CHAPTER 61……………………………………
. Pest Control
It was truly, sincerely sad news.
“…Nothing.”
Günther never did find a new magic stone.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“…Could you at least say that without smirking?”
It was a pity, but at least they made it through the Grimgar Forest without running into any monsters.
When they emerged from the forest, a vast snowfield stretched out before them.
After half a day’s trek across it, the ground beneath their feet finally looked enough like a road to be called one.
Snow had piled up, but less so than elsewhere, and there were plenty of traces showing that people traveled this way regularly.
“The magic stone’s out of reach now.”
Günther’s voice carried genuine regret.
“Why? You never know.”
“This, my boy, is what we call a main road.”
He stomped on the packed earth where less snow had fallen.
“From here on, it’s under the jurisdiction of the Ice Maker family. They patrol it, maintain it, and take down any monsters that appear…”
His voice trailed off, ending in a long sigh of disappointment.
And indeed, as he said, no monsters appeared.
In fact, the farther they went, the broader and clearer the road became, making travel much easier.
“It’s not just the road that’s making this trip feel easier.”
Ronan snorted.
“Maybe it’s because the flies stopped buzzing around.”
The “flies” he referred to were the other lords.
Even after sending them ahead, they’d kept trying to pester and nitpick for one reason or another—but after I took down the trolls, they stopped coming near altogether.
“If I’d known, maybe I should’ve stepped up earlier?”
“Don’t say creepy things like that.”
Günther grimaced at my joking tone.
“You want to see someone’s downfall? Planning to take over Baron Vinehelm’s entire domain?!”
“Of course not. We only deal in cash.”
“You took payment in magic stones, didn’t you…”
“Want me to give them back?”
Günther mumbled under his breath and didn’t answer.
Not everyone, however, was avoiding me.
In fact, there was someone who came by the tent every night.
“…You’re here again tonight?”
It was Sirina Ice Maker.
“Mm-hmm.”
She wasn’t just shameless—she was brazen.
She would walk right into a tent shared by three men, sit down across from me, and just… stare.
At that point, Ronan and Hogg would quietly slip outside.
And then it’d just be the two of us. Alone in the tent. Doing absolutely nothing.
“…”
It’s not like I didn’t understand why she was doing this.
With the Dragon’s Eyes, she could see mana of sufficient density.
She was here to observe the mana flowing through my Circle.
Her pale, snowy eyes stayed fixed only on the area around my heart—where the Circle was.
“…You know, people might start rumors if you keep this up.”
“That’s fine.”
“It’s not fine for me.”
“Why not?”
“…”
What was I supposed to say?
Because I might have to kill your father?
Because I already killed your half-brother?
“…Just… stay for a bit, then go.”
“I will.”
I couldn’t think of what else to say, so I just turned over.
I could feel her gaze burning into my back, but I ignored it and tried to sleep—
“Sirina!”
—only for another uninvited guest to burst into the tent.
“Your fiancé has come—?!”
Fiancé?
She has a fiancé?
I turned around and saw a man standing there, his expression frozen mid-shock.
Glossy light-brown hair, bright green eyes, and skin so smooth and spotless it didn’t belong on a battlefield.
His ornate clothing and flashy jewelry screamed of pampered nobility.
But Sirina didn’t even glance at him.
Her fiancé had just arrived, and she wouldn’t so much as look.
“Hey.”
Shing.
The man scowled and drew the sword at his waist.
To be fair, if you didn’t know the situation, it would look infuriating.
Still…
“Who the hell are you to be alone with my Sirina?”
…This is my tent, you dumb bastard.
* * *
The Eastern North.
The land where snow melted first—Belleren.
Ruled by House Eyrbalt.
They began by reclaiming the land and growing famine-resistant crops, then built a city that expanded steadily.
In the harsh north, even famine crops were a blessing.
Naturally, people gathered there. And House Eyrbalt grew with them.
More people, bigger city, more work, even more people…
They eventually extended their trade to the continent’s central regions, becoming the undisputed second most powerful house in the North.
Naturally, they too were attending the royal banquet—though not the lord himself, but his eldest son.
And the idiot who had just barged into my tent with his sword drawn—Sirina Ice Maker’s fiancé—was none other than that eldest son: Edrein Eyrbalt.
“I… I apologize for the misunderstanding…”
“I told you to wait outside, Edrein!”
“P-please understand! The young lord is hot-blooded—he just… acted rashly…”
Thanks to Hartmund and Roger, who followed right after and grabbed Edrein, things didn’t get ugly.
“Please forgive his rudeness.”
“Of course. It’s understandable.”
I forced a polite smile as I accepted their apology.
The two lords’ nervous glances at me were so awkward it was almost funny—so I wasn’t all that angry.
