The caravan pierced through the mist rolling from the hills around the river, following the only scattered path that the worn-out and gray land could offer, losing their sense of direction in the vast of the night.

The wooden wheels that rolled only through the grace of the gods had started to make disheveled sounds, the cloth protecting the tattered carriages started to wither away. The cold had suddenly assaulted them, having passed one month since the chill of autumn had started to set in. The men at the front of the carriages could only grunt at the wailing of the people behind them, the screams that were deafened by the tight leathers searing their lips.

The shackles were never a problem when it came to weight, but the people attached to them who didn't know to stay quiet, or still for that matter, proved to be different.

The mercenaries on the sides of the carriages had stopped caring long ago. The tears streaming down the face of a shackled mother could be cleaned from their memories with something much more gentle than a handkerchief— the cloth that wrapped the purses filled with silver they were handed. Their silence and their service were worth less than many of the women and men tied up in front of their eyes, and yet, it was so appealing that they couldn't let it go.

And, even, some of them had started to enjoy it.

The horses didn't care either. The people they transported had no importance, their only role was to pull, and pull. Was it because their nature made them oblivious to their acts? Or would they, if aware of their position and the countless lives they had taken from heaven to hell, change their gallop and run in the opposite direction?

Those thoughts flashed by the head of one mercenary, but they were quickly discarded as soon as the eyes of his boss pierced his sudden and uncharacteristic pity. In a job like this, what good would pitying the weak and miserable do? Those who did not have the strength to fight, those who were unfortunate enough to be born in such poor conditions, and those who had sold themselves because of carelessness. For Girh, the people who had ended up as slaves deserved it. Not because of hatred, or unfounded rage, but because of his own logic.

If you didn't stand up to fight, if you didn't take care of yourself, how do you expect a knight in silver armor to come save you?

The gods only save those who save themselves. He remembered those words as he clenched tightly the pommel of his sword, adorned with the symbol of dear mother Feriphia.

The rider adverted them of the dangers they'd find in the path ahead. However, it didn't matter how many undead, monstrosity, or beasts the man mentioned, Ghir's head stayed equally as collected. He had been hired for such a job, after all, and their pay had been abundant even before they had finished it.

He thought for a moment how much he would gain if these slaves were of his, and not of the noble who hired him. His mind trailed off into a distant dream in which he wore a crown over his head, adorned on jewels and armor by lots. Dreams of power and riches were in every man's list. Usually, they didn't amount to anything. Actually, he was sure many of the men tied up and beat into submission that boarded that same carriage had, at some point, that same dream.

He grinned as soon as he saw the face of an old man leaning against the wooden benches of the carriage. This man, different from the rest, did not have a gag on his mouth. His arms were tied behind his back, but his face didn't show any remorse, despair, or even frustration. The old man chewed on his spit as his lost eyes trailed into the drops of water splashing from the river, and his back slumped forward, swaying from left to right with every movement of the carriage.

"Pathetic." Ghir muttered, taking from his pockets a small rolled-up piece of fruit candy, and putting a piece inside his mouth.

Before Ghir's thoughts could dive even deeper, his shoulder was tapped by a man on his side.

A tall and brawny man, covered in scars, and his eyes like an eagle's searching for anything he could pounce on. Although his sight was quite scary, this man's prowess in battle was even more so. The heavy broadsword on his waist gave a clear impression of that.

"A cig, boss?" Ghir smiled, and pulled a rolled-up piece of tobacco from his pocket.

"Hmph."

The man grabbed the cigarette with his thick fingers and placed it in his mouth. He produced from his pocket something akin to a glass rectangle, and directed some of his mana inside it. A small flame was lit in the center of the rectangle, real enough that after placing it in front of the cigarette, it lit on fire.

"As expected of the boss, ye have all sorts of fancy trinkets, aye?" Ghir said as he looked at the item with covetous eyes.

"This way you can smoke at night." The man inhaled deeply, and then let go of the air with a satisfied look on his face. "Much better than letting it dry on the sun and hoping for a spark."

"True." Ghir nodded. "How much for something like that?"

