Mastery Is Earned

At dusk the next day, Marcus sat behind his desk reading the case file before him, but no matter how he tried, he could not focus. He could not help looking out the window. The setting sun had turned the sky fiery red.

The soldiers sent ahead had already brought news of the victory, but the wounded and the survivors had still not arrived. What was taking them so long? They should have been back by now.

Growing restless, Marcus rose from his chair. His gleaming leather boots made the floorboards creak beneath him.

The door suddenly opened, and a young man rushed inside in a panic.

Marcus frowned at the young man’s recklessness. He was clearly unqualified as an aide, especially as the Sheriff’s personal aide. Unfortunately, his father had offered Marcus a price he could not refuse, so Marcus had arranged a place for him in the town guard and taken him on as his personal aide.

“What is it?” Marcus asked with an indifferent glance.

The aide pointed outside. “Sheriff! They’re... they’re back!”

They were back? Finally?

Marcus was thrilled, but he forced down his excitement and kept his face as calm as possible. “Very well. Lead the way.”

The two left the office and headed toward Blackstone’s gates.

The town guard’s headquarters felt eerily deserted compared with usual. Aside from a few clerks and servants handling routine work, there was scarcely a soldier in sight.

The men sent to help Dario wipe out the goblins had taken more than half the troops who had remained in town. Most of those left had been assigned to patrol the nearby villages or investigate the entrance to the Blackstone Mountains occupied by the gnolls. Apart from the soldiers currently off duty, the town guard had virtually no one else available. If anyone wanted to attack Blackstone, now would be the perfect opportunity.

Marcus gave a wry smile at the thought.

“My lord, what are you smiling about?” the aide beside him asked curiously.

There he went again.

Marcus sighed in irritation, but still offered the young man some earnest advice. “As an aide, you need to learn to speak less and observe more. Understand?”

“My apologies, sir.” The aide hurriedly saluted.

Marcus waved a hand, signaling him to say no more. They quickened their pace and soon reached the town gates.

Even from a distance, they could see a large crowd gathered there. Townspeople lined both sides of the road, holding handfuls of bright petals and scattering them over the returning victors.

This had to be the work of those old men on the Town Council again. What a waste. The money should have gone toward the town’s defenses, not something so useless.

Thinking this, Marcus walked even faster.

“Sheriff.”

“Good day, Mr. Marcus.”

The townspeople on either side bowed their heads in greeting as he passed.

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Marcus showed no reaction. He did not even move his head. In all his years as Sheriff, people had greeted him with fear wherever he went. He was used to it, and so were the townspeople.

A group of mercenaries had gathered beside one of the wagons, peppering the passengers with questions.

Marcus clenched his fists at the sight of them. The spineless bastards had fled straight back to Blackstone as soon as they learned Graypine Village had been attacked.

The thought of all the supplies he had paid to stockpile in the burned village made the loss sting even more. He had paid for the goods and sent them to Graypine Village, only for the village to burn before he received a single coin in return. Both the money and the merchandise were gone. The entire venture had been a complete loss.

Only a small number of mercenaries had burned to death that day. Most had been away on assignments, searching for signs of goblins, or still traveling toward the village. Yet after Graypine Village was destroyed, they had all seemingly vanished from the face of the earth. They ran off to other villages to eat, drink, and amuse themselves, forgetting their mission and responsibilities entirely.

Marcus sighed.

What could he expect from greedy, two-faced mercenaries like them? As long as they did not stab him in the back, that was enough. As the thought crossed his mind, Marcus began searching the crowd for a familiar figure.

He soon spotted the black-haired young man and the impossibly burly half-orc on the wagon at the head of the procession.

Raymond and Henk.

If only every mercenary were like those two.

By then, Marcus had reached the lead wagon. Several draft horses pulled a broad, flatbed cart on which Raymond, Henk, and Dario were all lying. Three slightly charred claw wounds ran across Dario’s chest, looking distinctly unnatural.

“Dario, you’re wounded?” Marcus hurried forward to inspect him, then glanced at the aide beside him. “Go. Bring all the best physicians in town!”

“There’s no need. It’s nothing serious, Sheriff.” Dario tried to sit up, forcing a smile as he spoke.

“What are you talking about? You’re a hero of Blackstone. You deserve great credit for wiping out those goblins,” Marcus said with deliberate emphasis.

Dario shook his head bitterly and gestured toward Raymond and Henk. “It was thanks to them. They’re the ones who deserve the credit.”

“And they did it under your command,” Marcus said quietly. He glanced at Raymond, whose expression had turned slightly peculiar. Their eyes met, and Raymond grinned without saying a word.

Clever boy.

Marcus had liked Raymond from the moment they met. The young man spoke little, listened well, and knew when to stop. He saw through things without insisting on spelling them out. He was nothing like Marcus’s young aide, who had shown no improvement after more than a year at his side.

“I’ve already made my report to the Town Council,” Marcus told Dario. “The Mayor will commend you personally. In light of your recent achievements, I’ve also recommended you for appointment as Deputy Sheriff and commander of the town guard. Don’t disappoint the Mayor or me.”

Dario stared at him in astonishment. Then delight spread across his face. “Yes, sir! I won’t disappoint either of you!”

A faint smile appeared on Marcus’s face, though inwardly he let out a long sigh.

He had no desire for a deputy and commander to share his authority. But the promotion had come directly from the Mayor. Marcus had his objections, yet he did not dare voice them.

“Sheriff, what about the bounty for these goblins?” one mercenary asked as he approached. “Captain Dario said we’d be paid double. Does that still stand?”

Double?

Before the expedition departed, Marcus had indeed authorized Dario to raise the bounty as circumstances required, up to twice the original rate. He simply had not expected the man to offer the maximum immediately.

Marcus looked at Dario. When Dario nodded in confirmation, Marcus’s expression darkened. He concealed it almost at once. By the time he faced the mercenary again, his usual cold arrogance had returned. He waved dismissively. “We’ll discuss that tomorrow. The wounded need treatment, the dead must be identified, their families need comfort, and the survivors must be given shelter. Every one of those matters is more important than your few bounty coins!”

Chastened by the rebuke, the mercenary scratched his head with an embarrassed grin and returned to his companions.

“How bad were the casualties?” Marcus asked Dario quietly, glancing at Raymond and Henk.

“Four died on the spot. Another mercenary suffered severe burns and didn’t survive the night. Of the five dead, two were our brothers in the town guard. Four more were badly wounded, and the physician says two of them may never be able to fight again.” Dario sighed. “We rescued nineteen survivors.”

“In any case, you accomplished something remarkable.” Marcus sighed, then shouted toward the approaching physicians, “Treat these people! Spare no expense and do everything you can!”

He looked over the long procession and raised his voice again. “Everyone else who can still move, go to the Blackstone Inn! Food and rooms are on me! Tell Sophie to put it all on my account!”