"Hah! We beat that poncy [Duke] and the two idiotic [Mercenary] groups!" Atasaney rejoiced as he paid the man maintaining the hidden teleportation circle in Hamms.

"How do you know about this?" Ridi asked his new [Commander].

"A certain someone had told me of this information. Of course, I paid dearly for it. It's a good deal nevertheless." Atasaney replied as he turned towards his men and women. "We ride. To Lynt."

-

Numisley dreamt of riches and influence; with vast coffers that struck his eye, and influence that has even [Lords] and [Merchants] at his beck and call. All because of a black notebook that held secrets; the true wealth of nations. He looked up and saw a gilded throne among the waves.

And drowned.

Numisley jittered himself awake after he dozed off on the back of Palden. The three headed towards the town of Lynt. They were on a less-known dirt road within the grasslands. A tent beside the road under a tree revealed itself, and three figures emerged. A Dwarf with a staff, a Human with a half-burnt face, and a Dullahan.

"Wait-" Cultrost placed his hand on the mace on his side.

"Oh, it is you guys." Palden recognized them. They were part of the security personnel of the company, and the ones who survived the attack on the manor. Palden instinctively knew that the two of them did not survive.

"Yes. Your father's last will is to protect you until we get to safety." The Dullahan informed them.

"Thank you. Although, I have different plans, Dornlor." Numisley stated, raising their eyebrows.

"You got the eyes of a conniving serpent, just like your father." The Dwarf approached Numisley, as they continued their pace. "What is it?"

"Let's say that I have inherited my father's secrets. I intend to make a profit out of them, Palvt." Numisley spoke with the Dwarf.

"That notebook..." He uttered.

"Do you mean to disobey your father's last wish?" Donlor stared at him, incredulous.

"High-risk, high-reward. With this, we might make my family's company wealthier. That's what my father wanted too." Numisley reassured. "I do not intend to waste away in another continent while [Assassins] stab my back in the future. Even if I do not read its contents, knowing of its existence will put a target on my back regardless."

"I shall guard you as I did with your father. In my experience as a [Mercenary], you should side with the one who seems to know what he is doing." The old Human man slung his shield behind him. "How much can you pay me?"

"I can pay you one gold per week, Gorebur. Or a secret of your choosing. I will withdraw the gold stored in my father's account at Dotterm after I hire the Severed Swords, a caravan, as well as the people I need in this journey, and you will get five gold."

"Well, I don't care much 'bout that lad. I did see how his black notebook bit him in the ass along his court games in the past." Palvt told Numisley. "Nor do I care about you. I like your brother better because you're too much like your parents, so I'll accompany you because I feel you'll suffer the same fate."

"You walk a path similar to your father. As he had saved me from disgrace, I shall pay my debt at last." The Dullahan interjected. "He used his knowledge to do what's right, and I hope you will do the same. Otherwise, wash your neck."

"Can't argue with that. I'll pay you all, of course." Numisley stated. He tried to hide the fact that he was intimidated by the self-righteous Dullahan. But he was assured that no [Bandits] want to tangle with this group because of their strength.

"What happened to Gildin Trading in Renimburg?" Cultrost asked them, but he had an inkling of the truth of the matter.

"The town is being sacked. I saw our warehouses in flames. Belias' [Mercenaries] now occupy the town." Gorebur recounted how they saw their town under siege as they escaped. The three's eyes widened with shock. Numisley's mind was running, trying to guess why is this happening.

"We're heading to Lynt. Let's go." Numisley broke the silence, distracting them for a second as well as reminding them of their goal. They continued forwards, with their new companions walking beside them as the three rode the donkey.

-

The town of Lynt, founded by a local folk hero named Lynt, stood on the elevated ground upon a dried lake, where their communal ranch of sheep is located; with their wool as their main export. Although their sheep are not one of those prized breeds, much less the magical ones, with the [Sheep Ranchers]' Feats, they can supply the local wool industry with quality mundane wool. The traveling party of Numisley was within sight of its wooden ramparts, reinforced with packed dirt.

The [Guards] on the gate saw them, and they immediately asked for identification. Numisley knew from the embroidered emblem of a severed sword at the breast of his gambeson that they belong to the Severed Swords, and Numisley made a mental note to himself that he would meet with their commander tomorrow. As they were permitted to enter the town, they trudged through the streets of Lynt, patrolled by the local militia assisted and trained by the Severed Swords. Since it's mostly a Human town, some of them gave Cultrost and the non-Humans raised eyebrows or seldom, dirty looks of suspicion as they passed by. Especially Cultrost, one of the Satyrs; feared by Libertalian settlements for their raids. They paid the [Hostler] of the inn named "The Woolen Mug" to take care of the donkey in the stables as they went inside. They paid the Human [Innkeeper] without any fuss, and they went to their rooms, planning for the future.

Numisley, Cultrost, and their three companions from the road faced the entrance to the headquarters of the Severed Swords; a simple compound of four buildings in a district of the town, hidden among the buildings.

"Can I speak to Commander Haovel? I will hire the Severed Swords." Numisley spoke to the two [Mercenaries] that guard the compound.

"He is not accepting employment until the end of the contract with the [Mayor] of Lynt." One of them spoke, blocking their way with crossed spears.

"Would this change your mind?" Numisley, leaning on his cane revealed three glimmering gold coins; thrice their monthly salary.

"Er…well, please come in." He retracted his spear back as the other guard raised his eyebrows.

Numisley gave them both three gold coins each before the more sensible guard objected as he simply walked into the compound with his entourage. Gold opens a lot of doors in Libertalia after all.

"Excuse me, I'm here to talk to Commander Haovel of the Severed Swords, on behalf of Gildin Trading," Numisley called the attention of one of the men supervising people carrying crates towards a wagon.