"This?" The man looked at the rectangle. "Cheap for a magic item, 'bout seventy silver. Its magic is weaker than a first-tier spell, but it does the job."

"Seventy silver for a smoke... As I thought, the boss is a wealthy person."

Ghir smiled and looked back at the cargo. One of the kids that were tied up and gagged was looking at the cigarette with the same eyes as a starving man looking at a pie. He took his eyes away from the treat as soon as Ghir bore his eyes into him, but his mouth was already visibly salivating.

"Boss, are you done with your cig?" Ghir asked as he extended his hand.

"Sure. Throw it away for me." The boss gave Ghir a short burning piece of tobacco, and Ghir carefully neared the youth in the rags.

He crouched in front of the kid, who's eyes still demonstrated fear and madness at the same time. He tried to move his hands as if to punch Ghir in the face, but the ties were tight enough that not even his shoulders would move. The mercenary simply smirked and neared the cigarette butt to the young man's face.

"Do you want it?"

The youth's eyes went agape and he swallowed dry. Although the doubt was clear in his face for a second, the next one he was already nodding furiously. Ghir smiled and went to grab the gag around the young man's mouth.

"Puff! Huah! I'll fucking take it from the floor if you want to, I'll bite it and take it!"

The kid said. Ghir, however, had other plans in mind. He grabbed the kid by the jaw, and pulled him towards himself. He neared the cigarette to the youth's mouth as if ready to put it between his teeth. The young man was compliant enough to stretch his lips forward, seeking for the cigarette.

"Atta boy."

Then, Ghir placed the burning cigarette in the kid's gum.

"Kheeeeek!"

The youth let go of a horrific screech as the inside of his mouth was burned, and Ghir started laughing hysterically with tears of joy at the end of his eyes. The boss side-eyed him with certain worry, or perhaps annoyance, but didn't say anything.

Then, out of the blue, a dull pain extended on the side of Ghir's face.

"Ack!"

He was pushed to a side with a sway of the wagon, and he crashed against the floor. The four other tied-up slaves looked especially joyful after seeing him hit the back of his head, but all of them looked away as soon as they saw him stand up.

"What the...?" Ghir was back on his feet, cleaning the streak of blood coming from his lip. He looked at the chair beside the youth. The old man was intensely staring at him, eyes bloodshot and weary.

"Piece of shit! Was it you, you geezer?!"

Ghir jumped on top of the old man, and started bashing his face in with his bare fist. His knuckles started to hurt before he noticed he had already destroyed the old man's face, and the blood had started to fall on his own clothes.

"Enough, Ghir. An old man isn't sold for much, but don't damage the cargo anyways. That gets deducted from our pay." The boss grabbed Ghir by the arm and pulled him back.

"Tch. Fucking trash that doesn't know his place. You defended that kid, but he wasn't even able to talk while you were being beaten down to a pulp!"

Ghir yelled at the bloodied old man, and the kid with the seared mouth simply looked away while his whole body trembled.

"Thought as much." Ghir cleaned his mouth once more. "You're lucky you're merchandise, or your bodies would already be at the bed of the river. Tuh!"

Ghir spat on the foot of one of the tied-up men and crossed his arms back.

"Relax. We're almost there already. Lord Argrand will pay us a hefty sum, so a bit of abuse is worth it." The boss said with a rather calm face. "Don't damage the slaves any further, Ghir."

"... Aye, boss."

A few more minutes passed in silence before the carriage started to slow down. Ghir was surprised for a moment. He looked at the other carriage beside them, and the other two following them on the back.

They all had started to slow down. Since he had never been hired for a job in this specific route, he had no idea why everyone else seemed so calm with the sudden decrease in speed.

"Is there anything wrong?" He asked the driver in the front.

"Hm? Ahh, no, no. Had to slow down a tad, there's a bridge a few seconds ahead. The pass has a road a bit more wore off and the bridge is made of stone, so it's better not to go too fast."

"I see." The young mercenary nodded.

The boss gave a smirk that denoted he had taken this road a couple times already. For an experienced mercenary like him, Ghir's question must have sounded rather ridiculous. Ghir felt slightly embarrassed for a moment, before he focused his eyes on the road ahead.

