The Beggar

In a battle that had nearly ended with both sides destroyed, a passage on healing from the Holy Name descended upon Lucius, whose throat had been cut, pulling him back from the brink of hell.

That legendary experience inspired countless adventurers—and Lucius himself, of course. To some extent, it was also the source of his "war fever."

When Lucius's speech ended, everyone was left with the feeling that war was drawing closer.

Over the following days, Gagnor also seized the time to familiarize himself with his weapons and equipment, mainly his chainmail.

He had worn leather armor before, but now that his constitution and strength had greatly improved, he could adapt to chainmail as well.

In fact, Gagnor had also considered plate armor, but wearing plate not only demanded more from one's physical abilities; it was also a skill in itself, requiring more time to adapt before one could move freely.

After considering various other factors, such as the price, he ultimately chose chainmail.

Several days passed, and some of the Gray Hawk Mercenary Group's soldiers set out for the County of Presto to the northwest.

The first group to depart consisted mainly of the mercenary group's formal members. They traveled on horseback and were expected to reach Presto Fortress in about two days.

Some more time passed, and the second group of soldiers also set out. This group was the largest, consisting primarily of short-term recruits who had just completed their basic training. They traveled on foot.

Their commander was Cassandra—the person least capable of riding a horse.

In truth, some high-level magical warhorses could bear someone as large as her, but South Sea Town and the surrounding areas had no such horses. She also seemed not to like riding.

Gagnor and quite a few acquaintances of his were among these soldiers, including the enchanter Marcus.

In theory, an enchanter specializing in magic runes could simply remain at camp. However, the higher-ups had decided to bring one along just in case, so Marcus had the "good fortune" of being selected.

This caused Marcus great anguish. He had just learned that Joy Street was offering discounts, and before he could go, he had been hastily dragged into the army.

There was no need to wait until after the war. Once the two groups of soldiers had left South Sea Town one after another—especially after the second group, which contained a large number of former street layabouts, departed—business on Joy Street visibly declined.

Gagnor consoled him, "Presto must have places to have fun too."

Marcus said, "With so many soldiers going to Presto, the women there will definitely be outrageously expensive!"

"But you'll also receive a military allowance, won't you?"

"Not only will they be expensive, there might even be a queue. I don't like that..." Marcus was certainly depressed, but with things having come to this, he could only accept it. Once the army left South Sea Town, he stopped bringing it up.

Presto was a relatively narrow, elongated country that bordered several others. Its nearest point was actually only a few dozen kilometers from South Sea Town, though the fortress itself was somewhat farther away.

After crossing the border from the Duchy of Nordanlun into the County of Presto, the mercenaries could not help but heighten their vigilance.

"Gagnor, I'll protect you instead," John said, holding his shield.

"Does he look like he needs your protection? If he had a shield, he could protect you," Ryan said. He was now the captain of Gagnor's squad.

John looked at Gagnor again.

A year ago, the other man had been a frail apothecary in a robe—at least, that was how John remembered him. Now, however, the two were clearly about the same size, both looking like brawny men. Gagnor was even a little taller.

Gagnor was no longer wearing an apothecary's robe, either, but finely crafted chainmail. He truly did not look like someone who needed protection.

"For the good of the group, give your 'vigilance' to the priest." Ryan pointed toward the priest in the group, a tall, thin, blond young man.

Spellcasters were rare in the mercenary group, and priests were rarer still. It was no easy matter for a squad to be assigned one. In fact, priests usually rotated between several squads.

"All right." John nodded, then immediately walked beside the priest. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Sheldon, a level-one priest." The priest spoke somewhat softly, clearly a refined sort of person.

John slapped his chest. "Vigilance is an ability granted to me by Saint Michael. If anyone attacks you, I'll definitely notice at once. Don't worry, Sheldon the Priest. As long as I'm here, you definitely won't get hurt!"

"Thank you," the priest said.

Several hundred people continued northwest.

Along the way, they happened upon a group of civilians fleeing for refuge. They seemed to have set out from the area around Presto Fortress, hoping to find somewhere to hide from the war.

Most of these civilians were craftsmen, merchants, and the like, along with a small number of farmers.

There was also a beggar.

The beggar was a barefoot, emaciated old man. He wore a filthy, tattered ocher linen robe. His hair was disheveled and sparse, and a tuft of beard grew on his chin.

He went to the mercenaries one by one without saying a word. He merely held a broken bowl in one hand and drew a triangle over his chest with the other. His intention to beg could not have been clearer.

Unfortunately, mercenaries generally had no habit of being charitable. What was more, most of this batch were former street layabouts from Raven Street. They had neither spare money nor the inclination to give alms. It was already fortunate if they did not curse him.

The beggar seemed to notice the triangular-frame necklace on Gagnor's chest and deliberately stopped in front of him for several seconds. In the end, all he received were a few copper coins from Sheldon the Priest and John.

Even though few people responded, the beggar continued changing targets.

It was not until Cassandra, apparently wishing to preserve the mercenary group's reputation, tossed a silver coin into the beggar's bowl that he was finally sent away.

After a while, someone noticed that the beggar had not been traveling with the refugees at all. The refugees were heading away from Presto Fortress, whereas he seemed to be moving toward it. His steps were light, and before long he had vanished from everyone's sight.

Although it was somewhat strange, no one paid the beggar any attention.

Three days later.

A forest slowly came into view in the distance.

Ryan first ran to Cassandra and said something to her, then returned to the group. "Be very careful on the road through the forest ahead. I've been attacked here twice."

"Twice?" Gagnor seemed to think of something.

Ryan smiled. "That's right. The first time was when you rescued me."

Gagnor nodded in realization. "Were you also delivering a letter to Presto that time?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what kind of letter it was?"

"No."

Although Ryan said that, at some point later when no one was paying attention, he quietly moved beside Gagnor and whispered, "A love letter."

Gagnor's eyes widened in surprise.

But Ryan clearly had no intention of explaining further. Instead, he made a silencing gesture.

Gagnor did not dare ask more, but he still could not help letting his imagination run wild.

A love letter... Who wrote it to whom?