Episode 10 – Mercenary Guild
“I feel bad for Hector.”
That night, after returning with Barus,
I told my family that we’d been attacked by a gang of thieves running from a magical beast.
Because of that story, Hector and the other knights patrolled the forest near the annex for two days straight “to secure safety.”
“That was because the young master…”
“What?”
“…Nothing.”
It took three days before I could finally leave the annex, just in time for the border marquis’s scheduled visit.
As before, Barus came along as my escort.
“If you have time to complain, just walk faster.”
“…I am walking.”
If he still has the energy to talk back, I didn’t push him hard enough.
For the past three days, I’d been dragging him into my own training regimen, working him day and night to fix his attitude.
I let the twins rest at night since they’re still young.
I made a note to update my “Barus training plan” and headed for the blacksmith shop I’d visited before.
“Are you there?”
“Sorry, this week I’m only doing repairs—oh, it’s you!”
A sturdy old man with a big build recognized me right away.
“How have you been?”
“In this backwater? There’s no such thing as ‘well.’ I just eat enough to survive each day.”
“Haha, true enough.”
He brushed off soot from his hands and smiled.
“You’re here for your sword, right? Wait a moment.”
He went to the back and soon returned with a sword in a leather sheath.
“I didn’t have enough material, so it’s a bit shorter than usual—about one or two joints—but the hammer work went beautifully.”
He laid out an oiled cloth and drew the sword.
“Oh…”
It was hard to believe it was made from leftover scrap—perfectly balanced and well-forged.
“Try it. I made it to your measurements, but I’m not sure.”
When I took it, it fit my hand perfectly, and the balance was excellent.
“It fits my hand exactly. I can’t just pay the hammering fee for a sword like this. I’ll pay you properly.”
I’d gotten plenty of gear and gold after taking care of those mercenaries and escorts.
Even without counting equipment or trinkets, I still had thirty thousand gold coins—
a fortune that would make any average mercenary lose his mind.
It was now my own private property—no need to burden my sister—
and I could even use it to improve the family’s situation over time.
“I told you, that’s enough. I’m a man of my word.”
He patted my shoulder and handed me the sheath as well.
“If you’re that worried about it, just come by sometimes to chat—and I can do some sword maintenance for you.”
“Chat…?”
“My grandson left for the capital, and it gets lonely. Customers have been scarce lately.”
“Your grandson is in the capital?”
He scratched his head.
“Yeah. Said he couldn’t live in this countryside. Haven’t heard from him in years.”
Grandson in the capital, huh…
“What’s his name?”
“Why?”
“I’ll be going to the capital soon.”
The festival will be held at the main Tindalos estate—
which means the imperial capital.
“You’ll still need sword maintenance there. If I visit your grandson’s shop, I can also pass along your regards. Win-win, right?”
“Oh! You’d do that? Thank you.”
The old man grinned and shook my hand.
“Come to think of it, we never exchanged names. I’m Topers, the blacksmith. My grandson’s name is Luka.”
“I’m Haun. I’ll make sure to deliver your message.”
“I’ll reward you well!”
“No need. I’ve already received more than enough.”
Blacksmith Luka… I’ll remember that.
After chatting a bit about the world’s happenings, I left the forge, fastening the sword securely to my belt.
“Let’s go, Barus. All that’s left is to stop by the local guild branch.”
“You’re really going to do it?”
“Of course. When you get a gift, it’s only right to return the favor.”
“I suppose…”
“You’ve got to pull the weeds from your front yard before leaving the house.”
When we arrived at the guild branch, a big guy stood guarding the entrance—
clean-shaven head, muscular build, sword on his back, nasty glare.
Some things never change.
“Barus, kill some time nearby.”
“I’m not going in with you?”
“Forgot already? You were technically an accomplice with those guys. Want to get tangled up again?”
“Oh.”
“Now you get it. Just wait quietly.”
I left Barus behind and walked toward the main door.
“Hey, kid,” the guard grunted. “This isn’t a place for snot-nosed brats. Get lost.”
“Guild rules say there’s no age limit for registration. Learn them.”
I brushed past his words.
“And if your job is to scare people at the door, at least draw your sword. You look too young to be posturing like that.”
“…What?”
“No more to say? Then I’m going in.”
Leaving him gaping, I threw the doors wide open.
Silence fell.
Four resident mercenaries… not bad for a remote branch.
None of them had aura—about the same level as the ones who attacked me.
I ignored their stares and went straight to the counter, where a middle-aged man was cleaning glasses.
“…You’re not here to order a drink. What’s a fancy-looking young master doing in a rough place like this?”
“I want to register with the mercenary guild.”
I sat lightly on a stool.
“Skip the verification hassle. Just call the branch manager.”
“….”
He sighed, glanced behind me, and muttered,
“Guess you won’t be satisfied unless someone beats you up first?”
The mercenaries who’d been watching me started stretching and walking over.
“This isn’t a playground, kid.”
“If you don’t leave now, you’ll regret—”
Their lines were so cliché it was almost cute.
“Ha. Hundreds of years pass and mercenary talk never changes. Does eating soldier’s rations turn your brain to stone?”
“What?!”
“Too late to beg now!”
I drew my sword—still in its sheath—pulling up mana to reinforce it.
A leather sheath, but hardened like this, it would hurt more than a metal club.
The first mercenary swung at me; I dodged and smashed his arm.
The next two got a leg each.
“Ugh!”
“Argh!”
“This bastard’s an aura user!”
Mana, actually—but I didn’t bother correcting them.
The last one hesitated, so I slammed the sheath into his gut.
“Take some time to recover—and learn how to size up an opponent.”
I swung the sword back without looking—
the tip stopped at the counter man’s neck.
—Clang!
Two daggers dropped from his hands to the floor.
“Former mercenary, right? Judging from your aura, silver rank.”
“…Who are you?”
“I told you—I want to register. Call your branch manager.”
“You never thought I might be him?”
Blatant lie.
“I’ve eaten soldier’s rations too long to fall for that. I know he’s in the back. Go get him.”
“…Fine.”
A man emerged from the back—middle-aged, like the counter man.
“I’m the branch manager. Let’s talk.”
“See? If you’d done that from the start, your men wouldn’t be lying on the floor.”
“…I’ll remember that.”
