Can't Call You Young Master Anymore
"Hello. Guess I can't call you young master anymore?"
"I'm past that age now."
Jayke still treated me with that typical mercenary slouch, a bit rough around the edges. But he'd grown—not physically, but as a man. He was no longer the low-rank mercenary who'd scraped by on the bottom for twenty years. Now he led a massive mercenary company and thousands of villagers in the mercenary settlements.
"Viscount, please help me out."
"I'll help with anything I can. But what kind of help do you want?"
Jayke suddenly straightened up, speaking more politely, but my response came out a touch cold. I had a pretty good idea what he was after.
"I know you made Sir Jayke strong, and the viscount did the same."
"That's not possible."
No matter how tight-lipped we kept it, people in the know would find out. The fact that I'd turned Jayke and Argin into Master-level warriors was an open secret among those who mattered.
"I'll pay any price. I beg you."
Jayke bent at the waist like he was about to prostrate himself on the floor.
"It's not about the price. To endure that method, you need certain basic conditions in place first. Jayke would die."
"That serious, huh?"
"Jayke nearly died too. It took ten high priests and me healing him nonstop for a week."
Jayke's soul was impressive for a low-rank mercenary, but that was it. It didn't measure up to Jayke's before he became a Master. Given how close Jayke had come to death, Jayke here would definitely die.
"If it means staking my life, I can do that."
"No, we figured out the success conditions thanks to Jayke. You're not cut out for it—zero chance."
Abel Tristan, who'd taken over as leader of the original Sword Mountain group and was now Jayke's disciple, might have a shot. But I didn't mention that.
Jayke's face darkened.
"No way at all?"
"And how would you even pay the price? You're not joining my territory's forces, are you? Jayke and Argin both swore loyalty to me as knights. I've got more money than I know what to do with."
Jayke gritted his teeth. Maybe I'd been too harsh, but he must have known deep down. He was grasping at straws, like a drowning man.
"As you know, viscount, I've rolled as a low-rank mercenary for over twenty years. All my buddies who started around the same time? Gone. I've watched thousands of mercenaries die meaningless deaths. Back then, I didn't think much of it—mercs die like that. But somehow, thousands started following me. I gained power. Kids look up to me like a father now. So I wanted to change things. Change the lives of these mercs who wander without settling, dying like worthless bugs. I wanted to fix even a little of that. But then 342 died overnight. Was I wrong? Is there really no way?"
Jayke was getting emotional, his voice rising.
"Jayke, I get where you're coming from, to an extent. I'd do anything to save my people too. The mercenary village folk are all Akasha Territory citizens now."
The fight with the Sword Mountain mercenaries—bloodline aside, mercs were mercs. Win or lose, mercs died. But if anyone's gonna live, better be my people. I could boost a few using records, but that wouldn't solve the root problem.
"Your mercs' training is lacking. No proper swordsmanship."
Jayke had done his best, but it still couldn't compare to regular army drills. Their techniques were a mishmash from wherever they'd learned, chaotic. It could be an advantage for mercs, but the flaws outweighed it. There was something called mercenary swordsmanship, sure—but it was just crude thrusts and slashes thrown together.
"I know."
"Then fix it."
Of course, it wasn't easy, or Jayke would've done it.
"I'll help with that. But promise me one thing."
"What?"
"Never do anything to harm Akasha."
"That's easy."
"Is it? I don't think so."
Mercs take money and do anything. Plenty were already selling Akasha intel to other territories for coin. I wasn't ignoring it out of ignorance. I rattled off to Jayke all the ways Sword Mountain mercs had screwed over Akasha—past incidents and ones happening now. His face grew paler by the word.
"You knew and let it slide?"
"Kill them all? Frame it as treason and go to war with Sword Mountain? What do you think Jayke or Argin would do if I told them?"
Jayke shut his mouth again. If those two Masters went berserk, even a powerhouse like Sword Mountain would shatter.
"Still easy?"
"No. I couldn't guarantee it."
Jayke answered honestly. Even he couldn't perfectly control every merc. No one could.
"Then here's another proposal."
"Make it an easy one this time."
