Chapter 275: Act 42 – Silver Mine (Part 3) (First Update, Asking for Support)
At the entrance of the mine, a bustling crowd gathered, composed of workers and adventurers, all entering the mine in an orderly manner under the watchful eyes of a squad of cavalry. To speed things up, the crowd formed three lines.
Brendel glanced at the map in his hand, silently memorizing the terrain and markings before folding the parchment and placing it inside his coat. He lifted his head to look at the line ahead, noticing that over twenty mercenaries had successfully mixed in, as the vigilance of the patrolling cavalry at the entrance wasn’t particularly high.
This was probably due to Schafflund experiencing peace for too long. Even though Duke Toniger occasionally dealt with marauder groups, these desperate men seldom dared to venture deep into the mine. On one hand, it was due to Count Rendener’s reputation, and on the other, it was simply not worth the risk.
Brendel’s gaze fell upon the lush forest, where Xi, Medisa, and Juliette might have already slipped in. The weakest among them was at least at the silver rank, so it wouldn’t be difficult to evade the soldiers’ attention from the tower; meanwhile, Romaine stayed behind in Schafflund, and with two Holy Angels protecting him, there was little to worry about.
Then, Brendel heard the cavalry ahead shouting, “Next!” The voice carried a strong regional accent, and he knew it was his turn. He quickly lowered his head and moved forward, initially expecting at least a minimal check for appearances, but to his surprise, the soldier wearing a gleaming silver spiked helmet merely swept his gaze over the crowd, saw no one with weapons, and let him pass.
“If I had known it would be this easy, perhaps Juliette and the others could have disguised themselves as men to sneak in,” Brendel couldn’t help but think while shaking his head. “But if that’s the case, the vigilance of that golden-ranked swordsman isn’t as high as one would expect—”
This was indeed good news.
Once past the checkpoint, the surveillance eased considerably. Brendel looked around and quickly identified the disguised mercenaries among the crowd—though in reality, “disguised” simply meant they were unarmed—still, he didn’t recklessly approach them to regroup with his subordinates.
Though adventurers often traveled in groups, the twenty of them together would certainly attract suspicion.
Moreover, they all had means to contact each other, so there was no rush.
Brendel had completed various tasks in the Amber Sword, but he had never experienced anything like infiltrating the enemy’s territory in disguise. It was both tense and oddly thrilling; but just thinking about how he now possessed the strength of a gold-ranked individual calmed him, albeit subconsciously.
Indeed, in the past, during the game, it was a place where gold was as common as dirt and resources were abundant.
But for now, it was still merely the end of a year filled with flowers and summer leaves. The Black Rose War, which had just ignited turmoil across the land, saw very few under twenty years of age possessing such strength at gold rank.
Brendel turned to the side, quietly observing the terrain, treating it as appreciating the scenery. There was only a narrow path winding through the forest between Schafflund and the mines—however, walking along this path, his eyes occasionally pierced through the trees halfway up the hillside, allowing him to see Graham’s Mountain stretching towards Duke Toniger.
It resembled deep blue lines drawn with watercolor on a cyan canvas, where trees appeared as mottled ink blots splattered across the hills.
Truly a sight to behold—
He raised his hand to observe the unfamiliar patterns growing on his palm, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of disorientation. This journey felt like a long one, but looking back, it had only been a few months.
It seemed like just yesterday that he recalled being that penniless guy. Yet in these short months, he gained companions, acquired reliable strength, gained subordinates, and even obtained his own territory—everything was unfolding as he had believed, step by step, taking control of the foreseeable future.
Until he could change the unknown fate between this ancient kingdom and himself; the great ship had begun to turn, seemingly no longer sailing into the darkness but also catching a glimmer of light.
“Oh, if only the senior sister knew all of this.” Brendel smiled inwardly.
But a peculiar sight passing by interrupted his thoughts; he noticed a corner of a watchtower peeking through the dense tree canopy. He saw soldiers with gleaming spiked helmets on watch, and further away, every hill had such watchtowers.
“Compared to the lax attitude of the cavalry outside, the defensive layout here is tight,” Brendel thought, confirming the locations of those watchtowers with the map in his mind, realizing that the adventurers hadn’t lied to him.
That map had cost three thousand Tor, but so far, it seemed worth the price.
