The Mercenaries
Refn was not a man of particularly high station. He was, however, a soldier in Count Valois's personal service — and a Decurion who commanded men of his own. It was hardly his place to insert himself into a conversation between Auger and the mage, but Refn found it difficult to hold his tongue.
Something's off.
There was a detail he simply couldn't let pass. And more than that, he trusted that Joseph and Auger would hear him out.
Indeed, both men nodded without hesitation.
"What is it? Have you noticed something strange about them?"
Refn opened his mouth slowly, his expression cautious.
"I wouldn't call it a certainty, but... their bearing looks an awful lot like trained soldiers."
"What?"
A person's life leaves its mark even in the smallest of movements, and the men standing over there were no exception. Rather than the loose, independent air of free mercenaries, they carried themselves with the orderly discipline of well-drilled troops.
"I've never seen mercenaries with discipline that tight. And they claim they all came from different places, gathered separately... they wouldn't have trained together."
This was something only Refn could have spotted — a man who had drilled his own subordinates, Auger's private soldiers, Joseph's retainers, and even the conscript soldiers.
Joseph's expression hardened at Refn's explanation. The faint sense of unease he'd felt just moments ago came flooding back.
Fuck. Another headache. Should I just hit them first and ask questions later...?
The thought crossed his mind out of sheer frustration. Of course, that wouldn't be the smart play. This was no time to take casualties over a pointless fight.
What the hell are they?
Suppose Refn was right, and those men really were trained soldiers. The cost of producing a proper soldier was staggering — far more than most people realized. There was a reason Auger had resorted to conscription more than once. And yet someone was walking around with a whole group of trained soldiers in tow? Whoever they were, whatever they were, that made them dangerous.
Doesn't seem like bandits, though.
If his gut was right and they had some kind of agenda — if, as Refn said, they weren't even a mercenary company — then assuming all that...
Who they are doesn't matter. What they want does.
The fact that they'd approached so openly meant they had some other purpose.
But what...?
Joseph's thoughts naturally drifted to the things he was carrying. A coin purse heavy with silver. The loot stripped from dead bandits. Several volumes of magic texts. A staff set with a Holy Relic. A rope that could halt the flow of Mana. There were far too many things worth stealing.
I've been collecting quite the haul, haven't I.
Looking at it now, he was practically a golden goblin. Were they after one of those? He couldn't know yet.
Fine. So that's how it is.
He still had no idea what they wanted. The only thing he could reasonably conclude was that they might not be mercenaries at all. They might not even have a purpose.
In that case, better to keep them close and watch them.
Even if he turned them away now, if their target was him, they wouldn't simply walk off. They might well attack the moment they were refused.
"For now, I think we should take them in."
Auger's eyes went wide. Joseph shook his head once, as if to forestall any misunderstanding, then nodded and continued.
"If they have some other purpose, it's better to keep them close and pretend we don't notice. They might actually be mercenaries, of course."
In other words: let them in, and if they made a suspicious move, strike first. Auger nodded.
Just as they finished talking, the man who had handed over the Mercenary Plaques called out, apparently tired of waiting.
"Have you finished checking them?"
Auger and Joseph walked back over to him.
"Very well. We'll hire you."
"Truly? You have my thanks."
The man bowed his head at Auger's words. That courteous manner, which Joseph hadn't paid much attention to at first, now struck him as oddly suspicious.
"So... what do you intend to do?"
Auger asked once the mercenaries had gone back to fetch their belongings. They'd taken them in, but they could hardly leave suspicious men to their own devices.
"For now, I think we should squeeze them until they get restless."
Joseph thought for a moment before answering. Since he couldn't pin down their purpose, he'd make them reveal it themselves.
"How? You mean to provoke them on purpose?"
"Yes. Once they feel the noose tightening, they'll have to make a move."
These were men who had approached them disguised as mercenaries. Whatever they were after, they almost certainly had no intention of confronting Joseph's group head-on. But if the situation grew increasingly stifling...
They'll show their hand.
And so Joseph decided to use the fact that he was a mage. More precisely, the image of a typical mage.
Mages are always self-centered, elitist pieces of trash.
He'd use that reputation to needle them.
"From now on, I'll act arrogant — like an ordinary mage."
Auger let out a small, incredulous laugh. He already knew Joseph was a bit unusual for a mage, but hearing it from the man himself was funny in its own way.
"Shouldn't we inform the soldiers as well?"
"No. Better if as few people as possible know. We don't even have confirmation yet."
