PLMYP 11

Chapter 11 —

People called him the Golden Lion of Weinberg, the reborn Mercenary King, but it turns out he was actually Count Elphias… How interesting. If this got out, a lot of people would be shocked.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s known. I don’t care about my title, so threatening me with that won’t work.”

“Threaten? Me, a prince, stooping to something so low? No way. I’m offering you a long-term contract. Say… ten years.”

—

A long-term contract.

In the mercenary world, where deals are usually short-term, this was rare. The reason was simple: there weren’t many jobs that needed a mercenary for that long, and you had to pay half the contract’s value upfront.

To hire Leonard, the famous “Golden Lion of Weinberg,” for ten years, you’d need to pay 30 million larks upfront.

—

“There’s just one problem. As a prince, I can’t spend a huge sum on something shady like hiring a mercenary.”

“Wait, hear me out. There’s a workaround. Your family has an heirloom, right? Put it up for auction, and I’ll bid to cover the cost.”

—

The heirloom the Second Prince mentioned was a sword named Reiz Messer.

Before the empire was founded, when the first emperor was surrounded by enemies, Count Elphias saved him single-handedly with this sword. The emperor, after repairing its cracked blade, named it after himself.

Few items from the first emperor still exist, so this sword, carrying his name, was incredibly valuable.

—

“I’ll return the sword to you as a gift, like I’m rewarding a loyal knight. Even my mother, the empress, won’t suspect a thing.”

—

30 million larks.

That was the exact amount of debt, principal and interest, that Leonard’s creditors were demanding. Normally, Leonard would’ve been suspicious of such a perfect sum, but the hope shining like a star in the dark night clouded his judgment.

“Alright, draw up the contract with those terms.”

“What? You don’t trust me? I thought mercenaries valued trust more than their lives, yet you treat mine like dirt?”

—

A contract was meant to ensure trust.

If the prince couldn’t sign one, Leonard should’ve walked away. But to calm the prince, who was ranting about insulting the royal family, Leonard reluctantly nodded.

“You have to promise to bid on the sword and pay me the agreed amount, no matter what.”

“How many times do I have to say don’t worry?”

—

And so, Leonard, who had never made a verbal contract in his mercenary career, entrusted the future of the Elphias family to one. A verbal agreement with no proof was like gambling. But how could he not take the risk?

“If I don’t pay the debt, I’ll have to declare bankruptcy. Then the count title is gone.”

Leonard had been tasked by the late Countess Elphias to protect the title until her daughter, Janice, could inherit it next year. He’d only taken the title temporarily, planning to return to being a mercenary afterward.

“If Marquis Blair knew this, she’d probably call off the engagement.”

She’d said she didn’t care if he was a mercenary or illegitimate, but losing the count title would matter to her.

“I should’ve told her yesterday… or maybe I don’t need to mention it?”

If he refused, Marquis Blair would likely find someone else. Undoing a public engagement announcement would be tough, but…

Marquis Blair was too good for someone like him. With the mindset of not chasing what he couldn’t have, Leonard quietly left the marquis’s estate with Edward.

—

* * *

A month later, the Roel Auction House on Velvet Street was buzzing with people for its public auction.

“Madam, have you seen the catalog? The items are amazing!”

“I’m ready to spend at least 3 million larks. I *have* to win that pink ruby…”

The Great Hall, where the auction was held, had round tables spaced evenly, with expensive wine, juice, and finger foods laid out. It felt more like a banquet than an auction, except for the stage where items would be displayed.

Leonard, who hated this kind of atmosphere, sighed inwardly and found his seat.

“Pretty far back… makes sense.”

Only those who bought the catalog could attend, and seats were assigned. The better your reputation, the closer you sat to the stage. As a first-time attendee and a seller, Leonard’s seat was toward the back.

He didn’t mind. He was only there to see if the Second Prince would bid on Reiz Messer as promised.

“There’s the Second Prince.”

His seat was close to the stage.

“Haha, Your Highness, fancy seeing you here. How’ve you been?”

“I heard you went to Deborah Coast for a break—looking radiant!”

