Chapter 4
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Little Young Master (3)
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Allen bought some gifts and paid a visit to the wounded victims of the monster attack. Sure, it was dressed up as a simple bedside visit on the surface, but his real goal was to gather intel on the beast. That was the only way he could draft a detailed hiring plan.
"It ran on four legs. It looked just like a damn pup..., ah, sorry, like a dog, but it had a bunch of eyes. They were bright red too. ...Maybe four of them?"
"It was like a singed mutt. Size of a wolf, though. Shiny skin, not a hair on it. So damn ugly, I nearly pissed myself just looking at it."
Putting together all the eyewitness accounts, he pinned down the monster's identity in a flash.
Nasmun monster, aka Demon Hound.
Low-level beasts, but they usually hunted in packs and had decent smarts, which made them a pain to deal with. They went nuts for human flesh in particular, and once they locked onto prey, they rarely gave up. ...One of those especially annoying monsters to stand watch against during night shifts in the demon realms. Jihoo had even cut the mercenary corps' guard rotations to save stamina, only to get totally wiped out by a stroke of bad luck.
Still, Allen counted himself lucky that it was just Demon Hounds. He'd seen the caliber of mercenaries wandering the city streets, and it wasn't anything to write home about. If it'd been something stronger, they'd have been in real trouble.
That didn't make Demon Hounds a cakewalk, of course—but they were common early-game fodder for building up a merc corps. Get your positioning right, and even D-rank mercs could handle them no sweat.
Now that he'd ID'd the target, it was time to hire some muscle.
By local custom, he'd just take the branch chief's recommendations from the Verher mercenary guild and call it a day. But Allen wasn't going that route, naturally. He made a point of avoiding recommended hires whenever possible.
Sure, sometimes you got talent that way, but in the southern backwaters where merc skills were generally subpar, it was mostly just connections. And those hires bombed more often than not. Useless dead weight that devoured pay without delivering.
Anyway—
With his plan finalized, Allen plastered recruitment notices all over the city. The mercenaries got a hell of a shock.
The notices themselves weren't all that unusual. The shocker was the contract terms.
- Half of pay upfront upon signing.
Most gigs paid after the job; handing over half the fee right at the outset was something only top-tier mercs could dream of. Nobles didn't trust low-rank hires like that. Short-term contracts? Forget it.
Allen's terms were straight-up revolutionary. No wonder they drew eyes.
And word reached Pomwell Baron's ears quick. Not long after the notices went up, a summons arrived.
...Knew it.
Already expecting it, Allen headed straight to the baron's study like he'd been waiting for the call. No way the money-obsessed baron would sit idly by while his son threw cash around.
The moment Allen stepped in, Pomwell Baron flung the notice at him with a harsh bark.
"What the hell is this nonsense?!"
"Not sure what you mean..."
"The contract you posted."
"...The advance pay, you mean."
"Damn right!"
Allen met his father's glare with a relaxed smile. Something the usual timid son could've never pulled off—but Allen... no, Jihoo made it work.
"I figured it'd be more efficient."
"Efficient my ass. You think those bastards won't just grab the cash and bolt?!"
"They won't. I'll weed out the bad apples myself. Don't worry."
"No dice. I can't just watch you bleed money."
Right on cue. So Allen played his prepared card.
"I'll cover the advance from my own pocket. If there's blowback, I'll handle it."
The baron's eyes sharpened. Allen's smile deepened.
"You handed this whole thing over to me completely, didn't you, Father? Then trust me to the end. You can judge the results after they're in."
"...I hate knowing it's coming and still taking the hit."
"I know. Whatever happens, I'll take full responsibility."
The son wouldn't budge, so the father finally backed off a step.
The baron folding so easily was rare as hell. Allen had braced for a long argument, so this caught him off guard.
"...Fine. I'll watch. Now get out."
"Yes, sir."
Once out of the study, Allen let out a relieved breath. Calming this body's naturally weak heart had taken some doing.
Still... smoother than expected.
Convincing the baron was a key hurdle for his merc venture going forward. Lucky it went easier than with the notoriously stingy old man.
With the baron's green light, Allen was free to roll.
And as expected, applications exploded after the notices.
...Advance pay?
Count's granddaughter Charlotte's eyebrows did a weird twitch as she read Allen's notice.
Never dreamed he'd offer upfront cash. Hell, she hadn't even figured that coward Allen was taking point on this. And now he was handling recruitment himself, despite being a total outsider to the scene.
Hmph, show-off.
No matter how she sliced it, it screamed bad idea. Advance pay was pure folly.
Short-term gig, untrustworthy low-rank mercs—who shells out half upfront for that?
From her merc-running perspective, she could already see him crashing and burning. Problem was, it wouldn't end with him. This subjugation was a joint op by the mine owners with big stakes. Pomwell House botching their share meant losses for everyone.
Couldn't stand for that.
She rummaged for paper to dash off a warning to that timid fool—then paused as an idea hit.
...Wait. Let's think this through.
This could be her shot. A chance to shine brightest in the subjugation force!
In peaceful mid-city Verher, showing off leadership or tactics wasn't easy. Merc gigs here were mostly these sporadic subjugation jobs—and even those weren't enough to stand out.
But if the rest of the force tanked—except her corps? That changed everything. The worse they did, the better she'd look by comparison. Boost her rep, snag top mercs, expand to nearby cities. Jobs were drying up back home anyway.
That sealed it—she scrapped the letter idea.
Thinks merc business is a joke? Let's see how easy it really is.
Merc ops were a cutthroat field that drew damn near every noble. Unlike the chill west and south, the fight-heavy east and north turned it into outright war. Your merc quality decided power gaps; one star hire could make or break a house. Hell, territory wars had erupted over single mercs.
That's why Charlotte chafed at her count house's apathy toward mercs. A solid corps was their muscle and pride, but half-assed investment meant half-assed hires.
Now even fat offers couldn't lure talent. Why waste career on a third-rate outfit when you could pad your resume in a second-string elite one?
Nail this op with killer command and strategy, though? She could flip that shitty rep and force some real investment.
Yeah. That's the play.
Charlotte steeled herself.
Time to leapfrog the subjugation force into stardom.
Spread her talent far and wide.
And claim the continent's envy: owner of the ultimate merc corps.
Her dreams were big.
...Real big.