Chapter 18
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Deep Waters (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Like a sheer cliff face, the snow-capped Romeln Mountains towered overhead. Below them stretched eye-searingly beautiful grasslands and a river fed by melting snow that never ran dry through the seasons.
No one could look upon that breathtaking vista without awe. And right there against that stunning backdrop stood the central city of Mahbana.
The Allen Mercenary Corps had left the southern trade city of Rbalra and marched steadily for a full fortnight to reach this beautiful place. Even Allen, who wasn't easily impressed, couldn't hold back his admiration for the scenery. His mercenaries, none of whom had ever been to Mahbana before, reacted no differently.
Yet even this beautiful city, like others in the eastern regions, was steeped in cruel and ugly history. Records told of how that lovely Romeln River ran red with blood for three days and nights...
The Herrera House that the Allen Mercenary Corps had come to serve was the family ruling this beautiful city. True, the city's masters had changed hands several times over its long history, but for the two hundred years since the Herreras took over, no new lords had emerged. Their roots ran deep into the soil here.
And now that very lord was clamoring for war—a war whose ripples wouldn't stop at the family but would engulf the entire city.
...A palpable air of impending conflict hung over the beautiful central city of Mahbana.
The Allen Mercenary Corps underwent a thorough identity check at the checkpoint. Given the tense situation, they weren't letting anyone slide with the usual laxity.
"Fuckin' hell, they nearly yanked our dicks out checkin' everything."
Levo, a burly, hairy brute of a man, stuck out his tongue at the checkpoint staff who had inspected them with excessive meticulousness. Mary, one of the two female mercenaries with her snub nose, was ripping into one of the staff for groping her ass.
"Our captain? You could grope him all you want~."
As Mary flirted shamelessly, a part-time guard with a weakness for women stepped up. Tall and lanky like a beanpole but surprisingly strong.
"Me?"
"You're fuckin' ugly."
"You're ugly too, you bitch."
"My pussy's fuckin' pretty though?"
"Gotta see it to know."
"Pull out your own dick first."
The loyal old hound, Kallisman, reined them in.
"Hey, quit bickering and follow."
"Hmph, moron."
"Asshole."
The mercenaries headed straight for the count's castle piercing the city center like a spike. Predictably, they were stopped again at the main gate. Allen stepped forward and revealed his identity.
"I'm Allen Dwight Pomwell, leader of the Allen Mercenary Corps. We saw the posting recruiting mercenaries."
Evidently used to such arrivals, they passed more easily than expected. Still, the interior was heavily guarded, ready for any contingency.
"Please wait a moment. Word will come from inside shortly."
As the guard captain said, a man soon emerged from the castle. The middle-aged fellow treated them with far more respect than anticipated.
"This way, please."
They followed him into the castle. He led only Allen, the leader, off somewhere. No need to drag the whole crew along for a simple contract anyway.
"Where to?"
"To his lordship."
This caught even Allen off guard. He hadn't expected the count himself to handle a mere mercenary contract. Usually, they'd send a proxy.
"His lordship's taking a personal interest?"
"Given the gravity of the matter, he's handling this one directly."
"...I see. Lead on."
Soon they reached a door emblazoned with a magnificent carved dragon. The count's office. Two knights stood motionless on either side, exuding intimidation.
"The leader of the Allen Mercenary Corps has arrived, my lord."
- Enter.
The man bowed slightly and backed away. Allen opened the door himself and entered the count's office.
The count sat at his desk reviewing documents—a massive man who looked more suited to mercenary life than nobility.
The count was a born warrior. He could jump into mercenary work right now without missing a beat. And despite his apparent age, he didn't even have [Frailty]. ...Honestly, Allen wanted to recruit him into the corps.
"Allen Dwight Pomwell, youngest son of Baron Pomwell of Verher."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Count Herrera."
They exchanged light greetings at first.
"Far too handsome to lead mercenaries."
"Ha ha, you flatter me."
"How many in your group?"
"Nine, including me."
"Who's your captain?"
"Kallisman Rowner."
An unfamiliar name. Not from a famous corps.
But right now, they needed every hand they could get.
"As you know, we've got a feud brewing. And neither side's backing down."
The count placed his hands on the desk and drummed his fingers.
"How much do you want?"
And so the negotiation began.
Allen couldn't dare haggle back at a count so brazenly. He'd have to judge a fair amount himself.
"We want seven hundred gold coins."
Seven hundred...
That was standard for a mid-tier mercenary corps. But the Allen Mercenary Corps didn't look anywhere near that caliber.
"Too much."
Allen had expected as much. Still, the situation was special.
"This is war. Seven hundred gold could turn the tide. Not an exorbitant sum, I think."
Of course, seven hundred wasn't pocket change, and they weren't the only corps around. Expenses went beyond pay to provisions and sundries. ...No wonder families with thin coffers went bankrupt after one war.
"Still too high. I had five hundred in mind."
"Absolutely not. We risked our lives from the south. Too low for our blood."
"Heh, cheeky."
The warrior-like count was no haggler. But his sheer pressure was intimidating.
"Five hundred fifty."
"Six hundred fifty. That's our floor."
"Fine, six hundred. Generous of me."
"No."
The count slammed his fist on the desk.
"How dare you—!"
...No wonder they're at war...
Allen realized the root of the conflict right there.
"My apologies. But my men's lives are on the line. If it's not agreeable, we'll withdraw."
"You little...!"
Yet Allen didn't budge an inch. Seeing the slender nobleman prove far tougher than expected, the count's expression shifted.
"...You've got the guts to back your demands."
"Forgive me for offending you, my lord."
Even as he apologized, his silver tongue worked its magic, cooling the count's ire.
"Fine. Six hundred fifty. As you wish. Satisfied?"
"I won't forget your lordship's grace."
"Not grace—I'm buying loyalty with coin. Specially for you. Guts like that will earn it."
"Astute judgment, my lord."
"Good. Let's draw up the contract now."
Pay: six hundred fifty gold coins.
Honestly, not enough to thrill Allen. After pocketing thousands as [Guild Master], shrinking to half of half felt paltry.
...Can't be helped. Still a lot for a first gig.
Sure, after paying the crew, little would stick to his pockets, but this wasn't just about gold. The more they shone in battle, the more fame they'd gain.
With negotiations done, Allen left the count's office.
On the way back, he crossed paths with a woman. A black-haired beauty whose chest was impressively ample for her height, barely reaching his shoulder. Their eyes met as they approached. He gave a silent nod; she returned it.
Stats heavily skewed toward [Intellect] and [Magic Power].
That unusually high [Magic Power] confirmed she was a mage. Non-tower mages were extremely rare.
...Who was she again...?
"Ah—."
It took Allen a while to place her. With so many characters in [Guild Master], dredging up buried memories took time.
Alias: Mahbana's Mage. A named character famous less for her class than other attributes. Big-titted mages were rarer than you'd think in [Guild Master].
She popped up often in all-female corps concept plays. Her petite frame clashing with those explosive curves and haughty demeanor made her memorable.
He even recalled community screenshots of her striking poses in a micro bikini barely covering nipples and crotch. She showed up in doujins now and then too. ...Truth be told, he'd sponged off her a few times himself.
Never thought he'd meet her in the flesh—.
Encountering a familiar face sent chills racing up Allen's spine with sudden certainty.
Anyway,
Korea's Jihoo
knew he was truly fucked.