Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Mercenary Guild Negotiations
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Alfmarin was a fairly large city.
To be precise, it was the largest city in the northeastern region of the Obla Kingdom, with a resident population in the tens of thousands.
Considering that the core metropolises of this world had populations of 100,000 as the benchmark, it was a city of considerable size.
As befitting such a large city—and due to the characteristics of the region—Alfmarin was always swarming with mercenaries, with dozens of large and small mercenary companies.
And nine out of ten of those mercenary companies were affiliated with the Mercenary Guild, while clients typically contracted for needed personnel through the guild.
The Alfmarin Mercenary Guild, like guilds in other cities, was nominally under the control of the administrator (mayor), but it didn't exactly follow orders.
A loose hierarchical relationship, perhaps?
In Sion's view, the Mercenary Guild was akin to a city-contracted service provider or a public corporation that underwent annual audits.
Thus, the position of Mercenary Guild Master was one where 'political savvy' was far more crucial than one's own mercenary company or personal strength.
And the current Alfmarin Mercenary Guild Master had led the guild without issue even as the mayor changed twice over eight years, proving his exceptional political acumen.
* * *
"Of course! We have exactly the personnel our esteemed client desires. With at least three years of experience, able to ride horses, not too brutish, unlikely to clash majorly with employers, and capable of handling civilian matters with tact—the very finest. Haha!"
Sion watched the man in his mid-to-late forties, armed with an unbelievably humble posture and affability for the guild master of a major city's mercenary guild, and let a faint smile play on his lips.
Not because he particularly liked him, of course.
"Three years or more active under the Alfmarin Guild, capable of mounted combat, literate, thorough in contract adherence, and no incidents like plundering. Those criteria have gotten quite lenient."
Sion, who generally showed respect to those with some social standing and older than himself, dropping formal speech less than five minutes into their first meeting was not a good sign.
And Alfmarin Mercenary Guild Master Bicau was quick on the uptake.
Though it was their first meeting today, as soon as Sir Seilun—said to be a collateral of the royal family—switched to informal speech, he became even more deferential.
"My apologies. It wasn't my intention to arbitrarily adjust Your Excellency's conditions. However, setting such stringent criteria might cause some difficulties in personnel supply, and at that price..."
"The base term is three months. Upon expiration, renew monthly, with compensation at 1.5 times the base pay."
"Yes, yes. I understand perfectly. But, Your Excellency, since you seem well-versed in local affairs, allow me to advise: the elite personnel you seek are in high demand. Most are already contracted or fulfilling existing ones. To acquire them, we'd need to break prior contracts, and the compensation for that isn't trivial."
"Hmm."
Paying breach compensation to poach them wasn't particularly difficult.
But Sion sensed something off in Bicau's words.
Even overlooking that he was an outsider and a transient guest, there was something unspeakable to Sion, who at least had 'status' on his side.
And the old fox's instincts picked up that it fell into the realm of politics.
"Does this involve the mayor here or the local lord? Say, something like territorial disputes."
"......!"
Bicau was startled.
Even as a collateral royal, Sion appeared to be in his mid-to-late twenties at most, yet he had zeroed in on the crux with just vague hints.
'This could be a headache.'
"Ah, well, you see..."
As he tried to mask his surprise and continue with an even thicker smile—
"Whatever it is, does it involve the Zanstrick Mercenary Corps too?"
"......It seems Your Excellency knows this region quite well."
Bicau's gaze shifted in an instant.
"Isn't the Zanstrick Mercenary Corps famous? It's old, but they shone in the Oak Dispute and notched the highest kills in the Silver Mine Battle. Anyone with even passing interest in such matters knows it."
"Haha, true enough. But among those of noble blood, few know it to that extent."
The Oak Dispute referred to the war between two lordly houses in the region using the oak as their crest, while the Silver Mine Battle was a massive anti-monster clash where four territories joined forces over a mine.
They were conflicts of no small scale, but over the past few decades, the Obla Kingdom had seen dozens more like them—and likely some ongoing even now. It was unusual for a young royal noble to know of them.
"So, is Zanstrick involved?"
"Yes. Or, more precisely, on the verge of involvement."
Hiding it here would just prompt Sion to go straight to the Zanstrick Mercenary Corps, so Bicau stated the facts.
Of course, even if he did go directly, there wouldn't be much he could do—but hearing it from the guild versus the company made a world of difference.
"Strange. By my knowledge, after the Oak Dispute, Zanstrick's ironclad rule was no participation in local territorial disputes. They're specialized in monster subjugation, escort, and bodyguard duties."
He wouldn't not know.
After all, Sion himself had established that rule.
"Since the Silver Mine Battle, monster threats have waned greatly, and escort and bodyguard work alone doesn't balance the books. It's been over twenty years since that battle, which drew a thousand mercenaries. Where do you think those men and the companies they formed went? Most settled right here in Alfmarin. I was one of them, but the competition was fierce."
Bicau subtly boasted of the Silver Mine Battle commemorative pin awarded by the Alfmarin city administration on his lapel and continued.
"Moreover, competitors kept growing over those twenty-odd years. No matter how skilled or renowned a company, sustaining solely on escorts and bodyguards is tough. Zanstrick has over a hundred combat personnel alone. By headcount, they're top five in Alfmarin. Without dipping into territorial wars, they can't avoid losses."
"I see."
Sion understood.
And he reconfirmed that skipping a direct visit to the Zanstrick Mercenary Corps—which he had essentially founded himself—was the right call.
When a client approaches a mercenary company directly, unless they're fools, they won't reveal matters or circumstances disadvantageous to themselves.
