boy.
They worked for money. Betrayal was always possible. Chivalry or honor didn’t exist for them.
If they thought they could betray, they assumed others could too.
Thus, they worried—instinctively.
But Bruno was different.
He chose to trust Rael.
Perhaps from mercenary life, or betrayal, he was half a mercenary himself.
Life had stripped away his nobility. Yet now he displayed a resolute expression. If there was such a thing as a responsible noble, this was it.
“You fools! Do you want to die? We need the mage’s power here!”
Bruno warned the mercenaries and turned to Rael.
Goosebumps rose.
He had said Rael.
He had clearly heard himself say “Dorian,” yet Bruno called him Rael. He had seen through the lie.
Before he could wonder how, something flew toward him.
A mercenary emblem, labeled Rael.
Rael answered with difficulty,
“Yes.”
“I trust you.”
Bruno swung his sword.
The ropes binding Rael’s hands fell to the ground.
Those words carried weight heavier than any he had heard. Even more, because he had deceived him, yet was trusted.
His lips hurt from biting them to speak. Otherwise, he couldn’t speak.
“Leave it to me.”
That single sentence sufficed. Bruno nodded.
He drew his sword with a grave expression.
“Form ranks!”
The mercenaries linked shoulders and raised their shields.
Rael swallowed hard.
He tried to appear strong, but his hands and feet shook.
The goblins were surging forward.
There must have been at least a hundred.
