Kurib Village
Muslan had managed to halve his debt thanks to his role in suppressing the rebels, and his victory over Losad had been factored in as well. As a result, he was able to shed his slave status far sooner than expected.
The moment he was free, Roccom offered him a contract as a gladiator. Muslan refused without hesitation. Roccom and Liscal continued to present generous proposals, but Muslan’s resolve remained unshaken.
“A pity. I was certain you would become a gladiator.”
“I believe mercenary work suits me better.”
Roccom and Muslan sat facing each other, sipping tea. It was an expensive brew, yet Roccom did not spare it a second thought. Over the years, Muslan had brought him an enormous amount of money. Even when he was not the main event, the stands filled whenever he fought. Nobles wagered fortunes on his matches.
To Roccom, the man was like a winning lottery ticket found late in life.
“Mercenary work is no easy path. You plan to go with Isaac and the others?”
“Yes.”
“It will be harder than you think. Connections matter in that world too.”
“I still wish to try.”
“We will always welcome you back. There are rumors that Bascoon is preparing a return. He has every reason to. You have already beaten several of his disciples.”
“Even after leaving the arena, I still hear stories about Bascoon. I have no interest.”
“That match would have spread beyond Airs. You could have earned a fortune. As a gladiator, you would have received even more than before.”
“Perhaps.”
“And still you are not tempted?”
“No.”
Roccom’s expression grew wistful. He truly regretted the loss. Muslan had generated extraordinary revenue. Yet Roccom knew better than to push further. It was not a lack of greed that stayed his hand, but the instinct he had honed after years managing gladiator slaves: the sense that excessive desire would bring ruin.
So he said no more.
“If you ever change your mind, come back.”
“I will.”
Muslan had not been entirely unmoved by the offer. Money was always welcome. In the arena, and even across the empire, coin could open nearly any door. Still, he had refused. He wanted to leave this place behind. The title of gladiator slave was a brand he wished to shed as quickly as possible so he could begin anew.
After finishing his tea, Muslan rose without hesitation and walked out.
“Are you all right?”
Liscal asked Roccom.
“It is a shame. But Muslan lived to the fullest and achieved what he wanted. All we can do now is wish him well.”
“Indeed.”
“He is favored by the god of Airs. There is nothing to gain by making an enemy of him. Let him go cleanly.”
“Understood.”
“Still… I would have liked to see the match against Bascoon, regardless of the money.”
Liscal spoke quietly.
“Haha. Every resident of Airs wanted that. The return of the Fist King Bascoon… He is a monster as well. Who would have won?”
“Bascoon.”
“I thought so too. But Muslan keeps growing. We cannot be certain.”
“Bascoon is also an unknown quantity. The very fact that he fights gladiators with his bare fists proves he is a monster. That fist of his, capable of shattering a man’s mind in a single blow, rivals Muslan’s divine power.”
“It would have been a clash of monsters. Yet Muslan is still ascending while Bascoon has already retired. It would have been a close fight.”
“Yes. A true pity.”
“Do not worry too much. Nothing is decided yet.”
“?”
Liscal’s eyes widened.
“He has chosen to become a mercenary. Do you think it is easy for a former slave to establish himself in that world?”
“With his skills…”
“A mercenary of slave origin has limits. He will soon realize how little he can earn through mercenary work alone.”
“Do you think so?”
“I do. That is why I believe he will return.”
Roccom smiled as he spoke.
“Here are the documents.”
Forming a mercenary band was not difficult. All it required was money. The Muslan Mercenary Band consisted of exactly five members.
“Should we not recruit more mercenaries first, Captain? No, I suppose it is Leader now?”
Obben asked.
“Later. For now, we will take a commission with just the five of us.”
“With only us? Is there even a job we can handle? Will we join another party?”
“No. We will do it alone.”
It was still too early to work alongside others. Muslan believed it was more important to build confidence by completing a job, however small, on their own.
He calmly read through the requests posted on the mercenary office board.
“Alone?”
“Yes. Alone.”
And it was not an absurd notion. Muslan was confident he could handle a bandit group single-handedly.
“Found one. A commission.”
“What is it?”
Isaac asked.
“A decent job right here.”
“Kurib Village? Where is that?”
“It is quite remote. Reaching it will not be easy. If it were me, I would look for another request. The pay is not particularly good either.”
The female clerk at the mercenary office spoke with a weary expression. She looked exhausted.
“We will take this one regardless.”
