The summer in the wilderness was nowhere near as harsh as in Pompeii. It was only hot around noon on sunny days; the rest of the time, it was fairly cool.
The shadow of war had barely affected High Mountain Keep.
The guardsmen spent all day sweating it out on the training grounds with Gunther and Hert, then slipped into the river in groups at dusk to bathe. The barbarians had once been tribal hunters, while the centaurs had once been grassland herders. Though both were naturally powerful races, they still needed extensive training to become true professional warriors.
None of this required Richard's attention, so he suddenly found himself with nothing to do. He spent his days squatting beside the river, watching the Hum-Ha Duo enthusiastically fish pebbles out of the water.
Whenever he was in a good mood, he would give them extra dried meat. The two Ogres would lie on the ground and gratefully kiss his boots, then work with even greater enthusiasm.
This unusual behavior caught Annie's attention, and she finally couldn't hold back her question. "Lord Richard, what do you need so many pebbles for?"
"I'm planning to line the bottom of the stream on the hill. It should look beautiful with the water flowing over all those colorful pebbles. Then I'll transplant some thornflowers along both sides. When I have nothing to do, I can sit nearby and drink tea."
The answer greatly surprised Annie. She had never expected such a rough fellow to have such a delicate side. The elven blood flowing through the Half-Elf's veins made her naturally admire refined and beautiful things, and it made Richard look much more pleasing to her as well.
"Among the Pioneering Nobles I've met, many were devoted to military affairs or management. But you're the first I've seen with the leisure and inclination to tend a garden."
Richard was just about to speak when the sound of approaching hoofbeats shattered the afternoon's tranquility.
The flat terrain offered no obstruction to the view. Looking up, they could see two human cavalrymen galloping toward High Mountain Keep.
Richard's eyesight was far better than an ordinary person's. He could clearly see that one cavalryman's face and chest were covered in blood, while the other had a spear sticking out of his back and was sprawled over the saddle, his life or death unknown.
He put two fingers in his mouth and blew a sharp whistle. Hert, who was training, immediately led several centaurs charging toward them. As they ran, they drew feathered arrows from their quivers and nocked them loosely on their bowstrings.
The two sides were about five hundred yards apart and rapidly closing in. After a few breaths, they would enter effective firing range. With the centaurs' archery, the two cavalrymen would become pincushions in an instant.
"Wait!" Annie's face suddenly turned deathly pale. The Half-Elf's eyesight was excellent as well, and she could see everything Richard could.
"They're mercenary cavalrymen from the Voya Merchant Guild!"
Another whistle rang out. The centaurs put away their bows, skidded to a halt, and turned around. After circling widely, they returned to the foot of the hill alongside the two cavalrymen.
Before the horses had even come to a stop, Annie's mercenaries had already clumsily lifted the wounded cavalryman down and begun treating him. The other one was clearly dead, so no one was tending to him for the moment. Richard went over to take a look.
He had probably been some kind of scout or mounted ranger in life, equipped only with chainmail and a Single-Barrel Repeating Crossbow.
There were several minor wounds on his body, but the fatal injury was the throwing spear embedded in his back. Judging from his purplish face and lips, all the blood in his body had drained through that wound.
Richard lifted the chainmail on his body and examined it closely, unable to stop himself from being slightly startled by how wealthy this cavalryman had been. The chainmail was not the cheap sort made by simply linking iron rings together. Instead, both ends of every iron ring had been hammered flat and pierced, then joined with fine rivets and flattened on both sides.
Processing thousands upon thousands of iron rings individually made the process extremely time-consuming and expensive. In return, it greatly improved the chainmail's resistance to stabbing attacks. Unfortunately, even so, the throwing spear had still blasted through several rings in his back. After piercing straight through his chest, its tip had emerged from the front and pinned him to the saddle.
He gripped the wooden shaft and pulled the throwing spear free. He examined it carefully from end to end twice, and his expression grew somewhat grave.
He had noticed something troubling about it, and a vague, unfinished idea was beginning to take shape in his mind.
When he looked up, Richard's eyes happened to meet Annie's. He was surprised to find that the Half-Elf girl's expression was just as frighteningly grim.
"Richard..."
"Annie..."
"Never mind. You go first." Richard handed the throwing spear to a passing barbarian.
"The escort force sent as reinforcements by the guild encountered a large group of Gnolls halfway here. They were completely wiped out." Annie gave a desolate smile, her thin body trembling slightly, like a crabapple blossom beaten down by raindrops and scattered into the mud.
"Were those Gnolls fairly well equipped, like the ones we encountered last time?" Richard asked, but his expression and tone made it clear that he already knew the answer.
Before Annie could reply, he continued, "High Mountain Keep isn't safe anymore either. I suggest that you lead the mercenaries back with light equipment. Take only basic rations and the warhorses. Even if you encounter Gnolls, you'll be able to shake them off easily."
"No." Annie's voice was calm—calm yet resolute, like hard reefs hidden beneath the surface of a lake. "I can't abandon those wounded mercenaries. They fought to the death to protect me."
"But you can leave them here temporarily at High Mountain Keep." Richard smiled and gave her a knowing wink. "Of course, you'll have to pay the fee."
"I'm sorry, but I can't do that." Annie took a deep breath. "Lord Richard, thank you for your kindness, but I don't want to be tormented by guilt forever, losing sleep every night for the rest of my life."
She understood that Richard's proposal came from good intentions, and reason told her it was the best option available. Yet she still couldn't abandon her companions with a clear conscience. The Elves' stubborn, nearly obsessive moral code was vividly displayed in her.
Richard nodded. Since they were unwilling to withdraw, then from a military standpoint, temporarily incorporating the merchant caravan's mercenaries into High Mountain Keep was the inevitable choice.
The addition of a dozen or so Pompeii warriors was nothing noteworthy. But the abundant supplies that arrived with them quickly gave the previously disdainful veteran soldiers a serious case of envy. With a great battle approaching, the atmosphere in the main dining hall was nevertheless as festive as a holiday.
"They eat pretty well." Gunther and Hert sat together, using their table knives to scoop up a large helping of honey and spread it thickly over their bread. After thinking for a moment, Gunther added a fifth sausage.
"They really do." Hert was even more outrageous. A thick slab of beef larger than the plate sat before him.
"I discovered something very interesting." Richard kicked open the door and strode into the main dining hall. The barbarians and centaurs who had been gorging themselves suddenly leaped to their feet to greet him, knocking over a whole swath of chairs and benches.
"Sit."
Before the mercenaries could react, the people of High Mountain Keep had already resumed their boisterous feasting.
With a clang, Richard tossed onto the table the throwing spear he had pulled from the dead cavalryman's back. The dirt and blood covering it had been washed completely clean, revealing its original appearance.
Richard sat down across from Annie. "There's honey! Gunther, you big oaf, hurry up and get some for your lord!"
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