Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Roderick tapped a few points on the map. "These are the areas where we suspect Korvan's men have set up camp. But like I said, this is based on what little information we've been able to gather from the locals and the occasional scouting mission. It's not definitive, but it's the best we've got."

I leaned in closer, studying the map intently. Each marked location was in a different part of the surrounding wilderness—dense forests, hidden valleys, and even a few near the mountains to the north. They were spread out, which would make it difficult to strike at them all at once.

But it also meant that if I played my cards right, I could take them down individually before they had a chance to regroup.

"This area," Roderick said, pointing to a cluster of markings near the eastern side of the map, "is where Lothar, one of Korvan's lieutenants, is believed to be operating. Shadowbrook village is right here, and from what we've gathered, he's been using it as a base of operations for raids on nearby settlements. We've had reports of increased activity in this area, so it's a good place to start."

He then gestured to a spot further south, closer to the city. "Here's another suspected hideout. It's a bit closer to Rackenshore, which makes it more dangerous for us. They've been attacking supply caravans and traders trying to bring goods into the city. We think this might be where Korvan himself is stationed, but again, we can't be sure."

I nodded, taking in all the information. "It's a start," I said, my mind already working on a plan. "I'll begin with Shadowbrook and see what I can find. If Lothar is there, I'll take him down and disrupt their operations. That should weaken their overall network and make it easier to deal with the others."

I stood up, feeling the weight of the mission ahead settle on my shoulders. "I've got the general gist of things," I said, folding the map carefully and tucking it away. Roderick watched me closely, but I could see a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps a mix of hope and doubt. He wasn't entirely convinced, but he knew I was his best shot at dealing with this mess.

Without another word, I turned and made my way to the door, feeling the cool metal of my estoc at my side. The tension that had filled the room slowly dissipated as I left, but the air outside felt charged with anticipation. The task ahead was daunting, but it was one I was eager to face.

As I walked down the street, my thoughts turned to the mission Harlan had given me: Deal with the bandits without breaking his sword.

I unsheathed my estoc, holding it up to the light. The blade was worn, the edge dull and chipped in places. It had seen better days, and the task of keeping it intact through a series of battles would be anything but easy. But then again, I wasn't one to shy away from challenges.

"This blade," I muttered to myself, feeling the familiar weight in my hand. "It's been through a lot. But I can't afford to let it fail me now."

Vitaliara's voice echoed in my mind, [You're taking this pretty seriously. But aren't you worried? That sword doesn't look like it'll hold up for long.]

I sheathed the estoc, my grip tightening around the hilt. "That's what makes it interesting," I replied with a small grin. "If it were easy, it wouldn't be worth doing."

[Always chasing after the thrill, aren't you?] she replied with a hint of amusement.

"Isn't that what makes life exciting?" I shot back, my mood lightening just a bit. "Besides, this mission isn't just about the sword."

[It is not just about the sword?]

"I mean, making connections with that grumpy old man. Don't you think it will be beneficial?"

[How are you that sure of his talent?]

"That is a secret."

[Humph.]

Vitaliara let out a small, playful huff as she leaped onto my shoulder, her tiny paws finding their place on my head. [You're pretty crafty, you know that? To think you'd negotiate with the captain of the garrison himself, asking for such rewards.]

I couldn't help but smile at her observation. "Crafty, perhaps, but I'm just being practical," I replied, continuing down the path toward Shadowbrook. "What I'm doing here isn't just beneficial for me or Harlan. It benefits almost everyone involved, and that's why I need compensation from all parties. Harlan may be paying for his part, but that's irrelevant to the others.

They each have their own stake in this, and I'm making sure they recognize that."

Vitaliara seemed to mull over my words, her tail swaying gently as she perched comfortably. [You're playing a dangerous game, you know. Balancing so many interests at once… It could backfire.]

"No. It won't."

[Is that so? I will be looking forward to seeing you then.]

"I will be sure to put on a good show for you."

