Through Irene's brief description, Roger and Stine gained a general understanding of this mercenary group.
This was a newly risen mercenary group. Unlike those small mercenary bands that scraped by on odd jobs in border villages, the Golden Falcon Group's ranks were primarily composed of two types of people:
The first were the children of nobles who had no right of inheritance and chose to leave their families to make their own way. They brought their own equipment and connections; joining a mercenary group was less about making a living and more about continuing their family's military traditions in a different way.
The second were powerful Awakened who had already made a name for themselves in mercenary circles, drawn in by the lucrative terms offered by the Golden Falcon Group.
The group's most brilliant achievement occurred five years ago when they assisted Duke Annas of the north, successfully repelling a sizable beastkin raiding party despite being heavily outnumbered.
That battle made a name for the Golden Falcon Group among the northern nobility. In the years that followed, their contracts spread all the way from the north to the central regions.
Stine pondered for a moment before making his decision: they would make contact.
In any case, on this mountain overrun by goblins, any allied force was a valuable reinforcement.
His squad had just fought several tough battles, and the soldiers were exhausted. If they could coordinate with an experienced mercenary group, it would be a massive boost to their upcoming advance.
After marching a bit further, the Golden Falcon Group's camp came into view.
As Stine's group approached, the people in the camp looked up one after another.
As Stine led Roger and Irene into the camp, a warrior who had been sharpening a battleaxe by the campfire stood up.
Roger's gaze first fell upon the battleaxe in the warrior's hands. The blade was wide enough to serve as a shield, and the shaft was thicker than his forearm. Under the firelight, the steel patterns on the axe head resembled fine, rippling waves.
He shifted his gaze to the wielder's face, making a quick mental judgment.
And he was wrong.
The warrior had handsome, sharp features and stood a good head taller than Roger.
If not for the hair tied back behind her head and the breastplate that—despite its widened shoulders—still betrayed a different cut, Roger would have definitely classified her as a “somewhat handsome, burly man.”
“Artley Ulysses, Leader of the Golden Falcon Group,” the female warrior said, casually tossing her whetstone aside and planting the butt of her battleaxe on the ground.
Then her gaze swept past Stine to look at the squad behind him. “Are you Count Nigel's men? Or do you belong to one of his vassals?”
Stine performed a textbook knight's salute. “Knight Stine Bront, under the command of Baron Raymond. We are ordered to attack the goblin main nest. Having spotted your campfires nearby, we came to establish contact.”
“Then you're in luck. We just finished clearing out the goblin patrols in this area.” Artley tilted her head, gesturing for a man nearby who was wiping down a mace to come over.
The man was of average height and ordinary appearance. He grinned at the three of them as he walked over, his attitude far warmer than Artley's.
“Steinbeck, Deputy Leader,” he said, wiping his hands on the rag he had used for his mace before extending a hand to Stine. “We're all here on this miserable mountain to kill goblins, so there's no need for stiff formalities.”
Stine took the hand. The two shared a brief handshake before letting go.
“How are your casualties from the climb up?” Steinbeck asked, his smile fading.
“A few skirmishes. Casualties are within acceptable limits,” Stine replied honestly, neither downplaying their losses nor exaggerating their difficulties.
“The squad is still capable of fighting, but the soldiers' physical strength has been heavily depleted. If we could rest and reorganize here for a short while, it would greatly aid our upcoming advance.”
“Resting is fine,” Artley interjected, chinning toward the deeper part of the cave. “There's plenty of space inside, enough to accommodate your people. Water is to the west of the camp. Bring your own rations.”
“Thank you,” Stine said with a nod of gratitude before continuing, “Since your group is stationed here, you must have come up from the other side of the ridge. I wonder how much you know about the defenses of the goblin main nest?”
Artley tilted her head toward the campfire, gesturing for Stine and the other two to sit down and talk.
The group sat down on the rocks around the campfire. Steinbeck unclipped a leather waterskin from his waist and offered it, but Stine politely declined.
Only then did Artley speak. “We came up from the northern slope. A few days ago, we received a commission letter from Count Nigel, requesting us to support the main assault from the north.”
“It took us two days to cross the northern slope, clearing out quite a few patrols and several outposts along the way. We just arrived at this cave this afternoon and were preparing to send someone down to contact you when you found us yourselves.”
“How is the terrain on the northern slope?” Stine asked.
“Steeper than the southern slope, but the defenses are also weaker,” Artley replied.
“The goblins have concentrated most of their forces on the south, which is your main direction of attack, after all. The north only had scattered patrols and a few bunkers, which we've already cleared out.”
“From here onward, the mountain path narrows again, and there's only one way leading to the main nest entrance. Our scouts checked it out and saw heavy goblin defenses.”
After hearing Artley's description, Stine leaned forward slightly and pressed, “Have you scouted the distribution of their outer forces?”
“We have,” Steinbeck took over, pulling a folded piece of parchment from his breast pocket and spreading it out.
It was a simple hand-drawn map, with charcoal lines outlining the terrain near the mountain peak and several markings. He spread the map across a flat rock near the campfire, tapping the markings with his fingertip.
“Here is the main nest entrance. There is a row of wooden sentry towers on each side, manned by crossbowmen.”
“In front of the entrance is a buffer zone enclosed by sharpened wooden stakes, measuring over a hundred meters long. There are at least six to eight bunkers within this buffer zone, each guarded by an elite warrior.”
“The outer minions are on mobile patrols. Their density isn't high, but once there's any commotion, reinforcements from the main nest can pour out within minutes.”
“Did you see any cultists?” Roger suddenly spoke up, his first words since entering the cave.
Steinbeck's gaze shifted to him, his easygoing expression quickly returning.
“No, at least we didn't spot anyone other than goblins during our reconnaissance. But you're right, these green-skinned creatures certainly don't behave like wild beasts.”
He pushed the map slightly closer to Roger, as if inviting him to take a look.
“Their defensive layout is configured entirely according to human military standards. The placement of those outposts on the northern slope was also highly professional, positioned exactly to block our inevitable path, though we managed to bypass them. Without someone guiding them from behind, they couldn't have achieved this level of coordination on their own.”
Roger nodded, a judgment already forming in his mind.
Those cultists had vanished from the surface once the coalition approached the main nest, but that didn't mean they had withdrawn.
If the main force of the cultists hadn't left, they had to be hiding somewhere deeper than the main nest.
Furthermore, the conversation between Sargon and that mysterious man had revealed a key piece of information: there was someone behind them called “High Priestess Sephira” giving the orders.
Whether this person was currently in the mountains was the question most worth paying attention to.
“If we can confirm that the outskirts of the goblin main nest are indeed their most concentrated defensive position, I can report directly to the Baron upon my return.” Stine stood up, giving Artley a slight bow.
“Thank you for the intelligence. I will include your group's flanking maneuvers in my report to ensure the Count is aware that the Golden Falcon Group has reached its designated position.”
“Write the report however you like,” Artley waved her hand dismissively. “We're paid to do a job, not to claim credit.”
She paused for a moment, then added:
“But since your people have already reached the ridge, it's best to coordinate how we're going to fight the upcoming battle beforehand.”
“If the Count plans to use your forces for a frontal feint while we pinch them from the north, that's fine. But if he's just going to throw waves of conscripts at them, then frankly speaking, that won't work. The goblin defense line is not something that can be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.”
“You've already proven that much.”
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