The Misfit Mercenaries
One-armed. One-eyed. Odd-eyed. Barbarian.
If you called for a mercenary band and this group showed up, what would be your first thought?
Most people would struggle to keep a straight face. That was exactly the expression on the village chief of Kurib Village right now.
He wasn’t managing his expression at all. He even rose onto his tiptoes and glanced around, checking if anyone else was following behind them.
But no one else came. The Muslan Mercenary Band consisted of only five members.
They knew it too. Especially their leader, Muslan, understood it better than anyone.
Their first impression wasn’t exactly favorable.
Their numbers were small for a mercenary band, and their appearance wasn’t particularly impressive. Still, their clothes were neater than most mercenaries’.
Even so, it was hard to look past their flaws—almost none of them looked like ordinary, whole men.
The one-armed man and the one-eyed man were easy to tell apart. And the woman? Almost no one in the empire viewed odd-eyed people favorably.
Actually, it was more accurate to say no one did. In the empire, odd eyes were seen as symbols of impurity and misfortune. Even the descendants of nations conquered and destroyed by the empire shunned them.
On top of that, the man who claimed to be their leader looked like nothing more than a boy who had barely shed his youth.
And that wasn’t all. His only equipment was a single sword; he wasn’t even wearing common light armor. He was tall, but his build was far too lean for mercenary work. He looked too slender to swing a sword properly.
Yet the world contained far more things that couldn’t be judged by first impressions alone. There were assassins who always smiled and saints with terrifying faces. That was the way of the world.
So the village chief decided not to judge too hastily. Perhaps these were just the first to arrive. Maybe one of them was a former knight. Or perhaps there was a legitimate reason only five had come.
‘I can see exactly what he’s thinking.’
Muslan barely suppressed the slight upward curl of one corner of his mouth and stared straight at the chief. He was confident he could persuade him.
He was about to speak—to explain that first impressions weren’t everything—when the chief’s voice cut in sharply. The chief had tried to keep things civil, but his anger was impossible to hide.
“Are you playing some kind of joke?”
“Not a joke… though I suppose it might look that way.”
“The letter clearly said ‘mercenary band,’ didn’t it?”
“We are the Muslan Mercenary Band.”
“People don’t usually call a group of five a ‘band.’”
“I wrote it in advance, expecting we’d grow.”
“This is fraud…!”
“Fraud implies financial loss. I don’t recall receiving any advance payment. Did you give us one?”
“Hah, fine. Let’s say it’s not fraud. But this still doesn’t feel right. What exactly do you think five people can accomplish?”
“What doesn’t feel right? Our numbers?”
“That too. But one-armed, one-eyed, a barbarian, and a girl? And that girl…”
“Let’s not go there.”
“Fine. I don’t want to mention it either.”
When Muslan shot him a sharp look, the chief fell silent. But it only lasted a moment.
“And are you even a mercenary? You look more like an actor than anything else.”
“Unfortunately, I’m a mercenary leader, not an actor.”
“Hearing you claim to be the leader makes it even harder to believe.”
“I know. I look far too clean-cut for a mercenary.”
“And young. How old are you this year?”
“Old enough to have eaten my share of meals.”
“I’m not sure you even read the request properly… We’re not dealing with three bandits. There are over thirty. Even if I’m just a village chief who farms for a living, this is ridiculous. You know a small group can’t beat a large one. At the very least, you should’ve brought half their number. Even a third would’ve been something!”
“Our numbers are certainly lacking.”
“I’m not reacting this way just because your group looks strange.”
“Understood. I won’t misunderstand. But since we’ve come, there’s a procedure to follow. Let’s confirm the request details first. Two gold coins in advance. Three after completion. Five gold coins total. The task is to eliminate the Stern Bandits operating near the village. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“The request was posted half a year ago.”
“It was.”
“And no mercenary band has accepted it since.”
“Also correct.”
“Do you know why?”
“How would I? Mercenary matters are…”
“The reason is simple. It doesn’t pay enough.”
“I heard five gold coins is the standard rate for bandit extermination requests.”
