ITDG 10

Chapter 10

The Baron’s Request

The rain had turned the ground into a muddy mess.
Across that muck ran two sets of footprints—
and the body of a demon being dragged behind, erasing their trail.

“Don’t people around here have anything better to do?”

Ahead lay the village of Silverrook.
When they had first stepped out of the forest, the only people visible were the guards posted atop the palisade.
But the closer they got to the village, the more people began to appear—
until the entrance was now overflowing with a curious crowd.

“Well, you did take care of the demons that had been tormenting them for half a month in just a few days,” Tom said. “Can’t blame them for wanting to see what kind of man you are.”

Dermo clicked his tongue.
He hated being the center of attention.
Especially now—his eyepatch had burned away from the flames that Pyrobis had spewed, forcing him to keep his right eye shut.

Better move quickly.

The village gate had already been opened the moment their figures came into view.
From the crowd that looked like the entire village had come out, the village chief, Bruno, walked forward with his arms wide open.

“Oh dear! You’ve done it! Are you hurt anywhere?”

Bruno inspected them from head to toe.
Dermo could see the genuine concern in the old man’s eyes—
the kind of worry only a grandfather might show for his grandson.

“There’s blood on your arm! And what happened to your eye?”
“It’s nothing serious.”
“Chief, the kid’s always been one-eyed. Who’d want to show a busted eye to everyone, eh?”
“Ah… right.”

Tom’s words jogged Bruno’s memory—the eyepatch Dermo usually wore.

“Getting old makes you forget things. Still, bleeding’s bleeding! James, grind up some herbs!”
“Why do you always make me do it when we’ve got an herbalist…?”

Even as James grumbled, he got to work.
It wasn’t a wound that really needed treatment, but seeing their concern brought the faintest smile to Dermo’s lips.

“Chief,” Tom said, “mind if we take that demon hide off your hands?”
“That’s no problem. I’ll have James handle it.”
“Much appreciated.”

Pyrobis’s hide wasn’t sturdy enough for armor,
but its fire resistance made it valuable in other ways.
Dermo planned to have a craftsman mix the hide with other materials to make clothing and a new eyepatch—
he’d learned the skill Burning Breath, and fire-resistant gear was now essential.
Otherwise, like today, his cuirass would be scorched and his clothes burned.

As the crowd parted for him like the Red Sea, Dermo made his way through.

“Tom, I’ve got something to do this evening. Until then—”

He stopped mid-sentence.
Tom was already surrounded by villagers, bombarding him with questions.

“…I’ll tell him later.”

Watching Tom’s visibly annoyed expression, Dermo turned toward the inn.

That Evening

The inn’s door opened, and a few unfamiliar men stepped inside.
The mercenaries already there narrowed their eyes at the strangers—
but relaxed almost immediately once they saw the flag fluttering on one man’s back:
the crest of Baron Heratz, lord of Silverrook.

“Been a while, James.”

The man who looked like their leader greeted James with a handshake.
James smiled as though meeting an old acquaintance.

“Has it been five years already? You’ve even brought a standard bearer—so this isn’t a social call. What’s going on?”
“We’re looking for someone.”
“Who?”

The man’s eyes swept across the mercenaries.

“The mercenary who slew the demons.”
“Ah…”

At once, every head in the room turned—
toward the blond man sitting nearby, his right eye covered with cloth.

“Seems I found the right one,” the stranger said, turning to Dermo.

Dermo tore a piece of chicken with his teeth and spoke evenly,
“What business do you have with me?”
“The name’s Mamot,” the man replied, bowing politely.
“Baron Fyon requests your presence. Would you accompany us immediately?”

“At least tell me why before I decide whether to go or not.”

Tom, sitting beside Dermo, raised his head.
“You’re not obliged to know that,” Mamot said curtly.
“This guy’s my captain,” Tom countered. “That makes it my business.”
“Captain? I was told you work alone…”

According to the morning report sent by the village chief, the mercenary named Dermo had no known companions.
So Mamot was caught off guard by Tom’s claim.

Judging by Dermo’s reaction, though… it’s not a lie.

Then Dermo set down his fork.
“Looks like there’s something you don’t want to say in public.”

He took a sip of water, meeting Mamot’s gaze.
The man silently nodded.

“My apologies,” Mamot said, bowing slightly to Tom. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
“I’d like to speak privately with just the two of you.”
“As you can see,” Dermo said, shrugging, “we’re still eating.”

He didn’t stop eating. He already knew why they were here—
and didn’t feel like interrupting his meal just to hear it.

“He hates having his meals interrupted,” Tom added.

Scrape!

Chairs screeched against the floor as every other mercenary in the inn stood up.
Mamot and his men turned, startled.

“Guess we should give them some space.”
“Yeah, good excuse to get some air.”
“You coming?”
“Sure.”

Dermo didn’t realize it himself, but in this brutal mercenary world,
he had unintentionally become their leader—
not like Tom, who chose to follow him,
but by sheer strength and presence alone.
Even his offhand words carried weight.

“…Tch.”

Dermo squeezed his eyes shut, annoyed by their unnecessary gesture.
Meanwhile, Mamot was impressed.
Even his two subordinates shared the same look of awe.

