Bear School Astartes

In fact, the gathering point set by Duke Seward outside the Ponta River Valley is quite recognizable.

Under a pitch-black night sky, the Ponta River and the mountains on both sides echo with only a few wild beast or monster roars, indicating that the thing causing the mutation and the ’white mist’ has not yet truly spread here.

... At least not yet.

Amidst the sound of rushing river rapids, on the gentle slope at the foot of the Mahakan Mountains on the southern bank of the Ponta River.

Noisy voices, the sound of livestock burying their mouths into feeding troughs, and the crackling of firewood being lit... it’s lively and bustling.

It was only when the inland barge docked at the temporary pier near the camp that it caught the attention of a guard.

"You guys are late, this is tardiness! I’ve been scolded for a whole hour!"

The guard held up a torch, directing the barge to dock.

The captain of the boat exchanged a few curses with him, and in the exchange of ’greetings’ about each other’s families, they clarified the incident at the previously attacked dock.

This essentially explained what took up their time and caused the delay.

The mention of the Squirrel Faction stirred up another wave of curses.

But no one was surprised, which only showed that these non-human guerrilla groups indeed had stirred up quite a lot of trouble in this area.

The negotiation between the captain and the dock manager was their business; for the mercenaries and warriors on the ship, as soon as they arrived at this place, they had nothing further to do with the captain.

Thus, the crowd took their luggage from the center of the deck, led away their horses — and naturally, there was some opportunistic pilfering in the chaos.

But at least they were decisive as combat professionals, and even in the chaos, they managed to disembark the ship within half an hour.

"But it seems they didn’t know you were coming, sir."

Amidst the crowd moving things and leading horses off the boat, Lincoln spoke from behind Lann.

The young secretary, like his lord, did not rush to disembark.

He looked down from the side railing of the barge.

There was no ceremonial welcome below, not even someone specifically coming to ask questions.

Although Duke Seward’s stance towards Demon Hunters and non-human races was well-known, according to etiquette, the formal reception due to a lawfully recognized duke should not be omitted.

For nobles, especially old school nobles, a lack of etiquette is seen as insolent and disrespectful.

"Shall I go announce your arrival?"

Lincoln turned to him and asked.

"No need." Lann shook his head, "Veltrest didn’t tell him I was invited... interesting. This should make acting more convenient for me."

Lincoln understood his lord, so he didn’t object, only continuing to speak.

"Then, I’ll pack up our flag, and we’ll make ourselves less conspicuous."

Lann decided on the course of action, and Lincoln prepared on that basis. It was already a familiar mode of cooperation between them.

Finally, when the crowd had thinned out, Lann and the others also disembarked from the barge.

Most of the mercenaries who disembarked earlier had lit torches, illuminating the uneven ground.

The torches formed a long line, stretching all the way toward the nearby camp.

-----------------

"So..."

The speaker was the oldest in the Raider Squad, named Buchet. His arms were as strong as tree roots, and his exposed skin was covered in large tattoos.

"You fellows are the last batch Prince Seward invited? Alright, although having so many people just to clear out some monsters in the valley seems over the top, we commoners aren’t in a position to question the nobles."

"Come on, ladies, sit closer and warm up by the fire. We all live by the sword, no need to be shy."

Many campfires were lit throughout the camp, to fend off the mountain’s night chill in spring.

Of course, this was the treatment for the rough men. Knights or nobles had spacious, comfortable tents.

Lann originally sat next to Buchet and saw him familiarly inviting Sachia and a few other mercenaries over to join this campfire.

Of course, this robust-looking man had a meticulous mind.

"You just met with the prince." Buchet slickly pushed his Mohawk hair to one side, "What did he say to you?"

"He said nothing, didn’t even meet us." Sachia said, sitting by the fire, "He was hunched over a roast chicken in the tent, and a squire spoke to us, called..."

"Thales." The short, stout dwarf with a big beard, Yalpan Ziglin, with a hairstyle like Buchet’s, chimed in.

"Scar on his face, crimson cloak, white rose emblem on the left shoulder, right?"

The dwarf grinned awkwardly, his dusty, thick neck turning red in the firelight.

"Good thing there were no non-humans among you, otherwise that knight would’ve shown you how venomous words can be. Luckily that doesn’t work on me. I’ve seen the world, so even though I wanted to kick him in the shin, I held back."

