He turned his head and indeed saw the white-haired young man's face covered in frost.
Next in his sight were more than ten heavily armed Jadran heavy infantrymen behind the forest. The Jadran people were one of the most common mercenaries in Erune, almost as if these residents of the Abyss Sea Region were naturally professional soldiers. In fact, this tradition has a deep-rooted origin; the constant conflicts among the eleven portal city-states in the Jadran Region have frequently resulted in wars which in turn fostered the mercenary profession.
A typical Jadran mercenary should be wearing a set of finely crafted and heavy scale armor, with a flame steel spear strapped to his back, covered by a large shield half the height of a person, and carrying a longsword and hand axe at his waist—these are their tools for livelihood, the only inheritance every Jadran receives from their fathers.
Brand didn't even need to recall these background details from past games; they were already deeply ingrained.
"What's happening?" He tugged on the reins to slow the horse, asking while doing so.
"Those are clearly heavy infantrymen,...sir," Antitina responded with a trace of sharp vigilance hidden in her beautiful gemstone-like black eyes as she turned back: "They placed the heavy infantry at the back, obviously still not trusting us."
Brand glanced back, suddenly gaining a bit of insight. He smiled and said, "Distrusting us is a normal reaction."
The girl's follow-up question caused the white-haired young man to grunt discontentedly on one side.
Brand glanced at this guy and asked, "Then what is the meaning of placing these Jadran mercenaries at the back?"
"None of your business." Redi answered neatly.
"Sir, it's ; they move too slowly in the forest," instead, the scrawny young man they met earlier in the morning tugged at his sleeve and answered: "Mr. Macaro placed them here also to guard against unforeseen circumstances, not out of distrust for you folks."
"Two birds with one stone, I see." Brand showed an understanding expression but didn't forget to tease: "Compared to you, your companion isn't very good with words."
Redi's face immediately turned cloudy, and he left without a word, leaving the scrawny young man there with a wry smile. Brand looked at the young man and asked, "What's your name?"
"Sanfde, doesn't sound like a local name?"
"That's because I used to be a bakery apprentice in Brags...of course, that was before I became a mercenary." The young man looked at them and asked, "Sir, judging by your accent, you seem to also be from there?"
"I'm not, but they are." Brand nudged his chin towards Antitina and Miss Roman.
Sanfde smiled shyly, glancing at the girls riding side-by-side behind Brand. But Antitina turned her head away, avoiding eye contact. After all, she was still of noble descent—though fallen, the arrogant blood of the Erune nobles still ran through her veins, making her reluctant to interact with ordinary people. However, Miss Roman had no such concerns; the merchant lady winked at the young man, sharing a hometown connection as they were both Buqi people.
"Well, that explains it. But taking heavy infantry into the forest for battle shows a lack of consideration to begin with." Antitina turned to look at the Jadran people at the forest edge as she spoke.
But her words immediately received a rebuttal.
"Ma'am, boss, you can't say that. One needs to eat to survive in this world. Mr. Macaro kindly took us in, naturally we must show loyalty. Look, have you ever heard of mercenaries leaving their comrades in danger and walking away alone?"
An abrupt voice echoed in the forest. A stubbled Jadran mercenary emerged from the forest carrying a black, shiny contraption on his shoulder. He grinned and shook his head, lamenting with a thick Abyss Sea Region accent.
Brand, Antitina, and Miss Roman turned to look at the man together. The young man squinted his eyes; those who could move freely in the mercenary group at this time held significant status.
"Frank, assault captain." The Jadran mercenary rubbed his nose and introduced himself.
"What's that?" Brand's gaze fell on the thing in his hand.
"Flintlock gun, it's my treasure." Frank patted the black, shiny contraption, laughing.