Baron Volpen was staying at the village head’s house, having rented it for his residence.
Although there was an inn in the village of Yalta, there was no way Baron Volpen would stay in such a place.
“His Grace is inside,” a soldier said.
“Thank you,” Keldric replied, handing a silver coin to the soldier who had guided him.
The soldier’s face lit up, no longer reserved.
“Thank you, Sir Keldric!”
“It’s nothing. More importantly, could you stable my horse?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. Also, make sure he’s fed—some hay mixed with oats or peas would be ideal.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take the utmost care of him.”
After entrusting the reins of Boreas to the soldier, Keldric approached the village head’s house.
As he had seen on the outskirts, two soldiers guarded the entrance.
“Pardon me, may I know the honored knight’s family and name?”
“By God’s grace, I am Keldric of the noble Bellaf family. I was guided here by the gatekeeper; may I enter?”
“Please wait a moment.”
One of the guards went inside.
As Keldric waited, he examined the house carefully.
“This is a good home,” he thought.
Built with stone and lime, it appeared sturdy, likely due to the proximity of the city and ease of obtaining materials.
It was a suitable residence for a lord temporarily visiting his domain.
The village head would spend his night elsewhere, but that was the price for hosting his lord, who in return offered protection and trust.
This symbiotic relationship benefited both.
As Keldric admired the house, the guard returned.
“Sir Keldric, His Grace invites you to dine.”
“Let’s go in, then.”
“Right this way…”
Keldric instinctively clenched his fist.
Since leaving Calton village, this would be the first time he’d meet a true noble.
“I must admit, I find myself in a dreadful situation.”
Keldric perked up, listening without making it obvious.
Through the open door, a gruff voice could be heard.
“Sir Berner, let me be frank. Can you resolve this?”
“…With sufficient troops, it is possible.”
“Yes, yet troops are always in short supply, as is the case now. Even the mercenaries we hired are mostly fools!”
Thud! A loud slam on the table followed.
Keldric and the soldier exchanged awkward glances.
“…Is now a bad time to enter?”
“If you wait, His Grace may be offended. Consider your honor, Sir Keldric.”
Though Keldric was willing to wait, he nodded in agreement, understanding the soldier’s reasoning.
Making a guest wait outside would be a slight against his honor as a knight.
The soldier guiding Keldric entered the room first, and the angry voice grew quieter.
“Pardon the interruption, Your Grace,” the soldier said.
“Now what?”
“Sir Keldric of the Bellaf family is here to see you, Your Grace.”
“Fine… show him in.”
Keldric entered the room cautiously.
At the head of a cluttered dining table sat two men, and Keldric fixed his gaze on the one seated at the place of honor.
“That must be Baron Volpen,” he thought.
Baron Volpen, Devanou Miquiesh, looked much as he did ten years ago, with sideburns merging into a full beard, a rounded face, and slightly drooping eyes.
Only a few more wrinkles marked his face, but Keldric recognized him instantly.
“Sir Keldric! It has been a long time, hasn’t it?”
The baron, too, remembered Keldric, though Keldric couldn’t be sure if he recognized him by face or by name and title alone.
“It’s an honor to see you again, my lord, of the illustrious House Miquiesh—”
“Enough with the pleasantries! Come sit before the food goes cold.”
With his typical bluntness, the baron skipped over Keldric’s formalities and motioned him to the table.
Surrounded by roast salmon and bread, the baron began to speak.
“Nearly ten years, I’d say?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“You were quite the lad back then… not that you were small.”
Northern men were known for their size, but Keldric had always stood out even among them.
The baron coughed lightly and continued, “I remember seeing you with Sir Volpen like it was yesterday. He would be proud.”
“Thank you for saying so,” Keldric replied, though he doubted that sentiment.
He didn’t think Sir Volpen or even Hilmor or Fritz had taken much pride in him.
But he played along, nodding politely and sipping the wine.
“I am sorry about Sir Volpen. He was an upright, honorable knight, and I believe he now rests in heaven.”
“Thank you. He passed peacefully.”
“And I hear you plan to head for Belam. Don’t worry about me; feel free to rest here before you go.”
The baron’s words trailed off as he downed another glass, his sigh heavy with frustration.
He turned to the man across from him.
“So, Sir Berner, how many more troops will we need?”
Across from him sat Sir Berner of House Hensher, a man with a stern look.
Keldric noted Sir Berner wore both chain mail and a partial plate armor over it—a transitional armor style known as “transitional armor.”
The armor was nearly entirely black, earning him the nickname “the Raven.”
“Baron Volpen,” Sir Berner said, “our current mercenaries won’t do. We should pay extra for more skilled fighters.”
“The last mercenaries we hired seemed decent enough.”
“Most of them didn’t carry spears, and we need men skilled with bows, too.”
“Have the bandits around here been dealt with?”
“That can wait. We can’t split our forces.”
As the conversation unfolded, Keldric understood the situation.
It seemed there was a growing issue near Yalta village, enough for the baron to call for reinforcements.
This was a recent development, and while Keldric hadn’t received any such reports from Jorgen’s network, he happened to be traveling with a band of mercenaries who met the baron’s requirements.
“Pardon me for interrupting, but may I ask what’s going on?”
Keldric approached Baron Volpen boldly.
The baron, with a warm, round face, looked at him thoughtfully.
