Chapter 36
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: 9. Viola. (1)
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Gradually, the black energy dominating the sky began to lift. Red hues seeped little by little into the sky, diluting like water mixed into black paint.
Crack of dawn.
Dawn had always felt sacred. Allen scattered all the impure thoughts that had piled up overnight with the fresh dawn air.
Gazing up at the dawn sky and taking a deep breath before exhaling, Allen turned his head to look at his squad members huddled together.
"You all worked hard partying your asses off. No one forgot anything, right?"
At his question, the burly Frank groped at his crotch to check if both balls were still there.
"Yes, sir. Both balls accounted for."
The others nodded too, as if nothing was missing. Allen gave a quick jerk of his head—then let's move out—and took the lead.
The streets of Iron Fortress Kalstadt were already bustling from dawn. Merchant wagons and porters hurried about, and smoke from cooking rose endlessly from the inns.
Captain Aiden gnawed on tough jerky with his teeth, occasionally glancing back to make sure the squad was keeping up.
After walking for quite a while, they arrived at the north gate. A fair number of people were already gathered there in clusters.
Allen, who had contracted with the merchant group the day before, approached the man puffing away on a pipe while perched on the back of a wagon.
"Allen Mercenary Corps."
"Ah, you're here. Hop on over there."
The Allen Mercenary Corps trudged over to the wagon the dark-skinned man pointed at and climbed aboard. It wasn't a huge wagon, so with nine of them, it was packed tight.
Before long, the merchant caravan set off. The Iron Fortress, reflecting the rising sunlight, was utterly majestic. Its grandeur truly lived up to being the empire's greatest stronghold.
"Bermandua, right?"
The muscular woman sitting across from Allen asked, chewing on something sloppily.
"Yeah. Bermandua."
The city of mercenaries, the ownerless city, Bermandua.
"Heard it's pretty fucking brutal there..."
Captain Aiden, who had never been to Bermandua, muttered that. The burly Frank chuckled and chimed in.
"Not quite brutal. More like, close your eyes and your nose gets sliced off?"
Without nobles to rule it, Bermandua's sense of law and order was far laxer than elsewhere. Even in Guild Master, there were no penalties for actions here. As long as you had the strength to fend off any retaliation from mercenaries, you could do whatever. ...Of course, piss off one of the Top 10 and you're fucked.
The veteran Kallisman Rowner summed it up neatly.
"No need to worry too much. They don't stab you out in the open or anything. Live quietly, and it's no different from other cities. Just more mercenaries around. ...Strictly speaking, there are rules. Unspoken ones that hold among mercenaries."
"So they do stab you outright sometimes?"
"...Well, with so many idiots among the mercenaries."
Conversation cut off there. Exhausted from shaking it up all night before, the squad yawned contagiously, mouths splitting wide.
The wagon fell into night once more.
Mercenary city, Bermandua.
Unlike other cities, it had no walls, yet boasted a scale rivaling any metropolis. A massive river cut through the city center, with plenty of people leisurely boating on it.
A paradise for those with power. That's why all sorts of big shots from across the continent flocked here. Better to live like nobility yourself than bow to them.
...We're here. Finally...!
The one city you couldn't skip in the mercenary business. Tough to scout fresh talent with all the grizzled vets dominating, but overflowing with proven hires. Plus, you could run into Top 10s now and then, and fame built fast. Jihoo always set up a base here, staying months each year. Catch a good group quest, and you'd rack up fame and fat paydays.
Other ventures... way out of reach for now...
No separate taxes here either, perfect for business. Sure, most were already cornered by big players, but gaps existed everywhere. ...Provided you had solid capital and a powerhouse mercenary corps as backup. Dream stuff for the current Allen Mercenary Corps.
Anyway.
The Allen Mercenary Corps arrived safely in Bermandua and were immediately swarmed by beggars upon dismounting. Mostly kids with barely scabbed heads.
"Spare a coin, please."
"Food, anything..."
The veteran Kallisman, as if expecting it, brandished a sharp axe and menaced them fiercely.
"Fuck off."
Judging them the type not to mess with, the beggars scattered elsewhere. Kallisman explained right away why he'd gone so hard.
"Light-fingered lot... Best keep your distance, Leader."
