Wandering Mercenary in an Open World

Chapter 73

If anyone else had said that, Tarwen would have snorted in disbelief. Or maybe she would have scared them off with a simple curse, thinking they were ignorant fools.

She had lived as a member of the ‘Cradle of the Dead’ for the last twenty years, and she knew better than anyone the cruelty and power of that insane group.

She knew they were not the kind of beings that could be brought down by one person’s will.

But she swallowed that thought.

The man who was sitting across the campfire, watching her silently, was not an ignorant fool, but a warrior who had killed a great demon.

And he had said it.

He would kill all the witches of the Cradle.

What should she say? As she tore at her fingertips, hesitating, Tarwen finally opened her mouth slowly.

“Thank you.”

Ruon shrugged his shoulders lightly and rummaged through his backpack for a piece of jerky. He skewered it on a twig and replied as he held it over the fire.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not doing this for your sake.”

“Still, thank you.”

“Then at least pay me handsomely.”

Tarwen burst into laughter at his blunt retort. She laughed so hard that she dabbed at the tears in her eyes with her finger.

“Anything. If this goes well, I’ll gladly give you all my wealth.”

He hoped she had a lot of money stashed away. Ruon pushed the jerky stick into the fire. The surface of the jerky began to curl up in an instant.

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m just bored.”

After biting off a piece of the well-cooked jerky, Ruon suddenly remembered that he had something to ask her. He had forgotten about it.

“I have one question too.”

Tarwen’s eyes sparkled at his words.

“What is it?”

Ruon turned his head, licking his lips. He saw the Nightmare, sitting at the edge of the boundary lit by the fire, nodding off.

He asked as he watched the beast’s fine figure.

“Do you know the Thunder King, Imrek?”

“Who?”

Tarwen asked back, but she quickly added, as if she had not really misunderstood.

“Why are you looking for an old warrior?”

“Is he famous?”

“He is. Haven’t you heard? There’s a song that the bards often sing, called ‘Thunder Steps’.”

Tarwen hummed softly as she looked at Ruon, who did not respond.

“When the invincible steps strike, the world is covered with thunder, in the midst of the enemies’ foreseen death… Sorry.”

She quickly shut her mouth. Her face turned red, as if she felt embarrassed too late.

Then Ruon asked.

“What kind of person is he?”

Tarwen, who had been fanning her face with her hand, answered.

“He’s a warrior who left his mark clearly in his generation. He also owned an artifact that suited his nickname, the Thunder King. It was probably a hammer.”

She raised her eyebrows as she said that.

“That’s all I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of much help, but he was active a long time ago, more than twenty years for sure, and he wasn’t someone I was interested enough to look into.”

Ruon nodded quietly.

“Is he dead now?”

She shook her head at the following question.

“I never heard that he died. But as with most swordsmen, the fact that the sightings and rumors stopped means he probably died somewhere, right? And there’s no word that he settled down somewhere…”

Yeah, it wasn’t something he had to solve right away.

Ruon hardened his resolve to settle the grudge with the witch in front of him and answered.

“I see. Thanks for telling me.”

“But why are you suddenly asking about the Thunder King?”

“It’s nothing. I was just curious, so don’t worry about it.”

Tarwen did not press him further and nodded quietly.

***

The next morning. The two people packed up their camp and hurried on their way.

As they left the boundary of the lush forest and entered a quiet road, a weed-covered path stretched out. The sound of stepping on the grass that barely reached their ankles tickled their ears.

As they walked for a while, a shout came from afar.

“Wait!”

At the sound of the urgent voice, Ruon, who was holding the reins, stopped first, followed by the black horse and Tarwen.

A young man ran through the bushes and said.

“Be careful. You might step on a trap if you go any further.”

Looking down at his feet, he saw a small loop made of twisted wire, just as he had said. Tarwen sighed and said, “Hey, someone might think it’s a bear trap. It’s lucky if it catches a rabbit with such a trivial snare.”

The young man chuckled, “I was worried it might get stepped on and ruined.”

“So, you were worried about the snare, not us,” she realized.

“Right, sister.”

Crouching down,Ruon inserted his finger into the snare and tugged lightly. The wire snapped pathetically and he tossed it aside, “The wire is completely corroded. The knot is sloppy too. It won’t catch a sparrow, let alone a rabbit… How long has it been since you set this?”

The young man scratched his cheek, “A month? Maybe more?”

“A fine hunter indeed.”

“Ha, thank you.”

He bowed his head obliviously, seemingly taking it as a compliment. Was he a bit simple?

Then, the young man sighed, “I wanted to treat you to a fine meal with game I caught myself… but with the snare broken, I guess I’ll have to buy some meat from the butcher.”

As he rambled on, he looked back and forth betweenRuon and Tarwen, “Are you travelers?”

“And if we are?”

