Chapter 17
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Big Waters (3)
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Allen and Aiden, having safely weathered a single bandit raid, arrived without incident at the trading city of Rbalra.
The teeming crowds were as impressive as ever, before the war or now. With the conflict piling on top, people surged in and out like waves. War was a tragedy for some, but an opportunity for others. And Allen fell squarely into the latter camp.
Especially when two or more gathered, talk of the eastern war was inevitable. Even the lowly porters trudging back and forth through the east could drink for free in the taverns. A nonstop stream of rumors poured from their mouths, artfully blending truth and exaggeration. These days, unless you went to see for yourself, it was impossible to tell what was real and what wasn't.
And the war had sent prices skyrocketing. They had more than doubled since before, to the point where even a shabby meal at a cheap tavern had jumped from coppers to silvers.
Amid the rumors were plenty of tales about the various houses participating in this territorial skirmish. Many of the names were familiar to Allen, but one in particular had deep ties to Aiden.
The Herrera House of the Romeln Mountains—
A house where Aiden had once been hired on as a mercenary, if only briefly.
"Do you have any plans going forward? With the war raging, there don't seem to be many decent jobs available."
Allen stuffed food into his mouth, chewing with a peculiar smile. He finished masticating, swallowed, and then replied.
"We're heading to the eastern region."
"...Pardon? The eastern region...?"
"If war is the big current, we have to go with the flow. As a mercenary corps, it's an inevitable choice."
Aiden clearly hadn't expected this rookie leader to boldly declare they'd throw themselves into the eastern territorial war.
"War is on a whole different level from the missions we've done so far. ...You do know that, right?"
"Of course I do. Do you think I don't, Captain? I'm not charging in blindly, so don't worry."
Still, Aiden's concerns didn't fade easily. That said, he hadn't experienced war himself, so he had no further advice to offer. Bound by contract as he was, all he could do was trust the leader.
Allen glanced at his subordinate's expression, then spoke in a more solemn tone than before.
"Knight orders pick and choose their jobs. Mercenary corps don't. When there's work for mercenaries, we go do it. That's all there is to it."
Bold, gutsy words. Words befitting a mercenary leader.
"...Understood. I'll follow your decision, of course."
"Good. Don't worry too much. I'll pick good ones. I know my own life is valuable, after all."
With their meal finished, the two headed to their lodging room to shake off the fatigue from their long journey.
Allen flopped onto the fluffy bed and let out a contented groan. He figured closing his eyes would send him straight to sleep, but strangely, his mind was wide awake.
War—
The fastest way to earn money and fame. Of course, it came with proportionally greater risk.
Still, in this situation, it wasn't easy for a mercenary corps to avoid war and scrounge up other work. At best, they'd get caravan escorts—and if that was all they were after, they never would have left Verher, dragging the Empire into it.
In truth, this eastern war was the beginning of a massive wave that would one day engulf the continent. Even if the flames of war were temporarily smothered, the faint embers smoldering beneath the ashes would eventually consume it all—
It was an unavoidable fate. If you couldn't fight it head-on, the natural course was to entrust yourself to it.
...I've done this plenty of times before. No need to get too tense. I've survived demon realms and bandit ambushes. Now it's time for war. This is just one necessary step.
Of course, games and reality were different, but his theoretical knowledge was as rich as anyone's—superior to just about everyone, in fact.
And above all,
Allen could view others' status windows, and this place was teeming with far better mercenaries than anything Verher had to offer.
Which meant he held a weapon more powerful than anyone else's in this war—
The right timing, a crucial opportunity, and the ultimate weapon...
From Allen's perspective, this was something he absolutely could not pass up.
...Avoiding it would make me a real coward.
A great number of mercenaries had flooded into the trading city of Rbalra. The reason was obvious: money. Mercenary pay always soared highest during wartime.
Of course, where capable mercenaries gathered in droves, so did the riffraff. Plenty of frauds inflating their resumes for a quick payout.
In that regard, Allen's ability to view status windows was unbeatable in every sense.
If only I had more money, I could hire without a second thought...!
Maybe it was from wading through so many rejects not even worth D-rank, but now that he was seeing some decent prospects, Allen's recruitment itch was flaring up fiercely.
However, with their current capital so limited, he had no choice but to forcibly lower his standards a notch. ...Still better than Verher.
Especially one man who particularly stood out among them.
(Right shoulder feels stiff. Left side is stabbing. Right thigh aches. ...)
He was a middle-aged mercenary with streaks of gray in his hair. Probably past forty. The [Frailty] trait often cropped up around that age...
What was impressive was his solid stats despite the [Frailty]. With [Prodigy] to boot, he must have been quite the force in his younger days.
"Not to your liking?"
The middle-aged mercenary seemed accustomed to rejection due to his age. Allen's prolonged silence must have felt like a polite turndown.
"No, nothing like that... I was just wondering what your story was."
"Fair enough. It's not common to be mercenary work at my age. Nothing to hide, really. I had a kid late in life, and this was the only job I could still handle to feed him. Perfect timing with the money to be made..."
A thoroughly pragmatic answer. It wasn't uncommon for retired mercenaries to crawl back into the trade like this. After half a lifetime swinging steel, they couldn't stomach a quiet life tilling fields—their temperament was too ruined for it.
Of course, most mercenary corps wouldn't touch such men. Their careers had gaps, so their skills weren't what they used to be, and their experience made them hard to wrangle.
Truth be told, Allen wasn't fond of such cases either, but this one was different. The stats were one thing, but the traits were exceptional—top three of any he'd seen since dropping into this Guild Master world.
[Prodigy] was rare enough, but [Extreme Survival] was an undeniable top-tier trait. Aiden's [Willpower] was solid—A-tier, say—but [Extreme Survival] was the absolute pinnacle among will-related traits.
The [Kindness] trait might make it tricky to cut him from the roster later, but at his age, a gentle nudge toward retirement would likely see him bow out gracefully. He'd recognize when he couldn't keep up anymore.
Even setting aside such future scenarios, there was no denying this was a rare talent. A bit flawed, sure, but a gem was still a gem.
"Let's contract. Long-term's fine if you want."
Not just short-term, but mentioning long-term outright drew a suspicious glance from the man. Allen couldn't very well say he'd seen the status window, so he offered a plausible excuse.
"My corps needs someone like you right now. Experienced, seasoned—a central pillar. I think you can provide that... or am I wrong? I leave it to your conscience, as a father."
To a man who'd been rejected everywhere, even insulted as he slunk away, it was an incredibly welcome gesture. ...Truth be told, he'd been deeply worried no one would take him at all.
"I can do it. Embarrassing to say, but I was pretty famous back in my prime. I won't disappoint."
"Perfect. Let's do it."
And so, Allen signed a one-year contract with the middle-aged mercenary, Kallisman Rowner. Fifteen gold per month.
The Allen Mercenary Corps now totaled eight members: two long-term, six short-term.
With the rank-and-file secured, it was time to depart.
As Aiden walked side-by-side with Allen down the guild house corridor toward their inn, he asked if the leader had a specific spot in mind for the eastern region.
"...Yeah. A place you know well too."
"Me?"
They happened to be passing a large bulletin board in the hallway. Allen stopped in front of it and jabbed a finger at one recruitment notice.
"Here."
Aiden's gaze followed Allen's finger. Or more precisely, to the paper it pointed at.
Ah—
The place the leader had mentioned. The one he "knew well."
"Herrera House..."
Allen flashed a charming smile.
"Yeah. There."