Chapter 14
Chapter 14
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: I'm Not Becoming a Knight (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Baron Tilen showered our White Beard Mercenary Corps—who had just won the war—with massive amounts of booze and meat, along with bonus pay. And just like that, a swarm of camp-following merchants descended on us like locusts, all eyeing the fatter purses we'd earned.
"You fine brothers of the White Beard Mercenary Corps who kicked the Tristan Mercenary Corps' asses! Come on over! Grab some meat, and if that's not enough, how about some cheese and soft wheat bread? Cheese is ten silver coins a wheel, bread's three!"
"How about our magical soup? Two eat it, and one might drop dead—only one silver coin a bowl!"
"Grilled silver eels, a specialty of Baron Tilen's lands! Grilled silver eels! Salted to perfection, the ultimate bread thief!! Ten eels for three silver coins!"
The White Beard mercenaries had burned through a ton of energy during the war, so their stamina was shot. And now that we'd won big, they celebrated by guzzling booze and devouring meat like there was no tomorrow.
"Pior Squad, assemble!"
At those words, all us Pior Squad mercenaries turned to look at Pior.
"Today, fuck it, grab whatever the hell you want to stuff your faces with! As your Squad Leader, I'll buy it all! No price limit—whether it's the priciest shit or that damn magical soup. Get whatever catches your eye!"
This was the same Pior that Karin and I had ragged on for being a cheapskate when it was just the two of us.
Normally, I'd have thought, Has his time finally come?
Because the guy only spent money on whores and sex, or on his own weapons and armor. Anything else? Forget it.
'Thanks to me, he got named top squad and scored personal bonus pay on top of three months' salary and ten gold coins. If he doesn't play generous now, shit's gonna hit the fan.'
If he hogged it all, he'd lose face in the squad, get branded a selfish prick, and end up sidelined faster than you could blink. Worst case, he'd have to bail on the mercenary life altogether.
So everyone hauled over the pricey stuff they'd always drooled over from the camp merchants but never dared buy.
Fine wines, soft breads slathered in butter and milk, roast beef, fancy salmon meunière.
And Karin picked out a cake topped with whipped cream, like she was trying to play up her feminine side.
She usually chowed down on beer and greasy pig legs like a proper merc, so seeing this girly side just made her even cuter.
Pior's face twisted for a second, like he was calculating how much this was gonna cost him, but since he couldn't eat the top squad bonus alone anyway...
"You little shits, you think I'm made of money? Gonna split my gut open, you fucks."
Miller the veteran mercenary piped up.
"Squad Leader snagging those ten gold coins? Honestly, that's 'cause Martin and the rest of us busted ass, right? This much? Hell, you could sharpen all our swords and spears too."
"Can't replace weapons, but it's squad money anyway. Fine—tonight, whore money's on me. Let's shake our hips till our backs give out!"
"Squad Leader, you're the fucking man! Anton, you shithead—go book the priciest whores right now. Let's empty the Leader's wallet!"
With that, the Pior Squad crew succeeded in prying open their cheapskate leader's wallet. They laid out the booze and meat from the baron, plus all the food from the merchants, and dug in.
In the midst of it, Pior poured some fine wine into my cup and let out a hearty laugh.
"Martin, you crazy fuck. From the first time I saw you, I thought you were a promising greenhorn. But shit, you overdid it, didn't you?"
"What'd you say?"
"Cut the crap. Newbies are all worthless trash when they first show up. But this little fucker takes down that prick Adolf in one shot, then chops off that wild boar Schmitz's head."
No point playing humble here.
My performance in this battle was mostly my own doing. Praising Pior Squad Leader now would just come off as mockery.
"Guess being a mercenary just suits me."
That hit the mark—Pior burst out laughing.
"Yeah, honestly, you're born for this shit. Let's talk straight, man to man."
Pior's eyes were burning with ambition now, and he whispered just loud enough for me to hear.
"You heard it from Captain Dalton too, right? Other outfits start noble brats who rolled out of knight families as veteran mercs. Not us. But you've proven yourself now, so unlike those other shithead nobles, you'll jump straight to veteran status—double pay and all."
"That so."
But maybe whispering just to me was a mistake?
Suddenly, everyone's eyes were locked on me and Squad Leader Pior.
Miller the veteran, and the other mercs—they'd slaved for years to maybe reach veteran, but here I was, getting it after one battle.
The guys who'd been laughing and eating happily now stared at me with jealous, bitter faces—like their cousin had just bought land.
But I'd proven my worth, so even though they looked like they'd eaten shit, no one could argue.
Amid it all, only Karin gave me a slight smile, like she was genuinely happy for me.
Pretty, great personality—a total babe. Damn, I've gotta make her mine somehow.
"Eyes off her, asshole."
"Sorry."
"No need. And this was set in stone the second you took that boar's head. No changes. But the issue is... you planning to switch squads once you hit veteran? You wouldn't ditch the guy who looked after you from your shit newbie days, right?"
Honestly, any other squad would probably let me shine more than under this guy.
But leaving means not being in the same squad as Karin anymore.
No more natural chances to chat, and all the goodwill I've built could crumble like a house of cards.
'Fuck, no way that's happening.'
I glanced at Karin for a second, then answered.
"Why would I leave you, Squad Leader Pior? A man's got balls—he's gotta have loyalty."
Pior grinned like he'd hand me his liver and gall bladder.
"Way I see it, Martin, you're such a freak you'll be Squad Leader in two years. So let's team up—I hit Platoon Leader, you hit Squad Leader. How perfect is that?"
... Squad Leader's a spot any merc with enough time under their belt can climb to.
Platoon Leader's different. You've gotta grind like hell, wield basic aura like I do.
But Pior? Guy's only good at wearing the armband. Platoon Leader? Dead or alive, he ain't getting it.
Social life's all about the right flattery, though.
"You might get there, Squad Leader, but I'm miles off."
"Bullshit. Martin, sir, your humblebrags are top-tier."
Right in the middle of my ass-kissing, someone tapped my back.
I turned. There stood Captain Dalton, smiling with his mouth but glaring murder with his eyes.
He nudged Pior and sighed.
"Hey, you conscienceless fuck. Even if Martin's a newbie, you—a Squad Leader—trying to ride his coattails for a promotion?"
"Haha, well, part of my job's leading newbies right..."
"Only brag in life is years on the job, and your mouth's filthier than a glory hole. Enough. Martin, you—follow me."
I froze for a second, and Dalton grabbed the back of my neck, hoisted me up with one hand, and said,
"This fucking sucks, but come see me. It's not your fault or anything... Fuck, why does shit always roll this way?"
What the hell was this bullshit? He said it wasn't my fault, which made it even harder to guess.
Fuck, what is it? I followed Dalton anyway.
He stopped and blurted,
"Just checking—be straight with me. You're really not into that knight crap, right?"
What the hell was with him?
"Baron Tilen's talking nonsense about dubbing you a knight—what do you think, you little shit?!"