Following our skirmish with the silver-mixed monsters, we managed to slip into Albiroda without any major issues. Well, calling it an "infiltration" might be a bit of an exaggeration given how we did it.
The main roads into Albiroda were fortified with temporary outposts to guard against any advance from the Subjugation Force. Apparently, they'd also stationed sentries on every other path that looked even remotely passable.
We’d originally planned to force our way in by scaling the steep cliffs, but we changed tactics once the former bandits agreed to help—thanks to Beere-san’s persuasion. As it turned out, they were on familiar terms with the thugs guarding the forts. We managed to stroll right past the gates, and though we were disguised in rags like a group of vagrants, not a single person challenged us.
"Well, it just goes to show how much influence the Bandelt Group has gained," Beere-san remarked, a complicated look crossing his face.
Once we were actually inside, however, the level of vigilance dropped significantly. It was impossible to monitor every inch of the region, after all. As long as we avoided the Bandelt Group’s major strongholds and didn't draw unnecessary attention to ourselves, we were unlikely to cause a stir.
With Beere-san in the lead, we moved deeper into the territory. We were headed toward a village he was well-acquainted with—apparently, they had been regular customers of his back when he was an active peddler.
Beere-san’s pace never faltered, despite the fact that he’d likely never taken the direct route before. He claimed he could just "somehow" sense the right direction. I wondered if it was a racial trait. For a travel-loving Grassfolk, I suppose that made a certain kind of sense.
"There it is. That's the village," he said.
Before long, we arrived at a settlement that was... well, calling it "ordinary" might be a stretch, but it was a decent-sized village.
"Ah! Look at that hair!"
"You're right. That person over there has it, too!"
The hairstyle Halfa and Spira were buzzing about was, of course, the mohawk. We’d visited plenty of towns by now, but I’d never seen the style outside of those Mohawk Adventurers who had been fighting the Tiraza. Yet here, a surprising number of villagers sported the look. It was only about one in ten, but since the style was non-existent elsewhere, it was a striking local feature.
"It looks more peaceful than I expected," Beere-san noted, sounding slightly relieved. "Though, as I feared, there are very few Molybdenum folks left."
He’d been worried that the Bandelt Group’s tightening grip would have dire consequences for the moderate villages, but so far, things seemed fine. Still, his tone suggested he remained uneasy. I found myself wondering what this "Molybdenum" was.
"The Molybdenum Group was once a major power here in Albiroda," Beere-san explained, perhaps sensing the question on my face.
According to him, they were one of the few organizations in the region with a functioning moral compass. They were a militant group, to be sure, but they were honorable men who had stood at the forefront of the opposition against raiding neighboring countries.
Naturally, this put them at odds with the Bandelt Group, who had zero qualms about looting and pillaging. Beere-san suspected that the Molybdenum Group had taken a heavy beating now that the Bandelt Group reigned supreme, and the sight of this village seemed to confirm it. Incidentally, spotting a Molybdenum fighter was easy. Apparently, they signaled their allegiance through a very specific hairstyle: the mohawk. The presence of those mohawks was exactly how Beere-san had read the room so quickly.
"First things first—we need information," I said.
"Right. I want to know exactly how far the Bandelt Group's reach extends, and if there are any dungeons they haven't seized control of yet."
We stood together, discussing our next steps.
Our primary objective was to investigate the new dungeon that had supposedly appeared in Albiroda, and we actually had a decent head start. The former bandits had already shared what they knew. According to them, the nihilistic Eld Caldia cult was definitely involved. While the specifics were vague, the cult had used some unknown method to create the dungeon, and the Bandelt Group had ballooned in power by exploiting it. As a result, almost every new dungeon was under their direct administration.
This meant we couldn't simply waltz in to investigate. While we were prepared to force an entry if necessary, we needed to do our homework first. Normally, getting people to talk in an insular village like this would be an uphill battle, but with Beere-san on our side, things were different. He had plenty of old contacts here; even if we didn't walk away with a map, we’d at least be able to strike up a conversation.
Just as we finalized our plan, however...
"You lot! You're Bandelt scum, aren't you?! What are you doing here?!"
A sudden, angry roar pierced the air as an old man marched toward us. Despite his age, there was nothing frail about him. And perched atop his head, though shock-white, was a magnificent mohawk that stood tall and proud like a rooster's comb.