The Fran Branch Mercenary Guild
“She says there’s no need to worry, but the sisters keep bringing it up too. It’s not just about the performance—what matters is raising a new gypsy. If I’d known it would come to this, we should have looked for one in Rombamel instead.”
“Hmm… yes, that’s definitely a problem.”
It made sense that they were wary of outsiders.
Elvira spoke of the gypsy matter as if it were nothing, but in a way it was little different from tempting naive country children with dreams they had no business chasing.
It was not the sort of thing one could say proudly in front of anyone.
Just like children who ran off into the world insisting they absolutely had to become mercenaries, only to never return home again.
Put that way, Lawrence could understand how, from a parent’s perspective, one would be desperate to keep a child from being seduced by the idea of gypsies.
“The most important thing is money. Mercenaries do keep coming, but at this rate, more will be going out than coming in. We’ll end up spending every last coin we earned in Rombamel before long.”
In the end, every problem came down to money.
Cedric’s judgment in leaving the village early seemed to have been the right one after all.
“There’s supposed to be a village festival soon, so I’m sure the children won’t all stay off the streets then. Big Sister says this festival is important too, but… honestly, I’m not sure.”
Elvira let the end of her sentence trail off and looked at Luca.
Lawrence understood what that look meant.
They still hadn’t found a single new gypsy.
At this rate, Elvira must have wanted to hold onto Luca no matter what.
But Luca kept her head bowed.
“Elvira unni. I’ve thought about it carefully, and I’m going to turn down your offer.”
“Why don’t you think it over again? What makes a gypsy is dance and song. The rest is only a minor matter. With your talent, you could be on stage within a few years.”
“I’m sorry. Like Elvira unni said, maybe I could become a gypsy, but it’s not what I want to do.”
Her voice was firm as she made her refusal clear.
“I made my decision when I left Rombamel. I want to live doing the things I want to do. I do like gypsies, but I want to become a cleric in a church that reaches out to people like me.”
She would not change her mind.
At the end of the girl’s gaze stood Lawrence.
If you reached out your hand, you had to see it through to the end.
Feeling Elvira’s eyes on him, Lawrence gave a small nod.
* * *
The Fran branch of the Mercenary Guild was easy to find.
By day, the villagers were out on boats, heading for the sea.
At an hour when the streets should have been relatively quiet, that one place alone was as crowded as a major city.
“Ah, shit. What the hell is taking so long?”
“My guess is, even if you go have a drink and come back, it’ll still be like this.”
“What a waste of time. By now I could’ve bagged dozens more horn boars.”
The grumbling never really let up.
Smoke from tobacco rose here and there.
Mercenaries whose patience had reached its limit were peeling out of the line.
All along the street, the trash they’d thrown away was piled up to an almost unbelievable degree.
In a situation this bad, a guild employee would normally have come outside.
Yet there was no sign of anyone from the guild, not even a nose poking out.
Lawrence’s reason for coming was simple.
Mercenary Guild meant requests. Requests meant money.
He was no different from the mercenaries crowding around him.
He’d heard there were plenty of horn boars around Fran Village.
Aby-product or not, money was money.
It would be a waste to walk past a monster that could be turned into cash.
Above all, he was now certain he could learn magic through a spellbook.
Fran was small, as was plain to see, so it had no magic shop.
But the towns and cities he visited from here on would surely have one.
He wanted to have enough money saved up to buy spellbooks when that time came.
The long, long wait finally ended.
At last, Lawrence stepped into the guild building.
Suspended over the door, as tradition dictated, hung dried fish on a clothesline.
Or so he’d been told.
It was some old village custom, apparently.
An offering to the sea god in hopes of a bountiful catch, or something like that.
The innkeeper had only said the practice had existed for a very long time, so Lawrence didn’t know the details.
The Fran branch of the Mercenary Guild smelled damp.
The reek of mercenary sweat mixed with the stench of the seaside to create something indescribably foul.
Inside was no different from outside.
It was so packed with mercenaries that there wasn’t even a place to put a foot down.
“Quit shoving already! There’s no room left!”
“Move it, will you? Can’t you see there’s a line?”
“They’ll buy your byproducts at the shop in front of the guild too. Go bother someone else!”
It was utter chaos.
What kind of guild didn’t even have a seat to spare?
He couldn’t see a single table or chair.
And the mercenaries weren’t really waiting patiently, either—if that sounded generous.
They were just lining up because there was nowhere else to rest.
Even so, it wasn’t as though the guild were actually small.
