Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: The Worth of Zanstrick
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“But are you really okay with this?”
As they left the Mercenary Guild and headed toward the Zanstrick Mercenaries’ camp, Piot—who had heard about the situation—asked Sion cautiously.
“Hmm? With what?”
“The penalty fee. Seven and a half million Dien…”
“Hmm. It’s not a small amount.”
In fact, it was far from a small amount.
Seven and a half million Dien.
That was equivalent to seventy-five billion in Korean won.
To blow that kind of enormous sum just to run a single mercenary group for a few years?
And on top of that, maintenance costs were separate, leaving both Piot and even Jenna stunned.
“But why…? Does Zanstrick really have that much value?”
Sure, it was a mercenary group that had carved out a decent niche in a major city like Alfmarin, but when you got down to it, wasn’t it just one of many mid-tier groups in the kingdom?
Moreover, if they were willing to walk away from the guild on their own, it didn’t seem like they were particularly skilled.
That’s what Piot thought.
“Value… Well, if we’re talking pure value, there are plenty of other groups with more proven skills and stability.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“But those kinds of guys are hard to keep under you for the long haul.”
“Pardon?”
“Unless it’s something like a long-term escort mission, mercenaries who stick with one employer for a full year or more are extremely rare.”
“That’s… true.”
The better the skill, the higher the price, and mercenaries were all about renting out muscle for short periods to cut costs. If you needed them for a year at a time, you’d just bolster your regular army instead of signing a mercenary contract.
“And as you know, I can’t form a regular force because of my status.”
A collateral branch of the royal family maintaining private troops?
And not ones they’d always had, but suddenly in these sensitive times?
It would draw immediate criticism from the royal family and high nobles.
“So hiring mercenaries on a yearly basis is fine?”
“Normally, no, it wouldn’t be. But I have a clear destination.”
“Ah…”
Their group’s current goal was the Sion Dukedom.
They were distant kin through an old royal princess, but it had no connection whatsoever to the power struggles over succession happening in the capital.
Plus, the Sion Dukedom was far from the capital and practically a semi-independent state, so no one would pay it much mind.
“Still, it feels too expensive. There’s no guarantee they’ll faithfully follow your orders for years.”
“To answer your second question first: that depends on who’s handling them. And I’m pretty good at managing people.”
I can do it well.
“Uh…”
Sion flashed a grin at Piot, who had nothing to say now that the man himself had spoken up.
“And when you break it down, it’s not even that expensive.”
“…?”
“Zanstrick is a mercenary group where most of the combat personnel are quasi-knight level.”
“Pardon?”
Piot raised his voice slightly in shock without realizing it, looking back and forth between Stellman’s broad back—leading the way on horseback far ahead—and Sion.
“A mere mercenary group with quasi-knights? Does that mean they have dozens of knights? Then isn’t it basically a knight order?”
“I don’t know their current state exactly, but at least twenty or thirty, probably.”
“That can’t be possible!”
Realizing his mistake after questioning Sion so sharply, Piot bowed his head.
“I’m sorry. It’s just so hard to believe…”
“It’s understandable. But it’s true. Fifty quasi-knight-level mercenaries from Zanstrick could take on over ten times their number in regular infantry. During the Oak Tree Conflict, thirty of them routed five hundred. Though well-trained cavalry would be the baseline for that.”
“Wow…”
“So, for three or four dozen elite combat troops over five years, seven and a half million Dien. Still expensive?”
“Not cheap, but I can’t call it overpriced.”
In a territory, maintaining a single knight for a year ran at least a few hundred thousand Dien base.
Even averaging at two hundred thousand per knight, ten knights would cost two million a year.
Of course, this contract included them bearing the maintenance costs too, so expenses would rise further, but it was hardly a bad deal.
“Well, latte was basically a knight anyway… Wonder if they still are.”
“Pardon? What was that?”
“Yeah. There’s this really tasty drink called latte.”
“???”
Muttering in old-man slang no one in this world would get, Sion grinned as he gazed at the Zanstrick camp on the outskirts of Alfmarin.
‘If not, I can just whip them into shape on the way.’
Just like he’d done long ago with the bear cub’s old man up ahead.
* * *
‘What’s with these guys? Are they really mercenaries?’
Piot swallowed dryly as he faced the Zanstrick mercenaries.
They were nothing like the ones he knew or the ones he’d seen crossing Alfmarin’s streets.
Sure, burly, thuggish looks weren’t exclusive to mercenaries—plenty of knights looked like gangsters too.
But no amount of shared rough appearances could bridge the gap between knights and mercenaries. That gap was atmosphere and discipline.
If one in three knights was carefree (a delinquent) and treated rules lightly (irresponsible), then eight or nine out of ten mercenaries fit the bill.
Yet the Zanstrick mercenaries before him looked like elite regular army troops.
Over fifty of them standing at ease in perfect ranks and files was shocking.
And they’d just heard the massive news from their captain Stellman that would change their fates.
Any other mercenaries would never stand for it.
Overthrowing the captain would be a given, and depending on the mood, they might even commit mutiny and attack the leadership.
But the men of Zanstrick merely looked mildly surprised—no hint of mutiny or even excitement.
