The mercenaries left the village like men marching toward glory.
They were trying to mimic soldiers going off to battle, but their lines were too loose and their armor was mismatched. Some even joked as they walked forward. Others checked their weapons, tightened straps, or passed flasks of liquor between one another to fight off the morning cold.
They still had some form of discipline, and their movements had purpose, so they weren't civilians either.
They obeyed their captain to a T and followed him with reverence. In this company, there was a saying that if the captain left, the whole mercenary band would be disbanded. When they entered the forest, the jokes also stopped, and the whole group became alert.
They had done a hunt like this before. That was why they were confident. Although that wyvern had still been growing up.
The captain walked near the front, with his axe across his back, scanning the surroundings.
"So what's the plan?" one of the mercenaries asked.
