Chapter 8
The next day, Riftan took a relaxing rest until noon and only went outside when he couldn't beat Samon's pestering anymore.
"All spots for mercenaries are filled in for the expedition. We're leaving for Soron Valley in three days. There's no time to spare."
Riftan disheveled the hair behind his head and cursed.
Three days. That's not much time to prepare and buy equipment, let alone rest.
He just swallowed what he wanted to say and went out of his room right away to prepare. To mercenaries, the down payment equated to living. To turn around from an expedition that had already been initially accepted would require a penalty of a hundred and thirty percent of the down payment. Riftan rubbed his neck and let out a long sigh.
"Who else decided to participate aside from me?"
"Zachary, Beger, Gault, Gerris..."
Samon's list of names were of useless men. Riftan gritted his teeth. That must be the reason why Samon was so persistent in recruiting him. No matter how deemed as low risk the expedition was, it involved wyverns. The chance of unexpected problems arising was not so low.
You must have felt anxious to bring only those unskilled men, so you recruited me as your insurance. Riftan thought and smiled sarcastically.
"Great, what a team of skilled men you built."
"The worthy men I tried to recruit cannot make it because of the tight schedule. Lucky for me, you came back just in time."
The man grinned and made a fawning remark. Riftan felt very annoyed, clicked his tongue and shoved Samon's shoulder aside with his, then headed downstairs.
It was him who joined the expedition without properly discerning it, there was no time for him to blame others. He simply filled his stomach in the restaurant and went straight to the village smithy after. There, he polished his scratched weapons and had his armor repaired. Then, he proceeded to buy new clothes and boots.
He lived a rough life, so his clothes and shoes quickly worn out and he had to buy new ones every time he stopped by a village. Recently, he had to discard them in less than two months from growing out of them.
Riftan grunted and bought a sturdy leather boots and clothes a size larger. Although he wanted to buy the shoes in a larger size, it might compromise his agility.
...Irritating.
Riftan looked sulkily at the new pair of shoes that fit his feet rightly. The pair would surely not last for a month. With a sigh, he returned to the inn to inspect each of his weapons.
The sun was setting as he greased and wiped the blood-stained chains and hooks that he used to hunt half-dragons. The next day was spent similarly. He unpacked his bag, mended his torn blanket, and washed the clothes that still fit him.
He wanted to pay the inn maid to do his laundry but every time he went down, she glared at him, the less evil thing she would probably do was burn his clothes to ashes. Riftan sighed, hanging the wet clothes in his room. He stopped by the herbal shop to purchase various emergency medicines and antidotes.
Like this, after a series of hectic days, the day of departure came around the corner. Riftan immediately began last-minute preparations for the expedition. He strapped on a breastplate made of wyvern leather and scales of a half-dragon. He wore protective gear around his arms and legs, wore a leather belt with two daggers and hung a bastard sword around his waist. Then, he wounded his chains and placed the anchor hook in a leather pouch. Finally, he wore a robe over his back.