Buchet nodded.

"From what you said, this Knight Thales seems to have no other skills. Just shouting orders and using the Eternal Fire doctrine to attack others."

After speaking, Buchet patted Lann’s arm beside him.

"Alright, Nisitchuka. Go cover that pile of firewood with canvas, I think there’ll be a light rain in the mountains tonight."

Lann tilted his head: "I’m not the Nisitchuka you mentioned, mate."

Buchet was visibly stunned.

"That’s right, I’m Nisitchuka."

A tall figure, also in a hooded cloak, pulled a piece of canvas over and covered the firewood pile.

As the leader of this small Raider Squad, Buchet rubbed his forehead.

"I’m going crazy! Why did you all have to buy these lousy cloaks? Sorry, I mistook you, friend."

Lann graciously nodded: "No problem. But you know, not everyone is as tall and intimidating as you, I need to add a bit of menace myself."

Speaking, Lann raised his hand in front of the fire, making a small gap between his two fingers to indicate the ’bit’ he mentioned.

Buchet nodded with a hint of self-satisfaction.

And Nisitchuka, having finished his task, also sat by the fire: "This cloak can confuse the enemy during attacks about the position, it’s a big advantage, otherwise why would I buy it?"

"And by the way, don’t you think this whole setup is a bit much? Everyone’s drawn in by Seward’s bounty. It’s not like an expedition, more like a death mission. I don’t want to fight in a crowd."

"Calm down," Buchet reassured his partner, "It’s just a lot of people. We’ve hunted dragons many times like this before, haven’t we."

"A crowd of onlookers, like a market or a mobile brothel. But once the fight begins, who remains? Only us, the true warriors."

Speaking of ’dragon hunting’, whether by illusion or not, Sachia frowned, her eyes briefly brightened in the firelight.

Only Lann noticed.

"Yes, there’s nothing to worry about now, except one thing." Yalpan Ziglin took a swig from a bottle wrapped in willow reeds.

As he spoke, both the Raider Squad and the dwarf squad led by Yalpan Ziglin fell silent.

Clearly, what he was about to say was of concern to most.

"What exactly are we here to fight? Does anyone know? Even a bit?"

"Let me declare first, my brothers and I never shy away from battle. We’ve slain many monsters, including true dragons."

"You Raiders know that. We’ve even had business disputes over dragon hunting rights."

Buchet took the bottle from Yalpan and also had a drink.

"Yes, we can testify, it’s indeed true."

"But fighting bravely doesn’t mean being brainless." Yalpan slicked back his Mohawk, making it appear even shinier.

"We need strategies based on our enemy. If we’re up against monsters, we have the upper hand naturally. But if the rumors about the Squirrel Faction are true..."

"Intelligent beings are different from monsters, folks. They can deceive, disguise, ambush, seduce, and strike... However we deal with stupid, muscle-bound monsters, they can do the same to us!"

"There’s even more." The youngest member of the Raider Squad looked directly at Yalpan. "The danger goes well beyond that."

Yalpan Ziglin fell silent.

The atmosphere around the fire turned quiet.

Only the dwarf next to him, with a muscular face and a short mohawk, spoke up.

"What do you mean, huh?"

"It means, quite a few were recruited here, including non-human races like you." The youngest raider spoke without reservation.

"How do we ensure that if we’re up against the Squirrel Faction, no one in this camp would be swayed by them? Or even if you’re trustworthy, but what if you hesitate when swinging an axe at your kin?"

"I’m really..."

The agitated dwarf wanted to argue but was stopped by Yalpan’s hand.

"Enough, Zoltan! Arguing is useless, how many times have I said? You came out with me to learn the living, you must first learn how to deal with people! If you mess up again, I’ll not respect you anymore!"

After calming his fellow dwarf, as the leader, Yalpan earnestly faced the raiders and others.

"I formally declare, we are not aligned with the Squirrel Faction."

"I’ve accepted Seward’s employment, as per the agreement, we’ll work for him according to the rules. No refusal, no questions asked."

A quiet pause ensued, not only humans remained silent, but even the dwarves beside Yalpan opened their mouths hesitantly, ultimately saying nothing, merely lowering their gaze towards the fire.

"Let’s say." Buchet removed the studded throat guard, scratching his bull-like thick neck. "Perhaps Prince Seward’s target is indeed monsters?"