Chapter 10: Noble Mercenaries

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… All Knighthood Orders retreated while the Marshal kept massacring the dark creatures. The world behind them became of ice, blood and destruction.

The Marshal Maxius’ might sundered the land and changed the landscape. His efforts saved ten thousands of lives and ended thousands of the dark creatures’, but at the cost of his life.

Grand Dux Lucius Maxius Diluvii’s death marked the first Golden Knight to fall since the war began and the first sighting of the Grim…

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“Out of my sight, I said.” The Slayer captain slammed his hand on the table.

“No need to get violent, good man.” Otis stood up. “Have a nice day.” He rearranged the chair in the table and left the tavern with Kancil.

“I keep telling you, there’s no need to do this. We can handle this on our own.” Kancil said, lowering his voice and his face as they reached the middle of the populated street.

Otis raised an eyebrow and snorted. “And I keep telling you to stop doing that. Why do you return to looking like a village boy when there’s people around?”

“I… prefer to lay low, don’t attracting unwanted attention, like you seem fond of doing.” Kancil said, his single uncovered eye darting around to avoid passersby, but always falling back on the ground.

“That’s why no slayer team even consider accepting us. If aside from me looking like a scholar, you also approach them looking like a naive village boy no one would want us even as baggage carriers.” Otis said. “If you just showed some of that edge you had when dealing with the legionnaire last week, maybe we’d be out in the wilds hunting already.” They began walking through the street, moving towards a quieter part of the colony.

“Old scholar.” Kancil corrected. “And that’s because dealing with bastards is easier.” Kancil shrugged. “A sharp blade to the neck is usually enough for those.” Kancil said in a low voice, but with his usual tone. “But dealing with unknown people is harder. You never know which one you can trust or which one would get a knife through your ribs the moment you turn around.”

“Forget it.” Otis replied immediately. “We don’t want you picking fights with entire slayer teams or mercenary bands.”

“So, are we going to do this on our own or what?”

“I told you, that’s an act of sheer folly.” Otis said in an exasperated tone “I sold half my inks and bought that information for something. We can’t keep doing things blindly like before if we want our plan to work. The informant said that it was suicide to venture into the wilds with a group smaller than five, and that’s if all are combatants. Neither you or I are combatants.

“He said that our best shot was to join a slayer team as helpers and that’s truly the best choice. We’d learn about the trade while earning some money.” Otis said

“I remember that the man also said that the area surrounding the colonies had fewer demons and all weak ones. I know how to handle those; we can do it alone.”

“And what would we do when a stronger demon or beast decides show up? Die. The man also told us about that.”

Kancil looked to the sides and pushed Otis to one side of the street. “Why don’t you begin flaunting about your profession then? You said that anyone would want a Scribe to tag along.”

“That’s true, but then they wouldn’t want to let me go. I’ve had similar dealings before, and let me tell you, fighters get addicted to using runes as if they were candyscratchers very easily.”

“Addicted to runes? How can that happen?”

“Aside from equipment enhancing runes and utility runes, there are some that can temporarily enhance a person’s stats and are relatively easy to make. Those are the addictive ones. When a person experiences that sudden increase of strength or constitution it becomes hard to fight without it.”

“Then why don’t you tell them you don’t know how to make those?”

“If I told them that then who’d want me to join then? You can easily buy utility runes for a few pennies or drachmas anyway. And most people can’t invest the money for equipment enhancing runes.”

“We should just join a mercenary band then. There are tons of those around and they take in any kind of person that can hold a weapon.” Kancil conceded.

“Yes, that seems to be our only option.” Otis agreed, resigned and crestfallen. “The hard part should be choosing the less crappy mercenary band.”

Most mercenary bands were made of rabble and riffraff. If you get crippled you’d be lucky if a captain offers any kind of compensation. In general, a bunch that had no idea of honor or discipline. Of course, not all mercenary bands were like that, but joining a properly organized one would be hard, and finding it would be harder.

“We should begin gathering information in the taverns.” Otis said.

“We’re depending on you.” Kancil patted Otis on the shoulder.

“Village boy…” Otis muttered.

“You should hurry then, because our bread will only last two more days.” Kancil said, turning a deaf ear to Otis’ comment.

They were lucky to even have that, actually. When they joined the legionnaire group crossing the mountain pass, the centurion had kindly afforded them with meals for the six days the journey lasted.

