How to Suck Honey at a Warrior’s Party

They had already reached the church.

At the sight of Mohan’s dark face, Herrin and Reg nodded steadily. Beside them was Arma and a man in a robe.

Mohan’s grip tightened on the sword he had drawn. His eyes scanned the man sharply.

“…You say you’re Mr Oberyn?”

“Yes, yes.”

“You said you witnessed Cylon being taken away….”

“Yes…. …I’m sorry.”

Oberyn’s voice shook slightly.

“Ah…. Haha, yeah. My mate is so innocent and vulnerable and needs to be protected. I’m in a bit of a hurry. You know?”

Oberyn nodded vigorously.

Arma poked Reg furiously in the side, her eyes flickering between the warrior and the smouldering church building.

The first person Mohan saw when he headed to the market to find Cylon was Reg.

He had a serious look on his face, along with a woman he didn’t recognize, and Mohan could tell they were mercenaries by the way they were dressed: loose-fitting clothes, bulging muscles, and every inch of exposed flesh covered in scars.

Add to that the wariness of the ‘outsiders’ that was blatantly evident in the faces of the passers-by.

Wandering knights and wannabe knights were just as much outsiders, but there was a world of difference between a knight who could join a fief at any time and a mercenary who was ready to leave at a moment’s notice. This was why he had tricked the owner of the fruit shop into thinking he was an aspiring knight.

As if they were used to it, he didn’t even bat an eye at the watchfulness that crept up on them from all sides.

“Reg.”

Reg turned around at Mohan’s call, his eyes widened in recognition, and he introduced Mohan and Arma to each other.

Arma’s first words upon seeing Mohan were not a greeting, but an exclamation.

“Wow.”

Mohan smiled at the familiar response.

He was more comfortable with the commoners’ honest appreciation than the nobles’ pretense of not being behind a fan. Rude all the same.

“You met in Arandal?”

“Yes. We were once in the same camp at Horma’s estate.”

Horma was a province in the west, famous for its beautiful sea. It was also a place of frequent turf wars because of its trading ports.

Reg replied, leading Mohan down a deserted alley.

“More than that, I’ve heard some strange stories.”

“…Strange story?”

For a moment, he wondered how much of what Reg had told him matched up with his suspicions about Arandal’s situation, but he quickly dismissed the thought.

He hadn’t told his companions what he suspected, and whatever Reg had to say would give him an excuse to find Cylon.

“Yeah. Arma’s been here a long time, so I asked her some questions, and she said that while there have been people killed by demons here, no one has been killed by Magi.”

“…But Magi won’t be known until they’re dead, do they?”

Mohan had already been nearly assassinated by a Magi in the Horn Mountains, a very silent assassination.

If Cylon hadn’t saved him, he would have been in real trouble. Mohan silently recalled the look on Cylon’s face as he opened his eyes.

“Yes, but the demons aren’t coming from within the realm, either. They’re coming from the border, and people are dying to stop them.”

“So… you’re saying there’s no magic or demons inside Arandal?”

Reg nodded, a look of reluctance on his face.

“…Strange, isn’t it, that our borders are so messed up that they’re calling it a war, and again….”

“The Horn Mountains, where we came from, are even experiencing magical space distortion….”

Reg’s information was similar to what Mohan had expected.

When Mohan had just left the Horn Mountains and entered Arandal, he had found it odd to see such a peaceful landscape.

It seemed too peaceful, too relaxed for a town attached to the Horn Mountains, where magi and demons raged. But he wasn’t convinced. He hadn’t been able to gather much information, as none of the permanent residents would talk.

Mohan stared at Arma in the distance with suspicion, and then his gaze shifted to Reg.

Regpion, leader of the mercenary organization, Red Lion.

Reg’s previous occupation as a drill sergeant in a watered-down mercenary party has come to the forefront of his mind.

The mercenaries, ostracized in every realm, tended to stick together. Conversely, non-mercenaries were equally ostracized.

Unlike the natives, who often ignored the mercenaries in the belief that they would leave soon enough, the mercenaries tended to stick together and were always on the lookout for information. In their world, where you have to take care of yourself, it’s essential to make sure your temporary home is safe.

The older the mercenary, the more resourceful they were, and Reg, as the head of the mercenary company, would have a lot of contacts and information in the mercenary world, even if he was no longer working as a mercenary.

What he had previously thought of as ‘reg who led a mercenary company’ suddenly became clear.

The habits of mercenaries were one of the things that the heirs of long-ruling noble families were taught. But as with all education, there were some things that didn’t really sink in until they were experienced firsthand.

“What do you think is the right thing to do?”

Mohan asked Reg’s opinion, quietly accepting his lack of knowledge.

It was still unclear what was going on in Arandal, only that something strange was happening here. What judgement would a resourceful mercenary make in such a situation?