"A bridge, is it?"

Soon enough, they reached a spot where the dirt road started to slowly melt into a cobblestone road. The arch of the bridge could be seen from far away, which amazed Ghir at first. The main river of Kulkus, the Froztborn river, wasn't something that one could cross by using a meek bridge. Although he had never used this pass before, he could already see from afar that the size of said bridge wasn't anything to joke about.

When they neared it, it became even clearer.

The entrance was an arch five meters in height, and five meters wide. The bridge itself extended to the other side of the river, about a hundred meters to cross to the other side, and had stone walls that impeded anything under one meter and a half to fall outside.

Ghir couldn't help but be amazed, and his boss caught a glimpse of it.

"The Froztborn river is the biggest river of Kulkus. It starts at Frozt-Fohl, and ends in the great bay. Two thousand kilometers long, and one kilometer wide at it's widest. This bridge was built in a stretch, it's a common passing. It's used by many... Hm?"

Before the boss could finish his exposition towards Ghir, something caught his eyes. Since the driver didn't seem to have noticed, he tapped the man's shoulder, and the driver turned around.

"Stop the carriage." He said with a grave tone.

"What is it, boss?" Ghir asked with a flabbergasted expression.

The man stopped the carriage without making questions, and the carriages behind him started doing the same. The boss signaled Ghir to step out with him but to gag the kid properly before he did so. After a while, he came out from the back and closed the wooden doors behind him.

The other mercenaries started to come from the carriage, but Ghir quickly told them to go back. If the boss hadn't called for them, it wasn't necessary.

Ghir looked at the image of his boss getting lost in the fog and hurriedly ran to catch him up. The fog started to become thicker as they advanced. Ghir still didn't see the boss's reason to worry. However, after just a few more meters, he started to notice the shape of horses at the end of the bridge.

"Amazing. You saw this from the entrance?"

"Gotta train, kid." The boss said with a grin.

As soon as they arrived at the side of the horses, they saw one big carriage blocking the road. As if it was indicating that the passing was strictly prohibited, or simply as if it was a badly-planned ambush.

The boss looked around. He had kept the others at the carriages just in case arrows started to rain from the towers. If that was the case, at least they would be protected by the wooden structures of the carriages. However, he had started to feel like his worries had been in vain, or, maybe, that he should have been more careful than what he had been.

"Should I move the horses and the carriage out of the way?" Ghir said as he stepped forward.

"No, stay back."

The boss pulled Ghir from the arm again and kept him as his side. It was him who strolled forward, only to see that the doors to the carriage had suddenly opened.

"Ah!" Ghir went for his sword. Although it was precipitated, the boss did not have any intention to rebuke him. He, too, had put his hand on the pommel of his broadsword.

Then, from the inside of the carriage came a short man. After he had finished accomodating his clothes and made sure there were no strands of hair poking out of his tied-up do, he lent a hand in the carriage, and a woman came from inside as well.

The boss immediately frowned.

The two of them looked similar, way too similar. Their black hairs were tied up in a ponytail in a similar fashion, making emphasis in their thick black eyebrows and their deep black eyes. Their builds were rather muscly, but their short statures gave off the feeling of looking at young teenagers, instead of fully grown adults.

They stepped forward rather cautiously, which made the boss even tighter in his nerves. He could feel just a slight trace of aura in their bodies, but the two of them carried weapons at their sides. The man, a black-grip longsword sheathed into a pure white scabbard, and the woman, a claymore of silvery color at her back.

Could they be trainees?

The boss couldn't help but think, seeing their lack of any kind of armor or protection, which would be paramount for an experienced combatant.

"Greetings. Is there aught we may help thou with?" The man in front spoke first.

"What... An archaic speech." The boss sighed. "Could ya move your carriages? We're in a hurry and we can't afford to sit idle for too long."

"Is that so? what is it, now that thou want to carry 'i such a hie?" The man spoke again with a smile.

"That is not a matter you can interfere with. This doesn't make any sense. Retire the wagon or we'll be forced to bash through it." The boss said in annoyance, signaling Ghir with his hand that he should stick closer to him.

