Mercenary System: I can increase innate potential !-Chapter 75: Departure

He clenched his fists. Whatever happened, he was ready to face this uncertain future.

The timid light of dawn tinted the hills a golden hue. The time had come.

Today, he and a score of his men would head south, leaving behind the soldiers, the village and its inhabitants, as well as a large number of saber-toothed tigers.

Outside, activity was just beginning to pick up. The first mercenaries, their hair still in disarray, were starting to get ready, and villagers were coming and going between the rudimentary wooden houses.

Baron Irut’s well-organized soldiers were already up and training, led by Killian, who looked very serious.

He was standing shirtless.

Several menacing scars, some from Orac, could be seen on his torso.

But in this world, instead of being repulsive, they glorified Killian’s body. As if he looked more intimidating than he originally did.

Maxime nodded and waved to a few new mercenaries nearby.

The latter immediately understood the order, and quickly moved towards Andrew, Romuald, Laura, Ernest, Rodrigo, Terry, James, Piedro, Izo, Tena and his brothers, Charles, Henry, Ultia and 5 other powerful mercenaries, telling them to get ready to leave.

Meanwhile, Maxime headed for Killian.

"Killian," Maxime called as he approached.

The apprentice knight at the stage of great success turned his head and greeted him with a respectful nod.

"Maxime, up and about already?

"The world belongs to the men who get up early," Maxime replied with a half-smile.

Killian raised an eyebrow in surprise, then laughed lightly.

"I guess that’s true."

Maxime quickly switched to a more serious tone.

"I’m counting on you to look after the village in our absence. You’re now the most important bulwark against Baron Barthon if he decides to attack."

Killian nodded gravely.

"Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, Plouta won’t fall."

Maxime thanked him with a look, satisfied with this assurance.

He would have liked to take more men with him, but Killian alone wasn’t enough; he needed many men to help him in battle.

Given enough time, new recruits to the saber-toothed tigers will quickly acquire a physique comparable to that of an elite soldier.

Combined with the teachings of an apprentice knight like Killian, they would form a small but powerful elite army.

It was also the least Maxime could do - after all, he was paid to defend the village, not to leave just a few men here to go off and fight orcs.

Simultaneously, Andrew, looking serious despite the early hour, arrived at Maxime and Kilian’s side and handed them a cup of steaming tea.

"Ready to go?" asked Andrew, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

His eyes showed that he was thirsty for new adventures and challenges.

Maxime took the cup gratefully and nodded, while Killian refused with a shake of his head.

Andrew shrugged, showing that he didn’t care.

Seeing Laura arrive, he handed her the remaining cup of tea, still steaming.

Simultaneously, Maxime smiled at her in greeting, and she replied in kind.

"Thank you, Andrew."

Laura looked kindly at Andrew, but the latter seemed immune to her charm.

On the contrary, probably having fought against her in the former bandits’ base, he considered her a pair.

He also knew that, currently, no one but Maxime could beat her without risking his life.

Maxime glanced at Andrew.

"Yeah, everything’s ready, and you, is everything in order?"

Andrew nodded.

"The men who stay here have been briefed. Tena and Laura have checked the supplies, everything’s in place. As for those leaving with us, they’re ready."

Laura spoke up in turn, her expression serious.

"We’ve got twenty-four hours’ provisions for the trip, but the men know we can find something to hunt on the way if need be. No logistical problems to report."

Maxime smiled inwardly. They made a good team. Every detail was already thought out, anticipated.

"Good. We leave in an hour. Get the men ready," Maxime ordered as he finished his tea.

An hour later, the camp was abuzz with activity. Weapons carefully inspected and adjusted.

The group of mercenaries leaving with Maxime gathered in the center of the village, ready to go.

There was a palpable mix of excitement and nervousness among them.

Some were adjusting their protective gear, others checking their blades one last time.

Maxime took one last look at the 80 mercenaries remaining in Plouta.

He raised his hand and addressed them in a strong voice.

"I’m counting on you to protect this village! You know the orders. Hold out until we return, and make sure Barthon regrets it if he decides to come closer!"

"Yes, sir!"

The mercenaries were loyal, at least as long as they were paid, and Maxime had made sure that their wages would be paid, even in his absence.

In any case, he wasn’t worried: his talent was the best means of controlling his mercenaries.

No one could bear to lose the opportunity to become a powerful man.

This dream was all the more magnified when the individual had been weak all his life.

Maxime exchanged one last glance with the mercenaries accompanying him.

They all looked fierce and powerful, and so they were.

Even the weakest of them could compete, for a short time, with an apprentice knight at the entrance stage.

Then he turned south, to where the roads would take them.

"Forward!" he shouted loudly.

The twenty mercenaries set off, followed by the gaze of the villagers and mercenaries left behind.

Three days of walking followed, punctuated by discussions and the monotony of the journey. The group advanced at a good pace, crossing dense forests, peaceful valleys and winding rivers.

On this third day, as the sun declined over the horizon, Andrew and Charles walked side by side.

Everyone was talking except them.

After a while, it was Andrew who broke the silence.

"So, Charles, ready for your first real mission?" he asked in a husky voice, without taking his eyes off the road.

In the space of a few months, Andrew had grown in maturity and aura.

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Just by walking the way he did, some might think he’d been fighting all his life.

No one would guess that only a few months before, he’d been a simple villager who’d lost his family to bandits.

Charles straightened a little in his saddle, trying to hide the tension that knotted his shoulders. He knew he had talent, but being under Andrew’s gaze made him nervous.

"As much as possible." he replied in what he hoped was a confident tone.

"I’m not here to make up the numbers."

Andrew chuckled softly, a note of amused contempt in his voice.

"That’s what all the newbies say. Talent’s all well and good, but it won’t save your hide when a blade’s ready to slit your throat."

Charles glanced at Andrew, noticing the coldness in his eyes. He knew the man had far more courage than he could, it turns out, ever have.

"You don’t think I’ll last?" asked Charles, a hint of defiance in his voice.

Andrew shrugged, indifferent.

"It’s not for me to judge. You could be the son of an earl or just a poor fellow with a bit of luck, it doesn’t matter to me. What I want to see is how you react when you’ve got an enemy’s blood on your hands."

There was a tense silence. Charles understood the message behind these words. It wasn’t a question of talent or potential. Here, in this group of mercenaries, only the blood spilled in battle spoke for them.

Charles didn’t answer, but he knew that this mission was his trial by fire. And whatever happened, he would prove to Andrew, Maxime and himself that he deserved his place among them.

Further ahead, Romuald, who was walking close to Maxime, wanted to know more.

After all, only a few knew what was going to happen.

"Maxime, it’s already the3rd day, could you explain the situation in the south. Who are the nobles involved?

As their troop was small, everyone interrupted the ongoing discussions and concentrated on what was about to be said.

This information was vitally important, and everyone knew it.

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Maxime took a deep breath before answering, his eyes scanning the horizon as if gathering his thoughts.