CHAPTER 04
“Are you sure you really saw him? You said you only caught the scent. He could’ve just been some farmer who raises roses.”
Marco tossed a spoonful of boiled peas into his mouth as he spoke. Dantes cut him off flatly.
“No. It’s different.”
“Right, Dante’s always said that man’s scent was different,”
Gunter sided with him, draining a mug of beer and belching loudly afterward without a shred of shame. Cesario grimaced, waving a hand in disgust before adding,
“You can’t trust the senses. Too much time has passed. Maybe your sense of smell just played tricks on you because of your emotional state.”
“It’s no mistake. He’s in this village. We’ll catch him soon. You saw him switch horses yourself.”
The moment they lost Roberto in the street, Dantes had shouted that they needed to check the horse market. The four of them rushed there and arrived just in time to see horses being loaded onto ships bound for other countries. Among them was the very horse the man they’d been chasing had been riding.
If they had been a step later, they would never have found it. Dantes had paid double the price to buy the horse. It wasn’t born a thoroughbred, but it was calm, well-trained, and obedient.
Marco clicked his tongue as he glanced at the horse tied outside the tavern.
“That guy really knows how to handle animals. How does he always end up with the finest beasts? Must’ve bought it dirt cheap too.”
Animals had always been unusually loyal to Roberto. Monsters as well. If they weren’t too savage, a little training was all it took for them to dance in his hands. Of course, those that couldn’t be tamed usually fell to his sword.
“It’s always the same trick. He sells off his horse, takes on a high-grade mercenary job, and uses it as cover to slip through the net.”
“But mercenary contracts are off-limits to outsiders until they’re completed. Especially high-grade ones. And those are often tied to local nobles as well.”
Marco said it as if it couldn’t be helped. Cesario backed him up.
“Marco’s right. Even if that passerby really was Roberto, when you consider the route, he’s most likely already accepted a contract. He would’ve moved right away.”
Dantes listened silently. Marco and Cesario had a point. If the Imperial Army clamped down and blockaded this entire village, the common people would be the ones to suffer.
Dantes was an emperor with strong public trust. But he could not be careless. He had been on the throne for less than ten years, and he was still far too young. Among the empire’s people—especially the nobles—every rash act of his was scrutinized and mocked. At any moment, rebellion could spark.
He had to take Roberto without leaving any such flaw exposed. The young emperor’s only eccentricity had to end here.
“Want me to just knock the teeth out of that waiter? Bet he’ll start talking if I do.”
Gunter spoke in a conspiratorial tone, but his booming chest made it sound loud enough for everyone to hear. The waiter polishing the bar went stiff, the hairs on his neck standing, before vanishing behind the counter trembling like a leaf.
“Gunter. Have some dignity. They’re just intermediaries. They don’t know anything about the contracts.”
“I just thought I’d scare him a little, see what came out.”
“Ugh, big guy. Like that would work.”
While the three bickered, Dantes drained his glass. At times like this, cold reason was essential. Act too hastily and they could lose him. The closer Roberto was, the sharper Dantes had to be. He’d bungled opportunities like this before, fumbling and losing Roberto right under his nose.
Whatever the situation, Roberto would simply do his work in silence and then vanish. And when they lost him like that, it often took six months, even a year, before they caught wind of him again.
Dantes beckoned the others close and spoke in a low voice.
“Marco, buy some back-alley information around here. See if any big-name mercenaries have abandoned contracts recently, and if you can, find out what those contracts were.”
“By when?”
Marco asked. Dantes checked his pocket watch briefly.
“Within thirty minutes.”
“Are you insane?”
“So, you won’t do it?”
“Alright, alright, I’m going!”
Marco slapped his hat back on and stormed out of the tavern.
“Gunter, return to the camp and check the troops.”
“Got it. You want them ready to march at a signal, right?”
“Exactly. Be ready to move the moment I give word.”
Gunter nodded and left. He didn’t envy or question what Cesario and Dantes would be doing—he knew it would be brainwork. Gunter preferred wrestling with soldiers to tangled politics.
As soon as he was gone, the waiter peeked out timidly from behind the bar. Dantes surveyed the room, then spoke to Cesario in an even lower tone.
“Cesario, find the noble with the largest estate around here. See if there are any rumors being hushed up in society circles. If you have to, reveal who you are.”