Brendel silently observed the distance, mentally reconstructing the surrounding terrain. Just then, while fully engrossed, he felt someone bump into him from behind. He turned to see a young boy pass by him.
The boy, likely not expecting to collide with someone—or thinking of Brendel as merely a young man little older than himself—was taken aback by the sudden impact, feeling as though he had bumped into a mountain. The force nearly sent him staggering to the side.
The boy staggered forward a few steps before regaining his balance, pressing his palm to his chest to catch his breath, clearly startled; however, he soon lifted his head and looked at Brendel, surprised.
Yet this surprise quickly transformed into an apology. “Sorry.” The boy suddenly realized his mistake, feeling a bit embarrassed as he spoke.
Brendel observed the boy—he wore a common adventurer’s outfit, made of leather; though it had no outstanding features, it was durable enough—but the appearance was still reasonably presentable.
“Since you said sorry, then give me back my things.” After a pause, Brendel replied.
He had seen plenty of pickpockets in the Amber Sword. Back in the game, he could catch such a guy even without these skills, not to mention now that he was a genuine golden swordsman.
With this body possessing the power of a gold swordsman, it was significantly easier to utilize than achieving this level via the game system.
The moment Brendel spoke, the young boy’s expression shifted from apology to astonishment, but he quickly smiled: “You noticed? Impressive!” When the boy smiled, he revealed a mouthful of snow-white teeth, and rather than deny being caught, he cheerfully pulled out a pouch from under his clothes.
That was exactly Brendel’s money pouch.
“It’s fine.” Brendel took the pouch and said, “Just remember next time to be lighter with your hands, and also,” he added seriously, “choose your targets wisely!”
The boy nodded vigorously, his curiosity piqued: “Are you an adventurer? You don’t look like it! You’re from outside, right? But you seem to understand our rules quite well.”
He shook his head again: “But saying you have to pick good sheep, I totally agree. But this time we didn’t expect someone so young to be so strong; I feel like your reflexes are much quicker than Mahler’s! That guy loves to boast—by the way, where are you from?”
Brendel wasn’t familiar with and didn’t care to know who Mahler was. The boy’s familiarity was a bit off-putting to him. He thought for a moment and replied, “I’ve been to many places; in fact, the rules of thieves’ guilds are generally similar at various locations. But since you returned my money, I don’t want to cause a scene; no one wants to offend a whole group for no reason…”
He spoke from experience; such wisdom, likely echoed by any seasoned adventurer well-versed in the current Wande, coming from a young man sounded rather odd.
“Moreover, people like you are quite troublesome,” Brendel concluded.
The boy seemed unfazed or even pleased, as if Brendel were praising him. After listening to Brendel, he showed curiosity: “You said you’ve been to many places, that can’t be true; you look so young!”
Brendel shook his head, smiling without replying.
Yet this only made the boy more interested; he simply followed Brendel while retreating, saying, “I’m Joeka, what about you?”
But this question went unanswered by Brendel. The boy, not minding, placed his hands behind his head, asked enthusiastically, “Is it true what you said, that we’re like the thieves’ guild? What’s a thieves’ guild like?”
Brendel glanced at him, responding, “They do similar things to you.”
The boy raised an eyebrow: “I heard there’s going to be a war outside, is that true?”
Brendel felt a bit annoyed, thinking, “You really take me for an expert, huh?” He pondered a moment before responding, “Are you from here? Why are you so interested in things outside?”
From his accent, it was clear the boy was local.
However, this time the boy mysteriously grinned and said, “It’s nothing; just wanted to ask. I won’t bother you anymore; we’ll chat another time—”
As he spoke, he stepped back and turned, disappearing into the crowd.
But Brendel’s perception was sharp; he turned to see the boy weave into the crowd and join a group of others around his age. He thought for a moment, concentrating to listen to their conversation:
“I slipped up; that guy is quite strong!” the first boy spoke.
“Hey, how strong can a young guy like that be? I could still pinch a few coins from those adventurers in town; maybe you’re just incompetent, Joeka,” a second voice chuckled, poking fun.
“You can try! Mahler,” the boy shot back.
…
(PS. Not asking for support; it seems there’s no support forthcoming… (To be continued, to know how the story continues, please log in, for more chapters, support the author, support legitimate reading!)
