The Mercenary King Gets Scammed

A great city of towering brick buildings, where mazes of twisting alleys wound their way around the crooked plaza.

Langestin, capital of the Dresden Kingdom.

Simon, who had been busy preparing for the entrance ceremony, had suddenly found himself teleported here via a magic circle.

"...I never expected to be coming here like this."

The whole affair had begun with an instruction from Jane, delivered right as he entered the Great Auditorium.

Simon had been caught completely off guard, but Jane's tone was perfectly calm.

There were five ways into Roc Island besides the Underworld Whale, and the escort using the giant monster hawk had been assigned to Dick. Meilin and Camibarez would remain at the school to finish the entrance ceremony preparations.

And so Simon had crossed over to Langestin via the teleportation circle.

It feels strange.

It felt like only yesterday he'd received his acceptance letter in Leshill and boarded the ship in a state of pure nerves. And now he was the one bringing the new students in.

It was a rather wondrous feeling.

Alright, let's do this!

Simon set off with burning enthusiasm, walking along the edge of the vast, rolling sea. Before long, a familiar dock came into view in the distance. A huge ship was being prepped at the pier, and workers bustled about busily, repairing the hull and hauling supplies.

"That crate goes over here!"

"Careful with those bottles! Don't break them!"

Simon wove his way through the noisy, crowded workers.

The henchmen who'd been lazing about, smoking cigars in their seats, caught sight of the Student Council armband on his arm and sprang up in a panic.

Bow.

Bow.

They bent at the waist in deep greetings, and Simon returned each one politely.

Once he passed, the henchmen murmured in hushed voices.

"That's him, right? The new Student Council President this year."

"Yeah. Polite little thing, isn't he."

"First day on the job. He'll want to look good. Give it a week, tops."

Having quietly exchanged their chatter, the henchmen turned back to their work.

Just then, a man in a uniform came running out from the ship.

"Ah, Mr. President! Welcome!"

The Kizen crest was visible on the chest of his uniform. A staff member of Kizen headquarters.

The two shook hands and smiled.

"We received word from the school and have been waiting! Let's do great work together tomorrow."

"Yes, please take good care of me. What can I help with?"

Simon rolled up his sleeves eagerly, but the staff member shook his head.

"The ship repairs are the technicians' job, and the cleaning and odd jobs are nearly finished as well. You've been entrusted with escorting the students, so all you need to do, Mr. President, is be back here by five in the morning tomorrow."

Simon blinked. He'd expected to be run off his feet, and it was all done already?

"Until then, your time is your own."

The staff member held out a card. The front bore Kizen's emblem, and the back had a space for writing.

"Lodging and meals are on us. Go anywhere in Langestin and show this card—the expenses will be recorded on the back automatically. Just hand it over to me tomorrow."

"Ah, thank you."

Simon accepted it with a dazed expression.

"So, um... that's really all there is to it?"

"Yes! That's all. Rest up and enjoy your free time."

The headquarters staffer smiled warmly.

"Because starting tomorrow, you're going to be unimaginably busy."

And so Simon unexpectedly found himself with free time to enjoy.

"Rrrrgh—there we go."

He stretched his arms skyward and strolled down the street.

I was supposed to meet Lady Nephthys this evening, but plans have changed.

Still, it had been the Vice Principal's order, so Nephthys would surely know things had shifted. Besides, as Student Council President, he could always meet her another time.

More than anything, Simon counted himself lucky to be in Langestin before the semester officially began.

I can buy all my Summoning supplies and textbooks here before I go!

The student city of Rochest, located inside Roc Island, was notoriously expensive. Buying his materials here on the mainland in Langestin would save him a small fortune.

He'd wanted to buy Toto's supplies too if he could reach him, but his friend had probably already headed out to shop on his own by now.

Setting aside the thought, Simon turned into a familiar alleyway.

Getting to Campbell Road from here is easy.

With the signs posted throughout the alleys and the building addresses to guide him, there was little chance of getting lost.

As he ambled along the winding streets, a rather memorable spot came into view.

The day he'd first left Leshill and come to the big city. He'd followed a strange gang member who'd passed himself off as a guide, gotten into a fight, and been rescued by Lorraine.

That takes me back.

A smile crept across Simon's lips.

The guy who tried to trick me with that guide act back then was definitely—

"I've been so worried about you, sir! It's genuinely dangerous for an outsider to wander Langestin alone without a guide!"