Allen nodded like he'd known. If your combat power dipped below a threshold visiting a mercenary city, you'd sometimes get pickpocketed by beggar scum. Pennies, sure, but it pissed you off.
Escort done, Allen collected payment from the merchant head. The old man said to hit him up if they had openings next time. Seemed he loved their cheap, solid work over other corps.
The squad left the station and entered the city. Now, heavily made-up hookers in tacky outfits latched onto the men's arms. Cheap perfume stabbed their noses.
Pretty boy whores approached the women with coquettish airs. The Red Robe Mage waved them off firmly—no approaching.
Burly Frank groped the tits of the two hookers clinging to his pits, grinning lecherously.
"Leader. Mind if I drain the lizard real quick?"
"Go if you wanna skip payout. Late, and it's gone."
"Aw, fine... You girls wait. Big bro'll come find ya."
The corps ducked into a nearby tavern. The hall was already rowdy chaos in broad daylight. The Red Robe Mage pinched her nostrils against the stench.
They claimed two corner tables, sitting around them. Allen paid the short-term hires on the spot. Gold in hand, the money-loving mercs' lips curled to their ears.
"Alright, mission over. Go your ways if you're leaving; drink up if not. Do you."
"Yessir~."
As Allen stood with Kallisman, Frank asked if the leader wasn't drinking.
"Got business. You all did great. Hope the good times keep rolling."
The short-timers looked a bit bummed at splitting without an afterparty but didn't press.
Allen and Kallisman stepped out. The leader stretched tall in the street, directing the escort Kallisman to guide him to the guild house.
Sights aplenty in a mercenary city. Especially the stalls lining the river—endless window-shopping without boredom.
Gawking their fill, that big building glimpsed afar loomed right before them.
The crowds were insane. Ants swarming an anthill. Naturally, with the throng came hookers and hustlers hawking hard. Plenty stuck sloppily to Allen and Kallisman before peeling off.
They entered the guild house. Hookers and hustlers everywhere inside too. Some fucked in corners. Even chicks openly sucking dick.
Fistfights popped up now and then. More spectators for brawls than bangs. Plenty betting coin or booze on them.
Absurdly, it was all everyday scenery here. Allen stifled a laugh.
...Yeah, that's a mercenary city for ya.
"Looking for specifics?"
"Viola Mercenary Corps."
—!
Kallisman, veteran of the scene, couldn't not know the name.
Last place or not, Top 10 was Top 10. Viola Mercenary Corps' stature wasn't for small fry to handle.
"Uh... you sure about this?"
"What?"
"Opponent's kinda..."
"It's fine. More like a favor. They said they'd welcome me."
Kallisman eased a bit then.
Viola Mercenary Corps held the biggest room at the end of the second-floor hall. Barely anyone around, naturally. Even the boldest merc scum lacked guts to barge in without cause.
Allen, steady till now, felt a twinge here. Guild Master wizard or not, he was just a small-time leader now.
...Not like I'm up to no good. Just deliver the letter, that's it.
No chickening out over a face stamp—! Allen steeled himself.
The two men opened the door to a impeccably tidy office. ...Unbelievably pristine for a merc corps HQ.
"What brings you?"
The woman at the front counter stood and asked. Allen strode up and proffered the envelope from his breast pocket.
"Something to deliver to Leader Viola."
"I'll pass it right along."
Allen handed over the envelope meekly. While she vanished inside, he glanced back at Kallisman with a light nod. No issues.
Soon, the clerk emerged with the envelope.
"Leader wants a quick look at your face."
Perfect—.
Kalrim's note must've been gold, as expected. Face stamp success in sight.
Suppressing excitement, he trailed the clerk.
Mid-paperwork, Viola skimmed the letter and nodded lightly.
Skipping Kalrim Leader's pleasantries, gist was sending one guy—check him out.
...Old man's still at it. Time to retire, gramps.
Having served under him once, she smirked and folded the letter.
Word came the delivery boy arrived.
"Come in."
Viola straightened up. Top 10 dignity on display.
Door opened; one man entered. Surprisingly handsome young man.
But her gaze left his face quick, drifting upward.
...And,
"I'm Allen Dwight Pomwell."
Her shocked thoughts froze solid.
"Current leader of Allen Mercenary Corps."
The number over the pretty boy's head,
"Honored to meet you."
522.
...Far beyond expectations.