OH BABY A TRIPLE
The sandseals are well-trained, and I'm easily able to pilot the carriage back behind a dome near the battlefield.
When I arrive, the situation is grim. Floofy is out of mana, and three red Moblins are devastating the mercenaries.
I think it's time to start using magic; besides, I've worn a black mask this whole time, so no one knows what I actually look like.
With the mask, I can develop a magic-wielding vigilante persona to for when I'm not Arjon Sinclair, owner of the Sinclair Trading Company.
With this plan set, I unsheathe Samantha and advance on the Moblin farthest from the rest of the monster group.
The Moblin stands at a towering eight feet and is red, showing that its the weakest variant of its species. The later variants will be humongous if moblins follow the same trend as bokoblins.
It has a long tentacle-like snout that leaks disgusting pus when it opens its mouth to screech, and its body is covered in hard, wrinkled skin.
A group of mercenaries barely holding it at bay with long spears, not daring to get with range of the monster's attacks. The red Moblin is holding a large wooden club, and every one of its swings sends the men around it flying.
I casually stroll past the line of spearmen holding the monster back with my hand on the hilt of my saber. One of them even calls out to me, "What are you doing? Stay back!" but I continue onwards, strolling into a forest of long spears.
I test the waters with a couple of bullets into the Moblins chest, but they only draw a little blood with every shot. I really need to upgrade my gun.
My shots cause the Moblin to become serious, and it snaps all of the spears stuck in its body before directing its attention to me.
With a whorl of water mana, I draw my sword, causing the mercenaries to step back in awe, murmuring to the other, "This that magic?" "A sixth sage!" "I wonder what else he could do with that water." "We're saved!"
The Moblin makes the first move, grabbing a bokoblin from around its feet and hurling it at me, I sidestep the attack, but I don't expect the bokoblin to latch onto my clothes, piercing its claws into my skin.
While I fire off an Electric Grasp into the monster, the Moblin closes the distance, swinging the massive club in its hands like a foam baseball bat.
The blow is powerful but predictable. I dark souls roll beneath the swing and jump up, severing the arm of the tall monster in a flowing arc of sharp water mana.
The monster screeches in rage, and I take the opportunity to wrap the Throngler around its legs and yank it down, circulating massive amounts of mana to pin the Moblin beneath me.
"Little help?" I grunt, looking at the mercenaries who are standing nearby, motionlessly standing by, watching the fight.
They spring into action, driving their weapons into the struggling Moblin, who eventually bleeds to death. It's dying howls attract, the other two tall monsters to my position, but the mercenaries are now on the offense, and I barrage the next two with bullets and lightning till they fall, before disappearing into the night.
Once I'm out of sight, I take of the mask and my outer layer of clothes, I also hide my weapons and wrap a shawl around my face, a common style for travelers in the desert.
I then slip back to the carridge and lead the girls to the caravan, giving each of them a hundred rupees and more modest clothing. The two story vehicle will definitely be recognized if I take it, so I cut the reigns on the sandseals, before abandoning the carridge to the dunes.
It's nice to the the seals happily dive away into the long, moonlit expanse of desert.
Making sure I have all the valuables in the carriage, I proceed back to my cart. I walk past scarred mercants emerging from their wagons, small children crying into their parents chest, and wounded soldiers.
A wave of shame washes over me, instead of tracking down and robbing the scummy noblem, should I have stayed to fight? But would the noble have taken even more lives if I let him live?
I made my decisions, and its impossible to know if they were the best, but I can only continue foreward.
I reach the end of the caravan, surrounding my cart is are quite a few dead bokoblins and a huffing merchant.
"Who are you?" Beetle says, his knuckles white on the handle of my old crossbow.
"Chill Beet, it's me," I reply tugging my mask down a bit.
"Arjon! Why didn't you tell me that you're a sage!? You had me thinking I was just hallucinating meeting you in the heat! Are you some sort of demigod sent by Hylia?"
"Nah bro, I'm just some dude with an unhealthy obsession with fish people."
Beetle accepts this new news much faster than I imagined he would, and he is overjoyed with the new funds I borrow from kind Mr. Viscount.
In total, we have three thousand five hundred rupees, which Beetle tells me is enough to feed a poor family for many years.
"With this, we will be able to purchase a small building and hire some employees!" he says, immersed in organizing our funds, and starting the company account ledgers on a thick leather-bound book.
The dead are buried, and the next day, the caravan moves on. I have resumed wearing my bear cloak, no one associates the forgotten bear-hooded figure to be the black-masked sixth sage of Hyrule.
Rumors with undoubtedly start circulating once the caravan reaches Kara Kara City, and I've already been given a vigilante's name: Zorro.