The sun had just begun its descent, casting increasingly large shadows throughout the surrounding plaza. We'll probably be back by late evening or nightfall.

No escort awaited you, the open main doors of the village saw a handful of mercs coming and going with two caravans being pushed out by hardy Mamono under the supervision of Branka with a pipe in hand. She sat beside Hanabi on the steps of her luxurious home.

When your group crossed the threshold of the village exit, she gave you a nod.

The headquarters of the mercenary company wasn't far, barely a minute's walk outside. A reinforced stone building the size of the clinic awaited you, a place built to oversee the monster community. A handful of men waited near the entrance, not the kind with ramshackle gambesons or wearing their father's swords.

They wore metal armor with tabards portraying the head of a boar resting on a shield, each of them wielding halberds and swords without any white fabrics to cover blades and handles. A yellow standard planted on the ground with this self-same emblem rested next to the entrance. Brazen Tusk, huh?

Surrounded by your friends, you walked toward this place, doing your best to ignore the nervous twisting of your guts. A man walked out from inside the stone structure, undoubtedly the infamous ''Jules'' that had everyone so intimidated.

While not rivalling Branka's or Shigeko's height, the man possesses an impressive stature. His entire body was covered in a mixture of chainmail and gambeson with a tabard showing his company; even his neck bore a prominent mail protector. His face was completely covered in a metal helmet and war mask, two prominent holes revealed cold blue eyes, while several more in the plates helped his breathing.

Something in his movement whispered dread in your mind. His limbs seemed just a tad too long, lanky and creepy, but the heavy crescent moon-shaped axe he hefted effortlessly dispelled all illusions of fragility. Two locks of silver hair peeked out of his helmet, the only hint of humanity you can see in this walking display of...of... Iron.

''Jules.'' Augustine's terse greeting had him rest his axe on his shoulder.

''I asked for an elf, not a troupe.'' His voice, slightly warped by the metal on his face, came out young and boyish, a total contrast to what he seems to be.

''You're lucky to be getting anything at all.'' There's a fire in you, an anger you can't place. ''Elves answer only to nobles, and last I heard, your blood isn't blue.''

''Feisty.'' He chuckles while waving away a pair of approaching men. ''Still sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, mister vigilante?''

''All I hope.'' Aryel replies through gritted teeth. ''Is to be a good brother to my fellows and a good son to Mother Earth.''

''You and your men -really- need to leave the Mamonos in peace.'' You could almost feel the heat of Augustine's anger despite her lack of magical gifts.