He clapped his hands, “Great! If you have nowhere to stay, why not spend the night in our village? It’ll be fun.”

What’s fun about it?

Luon asked, puzzled by the sudden invitation, “Is there a festival in the village or something?”

It was a casual remark, but the young man nodded vigorously, “A festival indeed! The adults who went to war have safely returned. And they’re all unharmed!”

He continued excitedly, “My older brother is among them. I thought he’d surely die at the hands of barbarians, but here he is, alive… Could there be another miracle?”

Still in disbelief, the young man blinked before regaining his composure, “Anyway, if you come to the village now, you’ll save money and enjoy delicious food. The son of the innkeeper, Melba, has also returned.”

Luon shook his head, “Thanks, but we plan to travel a bit further while it’s still light.”

Tarwen then grasped his arm, “No, no, that’s perfect. My legs were hurting anyway. Will you guide us to the village?”

“Of course. Follow me!”

The cheerful young man led the way.Ruon watched him go, then turned to see a fairy with a somber face.

“Is something bothering you?”

“We’ve been all over, but nowhere have I heard the war is over. And now, soldiers have returned overnight? Isn’t that strange?”

“So, you think all the returnees are deserters?”

Tarwen bit her lip, “If only that were the case.”

She spoke softly, “Do you know the war was instigated by an apostle of Veldusias?”

That bastard again?

Luon frowned and nodded, and she continued, “Those who fell in that war, influenced by the will of the great demon, naturally harbored Veldusias’ malice. Let’s skip the necromancy details.”

She licked her lips, “While Veldusias gathered causality to confront the celestial gods through the war, Cradle reaped the benefits. They always lacked corpses, and there was no more precious resource than that. That’s why the offerings accumulated faster than I expected.”

Luon nodded calmly, “So, you think those who returned are already corpses?”

“I sincerely hope not.”

As they descended the gentle hill, a sizable village came into view, with a slowly turning windmill and a dozen cows leisurely grazing.

Entering the village,Ruon first noticed the bustling people, all seemingly radiating happiness.

Then someone approached, waving, “Hey, Bobby! Did you catch anything in your snare?”

Bobby, the young man, shook his head at the middle-aged man’s jesting expression.

I’ve translated and edited the text into a third-person narrative suitable for a web novel, maintaining the essence while ensuring readability and flow in English.

“No.”

“What did I tell you? You’ll never succeed in hunting unless you find a rabbit that’s so pessimistic it chooses suicide.”

Bobby shrugged off his words.

“I didn’t catch a rabbit, but instead I brought a guest who will share our joy.”

The middle-aged man’s eyes widened.

“Really? Wow, you guys are lucky. Yeah. Melba just declared that she won’t charge any money for today.”

He pointed to the two-story building with his finger.

“Go quickly before it’s too late. There are more than a few villagers who have taken over the inn rooms, saying they won’t go home today. I also came out to get permission from my wife… Oh, my, look at me.”

The middle-aged man made a surprised expression and ran off somewhere.

Bobby smiled at his screwy appearance and turned his head toward Ruon.

“You go ahead. I’ll bring my brother and follow you soon.”

Ruon watched him leave without giving him a chance to answer and muttered.

“They’re all too excited.”

Tarwen nodded his head as if he agreed.

“Let’s go to the inn first.”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

As they approached the building where the laughter was loud, Ruon turned his body and lightly stroked Nightmare’s neck.

“Wait here.”

Leaving the black horse that was snorting behind them, Ruon and Tarwen went straight into the inn. The noisy interior became quiet for a moment at the appearance of the strangers.

Then someone shouted.

“Ha! What lucky travelers! This inn is free today! Drinks too! Meat too! Beds too!”

At his words, the people in the inn started to laugh loudly. The disorderly laughter soon gathered and began to cheer for someone.

“Melba!”

“Melba!”

“Melba!”

The middle-aged woman who got up in sync with the sound raised her hand to the crowd. She waited for the noise to die down and shouted.

“Cheer for our sons, not me! For the heroes who returned safely after slaughtering the barbarians of the north!”

The people responded to her thunderous cry with applause like thunder.

“Stephan! Thanks to you, your mother is giving me free drinks! Thank you!”

“Beryl! I’m glad you came back safely!”

“Anto, I’d have no wish left if I had a son like you.”

Those guys.

Ruon stared intently at the men sitting around the central table of the inn. They were the ones who received everyone’s applause.

That’s when it happened. Tarwen walked toward them.

The people started to whistle at the sight of the beautiful elf standing in front of one of the men. But Tarwen ignored the blatant stares and noise, and clenched his teeth and said.

“What are you doing here?”

The short-haired man lifted his glass on the table and retorted.

“What do you mean? I’m drinking at my mother’s shop. Having some conversations.”

Tarwen twisted his face as if he hated his calm answer.

“Cut the crap. Hella.”