Taitnt and the two captains inspect the bodies, casting peculiar gnces at Henwell. They can tell that half of these people were taken down with precision strikes while unguarded. The rest were killed in direct combat. From their experience, at least six of the deceased held the rank of knight.
Even though they discern a lot, the trio isn't the type to pry. They're not greenhorns anymore—everyone has their secrets. Moreover, they don't believe Henwell took down all these men alone. He likely had assistance that remained unseen.
These twenty-plus assassins, in the confines of the valley, could have inflicted significant harm on Arius's group. What they don't realize is that these attackers came equipped with heavy crossbows, intending a massacre. Henwell hid the crossbows, and the bodies, along with their weapons and armor, need to be concealed as well. Henwell pns to have a merchant caravan come ter to retrieve the items.
Arius wraps an arm around Henwell's shoulder. "Henwell, you've saved my life again. But this time, we can fight side by side!"
Henwell shakes his head. "I won't rejoin the group. I'll scout ahead. Alone, I'm less noticeable and can detect more."
Arius pauses, "Henwell, once again you're putting yourself in harm's way for me."
Henwell smiles, "We're brothers; it's my duty. Anyway, it's getting te. I wanted to meet you all to warn you—someone's getting restless and might make a move. I'll clear the big threats ahead, but the smaller assassinations might slip past me. So, stay vigint!"
After giving some final instructions, Henwell returns to the base of the mountain and picks up his war spear. Taitnt comments, "That's a fine weapon!"
The war spear, standing four meters tall with a half-meter bde, is twice as wide as the shaft. It's forged entirely from Bloodsteel, giving it exceptional toughness and strength that ordinary steel can't match.
However, the war spear is also incredibly heavy, weighing over two hundred pounds, and only someone with Henwell's current strength can wield it effectively. Even Taitnt would struggle to maneuver such a heavy weapon.
The three seasoned knights look at the tall young man, standing over six feet, with growing admiration. They understand that having someone like Henwell, who is both steady and fiercely capable, scouting ahead is a substantial boost to the entire group's safety.
Arius clearly recognizes this advantage too, which is why he doesn't try to persuade Henwell to stay. Henwell uses his war spear to vault gracefully onto his horse. With a wave from Arius, he heads toward the valley's other exit.
Henwell's horse, a gift from the duke, is said to carry the bloodline of extraordinary creatures, bred by bloodline sorcerers to be a top-tier steed. This elite horse, a luxury only great nobles can afford, excels in size, load capacity, endurance for long journeys, and explosive power during charges—qualities that surpass ordinary horses.
Henwell is quite fond of this magnificent horse and has given it a fitting name: Night Charger.
Ahead, Henwell has two more horses along with the ones seized from the assassins, all stabled in a nearby town. In preparation, he has procured a four-wheeled cart and bought four sturdy draft horses to pull it. The cart is loaded with various goods, mainly to disguise his true identity. After all, Henwell's war spear is quite conspicuous, and he can't wear his armor all the time.
Once in town, Henwell disguises the war spear as a fgpole on the cart. His armor and heavy bow are hidden inside. The captured horses are stabled at an inn, awaiting collection by a merchant caravan.
After leaving the town, Henwell changes his appearance to look as different as possible. He wears faded leather armor and carries a simple bow and arrows on his horse, keeping only the Twilight Greatsword by his side. With this transformation, Henwell now appears as a small-time merchant escorting goods.
Upon reaching the next town, Henwell confirms there's no trouble and leaves markers for the group following behind. He then purchases two serfs to accompany him. These serfs, around fifteen or sixteen years old, hail from the Kingdom of Ika. After the War of the Six Kings, they were sold into svery in the Kingdom of Billie. They have no names, as ten years of servitude have made them forget—or fear to remember—their original identities.
Henwell decides to give the two youths new names: Ade and Harvey. Ade is slightly older, while Harvey is more reserved. Both are frail, their sunken eyes and gaunt appearance a testament to years of malnutrition. However, Henwell can tell from their bones and teeth that they are no older than sixteen.
Henwell chooses them partly because he needs people who haven't seen much of the world and partly out of pity, as they share a common origin with him. The two are eager workers, taking on tasks without Henwell needing to lift a finger. Initially, they don't even dare to ride on the cart, opting instead to run alongside it, pushing themselves to keep up. The whip marks on their bodies remind them that, as serfs, they aren't supposed to enjoy such comforts.
Watching them, Henwell reflects on his own fortune. He survived infancy, was born into a middle-css family that provided him with an education, and had the opportunity to train at a knight's estate. During the war, he met Kavize, who, despite not being a good person, ensured Henwell's survival. Later, he encountered Fabio, who treated him well enough. Through various trials and his own efforts and strategies, Henwell acknowledges that luck has pyed a part in his journey.
Today, something in the chat group underscores his sense of fortune. One member, who has never spoken, disappears from the group—likely removes because he has perished in another world. Although the system give no notification, everyone in the group understands the grim reality.
After a long silence, someone speaks up: "To our fallen brother!" "To the brother we never met!" "To our brother!" Henwell stands, takes a swig from his fsk on Night Charger, and murmurs softly, "To our brother! And to myself!"