With Enough Gold, We're All Friends
After that, I interrogated Morris, the leader of the Golden Fang mercenaries, but nothing particularly new came up.
His reason for the crime was literally just money. He'd blown every coin he'd earned as a mercenary on gambling, and when that wasn't enough, he'd racked up a massive debt he couldn't possibly repay. Desperate, he'd hatched this whole plot.
What a worthless piece of trash. Half a year of scheming for this.
Earth or here, the world's the same everywhere.
I clicked my tongue. This is why people need to live steadily. Look at this—the fate of someone chasing a quick fortune.
"Morris. In your next life, stay away from gambling."
"Marco. Wait, just hear me out. Please?"
"You said it yourself. Since we're friends, you'd give me a quick death at the end. Thanks to that, I lived a bit longer. So as my final mercy, I'll call you a friend. That's my last gift to you."
"Marco. Please, just listen to me! Please!"
"Farewell, friend. No hard feelings—don't worry."
"Marco! Wait! No...!"
Slash!
And just like that, Morris died by Marco's hand.
Marco was ruthless. I'd told him I'd handle the killing myself so he wouldn't have to get blood on his hands, but he insisted on doing it personally.
Guess that's what it takes to survive as a merchant in this barbaric world.
I asked Marco, who looked a bit dazed.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. This is nothing—happens all the time."
What kind of life has he lived that this is "all the time"?
"I won't think about that guy anymore. Only the road ahead matters."
"You're strong."
I meant it. With mental steel like that, he'd succeed at anything.
"Strong? Me? I can't even fight."
"And yet you roam this dangerous world and survive. That's strength."
"...Thanks. You're a good guy."
"Didn't you used to look down on barbarians?"
"That was my mistake. Sorry."
That wrapped up the Golden Fang and Morris affair. But the real problem was ahead.
With so many mercenaries dead, we had a huge hole in our escort. Even combining the caravan's original hires with the Golden Fang members who hadn't joined the mutiny, we only had nine. Eight without me.
Not nearly enough for eight wagons.
We could push on, sure. But who knows what might happen?
"No choice. We'll hire more mercenaries, even if it costs extra."
"Stopping at a city?"
"Yeah. One wagon's wrecked—needs repairs. Lots to do."
"Good."
Music to my ears. A city stop meant shopping, an inn to unwind, fix my hand axe.
Actually, better to buy a new one, but no point—Seria in Pordel would forge them fresh. A Grand Smith no less.
"And Balun, I'll renew our contract terms."
"Renew?"
"Yeah. Instead of the old advance, 10 gold. Sound good?"
My eyes went wide. The original advance was barely 1 gold. 10 gold?
"Don't worry—it's separate from your reward. This is me treating you like a gold badge mercenary. That's what you're worth."
"Deal."
I nodded, satisfied, but inside:
Gold badge means 10 gold per job? Ten jobs and I could buy that 100-gold house on Milford's outskirts?
I whistled inwardly. What an insane high-paying gig. Normal jobs barely touch copper all day, yet some handle gold. Total imbalance.
The more I learned, the less I wanted a regular job. With gaps like this, who could settle for ordinary? Not that a barbarian like me could anyway. Would any tavern hire one as a waiter? No wonder barbarians flock to the sword-for-hire life.
"Sorry. Still figuring out how to repay you properly. But once we hit Pordel, I'll make it right. Wait for me."
"Balun waits. Think slow."
I can wait forever for that.
My chest swelled with anticipation. Hell yeah. 10 gold plus bonuses? Only a fool wouldn't.
After that, the caravan proceeded smoothly. We reached the nearest city safely, hired more mercenaries, soothed nerves from the dawn massacre.
Two days behind schedule, but safety first.
Merchants and I got along great—we both hated risks. Other mercenaries might've whined about doubting our skills and pushed to go faster. Not me.
Safety? Hell yeah, thank you.
I went along perfectly. Marco was touched—said I was nothing like other barbarians.
His initial gruffness was gone. Now he treated me like royalty.
"Everyone halt! Kobold pack ahead!"
We hit monster groups now and then.
"Balun, wolf pack over there. What now?"
"They've spotted us. Can't avoid. We're surrounded already."
