The Church
Joseph stepped into the room, and the mercenary lying on the bed hurriedly pushed himself upright.
"M-Master Mage!"
The bleeding had been quite severe, but looking at him now, his complexion wasn't all that bad.
Tough one.
Whatever else you could say about him, this was a man who'd climbed all the way to Veteran Mercenary. His body would be sturdier than most, and his recovery would be exceptional besides. In a world that didn't even possess proper nutrition science, a robust physique was a talent in its own right.
"How's the body holding up?"
"Thanks to your care, Master Mage, I'm much better."
The mercenary kept bowing his head, yet his eyes darted restlessly, as if he had no idea what to do with himself. When that tearing pain had ripped through his ankle, he had honestly given up on living. Getting injured first on a distant mission meant being abandoned first. Looking after the wounded simply wasn't a phrase that existed in the mercenary world — not even if you came from the same hometown. And yet this mage had not only taken him in, but helped with his treatment on top of it.
Joseph's gaze drifted to the mercenary's leg. It had been tightly bound in bandages, then suspended from a rope hung off the ceiling. Forcing his upper body upright in that state left him in a distinctly awkward position.
"What do you plan to do from here?"
"Sir?"
"Doesn't look like that leg's going to recover."
The mercenary gave a bitter smile.
"Yeah, well. Once I'm better... I figure I'll go back home."
He added that he was around the age where he'd been eyeing retirement anyway. He'd made a decent profit taking part in Joseph's training this time, so if he took his pay and went home, he could live fairly comfortably.
"Won't it be inconvenient, not being able to use the leg?"
"Well, sure, but what can you do?"
People with permanent disabilities weren't all that rare in this world. Even ordinary farmers could lose a finger from one wrong swing of a farming tool, then miss the window for treatment and live as cripples for the rest of their lives. Most of them didn't even know whether their wounds were treatable in the first place.
Joseph looked at him for a moment, then spoke.
"Don't mercenaries go to the Church?"
"Sir?"
The mercenary's face took on a puzzled look — the same reaction Givra had given him just a little while ago.
"...Are you a mage of the Church, by any chance?"
He hesitated, eyes rolling this way and that, then carefully studied Joseph's face. His expression made it abundantly clear that he was hoping Joseph was not a Church mage.
"No. I just figured the Church usually treats people, so I asked."
The mercenary let out a sigh of relief. Come to think of it, it was an easy thing to figure out. This mage had only been in the city a few months.
"Treatment from the Church costs a fortune. The kind of money people like us wouldn't even dare look at."
"That expensive?"
"Yes. Even if I pooled all the pay from this job, there's a chance I'd just be throwing the money away."
"Throwing it away? You mean they take the money and don't treat you?"
"...Yes. To receive treatment from the Church, you have to pay a donation first — and even if you pay, there's no guarantee they'll treat you right away."
Apparently some people paid the donation and still died because they missed the window. If you wanted to complain, the Church would simply stall you with the excuse that the healing magic wasn't ready yet. Anyone who caused a scene was quickly subdued by hired guards.
So they're running a racket, basically.
He didn't distrust Givra's word, but hearing it directly from a mercenary made it crystal clear. The Church's system was an absolute shambles.
Doesn't look like I'll be learning healing magic from them anytime soon.
In their eyes, Joseph was nothing more than a stranger who'd appeared out of nowhere. They weren't going to teach him healing magic easily.
Well. That's reality, I suppose.
Thinking about it, the priests at Valois Castle had been the strange ones. In a world like this, helping others without looking after your own interests was something you couldn't do without a rather extraordinary mindset. Looking at it that way, the fanatical devotion they'd displayed made perfect sense.
Maybe that's why they were at Valois Castle in the first place.
Count Valois hadn't seemed particularly well-disposed toward the Church. If those priests had been the type to chase power and money, they would have stayed close to the nobility.
And maybe that's why there was no bishop there.
Joseph shook his head. He had no particular interest in digging into the Church's internal affairs. What he needed right now was to learn healing magic. That was what mattered.
"I see. That's unfortunate... Anyway, your body's not fully recovered yet, so you're welcome to rest here a few more days."
The truth was, he'd been keeping this mercenary around to demonstrate that he cared deeply even for those beneath him. He'd wanted to project the image of a compassionate man and win the Church's favor. But after hearing what the Church was actually like, that approach didn't seem likely to work.
Not that I can just kick him out now, either.
Keeping him around wasn't costing much. He could simply send him home once he'd recovered reasonably well.
"Th-thank you...!"
The mercenary's eyes went wide, and his face lit up. He'd been thinking he was about to get thrown out. Having never received this kind of consideration in his entire mercenary career, he couldn't help but be moved.
The steward standing beside him, on the other hand, looked distinctly displeased.
The list of things I need just keeps growing.
Joseph stepped out of the room and let out a small sigh. Who knew that winning himself a safe, leisurely life would be this difficult? Solve one problem, and another swam into view. Maybe he'd be happier settling, the way other people did, and calling it enough.