Right after they decided their course of action they went into one of the taverns to inquire about the mercenary bands in the colony. Otis was a learned man and he could approach tables occupied by bored stult workers and entertain them with stories who knows where he read in exchange for some drink and rumors. Kancil being who he is, he disliked the drinks and could only sit in silence while having to endure Otis calling him his ‘lame apprentice’ all the time.

Though he had to admit that his disheveled grown hair, the dirty cloth bandage covering a third of his face and the bandaged arm did give him the appearance of a lame apprentice. He wanted to at least get rid of the bandage around his eye, but he feared what might happen if he removed it. Last time he tried his head almost exploded from the headache.

After two days of drinking with almost every worker in the colony they had decided what kind of mercenary band to join.

To their surprise almost everyone agreed that the best choice were the bands led by adventurous patricians. They didn’t even know that nobles fancied activities like being mercenaries, but it seemed that those were becoming common in the colonies.

They were the best choice simply because they had all that ‘noble honor’ to upheld and could not afford to send men to die like cattle. Though the workers gossiped that the real reason was that they were to cowardly to throw themselves to fierce battles like mercenaries usually did.

Whatever the reason, they fitted their needs. All they wanted to do was to amass some money to buy proper equipment and learn how the demon communities worked in the Dark World. Now they only had to find the noble mercenaries.

… …

They spent the day looking for the so called noble mercenary bands, but all the found were a couple of cutthroat captains recruiting desperate stults for their bands.

“The workers said there were a lot of patrician captains around the colonies.” Otis said, chewing on the last bit of bread they had left. The workers sitting around had already heard all his interesting stories and he could not coax any ale out of them.

“Maybe they meant it in a general way. Around all colonies.” Kancil said, chewing.

“But we didn’t find any even in that new Slayer Office they created? I thought all mercenaries went there to take jobs.” Otis slapped the table.

“I guess we ran out of luck. It’s been smooth sailing since we… departed from Lenore.” Kancil sighed and kept chewing, making sure to savor what might be his last food for a while.

Otis moved his eyes around, hoping that their luck could stretch a little more and let him see a noble entering the tavern in his shiny armor and trimmed hair.

“Wait a minute.” Otis squinted his at the barman behind the bar counter. He saw the man carefully take a bottle of wine—a Charles Buiger Sauvignon of the 425—and pour it in a thoroughly cleaned mug.

Well, that was not the kind of drink any worker or mercenary could afford. He doubted even the strongest slayers would spend their hardly earned money buying such a delicate beverage. Their kind usually preferred strong drinks.

He looked at the man at which the barman poured such an exquisite drink. He wore the same kind of clothes mercenary captains or slayers used when they put away their armors. Otis would have thought of the man as a mercenary with excellent taste if it wasn’t for how clean he kept his clothes. Not a single unwashable stain of blood or food at sight, and he actually kept his face and arms clean.

“I think we found our captain.” He nudged Kancil on the arm. “Over there.” He pointed discreetly at the man drinking the splendorous wine.

“Isn’t that just a slayer?”

“Not at all, my good village boy. You see that magnificent thing he’s drinking? A bottle of that is worth at least twice as much as all the ale and beer the tavern has sold this week combined. A plebeian slayer wouldn’t have the money or the taste to buy that. Heck I even doubt that the tavern stocks such an expensive wine. The man probably brought it himself to the tavern for safekeeping.”

“You addict…” Kancil muttered under his breath and discreetly pointed his bracelet at the man.

【Level 22】

The man’s level appeared on his bracelet, confirming at least that he was strong enough to lead a mercenary band. “You should go pay a visit to the other tables to ask about him then.”

“What need do we have of that? It’s been so hard to find a patrician captain at last. We can’t lose time with that, what if the man leaves?” Otis put the last bit of bread in his bag and began tidying his clothes and hair.

“Where did you leave the ‘doing things blindly’ thing? We don’t know anything about the man.”

“I doubt a man who can enjoy such a good wine is of questionable character. We need to approach now when he is enjoying the taste of that blessed liquid.” Otis stood up. “Come, let’s go.”

“I think you’re in love…” Kancil muttered and followed, his shoulders shrinking involuntarily.

The man glanced at them as they approached and then returned to his wine, as if he had simply seen a leaf fly past him.

“Good evening, my lord.” Otis bowed reverentially and slapped Kancil’s arm to make him do the same.

Kancil followed suit by lowering his head mechanically and rising it up.

The man stared down at the mug, as if he couldn’t bear to part with the sight of his wine and then turned his head.