Its size was obvious from the fact that it could accommodate this many people at all.
What it lacked was turnover.
Lawrence only learned why after waiting for several hours.
Out of the five reception counters, only one had a light on.
No wonder the mercenaries who came to the guild were so slow to get through.
“Welcome to the Fran branch Mercenary Guild….”
A dry cough rang out.
The receptionist, wearing a thick mask over his face, was obviously in no fit state.
Cold sweat kept sliding down his skin, and his fingertips trembled.
He looked like a patient who should have been lying in bed right this instant.
Frankly, he looked worse than Lawrence had just a few days ago, when he’d still been bedridden.
“I—well, this probably isn’t my place to say, coming here as a customer and all. But why don’t you report this upstairs and get some rest?”
It wouldn’t have surprised Lawrence at all if the man collapsed on the spot.
He had no idea why they would work someone this hard until he was in such a state.
“Ahaha. I’m fine. I’m the only receptionist who can sit at the desk right now. If I were to rest, wouldn’t all the mercenaries who came all the way here end up wasting a trip? So….”
Was it because he had spoken too much?
The receptionist burst into a pained cough.
Lawrence felt unexpectedly sorry for him.
“I’m sorry. The branch manager and most of the guild staff left for a bit to report some unusual phenomenon. They should be back in no later than two weeks, so I’d appreciate your understanding until then, even if things are a little inconvenient.”
Two weeks. He meant that one man was going to handle all of this by himself for two whole weeks…?
Lawrence glanced back without thinking and found himself at a loss for words.
Even now, the guild was packed to the brim with mercenaries waiting their turn.
He heard the occasional clash of angry voices and the sound of people fighting.
Of all the mercenary guilds he had visited, this was easily one of the worst atmospheres he’d ever seen.
Horn boars were one thing.
He’d wanted to ask what the unusual phenomenon was, too.
But in a situation like this, he wasn’t going to get a proper answer.
“Could I get a horn boar extermination request first? And if possible, some information about horn boars too.”
“The Fran branch is always recruiting for horn boar extermination. Once you head a little way beyond the coastal cliffs, there are horn boars everywhere, so you can thin out as many as you want. As for byproduct handling, any shop in the village will buy them readily. The guild’s recommended shop is… the one directly in front of us.”
Even while sick, he still got the job done.
From the desk cluttered with all kinds of paperwork, he took out a bundle of wooden tablets.
“This is the information you requested on horn boars. You’ll need to return it after reading everything, but as you can see, there are a lot of mercenaries using the guild, so I’d appreciate it if you put it in the return box beside the door.”
“Understood. You really are working yourself to the bone.”
“It’s my job.” He paused, then added, “Oh, and right now there are horn boars showing unusual behavior. If possible, please avoid contact with those and only hunt the ordinary ones. I hope your request goes safely.”
Lawrence took the tablets and went back outside.
He had no idea where there had been so many mercenaries hiding, but the line outside was just as long as when he’d first arrived.
Shaking his head, Lawrence stepped away from the crowd.
He moved off, avoiding the stink of fish.
Then he found a bench with a view of the sea and sat down.
Against the backdrop of the blue water, he unfolded the tablets the receptionist had given him.
They were packed with information about horn boars.
Regions where horn boars had been appearing frequently lately.
Things to be careful of when hunting them.
And even the matter of red ones that Raul had mentioned.
Like orcs, there were differences in strength from one individual to another.
Though in this case, the difference had more to do with equipment than with bodily ability.
What kind of weapons they used.
Or what sort of armor they wore.
It varied a little depending on the nearby mines.
They weren’t especially strong monsters.
The problem was that they traveled in herds.
Being able to lure them with red ones was a big deal, too.
He only had to draw in as many as he could handle, then fight them.
If too many gathered, he could simply run without looking back.
Having the right to choose whether to fight or not was a major advantage.
The disappointing part was that there was nothing especially new in the tablets.
Everything written there was information he had already heard on the way to Fran.
The only useful thing, really, was that horn boars lived on the mountain slopes.
Lawrence closed the tablets and fell into thought.
Would it be better to move with a group, or should he head out alone, as he had with the orcs?
Either way, there were definitely advantages and disadvantages.
Should he let someone take the front while he handled magic safely from the rear?
Or should he value real combat experience and work with his magic that way?
Long term, the latter was the right answer.
He couldn’t always travel with companions.
When it came down to it, the only person he could truly rely on was himself.