"I'd prefer you stick to the straight and narrow. Too vague? Mercs do anything for pay. But Sword Mountain has some leeway now, right? Don't use that power for bad deeds."
Jayke thought deeply this time, various ideas crossing his mind. I waited patiently. Glancing at the window, I saw Bastet unusually awake, watching us.
"I'll do it. Can't promise always righteous jobs, but we'll take only the decent ones as much as possible."
That was enough. The world doesn't change overnight—I'd learned that watching it for ages. Like ripples from a small splash growing over time, that's how it shifts. Right now, Jayke and I had made a tiny ripple in the mercenary world. Hoping it'd nudge things a bit better down the line.
"Good. I'll pass details through my managers."
Long after Jayke left, Bastet tossed out a word before closing her eyes again.
[Don't try to do too much.]
Is that so? I wasn't aiming to pacify the whole world. Just hoping my domain stays peaceful.
I called Wider and the managers to discuss the mercenary school. Not free, of course—we'd charge what it costs to run. We also talked about setting up an academy in the territory, something I'd mulled for ages. Not one just for nobles, but for all citizens. We'd split it into lower years for basics and upper for specialized knowledge. Experience matters in operations; we couldn't match the capital's academies right away.
Wider grumbled about the sudden workload, but he'd begged for more work not long ago. And I knew he cared about the people more than anyone.
"By the way, Wider, ring any bells with the name Setas?"
Wider thought long and hard, then shook his head.
"Who's that? Doesn't ring a bell."
Setas was a newborn, just a week old. But he'd caught my clone's eye. An absurdly talented baby. If I had to compare, beyond old Forte. A once-in-centuries genius. Born to a baron's maid and guard captain not far from here.
Wider not knowing the name meant one of two things: died before blooming, or changed it later. Probably the former—look at Forte, or that peasant soldier boy recently.
"Never mind. Start with the mercenary school."
"Got it."
After Wider left, I pondered. Bring Setas and his parents now, or watch a bit more? Bringing him was the right call, but something nagged, so observation for now.
The issue? The baby was weird. Every action screamed not newborn. And he had an aura like mine. Days were normal—sleep, eat, shit. But at night, after parents slept, he'd wake, and natural energy swirled around him wildly.
Using natural energy from birth? Not normal. Maybe godly meddling? That's why I hesitated to grab him rashly.
Observe for now. If danger hits, my clone could help, or I'd go myself—but no bringing yet. No threats around, so safe.
Meanwhile, the Neos Kingdom erupted into full civil war. As expected, factions near Ktolari Viscountcy vied for it. Not big blocs, but dozens of nobles claiming legitimacy—some even calling themselves kings. Even if it ends, Neos as a nation is probably done.
And the expected guest arrived at Akasha Viscountcy: the last vampire prince, Eltis.
I'd watched him leave his tavern from the start. Thought about fetching him early, but their journey with the girl he protected seemed nice—didn't want to steal their memories. As Neos war intensified, he closed up and fled with her. New start anywhere, but he chose here.
Deep night, a bat flew through the window. I'd been waiting.
"Long time no see, Eltis."
He shifted to human form, greeting with flawless noble grace.
"Indeed, Saint."
Too bad Bastet was off somewhere; would've loved her reaction to this ancient vampire.
"Planning a tavern here too?"
"You know everything. Not much talent beyond that."
Wanted to drag Eltis to the New Continent, but the girl following him made it impossible. Had to settle for a powerful addition to the territory, even if hard to use.
"Truly peaceful, fine territory."
"Not sure about fine, but peaceful, yes."
Honestly, peaceful? A god hunts cats that eat hers, the beast king guzzles booze, now a pureblood vampire opens a tavern. I smirked wryly. Come to think, I'm the scariest.
"In these times, nothing beats peace."
"Fair point."
No starving or conscripting to death—that's what I aimed for inheriting the territory. Now meddling more ambitiously, but by world standards, it's top-tier.
"I'll inform managers of your new tavern spot."
"My thanks for the consideration."
We were already building a suitable place—vamps need daytime shelter.
"Saint, something odd in your territory?"
Odd things? Plenty.
"Not the black cat, I hope?"
"No."