Maren burst out laughing, invested in the role of the snobby investor hearing a naive youth pitch a crazy business idea.

“Kid, don’t you think people have tried making mercenary guilds in the past? They all failed because like you said, mercenaries are a tight knit community. They would rather prefer working with old clients than take some newcomer who would control them and take some of their fee.”

“Which is exactly why now is the perfect opportunity to set one up now.” Evan replied before explaining. “The reason why those wannabe guilds failed is that they tried to target big names in the community who most likely had their own regular clients.”

“Remember, the class with the most power is never the upper class, but the middle. They provide the country with all the economic growth and stability. The lower classes are simply too weak while the upper classes don’t care. For the middle class however, they have the money and resources to grow businesses and any benefit to the country is also beneficial for them.”

“Now that there are many new mercenaries to be hired, we can hire them in the guild: gathering requests from cartels, businesses, nobles, even ordinary people and selling those requests to those mercenaries for a cut of the profit.”

“Remember how some of the reserve soldiers would get jobs at their family or friends' companies? An increased workforce needs and increased supply which means there will be many requests for materials from monsters, plants in the forests, deliveries, or even escorts.”

“Big name mercenaries usually only take high profile jobs and wouldn’t care about stuff like this, meaning we wouldn’t have much competition. Even if mercenaries start forming smaller groups to better work together, forming their own pseudo-guilds, as long as we own the infrastructure, they won’t be able to compete with us.” Evan said, finishing his pitch.

Maren pondered over Evan’s words, calculating the risks and profits of such a crazy idea. It sounded insane to Maren with multiple things that could go wrong, but when Evan had come up with contingency after contingency plan that finally Maren gave up and asked.

“Fine, your idea seems plausible, but what would stop me from stealing your idea right now? After all, you need my contacts and resources to make this happen.” He said with a gleam in his eye.

Evan leaned forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees and smiled.

The same smile Maren had when closing a particularly good deal.

The smile of a devil.

“Did you really think I would pitch you such a lucrative idea without making contingency plans? I don’t need you, you would only expedite my plans and provide some help in managing the guild.”

“You need something to work on when you’re retired, old man. Besides, you have the same problem other potential competitors have.” Evan said with a sly smile.

“Oh, and what would that be?” Maren asked, taunting Evan.

“You know squat about how people act and think. Sure, your contacts can get you in touch with high ranking mercenaries, but they’re useless for starting up the guild. They are unfriendly and love to work alone.”

“Meanwhile for the guild to start up, you need a low ranking nobody, friendly to others and eager to quit working dirty and start making a difference.”

“And you have this so-called nobody?”

“There were fourteen dead bodies in that house I was kidnapped in, but I counted fifteen rats to be exterminated.” Evan said.

“Why do you think I didn’t straight up burn the house or cause an earthquake to flatten it when I could have easily done so and escaped? The fact that he escaped and didn’t turn himself in means he feels guilty, but he is still afraid of getting caught.”

“So you admit you did it?”

“I did.”

“Do you have any regrets about it?”

“Yes. That I couldn’t escape with the Lantern you gave me.”

“You mean this Lantern?”

Maren pulled out the Lantern from behind his chair and set it on the table.

“You were waiting for that, weren’t you?”

Maren burst out laughing, dropping the act and said. “Alright, you got me kid, I was just messing with you.”

“Also, about your little project… I’ll check with some people once I get back, see if they’re interested and willing to pool in some capital for your little project.”

“Actually Grandpa, could you use this as capital instead?” Evan said.

He put his hand on the Lantern and took out all of the valuables he had stolen from the kidnappers. Maren whistled seeing the haul.

“I assume you took a little compensation from them for their little inconvenience?”

“Of course, it’s only fair to repay an inconvenience with a little inconvenience. Do you think this is enough to start the guild up?”

“Maybe, if you throw in the money I gave in for your birthday present we could definitely get some place to start. It all depends on your contact really, but are you sure you don’t want anyone investing in your guild?”

“Positive. It’s never a good idea to start a business with funding from strangers. You end up being sold out of your own business. I would rather have their patronage than their support just to be stabbed in the back.”

