Mercenary Guild
Mercenary Guild
Being a mercenary was an ancient profession.
Much like prostitution, its origins traced back to antiquity.
Throughout history, strength had always been directly tied to survival—this was only natural.
And there would always be those willing to pay for others to shed blood in their stead.
This Mercenary Guild was one such organization established to meet that demand.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The first floor was a spacious hall.
On one side, burly men drank and made raucous noise, while the other maintained a quiet, businesslike atmosphere.
My destination was predetermined.
The central counter in the guild hall.
There sat a middle-aged man with tanned skin and thick forearms, wearing glasses that seemed oddly mismatched with his appearance.
"Hello. I'd like to join the guild."
I lifted the side of my robe to reveal the two swords at my waist.
The clerk alternated his gaze between me and the weapons before stroking his chin.
Then he shook his head firmly.
"Normally, I'd hand out wooden mercenary badges to any brat who shows up with weapons."
His tone suggested he had no intention of giving me even that much.
He stared directly into my eyes as he spoke decisively.
"But for a lass like you, it'll be tough. This isn't some easygoing industry."
Having said his piece, the man withdrew his hands from the counter and crossed his arms.
A clear gesture of dismissal.
I sensed no malice—only genuine skepticism about my physical capabilities and combat skills.
I understood.
While female mercenaries, soldiers, and knights weren't unheard of in this world, they remained rare exceptions.
Nothing worthwhile comes easy.
After briefly considering how to prove myself, I rested my elbow on the counter.
"How about an arm wrestle? It might change your mind."
Physical strength remains the most universal language across time and cultures.
The clerk shrugged and leaned forward to extend his arm.
"Fine then. But if you lose, you leave without another word."
His thick hand clasped my slender one.
His grip felt substantial—exactly what you'd expect from someone who dealt with rough mercenaries daily.
Yet I didn't feel any doubt about winning.
I channeled power into my relaxed arm.
Muscles twitched beneath my pale, delicate skin.
The startled man hastily flexed his biceps in response.
A tense struggle ensued.
He was undoubtedly strong.
Holding my breath, I focused all my strength into one final push.
His gradually yielding arm finally collapsed onto the counter.
"Hah, damn. That's some freakish strength for that body of yours. Should've mentioned if you were an aura user."
He rubbed his sore hand while complaining.
I answered nonchalantly.
"You would've demanded proof either way."
"...Hm. Fair point. My apologies then."
Watching his acceptance, I internally sighed in relief.
Once again, I'd passed as an aura user.
It made sense.
For a frail-looking woman to display such monstrous strength, aura remained the only plausible explanation.
Even though I knew nothing about aura, the bluff had worked.
"So about that guild membership?"
"Granted. Can't deny an aura user."
Rummaging through some papers behind the counter, he asked:
"Ever killed anything? Beasts, monsters, people?"
"No experience with monsters."
"So the others are a yes. Good."
Technically I'd never hunted beasts either, but I only mentioned monsters.
A young woman admitting she'd only killed humans might raise unwanted questions.
"Registration fee is 3 arshen upfront."
I dug through my pouch and handed over three silver coins.
Money like blood, but necessary expenses must be paid.
Accepting the fee, he continued questioning while counting the coins.
"Name?"
"Rene."
"Natural black hair? No dye?"
"Born this way."
His scratching noises suggested he was processing something.
After silently moving his hands for a while, he finally extended something toward me.
"Here. You're now an officially recognized bronze badge mercenary."
A copper plaque slightly smaller than my palm.
Engraved in small black letters from top to bottom: 'Rene, Black Hair, Black Eyes, Rivaid.'
The etched characters stood out sharply, likely stained with dye.
"Welcome to the guild. Name's Daygan. I manage affairs here."
"Pleasure, Daygan."
After shaking hands, he explained basic mercenary knowledge.
Request procedures, compensation rules, minimum regulations—I absorbed it all.
Knowledge itself was power.
"Anything else, just ask anytime."
"Thanks."
"If you're grateful, do me a favor and leave. Past closing time already."