“Is that true? I heard the hotel there is booked out for three years…”

The nobles around the prince were famous, even to Leonard, who had only been in high society for a year. He decided not to barge in and just fidgeted with his mask.

“Am I standing out too much?”

Luckily, he wasn’t the only one wearing a mask. He noticed a woman in a fancy dress and mask sitting up front, then did a double-take.

“Lloyd Matthias?”

Red hair, green eyes. It was definitely the young Count Matthias, chatting warmly with the Second Prince.

“He’s friends with the prince?”

It wasn’t just flattery—Matthias was having a real conversation. Leonard hadn’t known they were close, and a bad feeling crept over him.

“This doesn’t feel right.”

His instincts, which had saved him countless times, were correct again.

—

“This next item is one many noble families will recognize—a piece of great historical value.”

Two hours into the auction, Reiz Messer finally appeared.

“The sword Reiz Messer, named by the Great Emperor himself, who founded our empire. It was wielded by the Elphias family to save his life, making it no exaggeration to say it helped build this empire!”

The 400-year-old sword was displayed in a sparkling crystal case. Its historical value was undeniable, but was it worthy of closing the auction? Not quite.

People murmured in disappointment, unimpressed by the worn blade despite the auctioneer’s grand words.

“Is that *really* Reiz Messer? It’s…”

“Just an old sword.”

Some voices were louder, just as Leonard expected.

“Even so, putting an item touched by the First Emperor up for auction…”

“He’s a mercenary, alright. Only cares about money. To think the Elphias name has fallen this far.”

“Why would he do this? Couldn’t he just borrow money from his fiancée?”

“Probably got rejected. Marquis Blair doesn’t invest in losing ventures.”

Leonard let the sharp comments slide. Honor? Prestige? Those meant nothing when you were starving. What good were they if you couldn’t eat?

“Besides, it’s not just a few coins.”

30 million larks. Leonard waited for the Second Prince to name that amount.

But…

“Let’s start the bidding at 100,000 larks! Anyone interested, please raise your panel. …No one?”

The room, noisy moments ago, went silent.

Leonard stared at the Second Prince, gripping his chair tightly.

“If no one bids, Reiz Messer will go unsold. Anyone? Really?”

Lloyd Matthias, chuckling, raised his panel as if doing a favor.

“110,000.”

“110,000! Anyone else? We need 120,000. 120,000?”

No one cared about the old sword. Not even the Second Prince, who’d promised Leonard 30 million larks. He just flipped through the catalog, looking bored.

That’s when Leonard realized—he’d been played from the start.

“They were in on it together…”

Glaring at Lloyd, who was laughing with his friends, Leonard gritted his teeth. He’d thought no amount of mockery could shame him, but his confidence crumbled like sand.

Who could he blame?

He was the fool who didn’t insist on a contract.

“Unless there are other bids, Reiz Messer will be sold to customer 32 for 110,000 larks. Three, two, one…”

As the gavel rose, a small panel went up amid faint giggles.

“Ah, customer 1! Customer 1 has raised their panel. Please state your bid!”

“200,000.”

“200,000! 200,000 is—”

Before the auctioneer could finish, the same voice continued.

“300,000.”

“What?”

“500,000. 1 million.”

“Uh, customer 1?”

The bids kept climbing, all from customer 1. The clear, feminine voice didn’t stop.

“2 million, 3 million, 5 million.”

“Wait, please, customer 1, calm down. Bidding consecutively like that is against the rules.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know.”

The woman sighed dramatically, then added, “I was expecting a fierce competition, but since there’s none, I figured I’d have to do it myself.”

From Leonard’s seat, he couldn’t see customer 1. But her voice was so familiar that he didn’t need to guess who she was.

“Our rules are clear. Please state your final bid.”

“Minimum 100 million, maximum 500 million.”

“…What?”

The room fell silent, as if doused with cold water. Everyone stared at customer 1, stunned.

The auctioneer, snapping out of it, asked again, “Your bid is…?”

“Minimum 100 million, maximum 500 million. Oh, is that too vague?”

In the pin-drop silence, Leonard was certain. That voice, laced with a faint mocking tone, belonged to the woman who’d confidently promised to fix his flaws.

“Let’s settle at 300 million.”