I Became the Dark Knight in the Game

Chapter 7: Mercenaries and the Dark Knight (2)

Coincidentally, the day to depart for the request was the very next day.

Dale had purchased an appropriate longsword from a blacksmith affiliated with the guild. Then, before dawn broke, he headed to the guild office.

All the participants of the task had already gathered, and one of the mercenaries was in the midst of a heated argument with Garland.

No, Mr. Garland! This isnt right! Adding another member at the last minute, and a dark knight at that! Is this really acceptable?

Garland raised his hands in an apologetic gesture.

Im sorry I didnt inform you earlier. But Im concerned. You know how overwhelming the work has been lately? If we lose more valuable mercenaries to that variant owlbear, it could jeopardize the guilds operations.

Still, this is

Dont worry too much. If theres any problem, Ill compensate you fully.

Its not about the money.

Just as the voices were getting louder, everyones attention turned to the sound of Dales footsteps.

Garland greeted him warmly.

Welcome, Sir Dale. Good morning.

Dale simply nodded his head in response.

The mercenary who had been bickering looked Dale up and down and he shuddered.

The sense of intimidation was no joke when seen up close.

Garland asked in a subtly probing tone.

How about it? Doesnt he seem reliable?

Who said anything about lacking strength? Honestly

The mercenary, named Miles, pondered for a long while. He clearly seemed reluctant to bring Dale along.

Then Garlands expression hardened a bit.

Look here, Miles. Youve already failed the task once; why are you being so picky? Or is there a specific reason why you shouldnt bring Sir Dale with you?

Miles flinched at Garlands words.

He was not in a position to raise his voice against Garland.

As Garland pointed out, Miles had previously participated in the owlbear subjugation request and returned alone as the only survivor.

Failing a mission is common.

A failure, while a blot on ones record, is not fatal. After all, the average success rate for mercenaries is barely over 60 percent.

However, the fact that he returned alone and lost all his companions was fatal.

Who could say if Miles had betrayed his fellow mercenaries and fled alone?

If such doubts arose, no other mercenary would want to work with Miles in the future.

Miles knew he had to redeem himself this time. He spoke with a disgruntled tone.

Fine. But I am the leader of this expedition. Everyone must follow my orders.

Sir Dale has already agreed to that condition.

If thats the case, then.

Miles was not entirely pleased but he ultimately agreed.

He approached Dale and offered a handshake.

Im Miles, son of Aman. A bronze plate, grade 3 warrior. Its only for a short while, but I look forward to working with you.

Dale. A grade 2 dark knight.

Miles, who was a burly man with a rat-like face, subtly exerted pressure on Dales hand as they shook hands.

As a grade 3 warrior, he prided himself on his strength more than anything else.

Though somewhat childish, establishing hierarchy is a very important aspect among mercenaries.

?

At first, Dale was puzzled about what Miles was trying to do, but soon he understood his intention.

Dale also tightened his grip.

Then Miless expression began to turn increasingly red. He exerted all his strength as if drawing from his very core.

However, he soon let out an involuntary groan of pain.

Ah!

Ah, sorry. I must have gripped too hard.

Dale casually responded and then finally released Miless hand.

Miless hand was now red and swollen from the blood rush.

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His face too was flushed with embarrassment.

Miles muttered nonchalantly.

Hmm, quite a strong grip you have there. I think youd make a good comrade at this rate.

His tone implied as if he had been testing Dale.

However, those who were watching all laughed at Miles inwardly. He looked rather foolish.

Embarrassed, Miles cursed in his head.

Shit.

He then quickly changed the subject.

Wait here for a moment, Sir Dale. I need to fetch something I forgot.

Understood.

After Miles hurried off somewhere.

Dale approached Garland.

The latter spoke with a bitter smile.

Hes actually not bad in terms of skills. His only problem is hes too fond of women.

What about the others?

Theyre over there. Including you, Sir Dale, there are seven in total.

There were two bronze plaque members, two iron plaque members, one priestess, one wooden plaque member, and Dale.

With archers and shieldmen, as well as a priestess, their party composition was incredibly stable.

Moreover, with thorough preparations made to face the variant owl bear, the expedition seemed bound to succeed.

I might not even need to take action.

Dale considered introducing himself to the mercenaries, but they seemed uninterested in talking with him.

He waited quietly in his spot.

After some time, Miles returned. He was carrying a large backpack with him.

He looked around and suddenly kicked a short mercenary among the gathering.

Ah!

If you see me with this, you should hurry up and help with the luggage! What are you standing there for? Not paying attention?

I-Im sorry.

The short mercenary quickly took over the backpack.

He was the one with the wooden plaque. He was probably tasked with the role of a porter.

The sudden act of violence didnt seem to concern anyone; such occurrences were common in the mercenary world.

Moreover, those with wooden plaques were treated more like menial laborers than equals.

They were treated more like servants than comrades.

Most of the participants in the expedition left their bags to the porter.

There were only two that didnt.

It was the priestess and Dale.

Sir Knight, let me carry your luggage for you.

No. I will carry my own.

Is that so?

The porter bowed his head and stepped back.

He was carrying luggage larger than his own frame but seemed unbothered by its weight.

Hes stronger than I thought. Maybe hes not human.

The porter was wearing a scruffy helmet but no armor so that made it difficult to discern his race.

