Rainer fearlessly surveyed the mercenaries surrounding them.
Most of the mercenaries had their hair tied back, and their faces were adorned with black and green tribal paint. Like their cohort, they seemed to favor green-toned apparel.
Many wore tunics under leather cuirasses, though their lower attire varied; some had ankle-length trousers that continued from thigh-length tunics to their boots, while others wrapped their legs in coarse puttees. A few wore skirts padded with metal plates, belted in place with wide leather straps that also held various weapons like pouches, vials, and daggers.
Their weapons were primarily unique bladed polearms, some of which hung beside special latches on their horses. Most donned bracers and greaves, and a few sported chainmail.
Overall, their gear was a mismatched but effective assortment.
One thing they had in common was their jungle green cloaks, proudly draped over their shoulders, which appeared slightly glossy as if coated in resin for waterproofing.
Rainer and Flavius exchanged a brief odd glance.
The wind blew, tousling their cloaks as they waited in tense silence. Soon, a woman, seemingly in her late twenties, rode out before them.
Her cloak was let down, and her short dark hair was artfully wild.
In contrast to the fierce, unfriendly gazes of her compatriots, her eyes were dull, and her expression bored. She regarded them with a lethargic indifference, as if they were autumn leaves soon to be blown away.
Flavius glanced at Rainer.
"This isn't their leader," he whispered.
"You know their leader—oh, right! You met them once." Rainer whispered back, "So who is this?"
"I think she's the deputy."
"Oh..."
"She might be nice. Perhaps we can talk to her, convince her we were just passing by. Then we can leave safely."
"Leave?" Rainer scoffed to himself, observing her with a casual smirk.
He couldn't help but notice that she was the only one without traditional green war paint across her face.
"Nice, eh? ...I won't be so sure."
Rainer muttered, intrigue flashing in his eyes.
'My instincts tell me she's frightening, though.'
As if to reinforce his intuition, she spoke.
"Have you come to die, men of Rome?"
She asked levelly, stopping three meters before them.
Without hesitation, she reached for one of her long swords, deftly drawing it and brandishing it under the sunlight.
"That you would seek out the [Riders of Nantosvelta] without permission... It borders on madness. Let us both hope that your blades are sharper than your wits."
She icily taunted him, and Rainer felt a pervasive chill run up his spine.
For a moment, his smile twisted in contemplation as his eyes carefully went down her figure, but then a hint of regret crept into his eyes.
Now he was certain of the type of woman confronting them.
The boredom in her dull eyes, the readiness in her stance. She was the kind of woman who reveled in battle and was likely good at it—a rare trait to find in a woman, especially in this era...
To Rainer, she was a gem to be had.
In his mind, she was a beauty worth trying to befriend, and for someone like her, impressing her in a spar was likely the fastest way to do that. Unfortunately, he hadn't gotten the opportunity to train or meditate.
His battle senses were still muddled.
In his last battle, Rainer had been relying on the residual memories of past lives' combat experiences. He needed to meditate to properly recover his edge.
Right now, he felt like a level one video game character, with low stats and ninety-eight percent of his skills locked. If he took up her challenge in his current state, he doubted his chances of winning. He anticipated a fair amount of pain if he did.
'What to do...?'
He contemplated, glancing at her with a faintly flirtatious smirk.
'Hmm. I can't just leave the baddie hanging now, can I? I also love a good fight, but if I lose, she might lose all interest. I guess I'll taunt her to see if she backs off.'
As the tense silence continued, Flavius glanced between them with a grim expression.
He sensed that Rainer didn't know what to do, which made him want to intervene.
However, just as he was about to speak, he saw Rainer shoot him a glance and wink before turning back to the woman with a confident grin.
"Flavius! Good friend! Would you care to introduce me to these fine warriors?"
He gestured toward the woman, and for a moment, Flavius looked perplexed, but then realization sparked in his eyes.
He let out a helpless sigh and, in the deep voice of a budding Captain of the Emperor's guards, declared,
"Riders of Nantosvelta! Mounted before you is a god! Rainer, the wayward son of Mars!"
Suddenly, a strange silence ensued as Rainer awaited a reaction.
However, the deputy merely tilted her head slightly, confusion evident on her furrowed brows.
"Who?"
"Guh!"
Rainer felt as though he had been hit in the chest, and coughed to hide his embarrassment.
Another warrior rode up and leaned toward the deputy, whispering something in her ear.
Immediately, her eyes widened in disbelief, and when she looked at Rainer again, there was a fervent hunger in her gaze.
"The son of the Roman god of war?!"
Her expression suddenly broke into a wild smile.
"A blessing upon my battle-parched soul this day!"
Rainer maintained his outward composure, but internally, he panicked.
'Why is she so motivated? Wouldn't mortals normally be scared of a god? Perhaps I underestimated her level of craziness.'
He grimaced slightly.
Suddenly overhearing the soft chatter of mercenaries around them, he tilted his head to the side.
"Oh no! He made Veliona excited! A thrilling afternoon awaits!"
"But is he really the son of Mars? That Mars?"
"I heard the story. He possessed a deceased labor slave, resurrecting as a daemon! Or so the Romans say..."
"Pah! Daemons! Wretched things! Glad none of those raiders got possessed after we slew them!"
"I guess we butchered them too well!"
"Hahahaha!"
Amidst their laughter, a woman suddenly emerged from the crowd.
"Veliona!"
Her chiding cry immediately captured everyone's attention. However, her voice wasn't harsh; it was smooth and sounded like that of a concerned mother.
"Can I not leave you alone with this group for a moment without returning to chaos?"
She questioned, riding up to Veliona.
Veliona glanced back, and her excited smile faded.
"Mother of gods, how do you fare?"
She greeted respectfully.
"Mother of gods," the mercenaries around them echoed softly in unison.
'Mother of what now?' Rainer wondered, raising an eyebrow. But when the woman joined Veliona's side, Rainer and Flavius looked on in awe.
The lady was a beauty to behold!
With long, wavy, light red hair, enthralling sea-green eyes, and a soft, shapely figure, she was a sight that could make men stumble into gutters by accident.
She didn't look like a fighter. Unlike the lean, athletic form of Veliona, she was robust and curvy in all the right places, exuding a motherly air of authority as she sat upon her muscular steed.
In one hand, she calmly held a dangerously pointy pennon; the long, narrow, swallow-tailed white flag on the shaft waved, depicting a tree wrapped in golden vines.
Her previous pout turned to one of surprise when she saw the smile on Veliona's face. Then she turned to the men, curiosity clearly written across her face. Her eyes settled on them for a moment before she offered a welcoming smile, her sheer motherly aura radiating out and obliterating all the negative energy accumulated from the mercenaries.
"You are men of Rome, I assume. I am Lady Nantosvelta..."
Her expression then shifted, taking on a tinge of discomfort.
"And some call me the Mother of gods... To whom do I speak?"