Chapter 26: The Corrupt Priest and the Red Bear Mercenaries
Red Bear Mercenaries.
Red Bear Mercenaries.
"Th-then I'll wake the rest of the party while you prepare."
"That won't be necessary. I alone am sufficient. Let my companions sleep a while longer."
Sajita Forgon, leader of the Red Bear Mercenaries with over a hundred members, was a man who lived by instinct. This creed had saved his life countless times.
Born as the legitimate heir to a crumbling noble house, he inherited nothing from his parents except intact testicles and a robust physique. For this, he remained grateful—at least it ensured he could eat and shit without hindrance.
Sajita lost his mother at fourteen. Starvation. His father had frozen to death years prior.
Clutching the family seal handed to him by his dying mother, he abandoned the collapsing estate. Soon after, Sajita Forgon became a mercenary.
After years of scraping by in the gutters, he caught the eye of the Red Bear Mercenaries' former leader. Thus began his life as their newest recruit.
He possessed uncommon martial talent. No—to be precise, he belonged to that rare breed called genius.
Sajita chose spear and shield as his weapons. A man who valued his own survival above all else.
Fifteen years.
That's how long it took for the previous leader to succumb to mission-inflicted wounds, and for twenty-nine-year-old Sajita to assume command.
His ascension owed less to being the strongest (though he was) than to the Forgon blood in his veins. Noble lineage—being born to two pureblood aristocrats—proved invaluable in their trade.
Large mercenary groups like the Red Bears required lucrative contracts, often from nobles who preferred negotiating with their own kind. Thus, even when true power lay elsewhere, figurehead leaders were always bluebloods.
Sajita became captain not through merit, but because no other noble remained to handle negotiations.
Crash!
Sajita's fist slammed the undeserving desk as he snarled:
"Fucking bastards."
He'd sent them for early reconnaissance, yet they returned drunk and battered. Though a mercenary himself, their lack of discipline sickened him. Things never sank this low under the old captain.
His teeth ground loud enough to hear.
'This is all Pelgun's fault!'
When the previous leader died suddenly, power shifted to Deputy Pelgun. Adequate as second-in-command, the man proved too reckless, indulgent, and greedy for leadership. Under his "guidance," the Red Bears degenerated into a thuggish mob.
Sajita excelled in combat but lacked political acumen. To be blunt, years of solitary training left him without allies within the group.
Slumping into his makeshift barracks chair, Sajita contemplated their current mission.
This unnaturally peaceful winter ravaged their finances. Only he and the treasurer cared. Countless warnings to Pelgun met only dismissive laughter:
"Spring! When spring comes, everything sorts itself! Quit whining like tavern wenches! No winter contracts—that's normal! Why the fuss?"
Pelgun would then grab his coin purse and leave to fondle bar maids.
When their coffers neared collapse, 'Ileh'—connected to their former leader—offered a lucrative job: kidnap an unharmed silver-haired, golden-eyed woman. Though clearly from House Irmel, Pelgun accepted instantly.
Sajita swallowed his objections. Their financial ruin left no choice.
The client pinpointed her location astonishingly close to their camp. Sajita dispatched scouts, only for those drunken fools to get beaten and arrested by village guards.
Yet the gods smiled—through bribes and threats, one idiot returned claiming their assailant matched the target's description. While successful, unease gnawed at Sajita's gut.
"Haah... Something's wrong."
Since accepting this contract, sleep eluded him and appetite fled—just like before the old captain's death.
A mercenary yanked open the tent flap:
"Sajita! Some priest came alone! Pelgun says deal with it yourself!"
Though nominal leader, none used his title anymore. Sajita armed himself.
"Where is he? Not causing trouble, I hope? I warned you he's no ordinary—"
"LET GO! RELEASE ME NOW!!!!"
Screams and drawn blades erupted outside. Sajita burst from the tent to find a white-robed priest smiling gently while hoisting a mercenary by the face.
"Sheathe weapons! NOW!" Sajita roared, recognizing the legendary priest who opposed evil gods. "Are you Marnak?"
The priest nodded. Sajita gestured at the dangling mercenary:
"Would you release him, Priest Marnak?"
With a glance, Marnak dropped the man. When the mercenary began shouting, Sajita's kick silenced him.
Observing Marnak—black hair common in the north, but eyes like twin voids—Sajita shuddered. Those pitch-black orbs momentarily flickered with sinister jade light.
Marnak spoke first:
"I wish to meet your captain."
"I am Sajita, leader of the Red Bear Mercenaries."
"Excellent." Marnak's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Your men mentioned business with my companion. Let's discuss."
Sajita's diplomatic facade emerged:
"Please wait in my tent. I'll bring refreshments."
As Marnak entered, Sajita hissed orders:
"Ready the archers."
Twenty skilled bowmen—last remnant of the Red Bears' glory days. 'Even a legendary priest can't withstand twenty arrows.'
"Where's Pelgun?"
"Woke briefly, then passed out drunk again."
"Drag him here. Explain everything."
"Why bother? You handle it. It's just one man."
"Do it."
In the tent, Marnak declined wine. Sajita drained his cup to prove it safe.
Marnak's smile sharpened:
"I hear you sought us over yesterday's... incident."
Before Sajita could respond, the tent flap flew open. Pelgun stumbled in, reeking of alcohol:
"Priest! Hand over the silver-haired wench if you want to live past—"
Schlick!
Pelgun's severed arm thumped to the floor. As he screamed, Sajita froze—Marnak's blade already at the deputy's throat.
"Who hired you?" Marnak inquired calmly.
"HELP ME, SAJITA!"
Sajita drew spear and shield, but Marnak's obsidian gaze petrified him. Behind, mercenaries charged in—only to fall headless.
Clutching his weapons, Sajita whispered:
"Fuck…”
