White Whale's Footsteps
Rumble! Clop clop.
The interior of the guild we entered through the door was packed with people. Judging by the leather armor they wore and the swords at their waists, it was easy to guess they were all mercenaries.
Some eyes turned toward us as we walked in. With about fifty people, we were far from a small-time mercenary group. Especially now, with a major commission on the horizon. Sizing up the group you might have to entrust your back to was essential.
The gazes focused on the figure leading us at the front. The leader was usually the one out front. White Whale was no exception.
Janet strode confidently ahead, guiding us. Mercenaries who recognized her cut off their chit-chat with opponents, their eyes widening in surprise. It wasn't total silence. But the voices filling the guild hall definitely quieted down.
"Chanyoung, are they recognizing us?"
"They might not know newbies like us, but the leader Janet's face is pretty well-known. White Whale... they're famous, right?"
"Whoa... this is kinda surreal."
When it came to the kingdom's top-tier mercenary groups, everyone agreed there were only three. And their rankings were whispered around informally. Nothing official, of course.
First place went to White Whale, made up of a select elite few. They deliberately kept their numbers lean. Not too few, but not too many either—that limitation put them at third in some eyes. And it was accurate. Head-on against first or second place? They'd probably lose.
Second place was the Iron Lion Mercenary Corps we'd faced in the territorial war. They were renowned for balancing group size and individual skill perfectly. 150 members was more than enough to qualify as large-scale. So they split into first-string, second-string teams for operations.
'That's why we snag all the big commissions.'
Unless it was something massive like a territorial war or subjugation, they rarely gathered everyone. Naturally, splitting up like that meant waiting for other units to return from missions. That was why they missed out on the prime gigs. By the time they assembled for high-paying jobs, White Whale had already taken them.
In other words, per-mercenary earnings? They couldn't touch White Whale's income.
Janet had chosen cash over the honor of "second- or first-place leader." A choice so very her.
'And the final first-place group...'
"Man, I still can't wrap my head around it. One mercenary group owning the guild building everyone has to use?"
"Their leader is the guild master... Plus, they bought it fair and square with private funds."
"I know. Just salty about it. A mere mercenary making a four-story building their home base?"
"We don't need a base since we don't split teams... But the Sky Mountain Range Mercenary Corps has a ton of members, right? Makes sense they'd need it."
Of course, he didn't get chewed out. He hadn't really done anything wrong. Just no tact.
Janet sighed deeply, as if admitting her expectations were the mistake.
"Leader, this building really belongs to the mercenary group?"
"...What, you didn't know, defrocked monk?"
"First time in the capital. Not that into mercenaries anyway."
"Kingdom's top group. Pretty big operation."
"How many people does it take to need a place this huge?"
"What's your guess?"
"Hmm... Iron Lion had about 150, so to claim first solidly... 250 at least?"
"Wrong?"
"Heh heh! Think we're around 50? Exactly ten times us! ...In numbers, anyway."
I put on a face of exaggerated shock at her words. Ten times us meant 500. A huge gap between third and first. But of course, I already knew. It was detailed in the original story. Just playing surprised to make Janet happy.
Her face lit up a bit seeing my reaction.
"Pfft hahaha! Look at those big eyes get even bigger! That shocked, huh?"
A top kingdom mercenary group with 500 members. Sounded small by ear. But it was insane. Unheard of for an armed force outside the elite upper crust. And they were mercenaries. Not kingdom soldiers lucky to see real combat once a year. Guys who lived by the blade. Their power was on another level. Even famed knight orders dreaded full-frontal clashes.
"Don't freak out too much. Unlike us, Sky Mountain Range has no entry requirements. Come and go as you please."
"Huh? Then..."
"Yep. Lots of dead weight mixed in. Though first- or second-string teams are different."
"...Fame bloats the size fast. And plenty must bail."
"Oho. Spot on. Quick thinker, huh?"
