Chapter 583 - 583 You Ready To Head Out?

583 You Ready To Head Out?

“So, what info do you got for us?” Marsel asked, activating a ring to form a silent formation.

Tranton sighed, “It seems they’ve captured the Mottz Patriarch’s wife. And I believe it considering the state of his home and how he was acting. He told me with this…”

Both Freele and Trantor were startled to see that piece of paper but it cleared up a lot of their doubts about the visit to the patriarch.

Seeing the slit of paper, Marsel nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me, not with Blood Moon on the job. For an important job like this, they won’t care about the mess they leave behind so long as they get their target. Did you at least figure out who we’re dealing with?”

“I only had a few seconds to speak with the patriarch in a silent formation without risking his wife’s life. But he did say that there were two elders and two mid-perennials,” Tranton answered.

Astonished, Marsel whistled, “Wow… That’s one more perennial than we had suspected. Which means–”

“They snuck another one in,” Tranton sighed, blaming himself.

But Marsel continued, “Not necessarily. This city’s pretty easy to sneak into. I bet the other one’s been laying low for a while, likely scoping the whole city so they could plan the strike before the others arrived. So it’s a good thing we’re acting now.”

“Wait, if his wife is in danger, then what can we do without risking her?” Trantor asked from the side.

.....

Shaking his head, Marsel replied, “Nothing. To be honest, there’s a chance that the wife is already dead.”

While the others from the task force were unfazed by the comment, the Forells were either floored or aghast.

“It’s easier to keep a corpse quiet, it won’t try to escape, and you don’t need to feed it or let it take a shit,” reasoned Marsel. “Hell, you could store a corpse in a void ring and the victim’s family wouldn’t be any wiser. Blood Moon has done it before, so they’ll do it again. If I had to bet money on it, I’d guess she died within an hour of being captured since they’ve brought out some of their best men for the job.”

Tranton could feel the pressure sinking in, especially with his son and daughter-in-law beside him. “And you’re certain this will all work out?”

“It might as well,” Marsel chuckled. “The boss was the one presenting it to us and finalizing everything. And I can’t wait to skin a blood moon bastard alive!”

“Yeah!” Opal shouted while leaning her elbow on her husband’s shoulder and squeezing her fist tight. “They’ll finally get what’s coming to them!”

Sighing, Tranton asked, “Okay. So what’s the plan?”

“All you need to do is move along with what that drake told you,” Marsel answered. “So let’s load up and roll out!”

*********

Forell City’s main gate opened up into a wide, open area. It was large enough for drawn wagons and carriages to pull a complete circle, and vast enough for a few vendors to pop up near the sides.

The main road was a straight shot out of the gate. And coming down the main road was Reuben Mottz and a band of mercenaries in varying outfits. Some of them were more ostentatious with vibrant colored clothes or armor. Others were much more discreet, wearing cloaks to conceal themselves and their gear.

Reuben waved when he spotted the territory leader standing beside a cargo wagon drawn by two huge stallions.

“Don’t mind the wagon,” Tranton remarked with a smile. He threw the leather tarp aside to reveal what was inside. “It’s just some spare weapons, equipment, first aid, and something special.”

As Tranton pounded a sealed crate it sounded like dozens of fist-sized marbles were clanging around.

“In case we need them for serious injuries or quick recoveries, we’ve brought along a lot of extra cores the city has on hand,” explained Tranton.

Reuben wasn’t sure how to feel for a split second. It was one thing to set up a sting operation, but it was another to go off on a real hunting trip. But Reuben was in too deep already and could only hope that the territory leader truly was faking the gig. Otherwise, they would both wind up dead.

Tranton moved on to introduce the few people he had by the wagon. “You already know my son and his wife. You also know Fulkar, who’ll be tagging along for the experience since he’s close to ascending. Between them three and your men, I’m sure we can make a clean march to the den without tiring out the perennials.”