"Ah, my apologies. I'll return tomorrow."
The sun had long set when I arrived.
Having been exploited by corporations in my past life, I couldn't ignore others' overtime.
Clutching my mercenary badge, I stepped outside.
Though night had fallen, people still moved through the streets.
Candles and lanterns illuminated the surroundings brightly.
Being a bustling metropolis, the early evening darkness posed no issue.
Joining the flow, I walked briskly to my destination.
Only upon arrival did I stop.
A large inn at a busy intersection.
Recommended by Seyron as a decent lodging place.
"Any private rooms available? I plan to stay several days."
"Just one left. Good timing. It's a comfortable room for a young lady."
Following the middle-aged proprietress, I went to a second-floor room.
Surprisingly clean, with a well-made bed, small wardrobe, and storage chest.
Most appealing was the security.
Sophisticated locks on both door and chest meant I could leave belongings safely.
Living conditions mattered little compared to theft prevention.
An inviolable personal space ranked highest for me.
This inn satisfied perfectly.
After paying for several nights, I received keys for door and chest.
Pricey but worth it.
Removing my belt, I leaned my swords against the wall before stripping completely.
I desperately wanted my skin free from blood-and-sweat soaked clothes.
Naked, I collapsed onto the bed.
The sheets and blankets felt luxuriously soft.
Herbal laundry scents suggested bedbug prevention.
This might be the most comfortable bed in Rene's entire life.
After much tossing, I suddenly stilled.
Perhaps from released tension.
Overwhelming loneliness flooded in.
Rubyia.
Perfect, if only she were here.
Eyes closed, clutching the blanket, my fingers explored between my thighs.
Remembering her skin, I continued until night passed.
* * *
Dawn came.
Though nightmares made me shudder, the comfortable bed provided good rest.
Shaking off sleep, I combed disheveled hair.
My recovery ability purged all bodily impurities overnight.
Incredibly convenient in this world's poor sanitation.
Finished with my personal shower, I walked naked to the window.
Warm morning sunlight caressed my body.
People below began their daily routines.
Any upward glance would reveal my full nudity.
Unconcerned, I stretched.
Sunlight reached even my outstretched armpits.
I wouldn't sacrifice this pleasant warmth for modesty.
After several stretches, I dressed.
Belt, robe, then both swords.
Pulsion from the slum dweller and the longsword taken from the bandit leader.
Cumbersome carrying two weapons.
Thus my first destination became a weapon shop.
The longsword fetched a decent price despite nicks and rust.
Still counted as a longsword, I suppose.
Other swords for sale were prohibitively expensive.
Pulsion would remain my primary weapon for now.
Next, a women's clothing store.
Many needs, but underwear first.
Several sleeveless camisoles reaching the waist and drawers resembling modern panties.
Plain white cotton undergarments.
Fancier lingerie resembling bras and panties existed too.
Just not at commoner-friendly prices.
After underwear, everyday clothes.
Couldn't wear dresses like ordinary women as a mercenary.
So I bought functional travel and riding attire.
White blouse with riding corset vest supporting waist and bust.
Dark brown leather pants and a properly fitted belt.
Finished with sturdy boots and black robe/cloak.
My finances took a hit.
But new clothes brought greater joy.
No more loose garments flapping inconveniently.
The new outfit revealed my figure more, but that was fine.
Annoyed? Just wear the robe.
The armor shop only warranted window shopping.
Prices were murderous.
A gambeson might be manageable, but anything beyond was impossible.
My recovery ability made armor less urgent anyway.
Could acquire better gear when finances improved.
With that plan, I returned to the inn.
Organized new underwear first, then requested laundry for old clothes.
Spares were essential.
Only after completing everything did I head to the Mercenary Guild.
Well past noon.
The request board covered an entire wall.
I meticulously examined the densely posted papers.
Skipped all peaceful errands or escort missions.
Only combat would suffice.
That's how I'd gain pain points to grow stronger.
After much searching, I decided.
The blood-and-violence-filled request I desired.
Goblin extermination.