Commission (3K! Please Follow!)

Seeing the greed flashing in the burly man's eyes, Roland narrowed his own slightly.

Before setting off for Pine Wood Town, he had heard about the reputation of these mercenaries and adventurers from others.

Seeking fame and fortune, resorting to any means necessary, fierce and violent.

Amidst the various opinions, only one point was surprisingly consistent.

That was that these people were all bullies who preyed on the weak.

If he showed the slightest hint of fear, they would swarm him like jackals catching the scent of blood.

Therefore, Roland had anticipated the current situation and had already prepared a countermeasure.

"Kid, new here? I'm telling you..."

The bald, burly man grinned menacingly as he advanced, his scarred face twisted and terrifying.

The moment the rough hand was about to land on his shoulder, Roland's stance shifted slightly.

His right fist shot out like a viper's tongue.

"Bang!"

With a dull thud, the bald man's unfinished sentence was choked in his throat.

While the other man doubled over in pain, Roland delivered a whip kick that precisely struck the side of his knee.

With a crisp snap, the burly man stumbled to his knees.

Staring at the vulnerable neck exposed before him, Roland's right hand unconsciously moved towards the dagger at his waist.

Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps approached from a distance.

Roland's eyes flickered, and he withdrew his hand from his weapon.

Instead, he formed his fingers into a cone and struck directly at the throat with lightning speed.

"Cough, pfft."

Before the onlookers could react, the burly man's eyeballs bulged, and he staggered back several steps, finally collapsing heavily into the mud.

He happened to fall next to the tall man who had been beaten.

Mud splattered, further staining their disheveled figures.

At that moment, a thunderous roar suddenly erupted.

"All of you, stop!"

A troop of fully armed guards approached with measured steps.

The man at the forefront had short brown hair, a sturdy build, and his gleaming armor shone with a cold light in the dimness.

His sharp gaze swept across the chaotic scene, about to reprimand them.

"Scarface Haiden! I warned you."

His words stopped abruptly.

The short-haired man's pupils contracted, and he looked in disbelief at the bald, burly man slumped on the ground.

The usually arrogant and overbearing "Scarface" was now curled up in pain.

His hands clawed weakly at his throat, his entire face turning a terrifying purple-red.

With a few hoarse coughs, the notorious mercenary finally rolled his eyes back and fainted in the mud.

The short-haired man's brow twitched fiercely.

Scarface Haiden.

Pine Wood Town's infamous bully, who acted with impunity relying on his burly physique and insidious methods.

His modus operandi of targeting the weak, coupled with his ferocity comparable to a wild beast, made this mercenary the most troublesome scoundrel in Pine Wood Town.

But now...

The sound of armor rubbing against itself rustled, and the short-haired man's sharp gaze locked onto the only stranger standing in the center of the scene.

As he stepped forward, the shadow cast by his tall body almost completely enveloped Roland.

"I am Sheriff Whitman."

He pushed his thumb against the sword hilt, his voice harder than his armor.

"These two men..."

His boot tip kicked the unconscious bald man.

"Did you do this?"

After hearing the other party introduce himself, Roland merely raised an eyebrow slightly. Silently, he lifted a corner of his linen robe, revealing the dagger Darko had gifted him at his waist.

The silver dagger sheath flashed with a cold light in the dimness.

Whitman's expression froze instantly, then he respectfully lowered his gaze.

"You..."

"I'm here on personal business."

Roland's tone was flat.

"My apologies for the intrusion."

Whitman immediately bowed, his voice lowered to a whisper.

"Leave the handling of this to me."

As soon as he finished speaking, he straightened his back abruptly and turned to the guards behind him, shouting sternly.

"What are you standing around for?"

His thick fingers pointed at the two figures in the mud.

"Throw these two idiots into the dungeon and let them reflect on their actions!"

"Yes!"

Upon hearing the order, the guards scrambled to drag away the unconscious strongmen.

Just then, another commotion arose from a distance.

Whitman rubbed his temples wearily and hesitated before speaking.

"Apologies, uh. Sir, how should I address you?"

"Roland."

Roland replied while tying the reins to a post.

"You don't need to use honorifics."

"Understood, Mister Roland."

Seeing Roland's amiable demeanor, Whitman visibly relaxed.

"I still have some official duties to attend to. If you require assistance..."

He gestured towards the north of the town.

A towering watchtower stood there.

"You can find me there."

"Thank you for your trouble, Mister Whitman."

"Not at all, not at all."

Whitman waved his hands repeatedly, bowed hastily, and then led his guards towards the direction of the disturbance.

The clanging of armor gradually faded into the noisy human voices.

Meanwhile, whispers erupted from the surrounding mercenaries.

"Who is this kid? Even that mad dog Whitman is bowing and scraping to him."

A mercenary with a face full of scars lowered his voice.

"Who cares who he is!"

His tall, thin companion took a swig of ale, his eyes gleaming.

"Didn't you see how he moved just now? That bastard Haiden didn't even get a chance to fight back!"