Seeing the man’s appreciation of the godly liquor Otis began to grow hopeful that if they joined the man he could get a taste of a similar wine one day.

“Yes?” The man raised a scrutinizing eyebrow.

“My name is Otis. I have the audacity to call myself a skilled physician and I wondered if your lordship is one of the pioneering patricians that have arrived to the Dark World to brave the dangers of the land?”

The man had looked at them up and down with slight disdain, but his attention seemed piqued by Otis’ flowery words. “Yes, good man. I daresay I’m leading a contract company to help humanity wage war against the demons.”

Otis’ eyes brightened. “My lord, I wondered if me and my apprentice could join your company to support your brave fights.”

The noble captain laughed through his nose. “Why would I require your services, good man?”

“As I said, my lord, I’m a skilled physician. I have an ample knowledge of all kinds of medicinal herbs that can close gashing wounds without leaving as much as a tiny scar and treat most kind of illnesses that you’d come across the Dark World’s thick forests. I can set bones and have a certain degree of skill in concocting potions and elixirs. I’m sure you’ll find my services most useful in the dangerous environment your lordship works.”

The noble stroke his cleanly shaved chin and stared at Otis intensely. “One of my healers has returned home recently due to personal matters and my company faces the need of a man of your skills. I’ll be glad to contract your services,” He said, making Otis’ heart jump in excitement. “But what can your… disabled apprentice do for my company? Is he of the same skills as you?” He turned his scrutinizing gaze to Kancil.

“I’m afraid he’s not my lord. But the lad is hardly disabled. The injuries on his arm are from fighting off a gnoll, and he already had lost his eye by then. If your lordship checked his status you’d see that he’s a stult novice. Where else would you find a stult that can handle himself against a combatant demon? The boy’s a stult prodigy, I assure you.”

The man checked Kancil’s status and raised his eyebrows. “He’s indeed a stult novice… and if what you say of his skills is true, the I see the value in keeping him.” He nodded. “But only if it’s true. Meet me outside this tavern tomorrow after sunrise. We’ll make a trip to the nearby forests to test your skills.”

“Thank you, my lord. You won’t regret your choice.” Otis bowed and slapped Kancil’s arm again.

Kancil bowed as well.

“Might I have the pleasure to know your name, my lord?” Otis said.

“Not yet, good man. After you join us.” The noble smiled.

“Clarian!” A tall guy entered the tavern, calling for someone. All gazes moved to him and conversations stopped for a moment.

“There you are.” The man gazed towards them and approached. “Clarian,” He crossed his arms and addressed the noble. “Stop drinking your ass off and hurry up. You’ve had us waiting for half an hour.”

The noble’s face froze, the corner of his lips twitching. “My name is Clarian Ventilo.” He turned his face to Otis and downed the rest of the wine in one go. “Be there punctually or you can forget this conversation ever happened.” He slapped the newcomer hard on the shoulder and walked off. “Let’s go.”

The other man flinched and groaned, following Clarian. “What’s your problem? Why’re you trying to act like a moron again?” He asked, but Clarian kept walking, leaving his questions unanswered.

“That was confusing…” Kancil said.

“What does it matter? We’re in, boy.” Otis laughed. “We’re going to stop eating hard bread and sleeping in the streets.”

“He said he’d test us. If he doesn’t like us, then we’ll end up in the plantations. Or in a shitty mercenary band.”

“Of course we’ll pass his test. You’re a really good fighter and I’m a superb physician.” Otis said.

“Right, about that. What’s that of being a physician? Aren’t you a Scribe?” Kancil furrowed his brows.

“A man is not allowed to be good in different fields?” Otis held his chin high and stared down at Kancil.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or why didn’t you tell that to the slayer teams from before? One of them might have accepted us.” Kancil’s voice began to heat up, but he realized by the end that he was attracting a few eyes and toned it down.

“They didn’t seem trustworthy. More brawn than brain.” Otis shrugged. “Furthermore, it is best this way. The nobles care a lot about reputation and wouldn’t engage in an impossible battle. And he sure has funds, both to pay us and maybe pay for our equipment if we’re good enough.” Otis said. “Come on, don’t give me that look, we won’t have to sleep in the streets anymore!” He patted Kancil’s shoulder.

“Well, today we will. We’re not part of his-” Kancil paused. “Company—as he calls it. Today our bed is the good ol’ hard, cold ground.” He snorted.

“You need to leave others to enjoy their happiness, grumpy village boy…” He muttered and walked out of the inn. Off to find their hard cold ground to sleep.