Alder Duchy 1
Early morning. After a simple breakfast, Licht stepped out of the house. He had originally planned to leave at dawn, but Sebrik and Lena had blocked him with a lavish morning spread. Somehow ending up eating anyway, Licht bid them farewell and emerged.
He'd ended up saying goodbye twice, but the two didn't seem to mind. If anything, Lena was thrilled he'd stayed an extra two days.
He had all the gear he needed packed. The subspace pouch that Schult had gifted him turned out to have more capacity than Licht had expected. He'd already said his final goodbyes to Aila and Schult the evening before, so there was no reason to linger any longer.
The last time, then.
Licht stood still, gazing at El Sion's scenery. As always, the city's mornings started early. People hurried along the well-paved streets. Mages emerging from the library after an all-nighter with sour expressions, early risers bustling about their tasks.
Walking the straight road from the central lord's castle to the northern wall, Licht sank into thought.
What to do.
Alder Duchy and Archbishop Sernos. He couldn't just barge in and lop off heads right away. Finding the missing mages came first. Once he located them, he'd have justification on his side—plenty of time to kill then.
If the Alder ducal heir is involved.
Simon's dying words. The archbishop managing the Alder diocese and the firstborn heir were thick as thieves. With the duke bedridden from illness, the heir was acting as regent. Messing with them could turn the entire duchy hostile.
But that wasn't the key issue. There likely weren't any Swordmasters, so the question was how many top-tier Sword Experts they had.
No.
Did it matter? Just take out the leadership. At his current level, Licht could handle up to three top-tier Sword Experts. Even in the Barbalte ducal house, you could count them on one hand—no need to overthink it.
The real problem was the Executioners.
I hope it's just paranoia.
If even one had colluded with them, things would get exhausting for Licht. They might even ambush him en route.
Too many what-ifs.
Licht shook his head slightly. He couldn't be sure the Executioners were even tracking him. Self-importance? Lost in such thoughts, he came to a stop.
The northern gate loomed visibly ahead. And right in front of him stood the mercenary guild branch.
"So, you taking the job or what?"
"Hold on. I'm thinking."
"Ports Merchant Company's escort gig. Destination's Baldini County. Thirty-man crew, four spots left. Anyone heading out?"
"Ports? Nah, fuck that. They pay peanuts."
Inside the massive building. The mercenary guild had branches in the east, west, south, and north. The one at the northern gate was the largest of the four. Northern trade volume dwarfed the south's, outpacing even east and west combined.
Even early morning, the vast first-floor lobby teemed with mercenaries. Quest papers plastered the bulletin board on one side, surrounded by rough-looking armed men.
Licht scanned the scene briefly before heading straight to an empty reception desk.
The receptionist, handling mercenaries' bullshit since dawn, looked utterly drained. Without even glancing up, he spoke.
"Looking for a quest? Head to that bulletin board over there. Pretty much everything's posted. Dispute? Wrong desk—this ain't my lane."
"Neither."
"Huh?"
"I want to register as a mercenary."
The unexpected reply made the receptionist finally look up. A bit taller than average. Black cloak wrapped head to toe, hiding his clothes. Deep hood obscured his face, but a sword hilt peeked from his waist, bound in white cloth.
Yet he lacked that grizzled mercenary vibe. The faint jawline under the hood even looked boyish. Squinting slightly, the man said,
"Kid. This ain't a playground. No idea where you heard that nonsense, but if you don't wanna croak in a ditch, turn around nice and quiet..."
Clink.
Licht dropped a single gold coin in front of him. The exact fee for mercenary registration: one gold.
Mercenary status is the most convenient.
Why the guild? Barte's faction or Fredriksen count ties were too conspicuous. Not all upsides. Mercenary ID, though? Flexible. Access anywhere without drawing eyes or restrictions.
Licht had once made a name as one. He knew the world's underbelly well enough.
Lowest rank, obviously.
No track record meant no choice. Gaining usable ID immediately was win enough.
"Haa..."
The man alternated glances between the gold and Licht, sighing deeply. Clicking his tongue softly, he pocketed the coin and grabbed a pen.
"Name?"
"Licht."
"Licht?"
"Licht Sientia."
"Noble? Sientia... Licht Sientia... Huh?"
Mid-scribble, he gawked up at Licht. Black hair faintly visible beyond the hood's shadow.
"You don't mean the Cherbito tournament winner..."
"......"
"Sorry. Mouth ran away with me."
He finished the form quick, slid it aside, and handed over a wooden mercenary tag.
"You know the drill—fresh regs start wood."
