Arthur raised an eyebrow in surprise as he pondered the information he had just heard.
"If they were suspected of being thieves, how did they manage to enter the city? Wasn't there any background investigation?"
he asked, trying to understand the situation.
Garen, staring tensely at his documents, replied, "Despite their bad reputation, they are not entirely useless. All of them have extensive experience in combat and evading pursuit, and some may even hold the rank of a trainee knight."
"As for their leader, Marks, he possesses exceptional combat skills—he even proved himself as an Iron Knight in the last fierce battle."
Garen then pointed out the main issue in dealing with these men: "The problem is that they didn't enter the city at full strength. Only a few of them came in to resupply. Viscount Rosson has ordered close surveillance on them to prevent any potential threat to the city's security. Measures have also been taken to avoid arresting them outright, as that could provoke chaos in the surrounding villages under the region's control in retaliation for their captured comrades."
Arthur listened attentively, unsurprised by Viscount Rosson's approach.
While this society resembled medieval administrative systems, outright oppression of non-nobles was not always the most effective option.
This was a world dominated by extraordinary individuals, and there was always the risk that someone with exceptional abilities could emerge—someone who might even threaten the nobility themselves if not handled carefully.
Arthur thought to himself,
Eliminating such individuals isn't impossible. Even the strongest warriors, if they operate alone or in small groups, can have their power neutralized. The key is identifying their weaknesses—something that always exists, no matter how strong they are.
But he hesitated for a moment, realizing it wasn't that simple. For nobles, the cost of action had to be considered first. Eliminating a powerful individual could be expensive, especially if they possessed extraordinary combat abilities.
Arthur reflected on this idea.
Nobles have land, family, and interests to protect, whereas lone individuals with supernatural abilities often have nothing but their power.
Getting rid of them might be difficult, but with a small, organized army, they could be surrounded and weakened.
Of course, this was because nobles, unlike extraordinary individuals, had land, families, and financial obligations to consider.
If you provoke a true king or great noble, they wouldn't hesitate to pay the necessary price to eliminate even a Golden Knight.
After all, he is still human. As long as you gather the right battalion or a small army, you can corner him to death.
A faint smile formed at the corner of Arthur's lips as a clear idea began to take shape in his mind.
"This is exactly what I need… "he muttered under his breath before looking at Garen again and asking:
"Where are they staying now?"
Garen was surprised by the question but quickly grasped its intent and responded cautiously,
"Lord Arthur, I don't think trying to recruit this group for the campaign is a good idea.
Their reputation is terrible—not because they fear dangerous missions, but because they often abandon contracts halfway through.
There's even a recent rumor that they betrayed one of their clients, secretly killed him, robbed him, and then blamed an unknown enemy."
Arthur showed no hesitation. Instead, he smiled confidently and said, "Don't worry, Garen. I have a plan to negotiate and persuade them."
Inside, however, a cold thought crossed his mind:
And if negotiations fail… there's always Plan B. In the end, they are nothing more than former killers and thieves… Sometimes, the dead are more useful than the living.
After a brief silence, Garen replied, "They're staying at the 'Black Raven' inn near the eastern market. It's said that they're looking for a good contract, but most nobles hesitate to hire them openly."
Garen didn't say much more, but he had already decided to report the situation to Viscount Rosson immediately if anything happened.
Arthur nodded, thinking, That makes things easier... If no one has been dealing with them recently, it will be simple to direct them toward my plans.
He rose from his seat and gestured for Garen to prepare.
"Alright, no need to delay. We'll visit them now and arrange a meeting with this 'One-Eyed Wolf' as soon as possible."
He paused for a moment, gazing out the window.
The sun had risen in the sky, though it had not yet reached its peak, casting a warm golden light over the castle and city without being scorching.
Below, in the courtyard, soldiers carried out their morning drills, while servants and craftsmen moved between buildings, busy with their daily tasks.
Before leaving, Arthur tightened the strap of his sword belt and pulled his cloak securely over his shoulders.
He didn't want to draw unnecessary attention, though he knew that any movement within the eastern market would inevitably attract some interest.
"The game begins now..."
he muttered to himself with a cold smile before striding toward the main gate with unwavering steps.
…
When Arthur left the castle, he didn't have to walk far to reach the city, as the two were fused together, breathing as one.
The castle, with its towering walls and imposing spires, stood atop a hill overlooking the city, encircling it from all sides like a silent guardian watching over every movement below.
The city stretched from the foot of the hill, its tightly packed buildings clinging to the castle as if relying on it for protection and stability.
As Arthur passed through the massive stone gate that separated the castle from the city, he felt a change in the atmosphere.
The air inside the castle was cool and calm, carrying with it the scent of ancient stone and history.
In contrast, the city was beginning to warm under the rising sun, and the bustling life of the day started to emerge in all its noise and colors.
The cobblestone streets, uneven and winding, stretched out before him, crowded with people starting their day with energy and determination.