Simon stopped dead in his tracks.

What did he just say?

"There are bad people crawling all over this city like rats, just waiting to fleece naive travelers! You need only trust me and follow along!"

"Haha, of course! I'll trust you and only you, Mr. Guide!"

That line. An enormously familiar repertoire.

Simon quickened his pace, slipped into the shadow between two buildings, and craned his neck toward the sound.

He could see a man who claimed to be a guide chattering away without a moment's breath. Beside him stood a red-haired boy with an honest, guileless face, giggling happily.

Hold on! What is HE doing here?

So that's why he'd looked so familiar.

It was Arthur—the Mercenary King he'd met on the Parona Peninsula.

"Hahahaha!"

Arthur laughed brightly as he chatted with the guide, not a shred of suspicion on his face.

One look and anyone can tell he's being played.

Just as Simon was debating when to step in—

Click.

The guide stopped walking, his expression gone cold. Arthur's steps halted as well.

"Oh, are they all here? My companions are—"

"I couldn't tell you anything about your companions. But—"

Snap!

The guide snapped his fingers. Armed men came pouring out from every corner of the alley.

"Your companions are right here."

Called it.

Simon, watching from the shadows, sighed.

"Hey, Signal. Aren't you coming out?"

Another gang member had been hiding in the alley where Simon stood. He'd apparently mistaken the robed figure lurking in the darkness for one of his own.

"Coming."

Simon replied airily and walked over.

WHAM!

Without ever understanding how he'd been beaten, the gang member collapsed to the ground, foaming at the mouth.

Simon brushed off his hands lightly and moved a little farther ahead.

The guide was drawing a dagger from his coat, talking with smug satisfaction.

"Right, so now that you've got the situation figured out. Come along quietly and no one gets hurt."

"Okay!"

Arthur nodded along eagerly.

Hm?

The guide's face faltered at the unexpected reaction. Had he misheard? He tried again.

"Ahem! Come along quietly and no one gets hur—"

"Haha! Of course. That's why I followed you, Mr. Guide—so nobody gets hurt! Shall we go? Oh! Hello there, Mr. Guide's companions! My name ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is Arthur!"

Every single one of them wore a dumbfounded expression.

...People really don't change, do they.

Simon leaned against the building wall with a wry smile.

"Well, hm! If you say you'll come quietly. Yes, that works—no bloodshed, everyone's happy."

The guide seemed to have decided to just play along.

"First things first. That thing on your back—it's a sword, right? Set it down."

"I'm sorry?"

Arthur blinked his innocent eyes.

"Why?"

"You insane little—! You're toying with a person right now! Anyone being taken captive obviously puts down their weapon. What do you mean, 'why'?!"

Arthur's gaze turned.

The guide's companions, surrounding him with drawn weapons.

The guide's sudden change of attitude.

And the demand to surrender his sword.

"Don't tell me..."

Arthur's mouth fell open.

"...You're planning to do something bad to me if I put my weapon down! You people! You were bad guys all along!"

"You crazy son of a—you're figuring that out NOW?!"

The guide's face went scarlet.

"Enough! Just take him!"

The men rushed forward, weapons raised. Arthur, his face gone rigid, brought his hand behind his back.

"...And here I thought we were friends."

Whoosh!

The red cloth wrapped around his sword caught the wind and sailed away.

"The first friend I made in the Dresden Kingdom! I swore I would treasure him with everything I had!"

"What the hell are you babbling about, you craz—"

CRACK-BOOOOM!

There was a flash of light, and the lead man's face crumpled like a tin can as he flew backward, slamming into the stone wall of a building behind him.

Crashhh!

The wall caved in, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"The hell?"

The men's eyes bulged wide.

As Arthur lifted his head, shoulders trembling, a great fury flickered in his eyes.

"You just trampled all over my heart!"

BOOM!

The sheer force of the boy's voice made the gang members flinch. The man who seemed to be their boss shouted out.

"Don't cower! All at once!"

Weapons swung from every direction. Arthur dodged this way and that with nimble footwork and brought the pommel of his sword down on the back of the gang member's head in front of him.

CRUNCH!

The man's head drove into the floor tiles, cracking them apart.

Smack!

A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠follow-up kick bent another man's body at an unnatural angle.

Whack!

The scabbard mercilessly shattered the nose of a man thrusting a spear from behind.

"I will NEVER forgive you!"