Mercenaries with that much pride obeying him without a word? I have to bring this man to the Baron—no matter what.

Mamot glanced at James.
James scratched his head.
“So, I guess I should step out too, huh?”
“That’d be appreciated.”
“Oi, honey! These guys are kicking us out! Let’s go for a walk!”

With his wife in tow, James left the inn.
Only then did Mamot finally speak.

“A few days ago, we found a demon inside a cave. The Baron sent a subjugation party immediately… but it’s been a week, and none have returned.”
“So basically, you’re in trouble because of another demon,” Tom said. “Doesn’t seem like the sort of secret you need to clear the room for.”

“Because of the neighboring lords,” Mamot replied.
“If word spreads that even our knight commander has vanished, every lord with a shred of ambition will send his own knights to ‘help.’”

Tom frowned. “And that’s bad because…?”
“They’ll use it as an excuse to interfere,” Dermo explained calmly.
“Once they’ve ‘helped,’ they’ll demand influence over the Baron’s lands—or just absorb them entirely. That’s why he wants to resolve it quietly.”
“…The world of nobles is too complicated for a simple man like me,” Tom muttered.

Mamot was silently amazed again.
Unlike most brutish mercenaries, this one actually understood politics.

“Baron Fyon wishes for you, Dermo, to resolve this matter. Please—come with us.”

[Sub Quest: People have been disappearing nightly in Baron Heratz’s domain. Find the cause and resolve it.]
Reward: Sponsorship of the Heratz Family, Reputation +30
If Refused: Fall of House Heratz
If Failed: Death

Clack.

Dermo finished the last of his meal and looked at the floating quest window.
It was a tempting reward.
The Heratz family might have been poor, but noble backing was always valuable—
and +30 reputation was enormous, equivalent to completing six Silverrook quests.

This one gave me hell back then…

The first time he’d played the game, Dermo had accepted it without hesitation—
enticed by the reward, never imagining failure was even possible.
The result: failure and character deletion.

He later learned it was an intentional trap quest, designed by the devs to deceive players.
Word had spread fast—every player who saw Mamot’s quest turned it down.
That refusal doomed the Baron’s house,
and even when other noble families tried to intervene, the situation only grew worse—
until players themselves had to step in much later in the game.

“I’ll help.”

He would have to deal with it eventually.
Better to get it done now—
and it would make things easier later.

“Thank you! Then, shall we depart at once—”
“Not right now.”

Dermo’s sharp tone cut him off.
Mamot looked flustered.
“May I ask why?”
“I still have business here. Need to collect Pyrobis’s hide from James, for one.”
“…I see.”

There was still one last demon left to slay—
and a few rare items to obtain only found here in Silverrook.
Until those were done, he wasn’t leaving.

“Could we return here after visiting Milford?” Mamot asked hopefully.
“Too inefficient. I don’t have time to waste.”
“Ah… understood.”

Mamot pressed his thumb against his temple, thinking.
“Then let us help with your work. Whatever you need, just say it—my men are strong.”

He glanced at his soldiers.
Dermo replied without hesitation,
“That was the plan.”
“…Pardon?”
“First, I’ll need to borrow a sword. Mine’s broken.”
“A… sword, sir?”

Mamot hesitated briefly, then handed over his blade, scabbard and all.
If lending a weapon sped things up, so be it.

Dermo took the sword and said simply,
“Let’s get to work.”
“Right now?!”

Dermo nodded, already heading for the door.
Tom followed, muttering as he passed Mamot,
“If you want to get home quickly, don’t argue.”

Mamot and his men exchanged glances.
“…Follow him,” Mamot ordered.

Meanwhile

In a small cottage lived an old woman and her grandson.

Whine, whine…

Hearing their dog whimpering outside, the boy grabbed his coat.
“Grandma, I’ll go see what’s wrong.”
“Alright, don’t go far.”

He stepped into the yard, planning to play with the dog until it tired out.
“What’s wrong, boy? Want to go for a walk?”

But the dog didn’t come running like usual.
The boy frowned and looked around.

Whimper… whine…

He followed the sound—and froze.
The dog was crying beneath the village palisade.

“What are you doing down there?”

The boy approached, reaching out to pick it up—

Whoosh!

His eyes widened.
The dog lifted off the ground.

“Wha—hey! Come down!”

The boy jumped, waving his arms, trying to catch it.
He didn’t notice the faint silver threads coiled around its body.

“Come on…! I’ll get you down…!”

He stretched his arms upward,
but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t even brush its fur.

“What are you doing out there, child?”
“Grandma! It—it’s stuck up there!”
“How on earth—”

An animal floating midair—
the old woman rushed over, startled.
And then she saw it: silver threads glinting faintly in the moonlight,
wrapping around the poor creature.

Her years of experience told her immediately—
those threads were something horribly dangerous.

Shhhh—!

One of those threads slithered down from the top of the palisade—
and began to coil around the boy’s neck.

“Get back from there!”

The old woman lunged forward,
arms outstretched to save her grandson—
but her frail body was too slow.
All she could do was watch as the boy’s feet lifted off the ground,
dragged toward the other side of the wall.

“No—nooo!”

And at that moment,
a blond man flashed past her like lightning.