“Hmm… some rather tricky matters have arisen.”
However, Baron Volpen did not immediately reveal his situation.
Observing his guarded stance, Keldric recalled his arrival in Yalta village.
The gate soldiers had also avoided speaking on the matter.
This must be a serious issue; otherwise, they wouldn’t be so hesitant.
The thought troubled Keldric—he could leave the village without knowing anything, only to encounter misfortune in the region.
“Lord Volpen, I wasn’t eavesdropping intentionally, but it seems like you’re in need of skilled mercenaries?”
“Not wrong.”
“As it happens, I traveled here to Yalta with some mercenaries who are quite capable.”
Hearing this, Baron Volpen’s eyes grew contemplative, and Sir Werner, also present, looked at Keldric with serious eyes.
“Sir Keldric, your honorable gesture to understand and assist our situation is admirable. But you must know it could be a fool’s errand.”
“Sir, aren’t you in search of mercenaries skilled in spears and bows?” Werner asked.
“That’s correct.”
“Then there shouldn’t be a problem. The mercenaries I came with can handle spears, and some are skilled archers as well.”
Normally, this was something that Jorgen should also hear.
The mercenaries in question were from the Mountain Goat Company, led by Jorgen, and the decision for their future moves rested with him.
But Keldric had a longer-term vision.
‘This wouldn’t be a loss for me or Jorgen.’
Baron Volpen’s soldiers had already seen Keldric arrive in Yalta with the mercenaries.
It would only be a matter of time before this news reached the baron’s ears.
Rather than wait, Keldric thought it best to make the first move.
This approach was beneficial for everyone.
Keldric would leave a good impression on the baron, Jorgen and the Mountain Goat Company would likely earn better compensation, and if Jorgen was uncomfortable, Keldric could hire them directly.
Baron Volpen also preserved his dignity by not needing to approach the mercenaries himself.
The only minor issue was the captured, wounded bandits.
Still, it might be better to hand them over to Baron Volpen and get some formal acknowledgment or confirmation.
If that saved them from dragging the prisoners to Belam, it would be well worth it.
“Hmm, you make a fair point,” the baron responded with a cough, sounding positive.
Volpen had been quite uneasy about having to approach common mercenaries.
Sir Werner’s expression softened upon hearing Keldric’s suggestion.
“How many do you have?”
“There are thirty-three in total. There’s also a mage among us, if he agrees to join.”
“Oh…! Do you know which school he’s from?”
“I’ve heard he follows the School of Purifying Fire.”
“Fire magic, huh! Sir Werner, isn’t that exactly what we need?”
Sir Werner fell into thought, and Keldric patiently waited.
“…It seems suitable.”
“Then it’s decided. Sir Keldric, would you assist me? I’ll ensure you’re well compensated.”
“I’m willing. However, I’ll still need to discuss this with the leader and the mage.”
“Of course. I won’t force anyone.”
The need for mercenaries indicated a situation involving combat.
Keldric was rather confident when it came to fighting.
“Before that, though, I’d like to hear more about your situation, Baron Volpen.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve been rushing things a bit.”
Keldric took a sip of wine and listened carefully as the baron began his story, ready to gather some details.
“As you might know, Belam’s iron supply has been completely cut off for days.”
Keldric nodded, even though he hadn’t been aware.
Just knowing the iron supply was blocked was enough.
“It was like a bolt from the blue. Just a month ago, when I visited, the city was operating perfectly well. But when I went there recently, it was absolute chaos.”
“That must have been upsetting.”
“Upsetting doesn’t cover it! Damn it! Even now, I’m furious!”
Baron Volpen suddenly spat out his words angrily, and while Keldric blinked in surprise, Sir Werner simply nodded as if he were used to it.
“Think about it! The main source of income for one of my most prosperous cities has been choked off, and I didn’t even know the reason!”
“Uh, well…”
“Sure, Belam isn’t entirely reliant on ironwork! I admit that. But the income from the artisan guilds was no small thing! And now it’s all gone! Damn it!”
“Please, calm yourself.”
Finally, with Keldric’s intervention, Baron Volpen managed to sit back down.
“Anyway, I haven’t been able to sleep well in days, as the situation in the city isn’t good.”
“Seeing you here in Yalta, you must’ve figured out the cause.”
“Yes, I found the reason quite easily upon coming here.”
Baron Volpen placed a rock the size of a fist on the table.
Keldric looked at it, puzzled.
“What… is this?”
“This is what’s been blocking my income.”
“It… it’s just a rock, isn’t it?”
To Keldric, it looked like nothing more than a slightly yellowish rock.
“It’s not just any rock. It’s a piece of a rock troll’s skin.”
The baron’s explanation left Keldric speechless.
“There’s a mining village by a creek to the west of Schafendorf. The rock trolls that used to appear there have now come down along the river to near Yalta, completely blocking the iron transport route.”
“So, the reason you’re staying here is to…”
“Yes. To get rid of those damned trolls. And there are also bandits wandering around the area.”
Keldric immediately thought of someone: Joseph.
“Ah, you wouldn’t believe it, sir. There’s a mining village beyond the creek in the southwest. I heard rock trolls took over the mine, so I had to make a long, grueling detour!”
Joseph—the man with the sneaky, rat-like face, who groveled with every word and whom Keldric had punched in the gut.
“…So he was telling the truth?”