Henry's gaze was sharp as a blade. He stared intently into the Mercenary Guild President's eyes, searching for any hint of deception or concealment.
However, the Mercenary Guild President's eyes held only confusion and fear, with no trace of cunning or pretense.
Henry sighed softly. 'It seems this Mercenary Guild President really knows nothing about the Mysterious Merchant.'
"Then let me ask you, what did you mean by 'weapons,' 'military equipment,' and 'deals' back at the tavern?"
The Mercenary Guild President blinked and fell silent, an 'ah, so that's it' expression crossing his face.
Henry: ???
'What kind of look is that?'
"Speak. If you don't, I'll gut you!"
The Mercenary Guild President's face fell as he watched Henry draw a small knife.
He had struggled his entire life to finally become the Mercenary Guild President. He no longer had to lead teams of Mercenaries, living life on a knife's edge. He had no desire to die in some nameless alley.
