Bear School Astartes

Hacksaw felt different to Lann.

During their first meeting in Sintra City, this Palace Steward appeared to him as a meticulously dressed man, pursuing etiquette, and prone to letting his thoughts wander freely.

Simply put: a steward who was not very difficult to deal with.

But now, looking into those smiling eyes, Lann felt a chill from the depths of his heart.

This man... is a bit dangerous.

The badge didn’t vibrate, and his body didn’t change at all, so this sense of ’danger’ wasn’t due to strength.

...It’s the mind.

No further opportunity to observe, Hacksaw turned around with a cheerful handshake and walked away into the shadows.

”Gentlemen, please follow me. We still have to discuss our next steps... the journey is arduous.”

Saying this, his figure disappeared into the dark shadows of the forest.

Beside him, a young man who looked like a Knight’s Attendant was writing and drawing in a notebook with a goose feather pen, seemingly Hacksaw’s secretary, recording his every word and action.

Hacksaw’s son, Stuart, and his noncommissioned officer were the first to follow him into the shadows.

”I must say, these nobles’ insistence on ceremony will never be abandoned, not even when the world ends, right?”

Dandelion leaned against a tree trunk devoid of leaves, speaking with a sarcastic tone.

”Even at this point, our Royal Steward has a secretary for himself, presumably to record his feats during these tough times and leave a chronicle of it... Hey, what can you do when he leads so many people ahead?”

The poet waved, then curled up at the tree root and began to rest.

Although he was with the Demon Hunters, he neither wanted to attend this quasi-military conference nor was he required to.

Ciri, urged by Geralt, leaned against Dandelion, keeping each other warm.

The White Wolf would rather the little girl stays unnoticed, wishing everyone would forget her existence in the next moment.

The claim of the Princess of Sintra was indeed far-reaching and significant.

Lann pulled out a blanket from his Alchemy Pouch, spreading it over the two with a look of gratitude from the little girl.

Even a mere blanket is an invaluable asset in this chaotic territory.

Subsequently, the three Demon Hunters, as crucial combat power, also went to discuss matters.

This place has tents and everyday utensils such as pots and pans.

After all, it’s a refugee group of hundreds; it couldn’t be as rudimentary as solo survival.

When it’s time to eat, at least these pots and pans can provide a warm meal.

Hacksaw, his son, and the soldiers, along with the Demon Hunters, all had tents.

Dandelion and Ciri were resting outside just for a breather.

The tent was already filled with quite a few people, some wearing glasses, some with daggers, others with headscarves... scholars, merchants, mercenaries, soldiers; the refugee group’s diversity was unavoidable.

The sudden and rapidly advancing war situation clearly swept across all strata and professions in the country of Sintra.

Gathered here were all knowledgeable and resourceful people from the refugee group.

As soon as the three Demon Hunters stepped in, the entire tent space became much more crowded.

The medium armor of the Wolf School was manageable, yet the heavy armor of the Bear School was truly massive, and Lann was especially superhuman in size.

”We need to quickly send out scouts to the border to investigate now.”

As soon as the Demon Hunters arrived, they heard Stuart’s voice.

The knight, younger than Lann, firmly pointed to the map on the table.

”We have no military intelligence, gentlemen.”

”We don’t know who the Niflgaard people are entangled with nearby, where their camps are stationed, or the most likely site for the next battle to occur... charging foolishly to the border is swift, but dying would be just as rapid.”

The logic and reasoning were sound, yet it was still challenging for a group of refugees to accept.

”So to avoid the Niflgaard people, we must first send scouts to approach them!?”

A man who appeared to be a merchant, barely maintaining decency, widened his eyes in inquiry.

”How is this different from ’we’re afraid of death, so we die first and won’t fear anymore’?”

”The difference is you don’t have to die!”

Stuart abruptly turned back, his overly calm face looking at the merchant, instantly choking his words.

”The ones dying are my soldiers! They’ll ride fast horses, unmarked, to scout. If they encounter the Niflgaard people, they die! If not, they return and report the route! Understood?”

Thus, the merchant attempted to speak again but remained silent.

A ”thud” — the dull sound of a heavy steel staff striking the ground.

Hacksaw created this sound with the Sintra Mayor’s Staff, while his secretary had been busy penning notes without pause.

”Therefore...”

The former Royal Steward nodded cheerfully to the Demon Hunters, as if he didn’t hear any bloodthirsty tone in his son’s plans.

”We owe much to the Demon Hunter Masters for bringing over twenty horses, allowing us to maintain plenty of cavalry capable of considering this approach.”

The Demon Hunters nodded back.

Lann’s noticeable physique didn’t cause much stir here because everyone focused wholeheartedly on the single task of ’survival.’

Furthermore, Demon Hunters were a mysterious and rare group, which made the physique seem fitting to many.

Then, Hacksaw turned back to face the merchant who had spoken.

”Mr. Hilton, having detailed the upcoming plan, I won’t hide anything either.”

”Inviting you here was intended to request the use of all the resources from your caravan and to have your guards join our daily defense efforts.”

Immediately, the atmosphere in the tent solidified.

Hilton’s expression of rigidity quickly transformed into ferocity.

”What do you mean by this, sir?”

Despite calling him ’sir’ respectfully, his eyes were already scanning Hacksaw’s unarmored body, while his hand retreated into his large sleeve.

No one doubted that a sharp dagger was hidden inside that sleeve.

Lann also noticed that a mercenary-attired man seated there quietly moved his hand like a spider toward the hilt on his waist.

A group likely to be decapitated by the Niflgaard people under tomorrow’s sun still obsessed over their possessions, with a mercenary seemingly ready to betray the refugee group’s leader for a more profitable offer from a merchant.

This may appear irrational, but it is perfectly understandable.

After all, the world hasn’t ended, and it remains just a war impacting a few countries.

Money is still circulating globally and can be spent.

Many people are still willing to risk dying for money.

Even now, nothing has changed.