"Wh-what is this kid?!"

Thud!

WHAM!

Crack!

Splutch!

In his fury, Arthur left a trail of gang members in his wake, bleeding and sprawled across the ground with their joints bent at grotesque angles.

"Surround him! Surround him and swarm!"

the boss-like gang member shouted.

"Don't give him any room to—huaargh!"

He never finished the sentence—something slammed into him.

SLAM!

"Gahk!"

Out of nowhere, grimy old bones had bound his body and pinned him against the wall.

"Wh-what is this?"

SLAM!

SLAM!

SLAM!

One after another, three more gang members beside him were pinned in identical poses, their arms and legs locked in place by bone.

"Khhgk!"

"Get this thing off me! I can't move!"

While Arthur fought in a whirl of chaos, a boy in a black robe came walking past him.

His fingers flicked and swayed in perfect rhythm.

Clack!

Clatter-clack!

Every time his fingers moved, bones went flying in all directions, binding men and pinning them to the walls. Only then did Arthur notice, glancing over.

"Who are you—"

SMACK!

A man who'd been aiming for Arthur's back was struck across the skull by a bone and dropped. Arthur whirled around in shock, and the boy gave a little smile.

"Careful~ Arthur."

It was a familiar voice. But there was no time to ask—Arthur had to swing his sword again.

"That bastard! He's a necromancer!"

One of the gang members clutched his blade and charged at the robed boy.

"Forget the idiot—get him first!"

The boy smirked and moved his fingers.

Sssshhhh—

A few more pieces dropped away from the bones binding the gang members and streaked toward the boy like arrows.

Mid-air, they fitted themselves together—torso, limbs, face—taking the shape of a skeleton.

"An U-undead?!"

The instant assembly was complete, the skeleton dropped to the ground and swung its sword.

CLANG!

Skeleton and gang member locked blades in a contest of strength. Arthur's eyes went wide.

Incredible! That's the finest skeleton control I've ever seen in my life!

"GYAAAH!"

The gang member batted the skeleton's sword aside and swung horizontally. The skeleton's body split clean at the waist.

"Heh!"

The gang member sneered—but the bone fragments of the supposedly halved skeleton flew right back and began snapping onto his body, piece by piece.

In an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠instant, his entire body sheathed in bone, the man shrieked at the top of his lungs.

He couldn't move his body as he willed. Against his own judgment, he dropped his sword and seized a hammer lying nearby.

"S-someboooody!"

CRACK!

He brought the hammer down on his own face and went limp.

"Surround the necromancer first!"

RUMBLE!

The gang members closed in around the robed boy.

"Did you know?"

As the boy's fingers danced, the piles of garbage strewn across the alley began to stir as if alive. Wrappers and torn envelopes split open, and even more bone fragments floated up into the air.

Soon the fragments began fitting themselves together. Bones of mismatched sizes and types creaked and groaned as they assembled into the shapes of skeletons.

"That the building up ahead is a skeleton graveyard."

Bow!

Bow!

The moment the skeletons finished assembling, they snatched weapons off the ground and threw themselves into the fight.

Wow.

Arthur forgot to swing his own sword entirely, simply watching the mysterious boy command his skeletons.

It was beautiful.

They were mere skeletons—the most basic of basics even within Summoning—but the skill with which he handled them bordered on artistry.

Not just the exquisite control, but the interweaving of units raised to its absolute pinnacle.

Thud.

WHUMP!

The gang members went down one by one. The boy turned his head.

"That leaves just two."

He looked at the pair standing at the very back.

They flinched, spun on their heels, and bolted. The boy commanding the undead kicked off the ground and charged after them himself.

Zip.

In a blink, he'd slipped past them, his hands crossed in an X.

Slump! Slump!

Their bodies collapsed like puppets with severed strings. Arthur hurried over, astonished.

"Did you... kill them?"

"Nope."

The boy turned back to Arthur with a smile.

"Just put them to sleep."

It was true. Mid-battle, out of nowhere, the two were snoring away, dead to the world. Using the scattered bone fragments, the boy fixed them in place against the wall.

Now every single one of Arthur's attackers lay sprawled on the ground or pinned by bones, howling.

"Thank you for helping me!"

Arthur bowed his head deeply.

"May... may I ask who you are—"

The boy took hold of the edge of his hood and drew it back.

Blue hair spilled into view, and at last Simon showed his face.

"Been keeping well, Arthur?"