"That is me." The tanned blonde-haired man in his fifties turned towards them. "Did you say, Gildin Trading?"

"I'm Numisley Gildin, and this is my brother, Cultrost Gildin, and them, my remaining employees. We are what remains of the company. I assume that you know our father?"

"Yes-"

"I require your services. Name your price." Numisley cut straight to the point, leaving him no room to object. The commander of the Severed Swords was speechless by the sudden offer.

"My company's contract with the town hasn't ended yet-"

"Graten Haovel. [Watcher] and [Sword Captain]. Level 60 or so. Your band is specialized in defending assets, and that is what I need. I can pay you and your men if you protect us at least until we can charter a ship in the Diamond Shore Conglomerate's territories."

"How do you know that?" Graten snapped at Numisley. One's true Levels and Roles are sensitive information, after all. Numisley pulled the notebook halfway on his coat, poking out of the folds.

"Let us talk about the exact terms in a more private setting."

Graten begrudgingly hosted him in the office, because he knew what exactly is that notebook; collected dirt from important figures of two continents so large that it became a metaphorical mountain of secrets. It holds more than a vault of gold, more destructive than most armies if it is used right.

"Is Jascias alive?" He asked, a table away from the bold young man who demanded his attention.

"Killed by [Mercenaries]. Most likely. I do not know which, nor I did not see him die. Probably Belias Trading, but I know that they wouldn't dare to directly attack even our company."

"I see. Condolences. I can attest that he is a decent sort compared to the rest of the continent, being hired by him in the past."

"What did he hire you for?" Cultrost asked, leaning closer to the table.

"Back then, we were only ten people. More like a 'venturing team than a proper company. We simply protected him and his lover as they travel through Libertalia, and instead of paying us with gold, he paid with his knowledge of Roles and helped build my company."

"Who was my mother?" Numisley asked after Cultrost.

"I do not know exactly. She wore some kind of magical coat that obscured her face almost all the time. But, your father called her Marhyiana, if I recall."

Numisley, pondered at that clue, although he had more pressing matters right now.

"Even with that high-grade Bag of Holding that might hold more than a hundred coins, how can I be sure that you can pay us in the next moon?" Graten asked, tapping his finger on the table.

"This is why I also need your help." Numisley straightened. "Although I can pay your entire company this moon, I need to get to Dotterm safely so that I could withdraw my father's money to secure funds. There's a chance whoever attacked our house will chase us."

"I see. What can you offer that is worth more than my contract with this town?" His gaze tried to pierce Numisley.

"Forty gold coins per moon." Numisley offered.

"Too low." Graten countered. "Try a hundred-and-fifty gold. My contract is worth that much, and we haven't been paid in full yet."

"Fifty then." Numisley cursed his lack of Levels. Even his [Basic Haggling] wouldn't be that effective against an experienced [Mercenary]. He made the mistake of setting the price too low.

"You haven't run a merc' band, are you? A hundred-and-thirty gold, then. Less than that and I'll toss you out of the window." Graten threatened, and Numisley has no time to concede, nor the money. The air felt static as the two faced off each other, as Cultrost and the rest of Numisley's companions watched who will win in this heated haggling.

"I know that hiring [Mercenaries] cost, what, twenty gold at least, if they are a dozen of them," Numisley stated. "Majority of the cost is from their food and weapons, and we all know how they drink beer like water and fuck like rabbits when they arrive in a town with a brothel. You have like, thirty or so men, which is around forty gold coins."

"You are asking me to cancel a lucrative contract, and even if I did accept your offer, it will take a day or two to buy supplies and prepare for a trip, and convince the [Mayor] to cancel our contract." Graten brought out a salient point.

Numisley still sat straight, facing the commander of a decent mercenary company in a battle of wits and greed.

"How about fifty gold, and a secret about the [Mayor] of Lynt." He drew his last card, his ace in the hole: the black notebook of secrets.

Graten's eyes widened upon hearing that phrase. "How important is that secret?"

"Let's just say that if you unleashed this secret in Lynt, the [Mayor] will fear to go outside his home."

-

Letner Maycey, a portly middle-aged Human man that governed the town of Lynt for seven trials, was eating a mutton stew inside the town hall; complete with celery, onion, cabbage, potatoes, and corn; a recipe from the Satyr tribes, despite his general distrust for Satyrs. They raid settlements and take jobs from Humans in the cities after all. Someone knocked at the door.

"Come in." Letner put aside his now empty ceramic plate, with a spoon made out of a goat's horn.

A young man opened the door, holding a letter.

"A letter from Graten Haovel of the Severed Swords. About the defensive contract."

The letter was placed on the table dimly illuminated by the sunlight from the stained windows, and the [Servant] left the [Mayor] in the privacy of the room. As the string around the letter was unfurled, his eyes widened, forehead wet with fear after he read the letter.

"How did he know that I k-"

He choked at his own words before he regained his composure, leaning on the chair. He deliberated on whether or not he should kick them out for demanding more money outside of their contract, but there is a chance that a rumor may spread if he does so. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place, and he won the election by silencing the opposition. The [Servant] of the manor detected that he needed something with one of his Feats.

"Tell the commander that he will get the other half of his payment tonight, and tell him the contract is done." He snapped at the [Servant], who promptly rushed out the room to fill the orders.

On that night, Numisley's deviousness cast a shadow on the walls of the room lit with a single candle; his fingers lingering on a page of a book. The commander of the Severed Swords smiled as he is counting coins; obtaining more money than he needed.

Level 14 [Trader]!

[Feat - Recall Value] - developed!

[Role Played- Information Broker]!

Level 7 [Information Broker].

[Feat - Find Rumor] developed!