Lawrence, who wandered the Spirit World, needed to grow used to standing on his own.
If there was anything troubling about that, it was the newly learned Void Magic….
His body seemed to have recovered fairly well, and if he practiced enough in the right place, he should be fine.
Just as he was reaching his conclusion, someone approached him.
“Are you Lawrence by any chance?”
“Raul?”
It was Raul, with whom he’d taken a escort request.
Lawrence shook his hand in greeting.
Behind him stood Ulrik, his large axe slung over his shoulder.
Lawrence gave a slight bow, and Ulrik nodded back.
“You’re both still in the village, then.”
“That’s what I was going to say. We may be making a fine profit off the horn boars, but you’re not exactly in the same position, are you?”
“I’m not, not anymore.”
People spent money just by breathing.
Lawrence only seemed more comfortable than other mercenaries because he didn’t spend money on women or drink.
Now that the price of a spellbook had taken up residence in that gap, he would only be spending more money from here on out, not less.
“Hmm. Sounds like you’ve got plenty to spend on too.”
“Learning magic costs a lot.”
There was no need to explain at length.
When the two men heard the price of a spellbook, they clicked their tongues.
“Madness. Even if I could learn it, I wouldn’t take it up.”
“No, Raul. Whether you could use it after learning it is another matter entirely.”
Lawrence neither confirmed nor denied it.
No one knew. That much was true.
“So now you’re heading out to hunt horn boars too?”
“Yes. That’s the plan.”
“Well, that’s good news. In that case, how about we travel together? It feels a bit odd for me to say this, but honestly, the three of us worked together pretty well on the way to Fran, didn’t we?”
“If a mage is joining the party, I’d welcome that too.”
Ulrik nodded as if he had no objection.
Lawrence, who had been about to refuse, paused to think.
He had worked in sync with these two on the way here.
He knew from experience that they were mercenaries he could trust.
Their mercenary experience was on a completely different level from his own.
They would no doubt have advice that could help him in a pinch.
And they might know something about the unusual phenomenon that he hadn’t been able to ask about properly.
After all, the two of them had likely spent the whole day up until now hunting horn boars around Fran.
The advantages outweighed the drawbacks.
Once he grew used to horn boars, he could go off on his own without issue.
After thinking it over, Lawrence nodded.
“No reason to turn down the offer. I’d appreciate the help.”
“Good thinking! Still, it’s a shame to have a good day like this and no drink to go with it. There’s a place we always go to—why not come with us now?”
“I’ll have to decline. I don’t drink.”
Lawrence tucked the tablets into his bag and stood up.
“I can’t head out today. I still need to stop by the forge on the mountainside, too…. How about this? I’ll come find you at the inn where you’re staying. Tell me a good day and time, and I’ll do my best to match it.”
He couldn’t afford to get his priorities mixed up.
Today, he’d only walked around the streets lightly, keeping his physical condition in mind.
Now that he’d confirmed he was well enough, it was time to go meet the dwarf at the base of the mountain.
He felt bad about it.
He was planning to buy beer and snacks, of course.
And as an apology, he intended to buy a few pieces of equipment as well.
The problem, naturally, was the price of dwarf-made gear….
Once he began hunting horn boars in earnest, his pockets would have some breathing room.
It was equipment he would have to invest in anyway.
There was no need to save money here.
“Hmm. All right, then. We’ll rest up until then too.”
“Mage, when you say the forge on the mountainside… do you mean the one run by dwarves?”
“Yes. You know about it, Ulrik?”
“Every mercenary in Fran knows. From what I hear, they only recently set up shop, but already the number of customers has dropped sharply.”
Lawrence looked at Ulrik.
There was a question in that glance.
It was a forge run by dwarves, after all.
He would have expected the number of customers to rise, not fall.
“It’s the price. It’s not a rip-off, exactly, just insanely expensive.”
“We went there too. We were feeling bold and went to pick out some gear, but even the cheapest weapon was on par with the price of the spellbook you mentioned.”
“That expensive?”
That meant at least one gold coin.
He’d expected it wouldn’t be cheap, but this was beyond his imagination.
“You’d be lucky if it was only one gold. They don’t seem interested in selling anything at all. I bet they’re just planning to dig up some ore and head back.”
“I think so too. There must have been some sort of deal with the lord. They clearly have people who’ll buy from them even if they don’t bother selling to mercenaries.”
“……”
Lawrence had no idea dwarf-made goods were that expensive.
He decided he would buy only beer from the inn.
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