The battle ended.

There was some damage.

Three mercenaries died.

Last time, one person died.

Out of thirty people, four were lost, leaving twenty-six.

Two carriages were also raided.

The caravan master’s face turned ashen.

The passengers’ complaints were also an issue.

One of the carriages was carrying people.

Five people were brutally killed by Orc axes.

Many passengers protested.

Their reason was to ask for more mercenaries to be stationed where the protagonists were.

However, the caravan master seemed reluctant to do so.

There was no extra money to be gained by protecting them.

On the other hand, if a carriage carrying goods was raided, the trade caravan would suffer enormous losses immediately.

The caravan master reluctantly agreed.

His face was smiling, but inside, he seemed incredibly annoyed.

He singled out Rael as the target for his frustration.

He didn’t point his finger.

Instead, he openly blamed the Protagonist in front of everyone.

He questioned why the Protagonist hadn’t stepped forward.

Even though the Protagonist had no such obligation, he spoke as if people had died because the Protagonist stood by.

It was a ploy to make Rael fight while diverting people’s attention.

The Bookmaster was very cunning.

People grumbled.

Their gazes were not friendly.

Even those in other carriages were glaring with unfriendly eyes.

It felt like a riot might break out at any moment.

Although these people would scatter like ants if a Water Mass was unleashed, the fear was palpable as dozens of Humans stared intently.

If someone held a grudge and harmed him while he was sleeping, there would be no solution.

He felt that if he didn’t answer properly, it would be dangerous.

He took a deep breath.

He demanded payment.

He added that if they needed help, they should formally hire him.

The Bookmaster flinched.

Rael was a Mage, not a Mercenary.

He had no idea how much it would cost to hire a Mage.

Hiring one Mercenary costs between 3 and 5 Silver Coins.

This was for a medium-difficulty request that would take a considerable amount of time.

He would have to pay at least five or six times that amount.

He didn’t want to spend that much money.

Rael shouted.

“If you want to use me, then pay me fairly and hire me! I paid 2 Silver Coins to ensure my safety on this Trade Caravan. Why should I risk my life to fight? When I’m not even getting a single penny?”

He spoke clearly and distinctly.

He also spoke loudly.

It was meant for people to hear.

There was nothing the Protagonist had to do.

He could easily avoid it by just saying what needed to be said.

People seemed to agree, and this time they looked at the Bookkeeper.

They were curious what rebuttal he would make.

But the Bookkeeper did not rebut. There was no way he could have anything to say in the first place.

Instead, he bowed his head.

The Bookkeeper said he didn’t have the money and made a request.

With a smile tinged with pretense.

His clenched fists trembled, showing he was angry but holding back.

Perhaps he thought he had been outsmarted by the boy.

Naturally, he refused.

There was no reason to step up if he wasn’t getting a single penny.

If he truly needed help, he should have at least returned the 2 Silver Coins he took earlier.

He had no conscience.

Even if he did offer money, the Protagonist had no intention of helping him.

Just a moment ago, he had turned an Arrow on Rael.

He made him face the passenger’s wrath directly.

If Rael hadn’t rebutted properly, it wouldn’t have been strange for his life to be in danger.

It was as if he had tried to kill the Protagonist.

But he was the Bookkeeper managing the Trade Caravan.

He was the financier who hired the Mercenaries, so he couldn’t be touched.

Still, you never knew.

Orcs kept appearing, and it seemed the Trade Caravan would be ruined.

If the Carriage was raided again, it would be as good as ruined for him.

He vowed never to do anything that would benefit him.

While the Protagonist’s help wouldn’t change things, it would undoubtedly lead to greater losses.

Perhaps he should even worry about the Protagonist’s life.

If a Trade Caravan of this size were to fail, it wouldn’t be strange for heads to roll.

People cleaned up.

There was nothing special.

They skinned and dismembered the Orcs.

Unlike Goblins, which were useless except for the occasional trinket, Orcs were different.

Everything about Orcs was money. Their testicles were even used as an aphrodisiac.

Their flesh could also be eaten.

However, it was said to be tough and unpopular.

He stored what people were chattering about in his mind.

Trivial stories were exchanged inside the Carriage, but occasionally there was useful information.

It seemed that picking it up would be helpful later.

Information was something you had to pay for if you needed it.

There was no harm in knowing it.

Inside one Carriage, a Mercenary lay groaning.

His arms and legs were bandaged.

He was a Mercenary injured in the battle with the Orcs.

There were five of them.

He decided he needed to find Herbs.

As it happened, there were Herbs nearby.

It was one of the ingredients used in Potions.

However, there was only one Flower blooming nearby. This made it awkward to treat even one person.

There seemed to be more around.

Usually, there were more of the same herbs around where other herbs grew.

But I didn’t dare to wander around the forest.

There might be orcs I didn’t know about.

For now, I just put the herbs in my arms.

It was to remember the smell of the herbs, just like the delicious water.

If I could reproduce the smell of mana, I thought I could make something like healing water, even if not a potion.

There was only one herb, so it was manageable.

The people finished tidying up and loaded the disassembled byproducts onto the carriage.

The carriage rolled on smoothly once more.

After that, the battle continued.