Joseph shook his head at Derik's suggestion. He didn't interact much with the conscripts to begin with. He existed in the shadow of Auger, a noble — and to those men, Joseph was still an ominous mage. Even if the mercenaries asked about him, they wouldn't get anything of substance.
"Just give Auk and Jiren a quiet word."
"Understood."
Arke and Refn would pass the word to Auger's private soldiers.
"This is where you'll be staying."
As he drafted the contract, Auger assigned the mercenaries a place well off on its own — a fair distance from Joseph's house, at that. The plan was to have them live there and only join the soldiers during training.
Manir's expression turned faintly sour. He could feel the line being drawn, plain as day.
"Didn't you say this was a Demonic Beast subjugation? In that case, wouldn't it be better if we stayed with the soldiers?"
Manir argued that living together was the best way to get close to the conscripts and private soldiers, and that they should bunk with the conscripts as well.
As if we'd let you.
He wasn't wrong, strictly speaking. When you had to fight together on the battlefield, living nearby and fostering a sense of belonging mattered. But Joseph had no intention of letting a group of unknowns mix deeply with his soldiers. If anything, information about Auger and Joseph would leak out through the ranks.
"Ah, well. The mage wants to keep his distance from you."
"Hah..."
Auger didn't give a specific reason, but that only made it easier to understand. An authoritarian mage wanting nothing to do with some third-rate mercenaries passing through? Perfectly plausible.
Manir opened his mouth as if to protest, then shut it. He shot a sidelong glare at Joseph as the mage walked past — then immediately bowed his head when their eyes met.
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing, sir. It's just... the first time I've seen a mage up close."
"Hmph. Know your place. Don't go staring at your betters, you dullard who can't even sense Mana."
"..."
Joseph needled him, nice and slow. Manir's eyes narrowed slightly — clearly stung.
This is fun.
Once the mercenaries began participating in training in earnest, the conscripts — who knew nothing of the real situation — seemed to welcome them. And why wouldn't they? These were ordinary peasants from the countryside. They were supposed to fight Demonic Beasts once winter passed, and no amount of training could fully erase that fear. And now, more fighting men had been added to their ranks.
Experienced meat shields, no less!
The more of them there were, the lower each conscript's odds of dying. Of course they were glad. The fact that surviving so many battles often meant using the man next to you as a stepping stone was something the conscripts had no way of knowing.
"You'll be split into groups, same as the conscripts."
Auger divided the mercenaries into four and assigned each to a different squad. Officially, the explanation was that fighting alongside the mercenaries would give the conscripts a chance to grow. That, of course, was not the real purpose. The point was to scatter the mercenaries as widely as possible, making it difficult for them to scheme during training.
On top of that, Auger put Refn in charge of overseeing the drills. Refn was the one who had suspected the mercenaries of having received regular military training in the first place. With his eye for such things, he could gauge their skill while keeping them from making any sudden moves.
Manir looked displeased at the news that his men would be split up.
Of course he is. We're stripping him of command.
A mercenary company was a group in its own right. They had their own internal order, and command of that order mattered a great deal. Having it quietly transferred to someone else without so much as a word meant they were being treated as pushovers.
For men who made their living by the sword, this was no small thing. Ignore it, and you might find your hired blades turning on you — or walking away from the contract entirely. Most employers knew this, and made it explicit when they drafted the papers.
And yet Manir said nothing. He simply endured it. He clearly didn't want to make trouble.
That's genuinely suspicious.
Watching him with suspicion already in mind, every little tell felt off. But there was still no certainty.
After the mercenaries had joined the training, a confrontation broke out between Manir and one of the private soldiers.
"What's it to you?"
Manir had learned that the mage Joseph had only three private soldiers. When he'd casually asked one of them about it, the soldier had looked at him as if he were an idiot. That was how it started.
It wasn't an unusual reaction, really — a random mercenary taking an interest in such things was the strange part. But for Manir, a Knight of Count Poner and a baron in his own right, it was infuriating. He'd been playing the mercenary since arriving here, but actually living as one was a first.
"...You've got some nerve."
"Yeah? And what the fuck are you gonna do about it?"
"..."
Manir wanted to draw his sword then and there. Doing so would render all his efforts so far meaningless. Swallowing his rage, he changed the subject.
"...We ought to know something about our employer's temperament, at least."
"Temperament?"
It sounded reasonable enough that the soldier cocked his head. Of course, having already been tipped off that the mercenaries were somewhat suspicious, he had no intention of answering honestly.
"The Baron is a man of excellent temperament."
"...Do you even know what that word means?"