Plus, thanks to this, Sirina finally left the tent. So in a way, it worked out perfectly.
“I’m sorry we met under such circumstances. I’m Edrein Eyrbalt.”
“I’m Gold, a mercenary with the Three Coins.”
“Ah, a mercenary, I see. But… why are you traveling separately?”
“Separately?”
I tilted my head.
“The Mordis family hired an entire mercenary corps to accompany us…”
“Oh, I was contracted by House Vinehelm.”
“Ah, I see.”
Edrein nodded in understanding—and then looked down his nose at me with a smug, condescending expression.
…What the hell?
“Baron Vinehelm must’ve been desperate. Hiring a mercenary like you to come along.”
“E-Edrein!”
“M-My lord! Please—your words—!”
Despite their alarmed protests, Edrein didn’t stop.
“I mean, really—bringing someone of such… low birth to a royal banquet hosted by the Second Prince? Isn’t that a bit much?”
He clearly didn’t know when to shut his arrogant mouth.
“A proper mercenary would have been hired by House Mordis. The best of the best are there—mercenaries from all across the continent. Do you even know who leads them? The ‘Mercenary King’ of the southern continent, Triston. You’ve heard the name, I presume?”
He didn’t even give me a chance to answer.
“So do yourself a favor, Mr. Gold—know your place.”
Edrein glared at me with a sharp, venomous look.
“Mercenaries of your level are a dime a dozen. Don’t go thinking you’re someone special. From now on, stay away from Sirina. Just keep quiet and make it to Icecrown alive. Simple enough, right?”
I’d thought he might have some sense after apologizing earlier. Guess not.
Hartmund and Roger must have assumed I was a noble, judging by how pale they’d turned.
I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“You’re laughing?”
Well, my magic had already been exposed to a certain extent.
At this point, no need to hold back.
Might as well teach him a lesson.
“I-I’m sorry! My apologies!”
“W-We’ll leave! Come on, Edrein, let’s go!”
Hartmund and Roger went white as sheets.
They each grabbed one of Edrein’s arms and practically hauled him up.
“W-wait, who are you two trying to restrain—?!”
Whatever he was about to say was cut off when a loud roar erupted outside the tent.
“W-What’s going on out there?!”
“Let’s go check!”
“Wait, hold on—?!”
Apparently deciding this was the perfect chance to escape, Hartmund and Roger lifted Edrein off his feet and bolted outside.
“…Lucky bastard.”
Tch. I clicked my tongue and started to lie back down—
Only for another burst of shouting to echo through the camp.
Suddenly, I remembered something.
That sound—it was the same kind of roar I’d heard back in Frostal.
When Ronan had beaten up the other lords’ soldiers—that exact same cheer.
“…Don’t tell me.”
According to Edrein, the Eyrbalt forces had joined up with the Mordis-hired mercenaries.
And Ronan and Hogg were both outside, avoiding Sirina.
“It can’t be…”
I got up and stepped outside the tent.
The moment I did, another deafening cheer went up.
Following the sound led me to the center of the encampment.
There, in an open space between several tents—
“Kill him! Kill that bastard!”
“I bet all my money on you, Bronze! Come on!”
“Is that all you’ve got?! You call yourself the Mercenary King, you piece of shit?!”
A brawl was in full swing.
A dozen men already lay sprawled on the ground. Two were still standing.
A massive, hulking man—easily Hogg’s size.
And facing him—
“Knew it.”
—was Ronan.
I spotted Hogg standing behind him, looking flustered, and pushed through the crowd toward them.
As I did, Ronan and the giant clashed, exchanging heavy blows.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
“What happened?”
“A-ah! Th-they just joined up—the new mercs, they picked a fight—! I tried to calm them down, said I was fine—but he… he wasn’t fine…”
“Guess not.”
I chuckled as Ronan dodged the giant’s swing and drove a fist deep into his gut.
The blow landed solidly.
The giant groaned and dropped to his knees.
His face was swollen, bruised, and mottled with dark purple splotches.
“M-muh… mercy… sp… spare me…”
“What’s that?”
Ronan punched him again.
His swollen face crumpled, and his huge body hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Boom.
As the giant fell, the crowd erupted into cheers.
“That’s my boy!”
“Mercenary King, my ass! Ha!”
“Get up! Get up, you bastard!”
A few howls of despair mixed in.
Ronan glared coldly at the remaining mercenaries, then turned and walked toward me.
The crowd parted for him like he was death itself.
He trudged up, shook his head slowly, and muttered:
“Pests. Everywhere.”
I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“No kidding.”
And over by the mercenaries, I spotted Edrein again—face pale as snow.
When I flashed him a grin, baring my teeth, his green eyes widened in panic.
“There sure are a lot of pests around here.”