“The most prominent here are Baron Aventurine and Viscount Sincere. The Aventurine family’s been established longer, but their estate seems closed off for some reason. Rank aside, it’ll be better to approach Viscount Sincere. I’ll ask about Aventurine through him.”
“Good. How long will it take?”
“I’ll be back as soon as possible—within half a day.”
Once work came up, Cesario spoke with formal politeness. Since Dantes’s coronation, he’d always preferred honorifics. Dantes himself didn’t really care.
He gave a small nod of approval, and Cesario returned it before leaving the tavern. Left alone, Dantes ordered another drink.
He sat in silence, watching villagers and cloaked mercenaries pass in and out. He studied their hands, their gestures. Thanks to Gunter’s little outburst earlier, most now acted ordinary—eating, drinking—no hand signals.
“So this is a hub for high-grade mercenary jobs… quick to catch on.”
His gaze flicked to the tavern keeper, who was watching him with equal sharpness. If that was the case, newcomers were unlikely to be given contracts. Dantes decided to wait patiently for his three companions.
He was restless, but the more impatient he felt, the calmer he had to be. Roberto Brida was no ordinary man. Dantes held that thought tightly as he sipped his drink.
Roberto’s youthful face surfaced in his mind, clearer than ever. A face he had never once forgotten.
Meanwhile.
Rosellina had bought information at a bargain price and slipped away. If Dantes had even the faintest inkling she was here, he would no doubt chase her down by tracing mercenary work. She had always fled using the same tricks. But rather than inventing new variations, she had found that stubbornly repeating the same method often worked best.
Each contract required different tasks, in different places. Differences in the timing and value of the information each side obtained often caused them to miss each other. Adding more complications would only create chaos.
Rosellina was straightforward by nature. She wasn’t good at lying, and she disliked it besides. Better to hone what she was already good at than fumble through what she wasn’t.
At least, that was how Rosellina thought.
She unfolded the last message she’d received from a mercenary:
He is alive.
It was a cryptic phrase. Some mercenaries had lost their lives carrying out this job, so it was clearly high risk. Rosellina headed to the underground market and bought quality throwing knives, daggers, and a bow.
“Big job, huh?” the arms dealer remarked.
Rosellina only nodded. The dealer eyed her as she lifted a quiver nearly her own size with ease. Her hands bore calluses and scars, her eyes assessed each weapon sharply, and she picked out only the best from his wares.
Clicking his tongue, the dealer pulled out an item he hadn’t planned to show.
Rosellina’s eyes widened. A mask—made of cowhide, designed to strap firmly to the face. It covered half the face diagonally, leaving the mouth free and vision mostly clear, yet still concealing enough to prevent recognition.
“Bounty hunters after that Roberto Brida have been dying left and right lately. Seems they think it’s because their faces were exposed. Masks are in high demand, so we rushed to make some. Judging by how much you’re stocking up, you’re no innocent soul yourself.”
“……”
Rosellina nodded. She was, after all, the very Roberto Brida he spoke of.
The dealer held the masks up against her face, muttering,
“Damn, your face is small. This one’s for kids, but it might still be too big.”
“I’ll take this one.”
She chose a small, darkly tanned mask and handed over a hefty sum—nearly half her down payment. The dealer brightened at the sight of such a generous customer. But before he could take the money, she pressed a few more bills on top and stopped his hand.
“If anyone asks about someone buying weapons in bulk—tell them no such person exists. Then we can do business again.”
“Tch. Sounds like you’ve got enemies even inside your own circle. Alright. Stay safe.”
Rosellina nodded silently and slipped away without a sound, vanishing like the wind. The dealer shook his head as he watched her go.
A big spender was good for business, but it also meant deadly work was at hand. If he never saw her again, she would surely be dead.
“Mmh. Not your ordinary mercenary. Must be that client’s job,” he muttered to himself, pouring a scotch.
Just then, a head thrust suddenly into his view. He hadn’t sensed a thing, and the shock made him choke on his drink, coughing violently.
“That client? Who is that?”
“Cough—wh-who?”
“The job you said only an extraordinary mercenary would take. And just now, you said someone bought up a load of weapons. I rushed here the moment I heard, but the trail’s gone already. Who was it? What did they look like?”
Marco blinked his yellow eyes as he questioned him. The dealer stared back, utterly horrified.
