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Creak—
Urich and the mercenaries followed the servant into the parlor.
“Ah, you’re here.”
Two men stood in the room. One was Count Havilond, and the other was the captain of the guards of the city.
Count Havilond was dressed in a red robe with golden embroidery with a ring glittering with gems of different colors on his finger.
The captain of the guards was blind in one eye. A deep scar ran across his blind eye and the other one scanned the mercenaries.
“Hey, Mr. Lord,” Urich said as he sat in front of Count Havilond. The wolfskin he had wrapped around himself made him look as fierce as a beast.
“I heard that your Urich’s Brotherhood are the most renowned mercenaries these days,” Count Havilond commented with a calm and low voice.
“I heard you have a job for us. That’s what we’re here for.”
Urich grabbed an apple that was on the table and bit off a mouthful.
“Do not be rude, mercenary. You are in the presence of our lord,” the captain of the guards said coldly. He looked as if he was ready to draw his sword at Urich at any moment.
“Count Havilond, you should get a new guard captain. This one’s very rude! Look at him frowning at me at our first meeting.”
Cling!
The captain unsheathed his sword halfway after hearing Urich’s words.
“You draw the rest of that sword, and you can say goodbye to your hand,” Urich warned the captain.
“That’s enough, Sir Setton!” Count Havilond scolded his captain. Setton tilted...
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