No mercenary badge ranks or tiers in this world. Just your record, skill, and group. But Sky Mountain Range entrants couldn't prove themselves properly. Open doors meant no real vetting. As many came in as left. Not in the original, but obvious. Focusing on bulk over talent meant no veterans naturally formed. Opposite of White Whale's policy.
"First time seeing the guild master too, then?"
"Yeah. Chris and Mel too."
"Curious what he's like? I'll introduce ya! Protocol's leaders only, but you three come with me."
"Ah... Leader's at it again..."
"Heh heh! You got hit half a year back too?"
"Knew it and still jumped. Every merc knows."
"True, I knew and freaked."
"Tch! Shut it?"
Her intentions were obvious. Janet wanted to shock me more, blocking spoilers from the team. I wanted to meet the guild master anyway, so no refusing. I nodded acceptance, and she grinned meaningfully again before explaining to the first-floor receptionist.
The receptionist, listening intently, sent someone to report to the fourth floor. Short wait. We got permission to head up.
We followed Janet up the stairs—me, Mel, Chris.
"Fuck, knock and wait for a reply before..."
"What, got that many secrets to hide?"
Janet's voice cut off the middle-aged man's grumbling. We entered through the open door and soon saw the guild master's face.
"Huh..."
"Mommy!..."
"Wh-what..."
My eyes went wide again. Not the fake shock from downstairs. This was real.
Mel and Chris were the same.
Merc faces averaged rough. No pretty boys like me on the first floor. So Mel and Chris expected ugly for the guild master. But Sky Mountain Range's leader... transcended ugly into pure revulsion.
Not just ugly or scarred skin. Over half his originally average face was covered in horrific scars. Not simple slashes—deep gashes where blades had scraped bone. Dozens of them. Bad enough to instinctively repel.
'Damn... the original's "scars covering half his face" wasn't novel hyperbole?'
Cold measure? Easily over 50%. Chris's neck scar was cute by comparison.
I knew he had scars. Prepared, but still shocked. Like reading about whale size in books, then seeing one at sea...
Anyone with normal tastes would gape.
"Puhahaha!!"
"...Fuck off, you money ghost bitch. Told you no more of this shit."
"Gonna see it eventually. Why delay?"
"Tch. Bitch..."
Janet cackled at our reactions, retorting the guild master. He clearly didn't enjoy new White Whale recruits recoiling at his face. From Janet's earlier behavior, this wasn't rare.
Separately, I couldn't look away from his scars. Per original, not like Chris's special wound. All from real combat.
'How many more under those clothes...?'
Face was vital spot. Probably more, not less.
"Money ghost. These three your newbies?"
"Oho. All at once? But... that pretty boy's a merc? Too clean-cut."
"Well... he's a merc now. Claims he was a cleric before."
"Cleric? That one I know?"
"Capital monk... or something. Dunno. You?"
"No clue on capital monks. Why's he mercing? Stick to church grub."
"Why pry? Past's not my business. They're our cute rookies now."
"Hah, babying him 'cause he's pretty... Women... tsk tsk."
"He's pretty, sure. But you're ugly."
"...Ex-wife said I was handsome. No scars, I'd be like him..."
"Bullshit."
They seemed close. Big age gap, but Janet bantered casually. Like with Iron Lion's leader—top dogs crossed paths often, building familiarity.
I spoke to the guild master.
"...You're really the Undying One. How are you even alive?"
"What, defrocked? You knew my nickname?"
"Hit me now that I see you. Forgot he had that name..."
Undying—death flag bait. Surviving years with it? Actual immortal?
"Hah... First meet and you're asking why I'm alive? Ballsy kid. Heh."
"No sarcasm. Literal. Don't misunderstand..."
"...No sense of humor? Clerics are no fun. Eh... dunno why myself."
As expected. No answer from him, but irrelevant. I could read his status window. He'd learn his own reason soon.
Ding!