“…And that’s how it is. I’m sorry to you all. Sounds like an excuse, but I wanted to find a way to keep us alive somehow. I was foolish, though. Sorry for being such a stupid captain. I apologize.”
Stellman thumped his chest twice with his right fist and bowed his head.
One of the five mercenaries at the front of each file spoke up loudly.
“Then doesn’t that mean we’re stupid too for following a stupid captain all this time? Don’t bother apologizing—it’s pissing us off.”
“At least it’s true for you.”
Uhhahahahaha!
Laughter erupted at the platoon leaders’ banter, easing the tense atmosphere a bit.
Sion watched it all quietly.
‘Not a bad state on the surface.’
Discipline was solid, and camaraderie seemed strong.
This put them among the top ten percent of mercenary groups—pretty good for mercs.
‘I’ll check their skills over time and train up any gaps. Fine. Not bad at all.’
As Sion mentally bumped up his score for Zanstrick, Stellman’s voice rang out again.
“The advance from the Jetman family will be distributed to those leaving. Total of five hundred thousand Dien.”
‘Hm?’
Sion tilted his head.
Jetman’s total payout for hiring Zanstrick was supposed to be one and a half million Dien.
Conventionally, advances were ten percent, but to snag the cash-strapped group fast, they’d paid thirty percent.
‘That’s four hundred fifty thousand— the extra fifty must be… Ah.’
The bear cub scraped together his last coins to top it off.
After running a mercenary group that long, and that’s all that was left.
Plus, he’d heard they were selling the camp land and splitting it among the non-combat staff. Over twenty of those, so not much left over.
‘Tsk tsk. Down to beggar status. Works for me, though.’
Snagging hard-to-retain elite talent with a leash of gold was a win.
“Then those leaving, step forward.”
At Stellman’s words, about twenty of the mercenaries—who had glanced around—stepped up.
‘Ho. They held up well.’
Sion had braced for up to half to bail and nodded inwardly.
His target had been thirty from the start, and the contract matched.
But even at a glance, more than that remained in place.
“Sorry, Captain. Can’t leave the wife alone for years.”
“Even if the south is nicer to live in, five years—not even one—in one spot is a bit much.”
The departing mercenaries voiced their reasons apologetically.
But they had no real need to apologize.
In the mercenary world bound by contracts, any group not guaranteeing this level of freedom and rights would’ve collapsed long ago.
Explaining in detail like this just proved how strong their usual bonds were.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. Riven, you handle the money—divide it fairly.”
“Yes, Captain.”
One mercenary nodded and led his comrades away.
“Alright then.”
The leavers and stayers exchanged no words beyond Zanstrick’s signature salute: two chest thumps.
‘Clean. Bonus points.’
Sion was even more satisfied, having expected squabbles or arguments.
It meant Stellman and his platoon leaders had kept the men well in hand all along.
‘Not bad aside from the management skills.’
Stellman took after his father in many ways.
Running a mercenary group didn’t take genius, but handing it off and having it tank in two generations?
‘Maybe keeping it going two generations was the real miracle. My mistake, I suppose.’
If he’d planned decades ahead, he should’ve overseen it more closely or intervened often.
But when he’d helped Stellman’s father form Zanstrick, there’d been no concrete plan to use them for anything specific later.
He’d just liked the rare straight shooter with real skill and his men, and thought supporting them to form a group might someday aid the Sion Ducal House. Simple as that.
‘Depending on how they perform, bringing them fully under me wouldn’t be bad.’
Management skills lacking?
Then make it so they don’t need to manage.
Just work them harder and demand bigger results in return.
As those thoughts crossed his mind, Jenna and his two subordinates—who’d gone elsewhere on Sion’s orders—entered the mercenaries’ training grounds.
“Sir Seilun.”
“Yeah. All sorted?”
“Yes. But the atmosphere there… it felt off.”
“Hm?”
Sion narrowed his eyes.
Jenna had gone with Guild staff to the Jetman family to cancel the Zanstrick contract and pay the penalty.
More precisely, to the inn where the Jetmans were staying.
Either way, the Jetman estate proxy had signed the deal, so nullifying it and settling the fee should’ve been straightforward.
“Why the atmosphere?”
“They panicked at first when we offered the penalty. But then they started making excuses to block the cancellation.”
“And?”
“I gave them the check you provided.”
The same Brelian Bank check Jenna had received before.
Brelian checks had top-tier credit, usable without issue in Obla or abroad.
“Then it’s done, right?”
“Yes. The Guild staff certified it, and cancellation went smoothly. But those guys…”
Jenna paused, glanced around, and lowered his voice.
“No matter how I look at it, they’re plotting something. Probably won’t try anything in the city, so they might hit us after we leave.”
Coming from the branch chief of an information guild—and a man who’d trailed his father through every hardship since childhood—Jenna’s instincts were reliable.
“And just to check, the mercenaries hired by Jetman territory number over three hundred besides these. Even rushing, they could muster at least a hundred on short notice.”
“Ho, really?”
Meaning a potential fight: one hundred (or more) against forty.
“Perfect.”
“Pardon?”
“We’ll find out right away if they’re worth keeping or just trash we need to grind down. Saves time.”
Feeling like everything was going his way, Sion grinned genuinely.