"Tsk, he looks so refined, but his moves are vicious."

Roland paid no attention to the gossip.

He raised a hand to gently stroke Black Wind's forehead and, using the trait of [Animal Companion], whispered a few words into the warhorse's ear.

Black Wind snorted and nudged his palm affectionately.

After confirming his mount was settled, Roland straightened his robes and walked into the Adventurer's Guild under everyone's scrutinizing gazes.

Instantly, a wave of noise washed over him.

The smell of stale ale mixed with sweat fermented in the air, and greasy torches cast flickering light throughout the hall.

Rusted armor and worn weapons were piled in the corners, and leftover food lay scattered on a few worm-eaten wooden tables.

It was less like an Adventurer's Guild and more like a tavern.

Behind the counter, a burly bartender was wiping a dirty wooden mug.

A few drunken adventurers were passed out at tables, snoring, while more figures lurked in the shadows.

Some sharpened daggers, others counted coins. All eyes latched onto Roland the moment he entered, only to dart away hastily when he looked up.

Clearly, Roland's defeat of Haiden had left a deep impression on this group of mercenaries and adventurers.

"New here?"

The bartender lazily glanced Roland up and down and casually pointed towards the wall plastered with quests.

"Take a look over there yourself."

His rough finger left a water streak on the grimy mug.

"If you find something you like, bring it here to register."

Roland nodded slightly and slowly walked towards the mottled oak wall.

Yellowed paper stained with dried wine marks was densely nailed all over the wall.

His slender fingers brushed over the paper, noticing that each commission had a red dot marked in cinnabar ink at the bottom right corner.

He assumed it represented the task's difficulty level.

Besides that, each commission detailed the time limit, required number of people, and specific location of the task.

Unexpectedly, commissions for hunting monsters were few and far between.

Roland had to read through each line carefully.

"Escort a merchant caravan to Dawn Territory, commission time limit twenty days, reward sixty copper coins, difficulty one."

"Retrieve stolen property, commission time limit three days, reward thirty copper coins, difficulty one."

"Required five complete deer hides, commission time limit five days, reward fifty copper coins, difficulty one."

After browsing for a long time, Roland finally found the commission he wanted.

"Hunt down a goblin camp, commission time limit fifteen days, reward depends on the number of goblins, difficulty three."

"Hunt down a kobold lair, commission time limit fifteen days, reward depends on the number of kobolds, difficulty three."

"Investigate monster activity around Pine Wood Town, commission time limit thirty days, reward two silver and fifteen copper, difficulty five."

On the last commission, whose edges were curled, five bright red dots were particularly striking, and the ink was much fresher than that of other commissions.

"Monster activity to the southeast?"

Roland secretly noted this information in his mind, then carefully read the contents of the first two commissions.

After confirming there were no descriptions of kobolds with scales all over their bodies or goblins with non-green skin, he weighed his own strength in his mind.

Confirming he was capable and had ample time, he reached out and took the first two commissions off the wall.

Turning towards the counter, he gently placed the parchment in his hand on the counter and pushed it towards the bartender who was yawning.

The bartender squinted and carefully examined Roland, his brow unconsciously furrowing.

"Two commissions, and you're alone?"

He asked in a gruff voice, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the counter.

Roland calmly nodded.

"Another one who doesn't know his limits,"

The bartender muttered under his breath, but his hands were quickly copying the commission details.

As the ink spread on the paper, he said without looking up.

"Listen, kid, exceeding the time limit incurs a penalty, of course, that's assuming you can come back alive."

He pushed the copied duplicate and the ink box towards Roland, making a dull thud.

"Sign your name and make your thumbprint, and this job is yours."

"Thank you."

Roland replied briefly, then picked up his pen and left clear, elegant handwriting on the parchment.

Folding one of the duplicates and tucking it into his embrace, he turned and walked towards the main door.

Just as he was about to push the door open, a figure wrapped in a wide black robe walked in against the light.

The person was thin, with only a pair of sapphire-blue eyes visible. Under the mask, pale skin could be vaguely seen.

The moment they brushed past each other, a strong smell of blood wafted over.

The smell was so intense it was almost tangible, making Roland frown involuntarily.

"It's 'The Executioner'! Why is this lunatic back now?"

"Damn it, what bad luck! Let's go, let's go!"

The previously noisy guild hall fell silent instantly, and adventurers scrambled to rush out the door, the sounds of overturning tables and chairs echoing.

In just a few breaths, Roland and the mysterious person called The Executioner were the only ones left in the vast hall.

"The Executioner,"

Roland muttered in his mind, but he didn't linger.

He pushed open the door and walked towards Black Wind, who was munching on fodder.

After untying the reins, he led his warhorse around the town and finally chose a relatively clean inn to stay in.

At dawn the next day, before the morning mist had even dissipated, Roland was already galloping towards the location mentioned in the commission.

Black Wind's hooves trod on the dew-covered muddy ground, leaving clear hoof prints behind.