******

In the dimly lit tavern on the outskirts of a village, the air was thick with the scent of alcohol and the low hum of muffled voices. The laughter of men, boisterous and slurred, filled the space, while women in tattered dresses moved between tables, offering drinks and fleeting smiles. The room reeked of decay and indulgence, a den for those who had long abandoned any semblance of honor.

At the center of it all, seated at a table overflowing with half-empty mugs and discarded food, was the man they all looked to—the leader of the bandit gang. His greasy hair clung to his forehead, and his fingers lazily stroked the neck of a wine bottle. His eyes, bloodshot from nights of excess, scanned the room with a look of bored superiority.

"Get me more wine, girl," he slurred, waving a hand dismissively at a young woman who hurried to fetch another bottle. His attention shifted back to the group of men surrounding him, a mixture of fear and admiration in their eyes.

"Tell me again how much we've raked in this week," he ordered, his voice thick with both satisfaction and greed. One of his lieutenants, a scraggly man with a crooked nose, cleared his throat before answering.

"We've collected from three of the villages, boss. The usual protection fees. They've been paying up without much trouble, though there was some resistance from that blacksmith in Oakfield," the man reported, his gaze darting nervously to the leader. "We dealt with him, though. Ain't no one crossing us after that."

A cruel grin spread across the leader's face as he leaned back in his chair, taking a long swig from the wine bottle. "Good. Teach 'em their place. The more they fear us, the easier this gets."

Another man at the table, younger and eager to please, chimed in. "The people here—they'll never stand up to us, boss. You've got them wrapped around your finger."

"Of course I do," the leader scoffed, tossing the empty bottle aside. "Who else would dare challenge me? I've got the whole damn region under control."

His words oozed arrogance, and the men around him nodded in agreement, eager to bask in his reflected power. One of the women leaned in close, draping herself over his shoulders, and he chuckled, clearly enjoying the attention.

As his indulgent laughter faded, one of the men seated beside him leaned in slightly, his voice low but steady. "Uh, Lothar, just a reminder... the meeting time is approaching."

Lothar's expression shifted instantly, the smirk dropping from his face as his eyes narrowed in irritation. He grunted, tossing a half-eaten chunk of bread onto the table. "Don't remind me," he growled, his voice dripping with disdain. "You know how much I hate these damn meetings. Especially when he's involved."

The men around him shifted uncomfortably, well aware of who Lothar was referring to. It was no secret that despite his position as one of Korvan's top lieutenants, Lothar harbored a particular dislike for one of his peers—a man named Alric. Alric was cold, calculating, and always seemed to carry an air of superiority, something Lothar found infuriating.

"Alric thinks he's so damn clever," Lothar muttered, more to himself than to his men, his hands clenching into fists. "Strutting around like he's Korvan's right hand, looking down his nose at the rest of us."

The man beside him wisely remained silent, not daring to add to Lothar's irritation.

Lothar's eyes, now bloodshot from more than just the alcohol, darkened as he took another swig of wine. "I don't know why Korvan keeps that smug bastard around," he continued his voice a bitter rasp. "He's not as tough as he thinks he is. One day, someone's going to teach him a lesson. Might even be me."

"Of course, boss. We all know that you are the best."

Lothar leaned back in his chair, enjoying the playful attention of the woman beside him as his lieutenants continued to praise his strength and cunning. His mood, soured by thoughts of the meeting, had begun to lighten again as the alcohol took hold and his men fed his ego.

"Right. You think so, too, sweetie?" he asked, grinning at the woman leaning over him.

"Mhhmm~" she cooed, running a hand through his greasy hair.

Just as Lothar was settling back into his usual indulgence, one of his subordinates rushed into the room, his face pale and breathless. Lothar's grin faded, his eyes narrowing at the interruption.

"What the hell is it now?" Lothar grumbled, clearly annoyed. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

The man hesitated, glancing nervously at Lothar before speaking, his voice shaking slightly. "S-Sorry, boss. There's... someone outside. He's asking for you."

Lothar raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And why the hell should I care? Who is this guy?"

"I—I don't know, boss," the subordinate stammered, wringing his hands. "But he's young, and he has this scar… over his right eye."

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