The Mercenary Leader
“You’ve caused quite the stir.”
“Ah, you heard?”
The day after my first outing.
Rowell approached me with a wry chuckle and those words.
He’d already heard the news?
Well, it wasn’t surprising. I’d dismissed the dispatched guards with my seal, after all.
“Causing trouble on your very first day out.”
“Hahaha, consider my background.”
Did they really think the guy who’d clawed his way to the top of that brutal Colosseum would stroll out without raising hell?
“...It seems the young miss has kept you on a tighter leash than I expected.”
“No one was seriously hurt.”
No deaths, no broken bones.
And I hadn’t even started it—they had. By some lights, it was self-defense.
A bit excessive, sure, but in this world, wasn’t that tame?
“Well... just don’t kill anyone.”
“That’s enough?”
“...Ideally, don’t cripple them either.”
“Ugh, got it.”
I wasn’t great at holding back, but I’d manage.
“Still, why did you head to the mercenary guild?”
“Curious about adventurers.”
“Adventurers? You’re interested in that?”
“A little.”
It was a fantasy world, after all.
Wouldn’t it be romantic to roam as an adventurer, chasing the mysteries of this realm?
Someday, when I had the leisure, I’d dive into a proper adventure.
“Hmm, that’s unexpected. I figured house guard suited you.”
“Can a man’s talents be limited to one thing?”
Not that I’d ditch my current life and run off for it.
Just something to try before I kicked the bucket.
“And that’s when you picked a fight with the mercenaries?”
“Partly. Also wanted to test them out.”
“Their skills?”
“Yeah. Curious how folks who live by the blade stack up.”
Mercenaries were one of this world’s martial pillars.
Small nobles practically needed them for territory skirmishes.
The unit you hired could tip the scales, and some even married off daughters to famous captains, taking them as sons-in-law.
“So, how were they?”
“Eh, hard to say.”
A well-known crew got turned into mincemeat in three minutes against me.
But they were all drunk, and I didn’t even draw steel.
If they’d been sober and ready...
Yeah, Aura on, and it’d still be three-minute mincemeat.
The gap between Aura users and non-users was massive.
The captain had grazed Aura, but his mastery was laughable by comparison.
“Without Aura, though, they’d give me a real fight.”
No Aura on either side, and it’d be tough.
Aura was just that broken.
Even this old man stayed spry thanks to it.
Someone that skilled—his age was impossible to gauge.
“Silver-rank is respectable.”
“Yeah, I’ll check them properly later.”
I’d summoned the captain in a few days anyway. Perfect chance to gauge them right.
“Speaking of, you gave gifts to the maids.”
“Ah, yeah. Grabbed them on the way back.”
Stopped at a high-end jewelry shop yesterday, blew through my silver coins.
Turns out I rarely spent, so why not?
Handed them out, and the maids lit up like fireworks.
“Hm. You do know your place.”
“Pardon? Ah, sure.”
But then.
Rowell glanced at me out of nowhere.
“What’re you staring at? Creepy.”
“No gift for your teacher?”
“Ever seen a trained dog gift its master?”
One minute it’s training, next it’s teacher.
Rowell’s face soured at that.
“...Seems I skimped on your socialization training.”
“Blame my wild side.”
Did he think simple drills could tame this lion-hearted body?
“Come out. Time for a refresher.”
“...That sounds scary.”
But the old man wouldn’t let it go.
Training it was. I sighed inwardly and stepped out of my kennel.
“Let’s check your secret Guard first.”
“Ugh, you’re itching to hit me.”
“Stand there, punching bag.”
And so that day, I got thoroughly pummeled during Guard practice.
*
After my first outing.
The next day and the one after, I headed out again.
“We’ll dress you up today too!”
The maids, extra eager after the gifts, dolled me up despite my protests those two days.
“...Plain clothes today.”
“Aww, but you looked so cool yesterday.”
Today’s spot called for low-key, so I stuck with everyday wear from before.
“Next time.”
“Got it!”
Still.
A few refusals wouldn’t dim their goodwill now.
Gifts worked wonders.
Worth the coin.
Though the priciest one—for the young miss—still sat undelivered.
Anyway.
“Have a safe trip.”
“Yes.”
The gatekeeper’s greeting followed me out of the estate.
“Whew.”
This view felt routine after four straight days.
