Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: I Won't Be a Knight or Anything Like That (2)
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Dalton tossed the question at me so abruptly it felt out of nowhere, then dragged me into his tent without giving me a chance to respond in my stunned state.
A pretty spacious tent, maybe around 500 square feet, was packed with his captain's armor and sword, of course, but also all sorts of pricey stuff like top-shelf wine in glass bottles.
And not just that—there was even a busty beauty in a short-skirt maid outfit, all ready to attend to him.
A mere mercenary captain who wasn't even nobility, lugging around treasures like this in a damn portable tent instead of his own house, getting served by a gorgeous girl...
Fuck, is this why they say no matter what you do, you gotta climb the ladder first?
Ever since reincarnating into this world, I'd figured I'd claw my way up no matter what, charging ahead without a thought for consequences... but seeing this made me think I really needed to run like hell toward my goal, ready to die trying.
And while I was gawking and envying all this luxury, the embarrassment from moments ago got pushed to the back of my mind.
As I poked around the rare items and maid I'd never seen since reincarnating into this game world, Dalton smacked my back with his palm.
Then he put on a forced cheerful act, though it was obvious he was pissed.
"What, your eyes spinning over shit like this? Fuck, that Tilen bastard asking if a punk like you wants to be a baron's knight is way more fucked up and ridiculous."
"Sorry."
"No need to apologize. Honestly, a worthless captain leading a measly 150-man mercenary band owning luxuries like this and a pretty maid like Milia? It's no wonder you're shocked."
Dalton grinned at me for a moment, then beckoned to the maid named Milia.
She smoothly pulled out two glass cups and poured a full serving of that top-shelf wine I'd eyed.
"I don't know about other wines, but savor this one like you're some noble. This shit costs over 2 gold per bottle. When you've heard bullshit like that, chugging good wine settles the mood a bit."
According to the official setting, 1 gold was about 1.5 million Korean won.
In this world's prices, that was enough for a decent sword or crappy chainmail—a hefty sum—and this wine was over twice that.
My hand shook a bit when I took the glass, intimidated, but I played it cool and took a sip.
A bitter dark chocolate tang mixed with a faint sourness filled my mouth, while the grape aroma wafted through my nose.
'The "high-end" wine we drank in Pior's squad tasted like bitter grape juice compared to this.'
As that thought crossed my mind, I recalled what Baron Tilen had just asked—whether I wanted to become a knight.
Dalton smirked at me, watching.
"Like some country bumpkin hick tasting fancy wine for the first time. Glad you like it, though. Anyway, this ain't your fault, but shitty stuff happened, so I told you to come along, right?"
"Yes, you did."
"Fuck, you..."
Then came a fake cough, and the tent flap opened as a man in silk clothes that screamed expensive stepped in.
You could tell at a glance he was highborn.
Dalton and I both stood, and I bowed politely along with him.
"Raise your heads and sit comfortably. Captain Dalton. And you there, the mercenary—no, Martin Meyer."
As I sat back down, the man looked me over with intrigued eyes.
"It's common enough for second or third sons from knight families to become mercenaries to make a living... but Martin Meyer, a talented guy with standout combat skills and sharp situational judgment like you? Rare as hell."
"An honor, sir."
"Even trained with the sword in a knight family, taking down a squad leader on your first outing and beating an enemy platoon leader who could use Aura? Impressive. And figuring out Baron Casino's dirty plot ahead of time, letting us prepare! The baron himself heard your exploits directly and said you earned the biggest merit in this war."
With that, the servant extended his hand for a shake.
Well, technically I was from a knight family, so not total lowborn—they could offer a handshake...
But right now, I was just a rookie mercenary in a small band, and this guy looked like a Tilen Baron family exec just from his clothes.
Him approaching so friendly left me dumbfounded, but refusing a handshake would've been rude as hell.
So I reached out and shook.
"Ahem, so anyway, Baron Tilen has a glorious offer for you, with no house to inherit..."
Dalton cut in sharply.
"Martin, Sir Holmes here and I have business to discuss. Get lost for a bit."
And just like that, Dalton booted me out of the tent.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Tilen Baron's mansion.
The baron himself sighed and grumbled.
"...That White Beard Mercenary Corps, those greedy bastards are overflowing with it. Mercenaries, so they sink their teeth into any decent talent and won't let go—like pigs."
His words were crude, but he didn't actually see them that badly.
Captain Dalton had delivered victory against Baron Casino as promised.
'That damn bastard tried to dirty our honorable duel war by sneaking in extra troops to trap us in a no-win spot—and they nailed down the proof. Thanks to that, I can squeeze more out of those guys.'
They'd brought him a huge unexpected prize, so ambitious Baron Tilen had every reason to like this mercenary band, not hate it.
"Butler, bring my seal ring."
"Yes, sir. But who are you writing to?"
Tilen chuckled.
"Gonna try luring in that Martin Meyer somehow. Snooped around through others—he's from some rural low knight family, hated being looked down on in noble society, so he became a mercenary. Offer to take him as my direct knight, treat him well, dangle massive rewards... he'll bite, right?"
"...Can't argue with your talent lust, my lord."
Tilen grinned wickedly instead of denying it.
"Can't put my finger on it exactly, but this fucked-up political mess is so chaotic. His Majesty's gravely ill, no telling when he'll go. Crown Prince got food poisoning from bad milk last year and croaked. Inner war over the throne's coming soon."
"Likely."
Tilen's voice turned more—hell, a lot—serious.
"Sebastian, this barony chain's got me bowing to that fat pig Viscount Schwine above our lands every damn time. Fuck, after 20 years inheriting this title."
"..."
"Civil war hits, our barony could crumble in the chaos. But if we back the right guy for emperor and rack up real merits... we end this shitty barony. Climb to count, maybe marquis even. Miracle shot. But there's a prerequisite."
The butler sighed.
"Gather top talent as much as possible."
"Exactly why I need guys like Martin Meyer. Bit awkward, but I'll write a personal letter promising good treatment. First outing and he shines like this—wait too long, and no amount of gold'll snag him. Gotta hook him now. Right?"
The butler figured, unless the kid was crazy, he'd take the offer easy.
"Yes."
"So probe his interest in joining me first. If he balks, show him my handwritten letter direct. Even if he plays hard to get, that'll break him."