Especially if it's a first-time or transient client—they might even try to gouge.
Of course, Sion had dozens of ways to school them if it came to that, but clashing with a major Alfmarin outfit would draw intervention from the mayor and other high-ups.
Above all, Alfmarin was part of the grand picture Sion had drawn; no need to sour relations.
"Present terms to Zanstrick."
As Sion switched back to respect, Bicau smiled in response.
"Haha, Your Excellency, as I mentioned..."
"Base contract pay doubled. Renewals at 1.5 times the increased rate. Advance of thirty percent of the base contract term paid immediately."
"......!"
At this rate, income-wise, it wasn't bad compared to joining a territorial war.
Plus, the guild took ten percent of all contracts routed through it, meaning guild revenue would double too.
And that wasn't all.
"Thirty men... all mounted?"
"Including ten laborers, the full forty."
"I'll contact Zanstrick immediately."
Bicau's decision was swift.
Of course, various 'political' issues tied to this remained.
'Collateral or not, he's still royal blood. It'll work out somehow.'
He'd have to pull strings here and there, but the royal backing was huge, and he was confident in leveraging it.
* * *
"My apologies."
"......"
Less than an hour after contact, a bear of a man rushed into the guild, leaving both Sion and Bicau speechless.
For different reasons, of course.
"Stelmann, this is problematic. That contract came through the guild. Signing it solo? What if issues arise?"
Bicau wasn't so much angry as dumbfounded.
Proposals through the guild were to be handled under guild oversight by unwritten rule.
Violating it could lead to expulsion in severe cases.
But Bicau had no intention of expelling the Zanstrick Mercenary Corps, and facing the bearish man before him—current Zanstrick Captain Stelmann Zanstrick—his concern outweighed anger.
"And with Volpart Territory, no—Jetman Territory? You know what that lord's like, and you still did it?"
"I know. He's rumored to be an impulsive young punk, tyrannical too. But we had no choice. It's not just the money; they promised to take our lads as territorial retainers post-victory. You know our situation. Without this, we can't settle the boys."
"No, send them to another company..."
"The lads won't go. And Jetman Lord's guaranteeing twenty men. Sealed with his lordly seal. They're in it together now too. A community of fate."
"No, 'community of fate' my ass..."
"You're using 'community of fate' too lightly."
The low voice interjecting suddenly made both Bicau and Stelmann Zanstrick turn.
Stelmann, who looked fierce even at rest, furrowed his brow slightly, exuding a menacing killing intent. An ordinary person would have trembled.
But Sion fixed a cold gaze on Stelmann, a giant a good ten centimeters taller than his own considerable height and build in this world, and spoke.
"Those who fight together and shed blood side by side—that's what we call a community of fate."
"Your Excellency may not know, but we'll fight alongside Jetman."
"So if the Jetman house loses, does their lord's head roll? Or even their nobles?"
"......"
"And do they have a hundred troops there?"
"Five hundred soldiers, five knights..."
"Real fighters, excluding the rabble."
"......"
No way. Jetman Territory had boasted five hundred something, but they'd likely forcibly conscripted young, sturdy-looking peasants.
True soldiers who knew weapons properly? Not even a hundred.
Considering the Jetman Lord's usual reputation and the territory's finances, trained soldiers would be less than half that.
"And five knights? Come on, Captain. Be honest. If those 'knights' faced your—or rather, your best subordinates—what do you think happens? I haven't seen them, but I'd bet your men tear their asses apart. Right?"
"Pfft! Cough! Cough!"
Bicau, who had been sipping his drink with a grave expression, sprayed liquid like a mist and hacked away.
Stelmann stared at the 'noble' royal before him with a what-did-I-just-hear face.
"I guarantee you, the Jetman house doesn't see you or Zanstrick as a community of fate. At best, disposable pawns they can discard anytime. Deep down, they hope you fight decently then die off."
"What do you..."
"Even if not all die, it's fine. Say half your elite hundred—comparable to their knights—head to the fiercest battlefield. Half casualties there, and Zanstrick's done. The enemy takes heavy losses too, so the houses negotiate. No rebuttals. I've seen and reported it plenty."
No one thought 'at his age?' The scenario was fact well-known to both Bicau and Stelmann.
"Hire Zanstrick survivors as retainers or knights? Got the funds? The land? Checked their household count and farmland status? If they had money, they wouldn't skimp by contracting directly. And the kicker:"
"......"
The two grizzled veteran mercenaries gazed at the handsome royal like they were entranced.
For some reason, a premonition that it would unfold exactly as said filled their minds.
"Is there any guarantee Jetman contracted only Zanstrick? What promises did they make to others they hired?"
"......!"
Sion shot a spine-chillingly cold stare at the flinching pair.
"Think about it: similar compensation everywhere. Problem is? Your elite Zanstrick takes massive losses at the riskiest frontlines, while others don't. Me? I'd pit you against each other. The survivor takes all."
"That's absurd!"
"Your Excellency, the guild wouldn't stand idle. That's too speculative!"
Stelmann was followed by Bicau, both losing composure and scowling.
But Sion remained ice-cold.
"Listen, Guild Master. What did Stelmann just say? Something about disbanding the company here?"
"......Ah!"
True to his sharp wits and politics, Bicau grasped Sion's point in under ten seconds.
"Why would you or the mayor protect a company no longer under Alfmarin Mercenary Guild? Especially after Zanstrick made an unauthorized solo contract and left? But other companies remain guild-affiliated. So, Guild Master—what's your judgment?"
(To be continued in the next installment)