"Mudrock?"
Jeanne still held a figure by that name in her memories—a former Sarkaz mercenary, a possessor of formidable Originium Arts, and a Sarkaz who wore heavy, cumbersome armor.
She also recalled that this Mudrock was actually a rather petite woman. Looking at the person encased in such massive, thick plating now, it was truly impossible to tell. How did she pull it off? Given her actual stature, that suit looked large enough to fit two of her comfortably.
Consequently, while Jeanne's outward gaze toward the leader remained calm, she was internally quite curious about this individual's appearance, especially since she already knew the truth. Mudrock, however, did not notice anything unusual about Jeanne. She was focused entirely on her conversation with Talulah, never suspecting that Jeanne had recognized her. She remained confident in her disguise; after all, she had hidden herself for so many years without being discovered.
"Mr. Buldrokas'tee, perhaps I should find a table for you to sit at?"
Outside, a Sarkaz mercenary watched Patriot standing there and initially thought of bringing him a chair. The problem was that Patriot was simply too tall and heavy; their chairs or stools would likely shatter under him. Even a table might not support the weight of the Wendigo. Jeanne, who had visited him before, knew that the "chair" in his own tent was actually a massive, solid wooden stump.
"Don't go to such trouble. I can stand here for a while," Patriot said, looking at the mercenary, whose nervousness was palpable. "There is no need to be so tense. Just treat me as an ordinary Sarkaz."
"An ordinary Sarkaz? Sir, that's a very difficult request to fulfill," the mercenary replied, shaking his head as he looked up at the figure towering over him. Even among Sarkaz, he was considered tall, yet before Patriot, he felt like a small animal. Beyond the physical stature, he could feel the terrifying aura emanating from the old veteran—a subconscious pressure that felt as though it could crush him.
"How is the current situation in Kazdel? How far has the war between those two progressed?"
This was the primary reason Patriot had come personally. He wanted to gather intelligence on Kazdel and, simultaneously, intimidate any individuals who might be thinking of causing trouble. He knew all too well that there would be those with ulterior motives among the mercenaries; those who didn't want to cooperate were much more likely to play dirty.
However, his presence was even more effective than he had imagined. The other Sarkaz in the camp preferred to watch him from a respectful distance rather than approach.
"How else could it be?" the mercenary complained, venting his frustrations to the elder. "The war between those two has dragged Kazdel into a mire. Now, in the entire country, only a few nomadic cities are still functioning."
The mercenary appeared to be nearly forty years old. In the world of Sarkaz mercenaries, this was no longer young; the vast majority didn't survive to see such an age. Being older, he naturally remembered what Kazdel looked like during times of peace, which fueled his loathing for the current state of his war-torn homeland.
"You wouldn't believe it, sir, but the piles of corpses in the slums of the Royal Capital are almost higher than the city walls now."
This wasn't a dark joke; it was the reality of Kazdel. If a civilian couldn't become a mercenary, their only other likely path was starvation. "Perhaps things are different on Her Highness Theresa's side. But on Theresis's side, there are no farmers left—only mercenaries or laborers in the factories."
If one were to ask where the food came from? Someone would send it. Someone always sent it. Those who did not wish for the Sarkaz to regain peace looked upon the warmongering Theresis with great favor, providing grain and industrial raw intelligence at low prices to keep the fire burning.
"Hooo..."
Patriot remained silent for a long time after hearing this. He stood there like a statue, his eyes fixed in the direction of Kazdel. When he had left, the war hadn't yet reached this peak of insanity. Compared to his memories, the current Kazdel sounded no different from hell. Yet, he told himself this no longer concerned him. His home was now Ursus, not Kazdel; he had no reason to interfere. He had only asked to know what had become of the place he once called home.
"If you can provide the necessary supplies and do not object to having Sarkaz in your ranks, I see no reason to refuse," Mudrock said after a period of reflection. She felt that cooperating with them wasn't a bad idea, especially after hearing they could provide stable medication for Oripathy. Almost every one of her teammates was infected; if they could live a little longer, it was a blessing.
"However, I must say this upfront: we do not mind helping you deal with enemies. But if you intend to use me and my people as cheap, disposable pawns, we will cancel the cooperation and leave immediately."
As she spoke to Talulah, Mudrock stared directly at the two women through her heavy mask, gauging their reactions. Sarkaz warriors never feared war. The reason they had abandoned everything to flee Kazdel was that they were tired of being treated as expendable chess pieces by those in power. That kind of death was meaningless, and no one cared for a "consumable" that could be easily replaced.
"Rest assured," Talulah promised, her eyes sincere. "If I ever do that, my friends here would stop me before you even had to object."
Mudrock nodded, choosing to trust the promise for now. "That will suffice. Let us move to the next phase. This person is to be our future manager, yes? Come, let's go outside and trade a few blows."
Mudrock looked at Jeanne. Observing the woman who appeared even younger than herself, she wondered if she should hold back. She was worried that if she fought with full strength, she might seriously injure her opponent. Once the heat of battle took over, she couldn't always guarantee she could pull her punches in time.
"I honestly feel there's no need for us to fight," Talulah said. She wasn't worried about Jeanne—rather, her concern was for the seemingly powerful Mudrock.
Talulah knew exactly how terrifying Jeanne's combat prowess was. To be honest, even ten of herself wouldn't be certain of taking Jeanne down; there was a high chance they'd all be wiped out instead. If Jeanne defeated her here, how would Mudrock save face? Moreover, Jeanne was so earnest that she might accidentally hurt the Captain.
"Personally, I don't like fighting either," Mudrock replied, "but you won't be able to convince my brothers out there otherwise. Unless they see how strong you are, they won't be willing to take orders from you."
With that, Mudrock reached behind her and pulled out her massive war hammer, which had been concealed by her own bulky frame.