Reg glanced nervously at the warrior, whose eyes seemed to glitter at the bad news. Normally he’s a decent man, with the manners of a nobleman, and yet he doesn’t discriminate against commoners…. His eyes would glow frighteningly whenever Cylon was involved, and often when he was on to something.

‘I wonder if that kind of madness is what makes him a warrior.’

In Reg’s mind, a warrior who had to see a lot of horrible things had to be a little crazy, and he had to be able to protect his sanity with tenacity and determination. In that sense, the man in front of him was very much in line with Reg’s idea of a warrior.

After a moment of silent acceptance, Reg spoke.

“…First, let’s find Herrin at the market. Is Cylon in his room?”

“Ah.”

Mohan surreptitiously pulled a communication bead from his bosom.

“…Are you sure he’s not in his room?”

“Nope. He said he was going to the market.”

It didn’t take Reg long to realize that the warrior had come to the market to find the mage.

Reg’s large hand hovered over the communication orb and pressed it down.

“I’ll just have to find him myself.”

Mohan’s shoulders sagged a little. Seeing the look on his face, Reg added hastily.

“Well, there is such a thing as a surprise appearance. …I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

“Is that so…?”

Mohan tried to imagine Cylon smiling brightly at him.

Mohan, Reg, and Arma found Herrin in an alleyway at the end of the market.

She was sitting side by side with a man in a greyish robe, leaning against a wall. For a moment, Mohan thought Cylon and Herrin were together, but before he had taken three more steps, he realized that the robe was not Cylon’s.

“No, don’t cry, talk to me, I’m crying, the spirits are crying, you’re crying, I’m going mad…!”

And somehow Herrin was soothing the Robe with a rough hand. She had one hand over one ear, and the other was pounding on the Robe’s back until it made a puck, puck, puck sound.

Reg walked over a little faster and gently took Herrin’s hand.

“What’s the matter?”

“Oh! Reg! Why are you here now! Oh my! The warrior, too! Welcome!”

Herrin cried with such joy that it seemed like the eve of events in Arandal.

“Heuck, heueuk… I’m beyond saving….”

Meanwhile, the man squatting next to Herrin was constantly beating himself up. Not caring if a new person had appeared or not.

Mohan already didn’t like the fact that his slightly exposed subordinate bore an uncanny resemblance to Cylon, and that his robes were the same color as Cylon’s. Moreover, the Robe’s self-blaming behavior suggested that he had already done something wrong.

Mohan trusted his instincts and approached the man.

“Hello. My name is Mohan Wood, a warrior, and I have a quick question for you.”

“….”

The man’s head snapped up at the sudden greeting, and he remained frozen in that position. His face grew whiter.

Mohan was sure the man had reacted to the word ‘warrior’ or ‘wood’ in his introduction. A reaction so intense that he couldn’t care less what the other man looked like. And neither of those words were words that should have made a human blush.

For now, since the man was in no mood for a straightforward answer, Mohan turned to Herrin, who was wearing a mask.

“Herrin. I know you don’t look well, but can you explain the situation?”

“Oh, yes, it’s just that I was looking around the market, and the spirits kept spooking me…. so I followed them, thinking it might help me gather some information.”

Herrin said she walked to the side where the spirits were most freaked out. The very brave act returned to the astonishment and tears of the spirits, and to the discovery of the druggist’s den.

As soon as the spirits found an alley with many people sprawling or slanting in the alley, they cursed at Herrin’s ears.

As she stumbled in surprise, a drug dealer who mistook her for the same one dragged him away, offering to secretly show him where she could get a new supply. At the end of the alley, where the kindly drug dealer arrived, was a man muttering to himself.

He mistook her for Cylon and greeted her, and she burst into tears when he apologized for the misunderstanding.

She said she had been comforting the man ever since, and the spirits, who had alternately cajoled and cursed her for not leaving the alley, were now crying.

Mohan focused on the words “Cylon” and “misunderstanding” in Herrin’s story. The man had begun to cry, blaming himself for Herrin’s mistaking her for someone else. He had stiffened at being introduced as a ‘warrior’, and all the misunderstanding had been based on the man’s resemblance to Cylon in his back, his rank, and the color of his robes.

Mohan was quick to voice his suspicions.

“Have you… seen our colleague who looks like you?”

“Hiccup, hiccup!”

The man began to hiccup violently. Mohan’s expression grew darker and darker as the man hiccupped.

“…My colleague has disappeared. …Do you have anything to do with his disappearance?”

His tone was friendly, but his voice was lower than ever.

The man folded his hands across his chest and narrowed his eyes. Then he nodded slightly, as if making a decision.

The next moment, Mohan was on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

“Tell me. If you don’t tell me now, you’ll tell me when you’re dying.”

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Yes! Yes! Ugh…! I’m going to say it! If you give me a chance! Argh! Really!”