Chapter 59: How to Explain?

Human man? Ugh! What an awkward title… Glen silently grumbled, though a triumphant smirk played on his lips. "I thought elves never apologized. Seems you know a shred of courtesy after all."

Gotaya bristled at his expression but swallowed her retort.

"Can you tell me where I can stay here... human man?"

Too lazy to correct her, Glen pretended to ponder, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Well... I do have a place. But I can't just give it away for free..."

"What do you want me to do?" Gotaya cut straight to the point.

Pleased by her directness, Glen chuckled. "I'm short-handed lately. If you're willing..."

Of course there's a catch. She took a steadying breath. "What kind of work? I'll decide after I hear it."

Glen shifted on the cart, his tone casual. "Relax. Nothing difficult. Just... raising pigs."

With Lawell tied up elsewhere, Glen needed someone to take over pig duties. The elf's arrival was fortuitous.

"Raising... pigs?" Gotaya stared, bewildered.

"Exactly. Pigs. Don't make me out to be some schemer. There's nothing on you worth scheming for."

Though only half-convinced, Gotaya agreed. It still seemed her best option.

———

Dawn had fully broken when they reached Glen's cottage. Glen showed little fatigue from his sleepless night, but Gotaya was visibly swaying. The mental torment of captivity and lack of sleep had taken their toll. Thankfully, she was physically unharmed – the only reason she'd dared attack Glen earlier.

Glen pushed open the door and headed straight to rouse Tia, still fast asleep.

"Tia. Wake up."

The girl stirred, rubbing bleary eyes. Her hair was a tangled halo, her sleep-tunic slipping off one shoulder, revealing skin that was dazzlingly pale. Glen's gaze lingered a moment too long.

"Mr. Glen? Why so early...?"

"New member. She's been up all night. Let her use your bed for a while."

"Huh?" Tia blinked, more awake now. "But..."

Seeing her reluctance, Glen sighed. "One silver coin."

Tia's pout vanished instantly, replaced by faux resignation. "Well... if it's your request, Mr. Glen, I suppose..."

"Good girl." Glen nodded, satisfied.

Money talks. For everyone. Me included.

Suddenly, Tia gasped, cheeks flaming scarlet. "Oh! Mr. Glen! You can't just barge into a lady's room uninvited!" She yanked the blanket up to her chin, covering herself completely.

Glen flinched at the accusation. He had entered without thinking. Only now did the impropriety hit him.

"I... I was worried you wouldn't hear me calling from outside! I'm usually quite the gentleman, really..."

He backed out of the room hastily, nearly tripping over the threshold.

Gotaya, who'd heard everything outside, watched his retreat with profoundly skeptical eyes.

Clearing his throat nervously, Glen gestured towards the room. "Go on in. Rest. We'll sort a proper room for you later."

The elf girl peered into the cramped space, barely large enough for two. Her nose wrinkled with disdain. "Your dwelling is... minuscule. And you expect me to live here?"

Glen remained unfazed. "It keeps the rain out and the wind off. Why be picky?"

"Be... picky?" Gotaya frowned, unfamiliar with the phrase.

"Means stop complaining."

———

Dud Town.

Scarface stretched luxuriously in his room, joints popping. He finished with a sharp neck crack and flung open his door, bellowing into the corridor:

"Up and at 'em, you lazy dogs!"

He stomped down the hallway, hammering on every door he passed with a meaty fist. Reaching a mage's room, he pounded harder.

"Erik! Sun's up! Time to move! Dreaming of tavern wenches all night, were you? Get your lazy arse out here!"

Silence.

Scarface frowned. Other mercenaries, groggy but compliant, were already emerging from their rooms. Not a single mage had appeared.

A cold knot of dread tightened in his gut. He slammed his fist against Erik's door with brutal force, BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! Dust rained from the ceiling.

"ERIK! You disobeying me now?! Get out here or I swear I'll—!"

Still no response. The other mercenaries, now fully alert, exchanged worried glances and started banging on the other mages' doors. The result was the same: ominous silence.

Snarling, Scarface reared back and kicked the door. Wood splintered as it flew off its hinges, revealing the scene inside. The innkeeper groaned in dismay behind him.

Scarface's eyes widened, then narrowed to slits.

Erik's corpse lay sprawled just inside, neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

Scarface lunged inside, checking for a pulse. Finding none, he whirled, his roar shaking the walls:

"CHECK THE ELF! NOW!"

Mercenaries scrambled towards the courtyard like startled roaches. Scarface charged after them.

The sight that greeted him turned his blood to ice: unconscious guards littered the ground. The cage stood empty, its door hanging open like a mocking grin.

Scarface's face contorted into a mask of pure, incandescent rage. A guttural, animalistic growl escaped him. He turned on the nearest wall, fists flying in a blind frenzy, pulverizing the innocent stonework.

Before the dust settled, another mercenary ran up, face pale.

"Boss! Fang... Fang's gone too!"

Scarface's bloodshot eyes snapped to the man. He lunged, seizing the messenger by the throat and lifting him off his feet.

"WHAT?!"

A sickening crunch echoed. The mercenary went limp. Scarface dropped the body like rubbish.

Fang was one of his best fighters. Losing him, plus all three mages... it was a catastrophic blow. Years of building the Hunter's Crew, gone in a single night. Despair warred with fury.

"WHY?!" he screamed at the uncaring sky, spittle flying. "WHO ARE YOU?! WHY TARGET ME?!"

The perpetrator, of course, didn't answer.

A mercenary with twin scimitars strapped to his back stepped forward, face grim. "We can't let this slide, Boss."

"OF COURSE WE CAN'T!" Scarface roared, spraying the man with spittle. "EVERYONE! FIND HIM! RIP THIS TOWN APART IF YOU HAVE TO! BRING ME HIS HEAD!"

The scimitar-wielder wiped his face, then pointed at a group of half-dressed men. "You lot! With me! NOW!"

As the hunters scattered, Scarface slumped against the ruined wall, the fury draining away, leaving only a hollow, sickening dread. He buried his face in his hands, the words a tortured whisper:

"How... how the hell do I explain this to the client?"

News of the Hunter's Crew's disaster spread through Dud Town like wildfire. By midday, it was the only thing the townsfolk could talk about.