Arthur walked alongside Garen and three of his soldiers through the narrow alleys, heading toward the eastern market.
The city was alive with activity: vendors calling out their wares, the clanging of hammers on iron ringing from nearby blacksmith workshops.
The aroma of freshly baked bread mixed with the scents of spices and fragrant oils filled the air, adding a touch of vitality and vibrancy to the surroundings.
But the farther they moved from the main market, the more the noise gradually subsided.
Some side passages grew quieter, where small groups of men gathered in shadowy corners, speaking in low voices and casting scrutinizing glances at passersby.
These parts of the city were less bright, as if they kept their secrets hidden from the prying eyes of the public.
As they approached "The Black Raven," Arthur felt another shift in the atmosphere. The tavern was located in a dark corner of the city, far from the noise and activity.
The old wooden building seemed as though it no longer belonged to the city itself.
Its weathered façade and half-shuttered windows, covered with aged wooden planks, gave the impression that this place neither welcomed light nor uninvited guests.
The heavy door opened and closed silently, as though those entering and leaving preferred not to draw attention.
Arthur paused for a moment in front of the door, taking in the sight of the place.
He took a deep breath, then pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside.
The inn was an old wooden structure, its façade slightly eroded, and its windows half-shuttered with aged planks, as if light wasn't welcome here.
The heavy door opened and closed intermittently, barely making a sound, as though those entering and exiting preferred to avoid drawing attention.
The inn served as a refuge for fugitives from the law, former soldiers who had lost everything, and criminals who found no shelter except among their kind.
Some men cast sharp glances at the newcomers, while others ignored them and returned to their drinks and heated discussions.
Arthur showed no sign of discomfort as he walked in with confident steps.
On the contrary, he seemed to belong to this place, despite his clean attire compared to the rest of the patrons.
Garen, on the other hand, was more cautious, his eyes scanning the surroundings as if expecting someone to pounce on them at any moment.
In the corner of the inn, a massive man sat with one leg crossed over the other, holding a half-empty metal cup in his hand.
His face was harsh, his right eye staring sharply while the other was covered by a black cloth.
A long scar ran from his brow to his cheek, adding to his intimidating presence.
He needed no introduction—everyone in the tavern knew that this man was Samuel, the vice commander of the One-Eyed Wolf mercenaries.
Despite being engrossed in his drink, Samuel was not oblivious to the new arrivals.
However, he didn't move. Instead, he simply raised his gruff voice without even looking at them:
"I don't like strangers walking into my place uninvited.
If you don't have a good reason to be here, you'd best leave before you become part of the floor."
His words were no empty threat. The dark stains on the floor were not just spilled ale—they were remnants of blood, some of which had not yet fully dried.
It was clear that this tavern had witnessed brutal fights, and those who crossed the line here faced swift and merciless consequences.
Garen paused for a moment, assessing the situation. But to his surprise, Arthur stepped forward without hesitation.
He pulled out a worn wooden chair and sat in front of Samuel as if this were a formal meeting rather than a den of dangerous mercenaries.
Resting his elbow on the table, he cast a cold glance at Samuel before speaking in a calm yet firm tone:
"I'm here for a deal, and I believe you'll want to hear it."
A brief silence filled the room before Samuel slightly lifted his head, scrutinizing Arthur as if seeing him for the first time. Then, he let out a short, mocking laugh before saying:
"What a bold little brat… Tell me, noble boy, what do you have to offer us?"
Samuel's voice dripped with disdain. Arthur's attire, along with the knight at his side, marked him as someone of considerable status.
But to Samuel and the One-Eyed Wolf mercenaries, only Viscount Rosson Werner was worth fearing in this region.
Even so, Samuel was not the type to reject a deal before hearing its terms first.
Before Arthur could respond, one of the mercenaries sitting nearby suddenly moved.
He was a bald man with scars covering his arms, and he reached for Arthur's pocket, as if testing his reaction.
But in the blink of an eye, without even turning his head, Arthur grabbed the man's wrist in an iron grip.
He squeezed tightly, causing the veins to bulge under the man's skin, before twisting it at a sharp angle.
"A bad move," Arthur said in a cold voice as the man let out a short cry of pain. He then released him abruptly, letting him collapse to the ground, clutching his aching wrist.
The other mercenaries exchanged glances—some looked entertained by the scene, while others began watching Arthur with greater interest.
Even Samuel, who had initially seemed indifferent, raised his lone eyebrow slightly, as if reevaluating the boy before him.
"Well..." Samuel said with a sly smile, tapping his fingers on the table.
"Maybe you do have some worth. But that alone isn't enough to convince me to listen."
Arthur, still as composed as ever, calmly reached into his inner pocket, pulled out a small leather pouch, and tossed it onto the table.
The ringing of gold coins against the wood made every eye in the inn turn toward them.
A faint smile crossed Arthur's lips as he said:
"I have an offer that might be more suitable for you and your crew."