“Alright, I’ll spread the word and see what I can do. Thanks for the job offer by the way. Retirement was getting boring.” Maren said with a grin, no longer treating Evan like a child, but an equal.

“No problem, just remember that little stunt of yours will be affecting your yearly evaluation and I might take it out of your salary.” Evan said with a mischievous smile.

“You little-”

‘A mercenary guild, huh? I wonder how that would work out.’ Maren thought to himself.

...

The people of Wistre were most active during the day. That was the time where travelers and visitors were allowed into the city, so the citizens made the most of the time they had to sell their various wares and produce.

At night, Wistre became a city of vices where the citizens would unwind for the night. Taverns, brothels, illegal fights, any form of entertainment as long as it had audience.

Which was odd to see Jerry inside the tavern, The Old Boar, slowly sipping his beer this early in the morning.

"Business been slow, Jerry?" Chelsea, the waitress asked.

Jerry looked over with the eyes of a dead man at the curvy waitress.

"Yeah, it's been slow."

"Damn, sorry for your loss." She said, biting her lip. "But this might get better soon, right? Then you'll come over and see me for the night." She said with a giggle.

Chelsea had been born with great looks that were comparable to Cara. She was 1.65 m tall with royal blue hair that anyone would call pretty. Seeing that she had customers willing to pay her for nightly service, she did not mind getting a little extra money.

"Maybe." Jerry said sullenly.

He had been lucky, luckier than the rest of his gang.

They were so young, only turning to crime because they couldn't feed their families. Some of them were old friends of his. But...

What was supposed to be a simple kidnapping job had turned out to be the biggest disaster ever. The Galien boy had wiped out the Boss, their client and his bodyguards, and worse of all, his own crew.

He had wanted to quit being a mercenary for a while, but the job simply paid too much and that eased his conscience.

Now though, he was struggling to find an honest job, simply because no one was hiring.

Business owners would rather hire their own friends and family that had been reserved by the military and whom they trusted more than random people on the street.

However, without his crew, he couldn't go back to being a mercenary either. He had never been good at fighting, only at organizing, which was useless for someone going solo like him.

Getting together a new group of people would also take time, time he did not have.

Then, the door to The Old Boar opened and Romund, an old friend and fellow mercenary, walked in.

"Hey Chel," He greeted with a wide grin on his face. "Guess who just got paid big time?"

"You, daddy?" Chelsea asked with her attitude changing instantly. Her clients had many tastes and she tried to suit them accordingly when talking to them.

"Sure did love, five fat silver coins" Romund said, his words taking a punch at Jerry's stomach.

One tin coin was equivalent to a day's worth of food. Five silver coins was equivalent to fifty.

Chelsea purred hearing the sum of money her client had. Big money meant big meals for her.

Jerry, however, did not share the waitress's enthusiasm and instead breathed another sigh into his mug.

"Oh hey Jerry, fancy seeing you here at noon. How's business? I heard you got a new job recently. Did you pull it off?" Romund asked.

Jerry only sighed again, prompting Chelsea to explain, "It flopped, big time."

“Oh, sorry to hear that. What happened? I thought it was supposed to be an easy job.” Romund said.

Jerry let out a half-crazed laughter, almost spilling his beer on the rustic wooden floors.

“Yeah, it was supposed to be a fucking easy job. Did you hear about the Polton house massacre?” He asked.

“I did, fourteen people in that house dead by various means in the basement of an abandoned house in the outer rim. Rumours say there was even a noble in there. What about it?” Romund replied, recalling the news he had heard from his own crew.

“Wrong, there were fifteen people in that house. Guess who’s the lucky bastard that made it out?” Jerry said bitterly.

Chelsea gasped in shock while Romund suddenly looked grim.

“Sorry for your loss, mate. Guess you’re out of a job and a crew. Say, why don’t you join mine then? We could use someone like you in our team. After all, we are friends.” Romund offered.

“No, sorry mate. I’ve got my eyes on him already so sod off.” A voice said.