...No. I didn't come this far just to give up.
Joseph couldn't bring himself to stop. Unlike everyone else in this world, he knew what a safe and peaceful life actually looked like. His previous life hadn't exactly been peaceful either — but there had certainly been people who lived that way, comfortably, without a doubt. This time, he would be one of them. Joseph set his resolve once more.
It was a desire only someone who had known it could feel.
"I'll need to prepare a donation."
"You intend to visit the Church, sir?"
"Yes. Not immediately, but it's something I'll have to do eventually anyway."
"Understood."
Joseph spoke firmly, and Givra didn't press the matter further. He wasn't wrong. Joseph was just starting to make a name for himself in Caladon, and before long there wouldn't be anyone in the city who didn't know him. He was bound to get involved with the Church sooner or later — whether they liked it or not, whether it was right or wrong. In that case, as Joseph said, it was better to prepare in advance.
If I'm going to prepare a donation, I'll need to earn more money than I have now.
The thought made him suddenly regret the demonic beast byproducts he'd handed over to the mercenaries as extra pay. But he could hardly ask for them back now.
"Come to think of it, how did the search for artisans go?"
"Ah, that... Toban has picked out a few people."
While Joseph and the private soldiers had been out training, Givra had gone searching for new artisans with Toban. Finding decent people on short notice hadn't been easy, but they'd managed somehow.
"They're in the middle of training right now."
Joseph nodded. He'd already delegated hiring decisions for the artisans to the two of them, so the details weren't his concern.
He went downstairs and checked Toban's workshop through the window. About four unfamiliar faces were sitting inside, and one of them caught sight of Joseph and swallowed hard.
Toban spotted him too and hurried out, looking faintly flustered.
"You're up, sir?"
"Yeah. Those the new artisans you brought in?"
"Yes. They're lacking in more ways than I expected, but..."
Judging by his expression, he wasn't particularly satisfied with the selection. Finding talented people who wouldn't cause problems had apparently been difficult.
Can't be helped.
Joseph had no intention of giving him a hard time over it. He was struggling to find decent talent himself — who was he to complain?
"Well, they'll improve with training."
"I'll do my best."
Even the private soldiers had been nothing more than simple, ordinary country youths a year ago. Those same men had received proper training and grown into something impressive, so these artisans would be fine given enough time.
"How are the artifacts coming?"
At Joseph's question, Toban immediately brought out a wooden box from inside. It was packed with pieces of quartz and red crystal.
"Most of them are low-grade, but..."
Apparently they'd made a large batch of the easy ones for the artisans' training.
"Doesn't matter. What counts is that they learn properly."
A little clumsiness was perfectly acceptable if you thought about the long term.
Still, this isn't going to be enough to cover a donation.
Joseph thought it over as he imbued the artifacts with magic. According to Givra and the mercenary, even the donation required to treat a wound was no small sum. And Joseph wasn't after simple treatment — he intended to obtain the magic itself. That meant he'd have to bring several times that amount.
Or equivalent power and influence.
Unfortunately, Joseph had neither. The only nobles he knew were Folmers and Auger, and using those connections here didn't seem easy. He'd severed those relationships and left in the first place because he didn't want to get dragged onto a battlefield.
It always comes back to money.
Round and round, and it was money. He hadn't expected the Church to be this obsessed with it, but in the end, what he needed to do right now hadn't changed.
Might as well go on a few more hunts.
From the look of things, it would take a little time before artifacts could be supplied reliably. And sitting around doing nothing would be a waste of time. Since things had come to this, it would be better to go all-in on hunting this time.
Settle the split with the mercenaries properly. Get prepared for demonic beasts, too.
Having organized his thoughts, Joseph immediately summoned his private soldiers.
"How was this last training?"
"It went well, I think."
The private soldiers answered without hesitation. There'd been a bit of trouble at the end, but as a result they'd learned what they needed to improve.
"I think we need to pay more attention to the rear."
"When I took my time checking the surroundings, the mercenaries got a bit... impatient with me."
"I didn't think about contingencies."
Standing on the front line with a shield, taking orders, was vastly different from giving those orders from the rear — more different than they'd imagined. Being a commander demanded that you think on your feet according to the situation, more than it demanded physical ability. No matter how sharp your eyes were, if you didn't know where to look, you might as well be blind.
Joseph nodded. The private soldiers were more receptive to the training than he'd expected. He got straight to the point.
"Good. I plan to repeat this kind of training a few more times going forward."
At Joseph's words, the three of them exchanged glances. They weren't fools — they had a pretty good sense of why Joseph wanted this training. Once he expanded the private soldiers, he intended to put them in command.
When they'd first realized that, of course they'd been thrilled. Country boys who'd come all the way to a city like this were already being treated as proper retainers. And now they might even have soldiers of their own under them. Commanding people meant having power. Offer a human being power, and there was no way they'd refuse.
"We'll do it!"
They answered at once, fighting to keep the corners of their mouths from twitching upward.