“True, true. That will help this go much smoother than expected,” Reuben said. “Also, allow me to introduce our new chief of staff over at the mercenary guild. This is Dollon, a peak-elder with plenty of time left to push for perennial. I got lucky to recruit him.”

From beside Reuben, a short, stocky man held out his hand. His black hair was short and his eyes were sharp. “It’s an honor to meet someone as powerful and influential as yourself, Leader Tranton.”

“There’s no need for unnecessary praise. I’ve still got a lot to learn and have a lot of training ahead of me,” Tranton replied with a chuckle and amiable smile, remembering that he hadn’t told Reuben about suspecting that very man. “I hope you’re as capable as he says. You’ll make a great addition to the city, in that case.”

“As for the others,” Reuben stated, “they’re all we had on hand, but I’m sure this is plenty for the task.”

Stepping up to the cart, Dollon inspected it and the cargo. “Why bring a wagon to a hunt?”

“For the wounded,” answered Tranton. “Rings can carry gear, but this can give everyone access to it when they need it. And though we can store corpses in a void ring, we can’t store the injured. So instead of camping in the heart of the Taltin Mountains, we’ll cart the wounded away and camp in a safer area.”

Nodding, Dollon accepted the explanation while knocking on the various crates. “I see. You’re more kind and thoughtful than I’d heard about.”

“I try when I can. Now, are you all ready to set off?” Tranton asked while Trantor and Freele sat in front of the wagon.

Nodding to all of his men, Reuben gave Tranton two thumbs up. “Let’s get going! The sooner we leave, the sooner we return!”

“I hear that,” chuckled Tranton, just as eager to get this over with.

“WAIT!”

Just as Trantor took the reigns and got the horses going, a shrewd, old voice cried out from a nearby alley. A stumbling old man with a hack job for a beard and a mess of white hair hobbled closer to the party of mercenaries. He wore a short, open robe as a shirt along with loose, thigh-high shorts. There were no rings or accessories on his person at all, apart from an enormous gourd slung around his shoulder with some kind of booze sloshing around inside of it. Mud, spit, and booze were smeared into his poorly cut beard and ruffled hair, causing most of the group to wince at the man’s unsightly smell and appearance.

“Wait!” the man shouted while rushing over as fast as his crooked legs would carry him. “I need to go to Taltin too! Take me and I’ll pay for the voyage!”

“Please, there’s no reason to bring such filth along for the ride,” Dollon replied. “Get going. There’s no place for you here.”

“Please! Pretty please! Oh! Territory Leader!!” the old man dropped to his knees and begged. He scrambled to grab a void ring out of his pocket. “See! I can pay! Really! Have some first!”

A sack of gold dropped to Tranton’s feet. Gold spilled out of the top, surprising everyone from the amount alone.

“See! Take it! I’ll pay, just please take me with you! I’m an herbalist, a humble merchant. I heard Taltin’s got good shit, so I’m here to get some!” the drunken old man crawled up to Tranton’s feet and grabbed his pants to beg further.

Dollon smiled and lifted the full sack of gold. Seeing that it was truly full and held well over two hundred gold, Dollon turned to the territory leader. “I won’t mind, so long as he stays on the cart and away from the men. Shall we split the payment?”

Wanting to scoff, Tranton just nodded. “Very well. He’ll have passage but can only gather herbs while we’re on break. And if you ask to stop anywhere that we aren’t going, then you’re walking back.”

“Oh! Thank you, gracious leader!” the old drunk cried out, kissing Tranton’s shoe in the process.

Stepping away from the drunk, Tranton pointed at the cart. “Get on. If you’re not on the wagon in the next minute, we’re leaving you behind and keeping your deposit.”

Dollon laughed while storing half the gold in his void ring. Then, he passed the sack to Tranton, saying, “I pity the fool. A drunk without cultivation and he thinks he can gather enough herbs to cover the cost of protection? I guess we will have some entertainment along the way.”