Chapter 109
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: I Create My Own Value (1)
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It's the same everywhere—to get ahead, you have to work while others are playing.
More precisely, once you've made it big, you have to keep working even when others are resting, all for even greater rewards...
As if to prove that point, Captain Dalton had summoned me late at night, when everyone else was off relaxing.
"Captain Dalton, you crazy bastard. Hope you drank too much and suffer through a hangover tomorrow."
The inn where the captain was staying was a bit removed from ours, and at this hour, everyone in the corps would be out having fun anyway...
But you never know who might be eavesdropping, so I scanned the surroundings.
'If someone overheard, I'd have to buy them a drink to shut them up...'
Even activating my aura and straining my ears picked up nothing unusual.
"Ha, damn. Gave me a scare."
I headed straight to Dalton's room without another word or thought.
"Captain Dalton, coming in."
"Enter."
I stepped inside to find the captain's desk buried under a pile of documents.
Dalton glanced at me, smirked with one corner of his mouth, and snapped,
"Why are you so late? I called for you ages ago. Any other officer would've been here an hour early."
Didn't you give me three months' leave after the war ended?
You told the ones staying with the corps to do whatever as long as they didn't leave the city, then sent an administrator to drag me here tonight out of the blue...
What does he have to complain about?
"Well, I was staying at a place a bit farther out, dating Lucia and Karin. Meanwhile, you and the other guys were all together playing with women, right? I heard you made a killing this time, and that you hooked the other officers up with girls from that nobles-only brothel."
"Heh, Martin's grown up, huh?"
Back when I was a rookie, I couldn't even meet Dalton's eyes, but now my sword skills were on par with his.
There's an insurmountable gap in pay, treatment, and position between a rookie and a century commander. Of course I've grown.
"You raised me this way, Captain. So why'd you call? I wanna get back and grope Karin's tits, so spit it out quick."
"You still haven't done it with Lucia?"
Even among mercenaries, we don't talk so bluntly when the women themselves are around.
But between guys, crude jokes like this—or straight-up saying it—are just normal.
In Korea, I'd give him a serious look and he'd have no comeback, but among male mercenaries, this level of sexual harassment is no exaggeration—like asking if they've eaten.
"I bought her a ring today, and she loved it so much she bawled her eyes out and fell asleep wearing it on her left hand. How could I do that to a girl like her?"
"......You're too damn pure for a mercenary. Hell, with your skills, you could afford ten women easy."
We weren't this close until I became a century commander—after that, our relationship tightened up fast.
I shrugged, and Dalton's expression shifted completely.
"Martin, you missed it when I bought drinks for the other officers, but leave or no leave, we gotta decide where we're heading next, right?"
"The Imperials aren't renewing our standing mercenary contract?"
"Papenheim Baron's out of the picture, and the Reingfalz Empire's a mess right now. The Emperor's dead, and the second prince is emperor pro tem. Dissatisfaction's boiling over—civil war's on the horizon. You think they'll renew?"
A chill ran down my spine at his words.
The reason Margrave Estelle tried to recruit me—even offering a baronial title in Papenheim territory—was precisely because of this civil war.
Depending on how much I shine now, even a fallen knight like me could snag a title and turn my life around...
'Is my big life-reversal chance finally here?'
Ah, my lips keep curling up.
"You promotion-crazed maniac. The other corps officers were worrying it'd be a brutal war, but why are you so hyped?"
"War's war—big or small, you're always risking your life. So if we're fighting anyway, better on the big stage."
Dalton nodded at my words.
"Fair point. If I wanna take the guys who've rolled with me from the start and carve out a spot as vassals in some house... yeah, bigger stage is better."
"So you called me to talk future plans? Shouldn't we gather all the officers for this?"
The mercenary corps is pretty democratic, in its way.
When the captain retires, they elect the next one. Where to fight next? The captain and officers debate it out.
But deciding direction just between me and him, ignoring the others...
I let out a groan and didn't answer. Dalton grinned.
"Don't worry. The others said you're the sharpest head around, so leave it to your decision."
Has my standing in the corps really climbed that high already?
Serious situation, so I couldn't cheer outright, but my shoulders squared up anyway.
"What do you want first, Captain? Promotion, obviously?"
Dalton nodded.
"We do this crap 'cause we don't wanna live like fallen knights or peasants without land rights. So yeah, time to cash in big."
To give the others their cut too, we'd need to side with the 'Reingfalz Empire'—the ones willing to pay top dollar...
"You wanna sell our corps dear to the nobles jumping into the civil war? In that case..."
I picked out a standout document from the pile on Dalton's desk.
"Let's rampage hard on the Reingfalz Empire's enemy side once."
Dalton gaped at my words.
"We should be fighting for the Empire—why side with the Medici Republic? We'd have to prove how useful we are to them."
"Exactly. That way, when civil war breaks out in the Empire, they'll want us on better terms."
Companies hire based on future value added, salary accordingly.
Nobles or nations hire us gauging war performance, signing 'employment' contracts.
And those promising 'titles' or 'interests'? They expect even more in return.
"Then to prove our worth, don't we side with the Empire?"
I sighed at that.
"That's for normal times. Think about it this way: Some lunatic merchant's selling a cheap sword worth seven silver for thirty gold. You buying?"
Dalton clicked his tongue at the sudden riddle.
"Why complicate it? Would you? I'd snap the merchant's neck first."
Anyone with a shred of common sense wouldn't buy something ripped off a hundredfold.
For that price, you get a way better sword. Thirty gold for junk?
Only a madman buys.
I tapped the desk with a finger.
"Now say you're locked in a room with an enemy of similar skill, kill or be killed. That same merchant offers the sword at the same price. You buy it crying sour grapes? Or snap his neck?"
An evil grin spread across Dalton's face.
"Damn, you psycho. No wonder the others wanna follow your lead."
He clapped his hands.
"Yeah, buy it sour as hell. Or my head rolls—what choice?"
"Our value's spiked just like that. Civil war's got everyone's necks on the line, so we're getting 'ripped off'."
Like selling water to a man dying of thirst for diamonds—he'd pay.
"But that's not enough on its own. So we show 'em directly: how terrifying it is to make our corps the enemy."
Someone who's never tasted lemon won't salivate at the sight.
They don't know how sour it is.
Empire folks haven't faced us as foes, so they can't grasp how fearsome the White Beard Mercenary Corps could be.
I slammed the desk.
"What do you say? Joining the Medici Republic side?"
Dalton nodded right away.
"Let's do it—starting now."