Gold, silver, bronze, iron, wood. Tags denoted rank by material. Past-life Licht had gold; now, wood. A strange pang hit him as the man asked again,
"Registered. You didn't come here for nothing. Taking a quest? Or hiring?"
How to proceed. Alder Duchy was set. The how was the issue.
Escort a merchant caravan to Alder, or solo.
Like the trip from Barbalte to El Sion before. Caravan meant free ride, pay, comforts. But...
Money's no object. Gear's in the subspace pouch.
Speed was key. Solo to Alder versus caravan? Worlds apart time-wise. Licht wanted minimum delay—not thrilled with caravan pace.
Past trips joined for convenience; now, with pouch-packed gear, pointless. Solo it was.
Except...
Guide.
Hiring a geography-savvy guide. Essential for caravans and journeys. Huge difference in speed and ease with versus without.
Shortest path. Shifting geopolitics. Mercenary days made Licht sharp on it, but five-plus years ago. Future intel useless now.
Use it now?
Licht fingered his pocket. Inside: wooden tag from Jack the mercenary. Hand it over for one free, no-questions aid.
Might get him killed.
He shelved the thought. With Executioners possibly moving, no dragging others in. Couldn't protect extras in a fight. Low odds, but if three-plus Executors? He'd have to flee.
Then—
"Hey, young master. Long time no see. Nipped out for a quick quest, and you blow up famous."
Voice from behind. Licht turned. A man approached from the entrance.
Jack?
Slightly off. Aura? A month's change? Address too: "you" before, now "young master." Cherbito win explained it. Dignified look fit high noble spawn.
"Jack...?"
"Said I wrapped yesterday's job. Questing again?"
"Heard he hit Sword User..."
"Aura on the blade, right?"
"No way..."
Ignoring murmurs, Jack closed in. Crowd reaction pegged him famous. Grinning genuinely, he said,
"Good to see you. Hoped to cross paths again—perfect. Here means you've got work, yeah?"
"......"
"That wooden tag I gave? Still got it? Use it anytime."
Timing impeccable. Licht had mulled hiring help. Veteran beats solo for time, ID ease.
But no.
"Not using it yet."
"When, then...? Destination?"
"Alder Duchy."
"Alder? I've run it plenty. Still no?"
"Last run?"
"Under a year."
"You could die."
Licht eyed Jack seriously with those final words. No simple quest. Real death risk.
Jack shrugged nonchalant.
"So?"
"......"
"Mercs die all the time. You saved me then—I'm on borrowed time. Don't sweat it. Can't live indebted."
He got the implication. Attitude unchanged: positive.
"Lemme see... I'm solid, but pro's better."
"Pro?"
"Guide. Need one? Got the perfect buddy. Ranin!"
Jack bellowed. A man chatting amid mercenaries pushed back his chair, approaching. Tall, lean frame. Slender overall.
Jack clapped his back, grinning.
"Ranin's the name. Killer ranger-guide."
"Overkill praise, Jack."
"Overkill? Best guide in El Sion mercs—silver rank. I just hit silver too. Tempted?"
Silver: elite. Skill and record required. Top here, easy.
Licht, planning solo to Alder, hesitated. Overworrying? Skip phantom Executors, hire guide, rush Alder faster.
Ranin, polite unlike Jack, asked,
"Mind sharing the destination, sir?"
"...To Alder Duchy."
"Alder... Last there three months back. Carriage?"
"Horseback."
"Even better. Four days tops."
Four days. Carriage: week. Caravan: more. Four? Even Palenian Executioners couldn't track and catch him nationwide that quick. Alder capital before then.
"......"
Decision swift. Pulled a platinum coin from pocket, tossed to Ranin.
"This?"
"Advance."
"Advance... one platinum?"
100 gold for four-day guide. Way above rate, even for ace.
"Too much. Ten gold suffices..."
"Life insurance."
"......"
Ranin's friendly return froze. Realized it wasn't exaggeration. Glowered at Jack.
"...Jack."
"Haha, he insists. Big deal? 100-gold advance—you've been slacking anyway."
"Still..."
"Rest on safe Alder arrival. Another 100 gold."
Ranin sighed long, nodding.
"Understood. Skip risks normally... but for Jack's sake, once. And."
He pressed the platinum back into Licht's hand.
"No advance. Pay on Alder arrival. Can't take coin pre-work."
Grinned warmly.
Deal sealed, Jack gestured dramatically.
"Sweet, we're good?"
"......"
"No dragging. Young master, depart when? Tomorrow works..."
"Now."
"...Huh?"
"Right now."
Licht eyed the open guild doors.
"Need horses first. Know a stable nearby?"