“That’s for requests near the empire. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, the story changes. It took us ten days just to reach here from Clarion. We actually started from Airs, but that’s beside the point. The real issue is the treacherous mountain paths—we couldn’t ride horses, which slowed us down. So think about it. If we brought the numbers you wanted, would there be any profit left? Or none at all?”
“There might not be any profit…”
“Exactly. That’s why we came.”
The chief fell silent.
For now, it seemed they had succeeded in erasing some of the bad first impression. The chief’s expression looked better than before. He seemed willing to talk, at least.
Still, Muslan knew better than to relax. The chief had only just sat down at the negotiation table.
“Well, you must be tired from traveling so far. Still, I think it’s best to cancel the request. I’d rather not stir up a hornet’s nest by making a half-hearted attempt. Stern is a petty, vengeful man. If he finds out we hired mercenaries, several villagers will lose their lives. And the first one to go will be me!” The chief shouted, making a throat-slitting gesture with his hand.
“You’re quick to anger. You should hear us out to the end. And we value our lives too. If things go wrong, our heads will roll before yours.”
“?”
When Muslan countered smoothly, the chief looked slightly surprised. Muslan seized the moment and continued.
“We didn’t come here to die.”
“The conversation feels like it’s going in circles. Didn’t you just admit your numbers don’t match?”
“I said the numbers don’t match. I never said we couldn’t handle it.”
“Are you a former knight?”
“No.”
“Oh! Then a mage?”
“Not that either.”
“Then… a veteran? Have you done jobs with this few people before?”
“To be honest, this is our first job as mercenaries.”
“You little—! No… ha…”
The chief’s face flushed red. A curse had nearly escaped his lips before he swallowed it back.
Muslan didn’t care. If he hadn’t been confident they could succeed, he wouldn’t have come all the way to this remote place.
“But we’re from Airs.”
“What?”
“We’re former gladiator slaves from Airs.”
“What’s so special about mercenaries who used to be fighters? Plenty of people do that.”
“Not fighters. Gladiator slaves. I said gladiator slaves!”
“Gladiator slaves?”
“Yes. We’re mercenaries who were once gladiator slaves.”
At that, a different thought crossed the chief’s face. There were many mercenaries who had been fighters, but he had never heard of one who had been a gladiator slave.
“You mean slaves who bought their freedom with their skills in the arena?”
“That’s right.”
The chief’s expression grew complicated. It made sense. The odds of a gladiator slave surviving long enough to buy their freedom were extremely low. Yet the people standing before him had beaten those odds.
Seeing that the chief needed time to think, Muslan stepped back without pressing further and looked at his companions. For a mercenary band, they certainly looked pitiful.
But Muslan was confident. Just as he had said, they were people who had crawled up from the very bottom.
The moment the chief heard they were former gladiator slaves, his attitude had already shifted. That was how heavy the word “slave” weighed in this world. Muslan continued persuading him, emphasizing their origins.
Their first job. Modest pay. Even if they completed the request successfully, there wouldn’t be much profit, just as the chief had said. Yet Muslan was determined to take this job. It was perfectly suited for the Muslan Mercenary Band.
Eliminating a bandit group. Looking at the region told him a lot. Kurib Village wasn’t large, and there weren’t many neighboring villages either.
Yet the Stern Bandits operated throughout this area. That suggested their numbers weren’t very large. If they grew too big, a village like Kurib wouldn’t satisfy them.
Bandits didn’t run for free. There were costs depending on their size. So Muslan had inferred the Stern Bandits’ scale from the size of Kurib Village—and even their level of skill.
Muslan added more explanations about his mercenary band. The chief was already half-convinced by Muslan’s smooth talking. Muslan continued, sharing pieces of their past and giving concrete details about the group. He briefly explained how they had gone from gladiator slaves to free men.
While speaking, he quietly glanced at his waiting companions. He hadn’t known them for long. But sometimes, shared events forged stronger bonds than time alone. That was true for them.
“Let me introduce them properly. Starting from here… Isaac. Show him your brand first.”
Muslan introduced his members. The chief’s mind was already made up. Muslan felt certain they could handle the Stern Bandits.
As he introduced them, memories of their time together began to surface. Memories of the day he had first arrived in this world.