Then Miles shouted out.

Alright! Since we have a two-day journey ahead, we need to move quickly. Ive rented a wagon for the luggage; lets head there.

With Miles leading, the mercenaries moved out in unison.

***

Miles took the role of coachman. Holding the reins, he tapped the seat beside him.

Priestess! Please sit here! Hehe.

I am fine, thank you.

The priestess with her red hair neatly tied back shook her head.

She had declined several of Miles previous advances.

Miles then grinned and gestured towards the back.

You wouldnt want to ride with that kind, would you, Priestess?

that kind referred to Dale.

The priestess frowned.

Indeed.

She thought it might be better to tolerate Miles advances rather than sit beside a heretic like Dale.

The priestess reluctantly took a seat next to Miles.

The rest of the group found their own places inside the carriage.

Although he was aware that people were uncomfortable around him, Dale indifferently polished his newly purchased longsword with a rag.

The carriage followed the road on its journey.

The journey was smooth.

No monsters or wild beasts were in sight.

In fact, this was to be expected.

The area around Irene was known for its good security, especially the main roads.

Dales previous encounter with the One-Eyes was an unusual case.

As they traveled peacefully, the day eventually turned to night.

The carriage stopped at a suitable location.

Miles said while kicking the porter.

Hey you! Get the camp ready quickly!

Y-yes, right away.

The porter scrambled to his feet in a hurry.

But perhaps due to carrying too many heavy loads, he misstepped and fell to the ground.

One of the bags burst open, spilling its contents everywhere.

Goodness. What a mess.

I-Im so sorry.

The mercenaries watched this scene unfold, snickering among themselves. None of them stepped forward to help.

It wasnt their job, after all.

Dale quickly approached the porter, who was frantically trying to gather the scattered items.

The porter was startled.

Eek!

Ill help.

Oh, no, you dont have to!

The porter was visibly flustered, but Dale paid no mind and began picking up the items strewn on the ground.

These must be the bags Miles bought this morning.

As Dale examined the contents, he felt a bit puzzled.

Why is there so much holy water and food?

Both items were essentials for their journey.

Let alone the food supplies, Holy water itself was useful in many ways, and it even had medicinal effects.

But there was just too much of it.

For a journey that would only take four days, why was there so much food?

Is this Miles guy the type to worry a lot?

It wasnt an uncommon type. Those who are exceptionally cautious prepare more than necessary.

Up to this point, it was within the realm of understanding.

But then

Miles. I have a question.

When Dale suddenly spoke, Miles asked with an annoyed expression on his face.

What is it?

Why dont we have black herbs to deal with owlbears? I dont see any hooks or ropes either. And isnt this a paralyzing herb?

Owlbears were crazy about the smell of black herbs.

Using black herbs to lure them and then binding their movements with hooks was the very textbook strategy. At least, thats what Dale knew.

As Dale pressed on, Miless face stiffened.

Youre surprisingly knowledgeable about monsters.

This was quite a surprise.

To be as knowledgeable about monster tactics as a skilled mercenary with at least ten years of experience.

Tsk. Miles clicked his tongue and explained.

We already know where the owlbear is living. Theres no need to lure it with black herbs.

And the hooks?

Owlbear skin sells for a high price. We cant afford to damage such a goldmine, can we? The plan was to subdue it with paralyzing herbs and then cleanly dismantle it.

Dale mulled over Miles explanation. It wasnt entirely unconvincing.

Since he had already failed once, is he now going overboard to make up for it?

Obtaining clean owlbear skin could mean big money.

In that case, the other mercenaries wouldnt hesitate to work with Miles in the future.

After all, being a mercenary is all about making money.

However, Dale felt something was off. It was a feeling he couldnt put into words.

But

Just as Dale was about to press further, Miles strode over to his side.

His face openly displayed his annoyance.

Miles said in a snarl.

Its problematic if you interfere like this in every matter. I am the leader of this expedition. Dale, you are undermining my authority.

Dale looked down at Miles and replied,

I was simply raising a concern.

Concerns should have been voiced before we began the expedition. Why bring them up now?

It wasnt a wrong thing to say.

What was the point of pressing the matter now? They werent going back to the city anyway.

With an unmistakably uncomfortable expression, Miles spoke.

I hope this will not happen in the future. Otherwise

Go away.

It was clear that the unspoken part of Miles sentence carried that meaning.

Dale looked down at Miles. He hadnt expected him to pick a fight so openly.

Dale turned his head to gauge the reactions of those around him.

Judging by their expressions, the mercenaries seemed to share Miles view.

Dales doubts were reasonable, but during a mission, the leaders authority was paramount.

After thinking about it, Dale nodded his head.

Understood.

Be careful.

Miles, having asserted his authority, wore a look of satisfaction on his face.

Dale thought to himself.

Arrogant

His inner instincts screamed at him. They urged him to just kill this unlucky bastard.

But Dale did not comply.

It was against his beliefs.

Moreover, he had a strong premonition.

He felt that soon he would cross swords with Miles anyway.

Though it might have been just his wishful thinking and not a premonition.

Dale took out a rag again and carefully cleaned his longsword.

Then he carefully sharpened the blade of his hand axe.

To smash the skull of someone he dislikes, his weapons must always be in their best condition.