Now even the mercenaries were devising strategies.

As several carriages had been plundered, protecting them became easier.

There was a captain among the mercenary group.

He was a mid-level mercenary.

He acted to protect the lives of the mercenaries. By using people and carriages as bait, he ensured the mercenaries could safely deal with the orcs.

Complaints erupted from various places.

The book owner struggled to calm them down.

He even conversed with the temporary mercenary captain.

The castle’s defenses seemed to be strengthening.

It seemed the mercenaries weren’t properly guarding the cargo carriages. However, the mercenaries ignored his instructions, acting as if they only needed to complete the request to the castle.

If the cargo carriages and people were to be protected, the mercenaries would be in danger.

The mercenaries were unwilling to take such risks.

Work moderately and get paid.

That was their goal.

The book owner’s face turned red and blue.

But there was nothing he could do.

He had no means to control the mercenaries.

Perhaps he should have been grateful that the trade caravan was still moving towards its destination.

Rael sniffed the potion whenever he had a chance.

Consistent training was required to be able to create potions with water spell magic.

He was currently nowhere near that level, but in a few years, who knew.

But now, he changed his approach.

By recreating the herbs that went into the potion one by one.

The problem was trying to create something with multiple mixed scents all at once. It was too difficult. He had to take it one step at a time.

I smelled the herbs I picked up after the last battle.

They were herbs, one of the ingredients for a potion.

These herbs alone didn’t have much effect.

At best, applying them to a wound would make it heal a little faster.

I decided to start with this.

I thought if I made them carefully one by one, I would eventually be able to make a potion.

At first, it didn’t work out properly.

But progress was fast.

I didn’t know if it was because I learned how to handle mana, or because I had made delicious water before.

This time, it took three days.

It was twice as fast as it took to make delicious water.

But I still didn’t know if this was made properly.

It could have been made incorrectly.

Even a slight miscalculation could result in poison.

First, I had to try feeding it to someone.

Rael gave it to the injured mercenary.

“Do you want some water?”

“Is it a potion?”

“It’s medicine that helps wounds heal faster.”

“Wounds?”

“But it might be dangerous.”

“Give it to me.”

The mercenary didn’t ask any more questions.

Instead, Rael was flustered.

I said it was dangerous, but he didn’t seem to care.

The mercenary was calm. I couldn’t understand it.

“I’m going to die anyway if things stay like this, so I should do something. It’s better to go down a path that might lead to survival, just in case.”

The man frowned but opened his mouth.

If left alone, the wound might fester.

Then, his limbs would have to be amputated.

His life would be over. As a mercenary, he had to do something.

It was a reasonable explanation.

He poured the water from the cup into his mouth.

He also applied the remaining water to the wound.

If the Protagonist had created Healing Water, the mercenary’s condition would improve.

The groaning mercenary was still breathing the next day.

This was the mercenary who was definitely supposed to die.

It wasn’t a potion that healed wounds instantly, but it was effective on the wound.

It was excellent.

Rael did not participate in battles.

Instead, he treated injured mercenaries.

He gave them Healing Water and applied it to their wounds, just as he had done for the previous mercenaries.

The mercenaries said that if three people were injured, one should die and one should be crippled, but thanks to the Protagonist, all three survived.

Some had severe wounds that left lingering effects, but that couldn’t be helped.

If they wanted to complain, they should have carried potions.

Fortunately, the Healing Water Rael made was effective.

It didn’t fail either.

It was like taking the first step in making potions. He felt good.

Helping the mercenaries improved their perception of him.

These were the mercenaries who had been hostile just because he didn’t participate in fights. But now, they even showed him consideration.

It might have been because he didn’t charge a separate treatment fee.

On the contrary, the Protagonist felt apologetic.

Although he was making water, he wasn’t sure if it would be proper water.

As I said before, if it’s made incorrectly, it could become poison for the capital city.

In a way, it was like experimenting on them.

Charging mercenaries for treatment was an act of shamelessness.

He considered it a trade.

In exchange for taking on potential risks, the mercenaries receive treatment.

In return, Rael confirms the Protagonist’s castle through the mercenaries.

No money was needed during that time.

Even with treating the injured, the situation gradually worsened.

More and more Orcs appeared.

Their numbers weren’t increasing.

They appeared so frequently that it felt difficult to endure much longer.

The mercenaries sought survival.

They deliberately used a hit-and-run strategy.

During that process, exposed carriages and people died, but they turned a deaf ear.

The number of mercenaries hardly decreased, but many carriages were being plundered.

The book owner’s expression was a sight to behold.

He was visibly anxious, chewing on his fingernails.

Eventually, he surrendered.

He surrendered not to the mercenaries, but to the Protagonist.

The book owner came.

His expression was not good.

They had feelings for each other.

But he had to bow his head. His head was on the chopping block.

Perhaps because his life was at stake, he didn’t hesitate to bow his head to a boy much younger than him.

“Mage.”

“No, thank you.”

He flatly refused.

There was no reason to help him.

He was the Bookkeeper who had tried to kill the Protagonist.

If he could, he wanted to kill him himself.

He just left him alone, figuring he’d destroy himself anyway.

Thud-

The Bookkeeper knelt down.

“Please help me.”