Dawn of the next day came as swift as the swipe of a hand.
Zethir and Augustin arrived early at the city gates, with the latter still half inside his dreams. Last night was exhausting for him, to the point that he nearly fainted from training.
On the other hand, Zethir remained as fresh as daisies. Leaning against the city walls. He was using a white towel to clean the blade of his sword. He was wearing his dark-brown cloak as usual, with no metal plates to guard his body. The number of times he wore armor, he could count with one hand.
“Where are they?” Augustin yawned, wiping away the drops of tears at the corner of his eyes. They’d been waiting since before dawn, and the sun had already dyed the world with color.
Beside him, Zethir glanced at the city gates, his eyes showing a bit of boredom.
But before he could say anything, a group of six walked through the gates. Although none of them had proper armor on their bodies, the bow and swords on their bodies showed they weren’t tourists.
‘Greens?’ Zethir peeked at each member of the six, his eyes flickering with light. ‘Are they our teammates?’ He wondered, before clicking his tongue inwardly. Then, his focus went back to his sword—which would’ve gone bald if it had hair by how much he wiped it clean.
As Zethir took away his attention, the leader of the group noticed the two of them. With a smile, a tall blonde man approached Zethir and uttered a greeting.
“Are you part of the mission?” He asked, a polite smile stretched across his defined face.
Unfortunately, his politeness was wasted on Zethir, who acted as if he didn’t hear a word.
Seeing the latter refusing to speak, the blonde man frowned. “Heh, suit yourself,” he snorted, returning to his group.
Meanwhile, Augustin fully opened his half-closed eyes. “Why did you do that? Don't you know it's rude?”
Zethir scoffed, lifting his sword to examine the edges. “He's not worth my time.”
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Augustin’s eyes twitched, before a grin appeared on his face. “So I'm worth your time? Wow!”
“No,” Zethir said, flatly, carefully putting the sword back to its sheathe.
Augustin deflated to the ground. “So cruel…”
After the group of six’s arrival, it didn’t take long for another mercenary group to arrive. This time, there were a dozen of them.
The leader was wearing iron armor over his torso, his emerald-green eyes glowing ever so slightly. Behind him, the other mercenaries likewise wore chest pieces.
Seeing the two teams of mercenaries in the gathering spot, the green-eyed mercenary smiled and approached Zethir, not even looking at the group of six.
“Hello,” he said, his voice light and airy, but holding a degree of confidence, “I'm Marco, an elite arcane spell caster. May I get your name?”
Zethir looked at him, his red eyes dimly glowing under the hood of his cloak. Then, he looked back down at his sword, in the process of wiping the scabbard clean.
“Zethir, swordsman.”
Marco smiled, clapping his hands lightly. “Ah, what a nice name! Mr. Zethir, may we get along well… and you might be?”
Marco glanced at Augustin, his eyes losing its glow. Augustin smiled bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. “Augustin, sir! I'm a mage too, practicing the arcane!”
“A spell caster, that's wonderful,” Marco nodded, looking back at Zethir. “You have an adorable companion. Well, we'll be on our way, let's hope our employer arrives on time.”
“Hm,” Zethir nodded.
As Marco and his team left, Augustin breathed a sigh of relief. “Hoo~ Man! That was nerve-wracking… so, why was he worth your time?”
Zethir scoffed. “He wasn't.”
“...” Augustin wanted to slap himself. “...then why did you speak with him?”
“It was all pleasantries,” Zethir scoffed.
Augustin blinked rapidly, but just as he was about to open his mouth, the clanking of metal could be heard approaching. All the mercenaries turned their heads, watching as Fernando and his troops walked toward them.
“Is this all of you?” Fernando frowned.
“No, sir. I believe there's another group,” Marco politely said, earning Fernando's gaze. Then, Fernando's topaz-like eyes started glowing, while Marco simply smiled at him.
“Hm, you're an elite,” Fernando nodded. “Very well, we shall wait for the other team. But first, you!” He pointed at the group of six.
“State your rank!”
“Y-yes, sir!” The six mercenaries shot up, their backs straight like arrows.
“Rank 5, sir,” the leader, the blonde man, spoke up. “The rest are rank 4s, sir!”
“Tsk, meat shields,” Fernando muttered, turning toward Zethir.
“Hm, another elite?” He asked, his eyes emitting a glow. Zethir looked at him, before frowning.
“I see,” Fernando nodded, turning to look at Augustin. “And you?!”
Augustin nearly melted on the spot. “H-his companion, sir!”
“Hm,” Fernando tutted, before sweeping a gaze over all of them.
“Twenty, with only two elites. The last team should have another elite,” Fernando said, crossing his arms. Just as he did, a whistle came from behind.
“Yo, yo~ Am I late?” There, a mercenary clad in full iron armor strolled toward them, a long, iron spear resting on his shoulder. He had lengthy, golden hair tied to a ponytail, and his eyes were a sapphire blue.
“Sorry ‘bout that. The name's Lance, a spearman. So, shall we get going now?” He said in a sing-song voice, his gait carefree.
Fernando’s face darkened, his eyes glowing while Lance chuckled at him. “You're alone?” He asked.
Lance flinched, looking behind him. “Strange, I'm pretty sure there's no one behind me.”
Fernando's hands tightened at his biceps, before he uncrossed his arms. “Noble! Since you came here, you are now a mercenary! Drop your arrogance before I—”
“Haaa, royals and their mighty temper,” Lance shook his head. “Worry not, mister O’ your majesty, his highness the… the crown prince, the emperor! King o’ all gods! I will not disobey your orders, my liege. So long as you give me money.”
The area fell silent, making Lance blink his sapphire eyes, looking around. “Hey? What happened?”
“Heh,” Zethir smirked, whispering to Augustin. “I like this guy.”