The initial wonder faded; now it was just forest and mansion.
Sentiment burns out fast for me. What can you do?
I quickened my pace through the streets.
Skipped the upscale district from my dressed-up jaunts yesterday and the day before.
Straight to the regular commercial zone’s mercenary guild.
Clunk.
Arrived earlier than last time.
Inside was much the same.
Faint iron tang, spice wafting from the tavern nook.
One change, though.
“...”
“...You’re here.”
The mercenaries, rowdy last visit.
Now sat in heavy silence.
All of them. Here.
I’d figured just the captain.
And after that beating, they looked surprisingly fine.
Silver-rank adventurers for a reason.
They planning a rematch? All geared up sober?
Makes sense. Drunk thrashing might leave room for doubt.
I hadn’t shown my full hand, after all.
Ready to Track at a twitch, I took my seat.
But...
“So... what do you want from us?”
The captain’s face and tone didn’t scream revenge.
That heavy air was nerves, not ambush.
“Why so polite? Sober up and change your minds?”
“...Before a Complete Aura user? Hardly.”
“Aha.”
He’d clocked it?
Made sense. He’d used Aura himself and got wrecked.
Probably pegged me as a hidden Aura knight or disguised noble.
“Explains the respectful huddle.”
“Yes...”
Mercs twice my age bowing low felt oddly familiar.
Colosseum vets that old had groveled to me back then.
The estate was the outlier.
Youngest champ reduced to guard dog.
Boyd family clout in action.
“Captain, Jeban, right?”
“Yes...”
“Continuous Strike Jeban, come here.”
“No need for the epithet...”
“Got a problem?”
“No...”
He flinched at my casual tone but approached meekly.
“Take this.”
Handed him the silver coins I’d gotten as an advance from Rowell yesterday.
“This is...”
“Got a job for you. Figured you’d need paying.”
“What job requires this much...?”
I’d summoned Jeban for a specific reason.
Nothing else but...
“You can forge identities, right?”
“Pardon?”
“You’ve got underworld ties.”
Time for a backup ID beyond slave Lane.
“Why an identity...?”
“Don’t ask. Forge one and slot it as your unit’s rookie.”
Prep now for emergencies.
And a name-brand crew like this? Boosts the fake’s credibility.
“Too sudden...”
“Can’t do it?”
“No... we can manage.”
But.
He looked reluctant.
Fair enough.
A kid half his age, Aura or not, barking orders? Infuriating.
Especially risking his hard-built crew.
“Not asking for free, obviously.”
You don’t hand sensitive work to someone you’ve only whipped.
Need the carrot too.
“I know your Fleet sucks.”
“Yes...”
“Want me to teach you?”
“...Pardon?”
And if that whipping felt like a trial for this reward? Even better.
“R-Really...?”
“Basic Fleet.”
He stared, incredulous.
Aura users were knight stock.
Fleet was basic for them, but knights rarely mingled with mercs—hence the skepticism.
“Don’t worry if I can pull it off.”
Said it while lifting the badge I’d just swiped from him.
“Wha—?”
Gold-rank merc insignia: gleaming sword and shield.
“When...?”
“This is real Fleet.”
Even among Aura users, basics made or broke you.
Like Jeban—didn’t resist, didn’t even notice his badge vanish.
“Forge the ID right, and yeah, I’ll teach you.”
“For real, if it checks out?”
He gaped, eyes gleaming.
Hooked proper.
He’d deliver.
“Of course, if my cross-check finds one slip...”
Insurance never hurt.
Mimed slitting his throat with the badge.
“No soup for you.”
“...Understood.”
“See you soon.”
I stood.
“Uh, but my badge...?”
“Bring the ID next week, get it back.”
It was their ID proof, tough to reissue.
Couldn’t lose it.
“Huh?”
“You’re forging one anyway.”
Hand it over then. Done.
No need for it in the capital.
Urgent verification? His silvers would vouch as captain’s men.
Drunk, they’d folded en masse.
Sober now, they seemed tougher than I’d thought.
Not one bandaged after my hits.
Tough crew. I hit hard.
“Good luck. Week from now.”
With that, next meet set, I left the guild.
“Hm.”
Outside, I eyed the gold badge.
Nice craftsmanship. Keep it?
See how he forges the ID next week.
As always.
Connections like this? Milk ’em dry.