And beasts too. Time flew.
Finally, we reached Pordel in the Corinth Kingdom.
Straight roads, bustling crowds, long walls ahead. I could barely contain my excitement.
Finally, my new weapons!
My heart pounded. Axes that could handle Reinforcement Technique without breaking? How could I not be thrilled?
Eight battles since Morris's crew, and not once did I use Reinforcement on my axes. What a waste.
Self-loathing hit hard. Others flash aura blades and light swords; I have to ditch my weapon to use skills. Pathetic.
Not anymore.
Today, I reborn as the warrior with badass S-rank gear.
"We made it alive. Thought we were goners."
"Yeah. Feels like a dream."
After gate inspection, inside the city, Marco's group finally relaxed. Porters unloaded wagons, Marco chatted with officials, signed ledgers, paid the mercenaries.
They took their gold and split. I stayed.
"Here's your 10 gold."
"Thanks."
I pocketed it. My already fat pouch got fatter: 111 gold total. Nice.
"Thought about it on the way—nothing a mercenary loves more than gold."
"Spot on."
Merchants get me.
Money's king.
"Take this. My humble gift."
Marco handed me a leather pouch. Heavy.
How much?
"Over 100 gold. Hope you like it."
Insane. 100 gold.
I nearly yelped. House money, just handed over. Big spender.
So the 10 gold was just a tip.
My wealth doubled in a flash.
"But cash alone doesn't ease my conscience. Got one more thing."
"What?"
"Here."
Marco gave me a letter.
"Recommendation for rank readjustment. Hand it to any mercenary guild—they'll bump you to silver badge. Any branch."
I tilted my head. Ranks were about skill and experience, right? One letter fixes that?
He's even more connected than I thought.
"Sorry. Wanted gold badge, but that's beyond me. This is my limit."
"Enough. More than enough."
True. Overpaid already—house money plus rank up. Stomach-bursting feast.
"Marco, Balun friend. Helped Balun friend. That's it. No more needed."
Also true. Age gap like father-son? Whatever. Money makes friends.
Marco looked angelic now.
"Meeting you was pure luck. Really. Hope we cross paths again."
"Life long. Chances plenty. See again."
"Haha. True enough."
Marco laughed heartily.
"If fate allows, visit our caravan. I'll treat you right."
"Sounds good."
"Wanna join from here? We leave Pordel tomorrow."
"Can't. Business in Pordel."
"Shame."
He smacked his lips.
"No helping it. Meetings end. See you next, brave barbarian friend."
Marco extended his hand. I shook it.
End of our eventful journey.
I headed straight for Pordel's north gate after parting with Marco. My destination was nearby.
This place is huge.
Gawking at the bustling city, I whistled. Pordel was a major trade hub in Corinth—massive. At least twice Milford's size.
Mercenaries everywhere in chainmail and leather.
House prices sky-high here? 200 gold enough?
Soon, I reached my spot.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Blazing heat and hammering echoed nonstop. Pordel's famous Workshop Street.
As named, packed with top-tier artisans. Even adventurers knew it.
Seeing it, I got why. The whole street was workshops: smiths pounding metal, tanners working hides, weavers sewing, jewelers crafting. Every craft.
I asked at one.
"Know a smith named Seria?"
"Who doesn't know that crazy bitch."
Crazy bitch?
Instant red flag—not your average woman.
"Yeah, you'd be clueless. Asking means you're not local. Barbarian? Obvious."
How'd he know? I'm dressed normal.
"That obvious?"
"Barbarian? Yeah. Spot it instantly."
Depressing. No escaping the finger-pointing.
"Where's Seria?"
"Straight ahead, right turn. Corner forge at the end."
"Thanks. Blessings."
I followed. Sure enough, a forge tucked in the corner. Unusually hot.
I knocked.
Knock knock.
No answer. Knocked harder—irritated voice inside, door flew open.
"Fuck, who the hell disturbs an elf at wo—huh? What the hell is this hulking brute?"
"You Seria? Who—gasp."
I froze mid-sentence.
The woman who'd flung open the door.
Stunningly pretty? Beyond that.
Long ears. Ridiculously long.
I panicked inwardly.
Whoa. What now? Deformed ears?