HEO 64

The jerky he was chewing felt gritty like sand. Damn it, to lay it all out like this. Did that bastard count every single mole on his body?

Black Weasel and the leader glared at each other. Wind blew between the two men. The smell of blood, stagnant in the fog, suddenly wafted out.

After a moment, the leader stroked his beard with the back of his hand.

“If it had just been you, Wolf Skin, and Black Robe, I’d have killed you both already. You’re mercenaries sent by some chieftain. But with those two idiots over there joining in, it looks like there’s some story behind this?”

“Yes, there is a story. I’ll explain everything when I meet the next king and queen. If you’re curious, arrange for us to meet immediately.”

“Ha! You want me to arrange a meeting with the ‘Ruthless’ Prince Bronze-Billed Hawk? You’re a shameless bastard.”

The leader chuckled in disbelief. Only then did Silver learn the name of Red Eagle’s half-brother. Bronze-Billed Hawk. Just hearing the name conjured an image of a cold-looking, handsome warrior.

“Aren’t you planning on arranging a meeting? Otherwise, you would have already chopped off my head with your axe.”

“Be grateful for my curiosity. I’m only keeping you alive because I’m curious about your purpose.”

At that moment, the sound of warriors’ footsteps echoed from all directions. All the returning warriors shook their heads.

“We searched every inch, but found no survivors. Not even newborn infants…”

The leader felt silent at the warriors’ report. He seemed to have anticipated the outcome, and his expression wasn’t particularly surprised.

“We’ll have to collect the bodies tomorrow morning. You lot, go to the nearby harbor and bring people here to tend the livestock. Bring a priest too.”

“Yes. We’ll depart immediately.”

“Go back.”

The leader turned away. The hem of his worn-out robe fluttered. The warriors walked toward the pier. At the rear of the procession, Wolf, Red Eagle, and Silver walked shoulder to shoulder, following behind.

With each step, frost crunched beneath their boots. Crows covering the corpses spread their black wings and flapped away, disappearing into the darkness. Cats on old rooftops watched the people below with gleaming eyes.

Somewhere in the distance, the pier came into view. Suddenly, a thought occurred to Silver.

It’s over with Wolf.

That moment had finally arrived, right before his eyes. The instant he recognized the parting, an unknown emotion surged in like the motley crowd on the pier. Without hesitation, Silver kicked the beggars aside. This isn’t some summer fishing spot for brats. Focus.

Silver’s fingertips gently brushed the pouch at his belt. This small pouch held many things. A cute mantis fairy. Flint and talismans, silver coins. Thread and needle. And also one dangerous glass vial. Tonight, he’d shove this into that bastard Bingapsu’s mouth and pour it down…

They approached the pier. The river flowed with a black current. A dozen or so warriors loitered before a warship pulled up close to the dock.

Suddenly, the leader turned around. He raised one hand, and the warriors immediately stepped aside. A path opened between the leader and Black Weasel. Silence. A staring contest.

The leader spoke first.

“You lot. Are you the mercenaries hired by White Deer?”

“Yes.”

Black Weasel readily answered. He looked like someone who had waited all night just to say that one line.

“If my guess is correct, you are the Ruthless Prince Bronze-Billed Hawk. The one soon to ascend the throne, and already a great warrior.”

Silver unconsciously scraped the floor with his boot as he stepped back. Even a dull axe cuts bone once. As rare as witnessing a solar eclipse, Black Weasel occasionally pierced a person’s blind spot.

Bronze-Billed Hawk laughed.

“I suppose I’ve shed too many feathers on the road. Or perhaps your eyes are sharp.”

“Half and half. Your Highness presented yourself with dignity, and I merely read the atmosphere.”

“I can’t just take your word for it. Prove you’re White Deer’s people.”

“Tell White Deer: ‘The moon has vanished.'”

“Is that a code? By the way, is that boy White Deer’s son?”

Bronze-Billed Hawk pointed at Wolf with a glance. Wolf was staring only at his own feet. Silver stifled a chuckle. Honestly, if asked which of those two boys looked like White Deer’s son, anyone would point to Wolf.

“No. The one on the left, grieving this tragedy as if it were his own, that is White Deer’s son.”

Black Weasel’s explanation made Bronze-Billed Hawk’s eyes widen. Unaware they were talking about him, Red Eagle sniffled while clutching the hem of Wolf’s robe as if it were a lifeline.

“…Oh.”

Bronze-Billed Hawk’s voice lowered.

“So Levenon have tamed a man of the Stoll royal family like a rabbit in a cage. White Deer will be disappointed.”

“He is a fine Atanian.”

“Yes. We must send him back quickly.”

Bronze-Billed Hawk turned away with a smile.

“The Levenon royal family is a rare match. White Deer will gladly send her son back.”

Bronze-Billed Hawk seemed happier than anyone. If his young half-brother had been a dangerous wolf-like creature, he might have strangled him to death right then and there. Red Eagle’s true lifeline wasn’t Wolf’s robe hem, but the tears that spilled whenever crisis struck.

Congratulations. All that’s left is to hurry back home.

Bronze-Billed Hawk raised both arms.

“White Deer! Your hawk has brought good news!”

A figure lingering near the dock stopped and turned. It was a middle-aged woman clad in ragged animal skins. Her sides were shaved. Her cheeks were covered in knife scars, like the ribs of an open fan. The ‘mother’ Red Eagle had so fervently imagined certainly wasn’t like this.

“Good news? From you?”

White Deer walked over and waved her middle finger at her husband. Now he saw she was missing a finger too. Compared to her notorious reputation, the knife scars on her cheeks and the loss of a finger were rather cheap tokens proving her skill.

Bronze-Billed Hawk whispered something into her ear. White Deer’s brow twisted into a terrifying grimace. She turned toward Red Eagle. Her gaze, like a horse dealer appraising a foal, swept over his hands, clutching the hem of Wolf’s robe, and his terrified face.

White Deer turned around and jumped on the plank. Thud, thud. Her fury was evident in the rough sound of her footsteps. Bronze-Billed Hawk turned and gestured.

“You lot can sleep on the warship too. Let’s have our meeting on the ship.”

Silver instinctively knew from the following words: We’re screwed.

“But while you stay on the warship, leave your weapons with us. We can’t trust scum like you.”

We really are screwed.

* * *

Warriors surrounded Black Weasel and Silver. Dozens of axes encircled them like a fence. Wolf and Red Eagle watched from behind the warriors. Their complexions were as pale as the fat of a freshly slaughtered beast. Are you worried about your own futures?

“You. Take off that robe and raise your hands.”

Silver threw off his robe. The moment it hit the ground, it made a clattering noise and the dense array of daggers hidden inside was revealed. The warriors all flinched simultaneously.

“Huh? Not even porcupine quills?”

“What kind of kid carries this many weapons….”

“You know how to throw these?”

The warriors murmured while eyeing Silver. Because of his appearance, almost everyone treated him like a child. A child who couldn’t fight.

“What about you? Take off that wolf pelt and raise your hands!”

“Ah, yes! Yes!”

Black Weasel stripped off the wolf pelt and raised both arms. The warriors didn’t back off. They made him take off his boots and shook them out thoroughly, right down to the soles. They stuck their hands under his clothes and groped his body so thoroughly it made him feel disgusting. For some reason, they made him open his mouth wide and even inspected his tongue. And finally, the moment Silver feared most arrived.

“Open your belt pouch and empty it.”

The warrior aimed his axe at Silver’s Adam’s apple. Resigned, Silver clutched his belt pouch upside down and shook it feebly toward the floor.

“Ugh! What the hell is this?!”