I, Viretta, Am Going to Hunt a Dragon

Chapter 47

Chapter 47

“How many are you?”

“Three men, two women. A total of five. Oh, there they are. That’s my group.”

Iola, Saffron, and Moslin entered one after another. Judging by their peeking around with looks of disappointment, they seemed to have checked other inns before arriving here.

Having left the wagon behind, the group appeared lightly equipped.

Fortunately, Iola’s expression was still bright. It seemed unlikely he would demand accountability by chopping off Viretta’s head or hand right here.

In contrast, Saffron wore an exceedingly gloomy and hostile expression. Moving with surprising swiftness for someone who usually looked so lethargic, he reached Viretta and Ranken, placing his hands firmly on their shoulders.

“Throwing a bomb and leaving me behind—quite the trick you’ve pulled... Ha, of course, you wouldn’t fear the grudge of a slave.”

His tone, dripping with menace, was akin to a ghost seeking revenge. The moment his hands touched her shoulders, goosebumps ran down Viretta’s spine.

“I-I was scared, you know? Left alone with Iola...”

But with him glancing up with tears welling in his eyes, there was no way to push him away or get angry.

“Oh, you’re overreacting. As if Iola would ever cut down an innocent—”

Just then, Iola’s sword plunged beside Viretta’s head.

His longsword sliced through a small bird that had been flying toward Viretta.

“What the...?”

The bird, having hit something and rebounded, fell to the floor bleeding.

Iola, who had instantly heightened everyone’s sense of danger, gracefully withdrew his sword. The tip of the longsword lightly tapped the ground as he moved.

The sight of the blood-stained blade sent Saffron and Ranken recoiling in shock. Even the other patrons in the inn murmured nervously at the sudden appearance of the sword.

“Wow, did you see that? He split the bird in one swing.”

Iola, after demonstrating his extraordinary swordsmanship, nonchalantly flicked the blood off the tip of his blade.

“I noticed on the way here that the local security seems to have fallen into complete disarray. There are far too many outsiders in the city.”

His ever-present charming smile shone brightly once more.

“It’s no wonder the Medleidge Company would need mercenaries. It must take a lot of people to settle things down at this scale.”

Saffron muttered darkly with a shadowed face, “He drew his sword even outside....”@@@@

“I took a moment to gather some information while going around the village, and it seems that as soon as you step into a slightly secluded area, thieves and bandits are rampant. But, of course, they can’t exactly prevent people from entering, which makes it all the more complicated.”

Iola’s actions, including drawing his sword in the city and the inn, caused no problems.

It was one of the most justified and sensible things he had done so far.

Of course, cutting the bird was unnecessary, but for a mercenary drawing a sword to ensure safety was only natural.

Compared to actions that would provoke a gang of thieves, this was nothing.

“...”

“...”

Yet the actions befitting a seasoned swordsman nudged the group further into an uneasy hill of fear.

Each of them had their own unresolved guilt concerning Iola, and the weight of it fanned the flames of their anxiety.

Viretta, for instance, had yet to explain anything about her supposed “beloved (vacant position).” That lingering issue tumbled uncomfortably in her thoughts.

“Excuse me, innkeeper,” Iola said politely. “Would it be permissible to keep my sword drawn inside the inn? Not that I distrust your establishment, but I am concerned for the safety of the young lady I am escorting.”

“Oh, uh, yes. As long as there’s no fighting inside, that’s fine. But, uh... we don’t have any vacant rooms right now. I was about to recommend another inn....”

“It’s like a live drama,” Ranken muttered, chewing thoughtfully.

As the verbal sparring escalated, Roberto leaned forward, his voice dropping further.

“For your information, I’m the guildmaster of the innkeepers’ association in this city.”

“Big deal. That shabby title is nothing compared to the young master on our side. An inn like this is beneath the son of the Duskfall Mercenary Corps.”

“Oh, is that so? Well, don’t worry—you won’t be staying here anyway. I’ll make sure of that. I’m sorry, but I must ask you and your group to leave.”

“What?!”

Water might as well have been dumped on Viretta and Ranken’s heads. Both stood up abruptly, stomping their feet in disbelief. Even Iola’s eyebrow twitched slightly at the sudden declaration.

“I refuse to let Moslin stay in my inn,” Roberto declared.

“Why?”

Viretta’s shock turned into outrage as she jumped up, her voice rising. This was utterly absurd.

“I’m sorry, but no inn in this city will offer you a room. As I said, I’m the guildmaster of the innkeepers’ association,” Roberto explained.

“You petty bastard!” Moslin snapped, swinging her staff angrily.

“Call it abuse of power if you like. You’re not setting foot in my inn—or any other, for that matter. Now, kindly leave!”

“Isn’t there some way to settle this with money?” Viretta tried, still clinging to her Medleidge tactic.

“Leave.”

Roberto’s hand stroked his beard as he delivered his verdict, the word final and unyielding.

Large, burly men who had been sitting in the corners of the inn rose and began herding the group toward the door.

As they were being ushered out, Ranken’s face twisted into a pained expression.

“This is so unfair....”

Break

Roberto’s authority as the guildmaster of the innkeepers’ association proved absolute.

In no time at all, Moslin and her companions found themselves blacklisted from every inn in the city.

It was a stunning turn of events, but thankfully, both Iola and Viretta remained unusually composed.

It was almost as if they had silently agreed that if one of them caused a problem, the others would behave. For now, they followed the rules without argument.

The real issue, however, was that they had no place to stay for the night.

“That scrawny bastard! I’m glad I don’t have to see his face anymore,” Moslin fumed, grinding her teeth as she swung her staff in frustration.

To her credit, this wasn’t entirely Moslin’s fault. Even Ranken sighed softly before speaking.

“You must’ve made some serious enemies over the years.”

“At my age, who doesn’t have a few people they don’t get along with?” Moslin retorted.

“What exactly was your relationship with him?”

Moslin, a battle mage who had roamed countless battlefields, was bound to have enemies anywhere she went. With a fearsome nickname like “The Lightning of the Rose War,” her past was undoubtedly stained with blood and grudges.

Ranken, a mercenary himself, felt his pulse quicken, anticipating a tale of war and strife.

“He’s my ex-boyfriend,” Moslin replied bluntly.

“...”

The stark truth left Ranken utterly speechless.

A storm of indescribable emotions welled up inside him, impossible to put into words.