Half-way Out

"Reporting, Sir! We have sealed off the entire marketplace!"

A fully-armored soldier reported by the door.

Klautz sulked, placed the teacup on the table, and gazed at the smiling man sitting opposite him. The man with long, brown hair was clad in an eye-grabbing armor, had unswerving determination on his face, and a ghastly, ugly scar that had extended all the way from his forehead to his chin.

"Great, pass this message on. We must capture them, understood?"

"Yes!'

The soldier saluted and ran off. City owner Klautz stared at the man before him. He exercised his fingers and let out a sneer while sitting back on the couch.

"Never did I expect that the Vice Commander of the South Warzone would be so panicky over a few mercenaries… If outsiders knew about this, they would surely laugh their heads off. Wouldn't they, Lord Ron? You come to my turf for whatever reason and demand to capture some people. Do you even put Paphield in your eyes?"