The man in front sighed with a disappointed look, and started to scratch his head as if trying to figure out what to do next.

"I see thou canst not comprehend what a chance of surrender is. I pity thou, forsooth, I do."

"You think I'll get intimidated by a newbie?" The boss smiled and planted his massive body only a meter away from the black-haired youth. "You've got no armor, and you haven't done barricades. You lacked archers at the beginning of the bridge, and put the carriages at the exit instead of the middle, where we would have been in a tight spot if we were to break trough, if you had archers at the exit's towers. There were no traps, no flags, and you didn't take the opportunity of a sneak attack."

Ghir heard the boss describe the two people's faults with precision, and smiled with a satisfied and amazed look.

"Not only that, but you also brought two people without knowing the amount of people on our side, and you didn't use the fog to divide our groups either. You also blocked your own path of retreat, and presented yourselves before an attack. Are you sure you know what you're doing, kid?"

"Hmph." The black-haired man scoffed and smirked eerily while rotating his wrists. "Gramercy for thy guidance, I shall compose remembrance of it for mine next assay, yet now it is not time for that. Thou see, it has been a long time since we could last stretch our legs and arms thus. Suu, for the head."

"Aye."

The woman immediately went for her claymore, but the boss’s actions were way faster than her own. She kicked the woman in the gut and signaled Ghir to come by, who dashed forward with sword in hand.

The boss cleaved down on the woman's head with all of his massive arm's strength, hoping to split her head in two— and at the same time, Ghir went for the young man's chest, with his longsword pointing to the middle of his ribcage.

The echo of a metallic noise ringed out loud and spread through the river's edge. It got lost in the hills and the trees, and then, it was replaced by the sound of metal scraping against metal.

"How—"

The boss quickly retired his sword after listening to that sound, but was not slow to stab back to the girl's neck.

The reason he had failed to understand what had happened was that his mind was an old and experienced one, which had already seen many battles. After listening to swords clattering, his first instinct was to try to stab for another spot, one that could not be blocked by the same movement as a downwards cleave. The regular spot would be the neck.

Clank!

However, his sword failed again. He couldn't wrap his head against it, until he saw it.

Through the mist, the woman had pounced forward while taking a hold of the blade with her own hand. She moved and used an inhuman amount of strength to bend the boss's blade with her elbow, before she spun in place and landed a roundhouse kick on the man's arm.

He quickly took a step back, now disarmed, and pulled a dagger from his back. He threw it with impressive skill at the woman's midriff, but it simply struck the spot and then bounced towards the ground.

"Bastard!" He yelled, noticing that Ghir was in the exact same situation.

He was given a crude and boorish punch to the face, which still somehow sent him flying several feet backwards. His teeth fell on the ground together with him, and Ghir started to hold his face between pained screeches.

"Oh well." The girl muttered, pulling her claymore from her back. "Thou will at little be worth for a warm-up."

The boss felt a chill run down his spine, at the same time that the two people in front of him had decided to unleash their auras. The brawny man took a step back in fear, about to run away, when he heard the sound of the stone around him crackle.

"[Earth Binding]!"

Clasp!

The stone walls deformed into arm-like extensions that grabbed the mercenary boss from his legs and arms, and slowly turned him around to face the woman who had shouted the name of the spell. His body started to tremble, and his limbs lost all strength as soon as he looked at the woman's bloodlusty gaze, fixed directly on him.

"A second-tier spell without a chant...! Just what kind of monsters are you two?!"

"Monsters, us, but not thee?" She made a path up from the man's belly to his neck with the end of her claymore and smiled. "Think again."

With a simple movement of her hand, the man's neck was cut from side to side, and his spine severed. The head fell to the ground with a wet sound as it cracked, and the lifeless eyes pointed to the air.

Ghir looked at his boss's head, and a primal fear overrode his body. He screeched inhumanly as he tried to messily stand up and run back with all of his might, but a flash stroke past him, and the black-haired man was already in front of him.

"No."

He muttered with a smile, and then, Ghir's chest was pierced by a black, gleaming blade that struck like lightning and went away like such.