“Truly?”
“Leader, are you sure? This is not about catching a single bandit. It is an entire band. Can we manage with our numbers?”
“You think we cannot?”
“Hmm…”
Isaac recalled the power Muslan had displayed during the rebel suppression. With that strength, it should be possible. Yet that had been a defensive battle against waves of enemies. Hunting down a bandit group was different.
“We can do it. You said you would trust me completely, did you not?”
“True. The Leader is always right. You have never been wrong. Do as you see fit.”
Thus, they accepted their first commission.
Accepting the job did not guarantee smooth progress. Requests registered at the office for over three months could have changed in unpredictable ways. Sometimes the work was already completed by the time one arrived.
“That one has not been resolved.”
The clerk spoke in her usual indifferent tone.
“Why not?”
“It is the kind of job most mercenaries avoid. Reaching the location is difficult, and the reward is modest…”
“All the more reason to take it.”
“When do we leave?”
“Now.”
“Right away?”
“We have enough provisions to reach Kurib Village.”
“We do not know the way.”
“I already asked for directions. The young lady said she would give us a ride as far as the surrounding area.”
She was a woman whose smile reached her eyes. She drove a supply wagon and blushed whenever she looked at Muslan. She explained that she was transporting daily necessities to a nearby village.
“I like coming to Airs. At least there are no bandit groups around here.”
“Anyone who tries to rob travelers near Airs ends up as a slave. Of course there are none.”
Obben replied.
And so their journey to Kurib Village began.
After this long process, Muslan finally reached Kurib Village and was in the midst of persuading the village chief. The chief was nearly convinced. Muslan was about to press the final point when one of the villagers hurried over.
The promising conversation came to an abrupt halt. The villager whispered a few words to the chief, whose expression hardened as he turned to face them.
“This is unfortunate.”
“I take it the news is not good.”
“It is good news.”
“What news?”
“The Lub tribe has accepted the proposal.”
“The Lub tribe… That does not sound like good news for us.”
“No. It is good news for you as well. You will not have to risk your lives.”
“On the contrary, it is very bad news.”
“Do not worry. We will compensate you for your travel expenses. We are not so stingy.”
“That is not enough.”
“Then?”
“We have come a long way. Allow us to rest for a few days.”
“Very well. I can permit that much.”
They were given an empty house in the village. It was not large, but sufficient for five people to sleep in.
“We came all this way for nothing. Why did you ask to stay?”
It was Obben. He was chewing on dried rat meat, the lowest-quality jerky available. Poor mercenaries often traveled on such meager rations.
The Muslan Mercenary Band was no different. Though they had some funds, they could not afford to waste them when the future remained uncertain.
“Do not eat that. I will cook. Isaac, bring out the pot.”
Since they finally had the chance for a proper meal, Muslan decided to prepare one.
Spices were expensive in this world, but one did not always need costly ingredients. Chira, who had lived in the mountains until recently, knew the local ecology well. He could identify many edible plants and mushrooms.
“What is that?”
“I found them. Tomatoes and potatoes.”
They made stew. After so long without a decent meal, everyone looked relaxed, though none let their guard down completely.
“Let us go.”
“Where?”
“We should scout the area.”
“What are you thinking?”
“We need to prepare in case the Lub tribe fails.”
“You think they will fail?”
“I do not know. But there is a chance. If so, we will step in.”
Without complaint, the others followed Muslan.
“Do you know why they are called the Lub tribe?”
They had been scouting the area around Kurib Village for some time when Isaac suddenly spoke.
“Why?”
“They probably have their own tribal name. Lub is what the empire calls them.”
“What does Lub mean?”
“You would not know, Leader. It is something you only see in remote mountain villages like this. Lub is a mount they ride. It was originally a monster, but the Lub tribe tamed them. They are quite fierce.”
“Tamed… Yet the empire does not use them?”
“They have horses. Lub are slower than horses. Their advantage is climbing steep terrain. They look like birds. They walk on four legs.”
“A four-legged bird…”
“That is how they climb steep places so well. The Lub tribe lives in such harsh terrain.”
“Is that the Lub tribe?”
From atop a hill, Muslan pointed. Near Kurib Village, a group was descending. Those at the front rode strange creatures—the Lubs.
They resembled a cross between a camel and an ostrich. Just as Isaac had described, they were large birds walking on four legs. Their sharp claws suggested they could scale steep slopes with ease, though they were smaller than horses.