The sun was shining brightly — today would be a fine day.
The academy had just gone on break, and Fatty Shrade had already picked up a private job, running poor
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Once all fourteen iron cages were loaded and secured with ropes, Lorist did one final check to make sure nothing had been left behind. Satisfied, he climbed down from the carriage, grabbed a water bag, twisted open the pine-wood stopper, and took a few swigs. Everything was ready — they just had to wait for Fatty Shrade and the others to return before setting off.
A so-called "private job" generally referred to work a mercenary took on directly with an employer, bypassing the Mercenary Guild's notarization and approval. While this avoided the Guild's commission fees, it also greatly increased the risk. Employers backing out of deals, reneging on payment, robbing the mercenary underhandedly, or even turning bandit — these things happened more often than not. But the Guild's cut was truly vicious: they squeezed both employer and mercenary dry. For some well-paying jobs, the combined fees could reach thirty or forty percent. So if conditions were decent enough, most mercenaries didn't mind taking the risk of private work.
"Hey, little brother Lorist, what are you up to?" El sauntered over wearing a coat, swaggering up to the carriage to eye the iron cages, then sticking his head inside the wagon to take a look. "Oh, you're heading out on another job."
The sight of El gave Lorist a headache. The past half-year, he'd run into El twice, and both times he'd been thoroughly unlucky. The first time had cost him money — though Lorist would never admit he'd been a bit weak in the knees over that woman. He believed that if El hadn't shamelessly refused to admit defeat and clung to his leg, he'd have gone back to his room long ago, and that wretched woman wouldn't have had time to steal so many of his things. The second time had been pure misfortune — he'd kindly lent El a cloak and ended up being mistaken for one of El's accomplices, earning a beating for his trouble. What infuriated him most was that he couldn't fight back. They'd all been old women, old men, young wives, and middle-aged uncles — ordinary people he neither dared nor could strike. All he could do was swallow the insult.
So in Lorist's eyes, El was a walking jinx. Good things never happened when he was around. Today, he'd have to stay sharp and keep his guard up, or he'd be in for it again.
Of course, El was completely oblivious to his jinx-like nature, strolling around in broad daylight like he owned the place. After two encounters with Lorist, he'd decided they were friends, calling him "brother" with all the warmth of a long-lost sibling. Sure enough, after glancing at the mission supplies on the carriage, El felt it was time to offer his junior brother some seasoned guidance.
"Ahem, little brother Lorist — going after these low-tier magical beasts all the time is both boring and a dead end. As a mercenary, you should set your sights further ahead. Places like the Beast Forest deep in the Sunset Mountains, Apocalypse Beach in Qigeda Kingdom, the underground caverns of Uru Bah, the Ruins Archipelago in the Tranquil Sea — now those are the places a real mercenary should be adventuring. Sure, they're more dangerous, but the rewards are rich. Didn't the Unicorn Mercenary Corps come back from the Beast Forest just recently? They struck it big that time — all forty-three survivors split over a hundred Gold Forde each!" El's spit was flying as he spoke.
Lorist rolled his eyes. Easy for him to say — every location he'd named was recognized across the continent as a deathtrap. Sending a Black Iron-tier mercenary to those places would be like delivering him as a snack to the magical beasts. El just listened to tavern gossip without ever thinking. Did he have any idea how many people the Unicorn Mercenary Corps had started with? One hundred twenty-five Silver-tier and above elites had entered the Beast Forest. Less than a month later, only forty-three came back. After turning in the mission, the captain and vice-captain — both Gold-tier powerhouses — sat in the Mercenary Guild lobby crying like five-year-olds. It was enough to break anyone's heart.
"Don't you have anything better to do, boss of the underworld? Strolling around in broad daylight when you should be minding your own business. You don't know the first thing about mercenary work, so quit talking nonsense." Lorist wasn't about to be polite.
"Heh, you're not buying it, are you? Big brother here is a mercenary too — a Silver-tier mercenary, no less." El looked immensely pleased with himself as he produced a Silver-tier Mercenary Badge from somewhere and pinned it to the chest of his coat.
"Huh? You're a gang boss — what do you need a Silver Mercenary badge for? You can't even use it." Lorist was baffled.
"That badge was something he earned doing jobs at the academy back in the day. It was originally Black Iron, but after he became a boss and advanced to Silver tier, he went to the Mercenary Guild and swapped it for a Silver badge." Fatty Shrade's voice came from nearby, answering on El's behalf.
Lorist looked up to see Fatty Shrade and
Terman was a member of the Academy Enforcement Department, Silver tier one, and one of Lorist's few close friends at Dawn Academy.
When they drew near, Fatty Shrade pointed at El and said to Yuri and Terman, "Let me introduce you. This is Brennan Evanport — also from Dawn Academy, a senior of yours. He and I were in the same class back then, but after graduation he went and became the boss of the gangs in this neighborhood."
"Hi, I'm Yuri Reedes — just call me Yuri."
"Hello, I'm Viboli Terman."
El nodded to them in greeting, and that was that. Then he asked curiously, "So, Fatty — where are you heading for this job?"
"We have to go in and exterminate them."
Gold-Eating Rats were low-tier, small, swarming magical beasts that fed on metal ores. About the size of a cat or dog, they looked like ordinary rats. Cowardly by nature but vicious once provoked — once their aggression was triggered, they would fight to the death without relenting. When ordinary people encountered Gold-Eating Rats, the key was to stay calm, make themselves look threatening to establish a standoff, then slowly retreat to safety. If one had awakened combat force, even a single-star Bronze-tier fighter could handle an isolated Gold-Eating Rat easily. The problem was that isolated Gold-Eating Rats were rare. When facing an enemy, they would call for reinforcements, summoning swarms of their kind to overwhelm their target through sheer numbers.
In the Magical Beast Knowledge course that Lorist had studied, the Gold-Eating Rat was notoriously famous. Legend held that the first warrior to awaken combat force had encountered a fierce magical beast that turned out to be a Gold-Eating Rat. Luckily, it had been alone — Gold-Eating Rats only left their swarms during mating season to find partners. Otherwise, that warrior would never have had the chance to awaken combat force, and humanity might have endured another thousand years of darkness.
On the menus of countless underground magical beasts, Gold-Eating Rats ranked near the very top. For human mines, discovering Gold-Eating Rats was a serious matter — the rats had to be exterminated completely, or at least the queen had to be killed so the remaining swarm would abandon the area. Otherwise, as the colony grew, it would attract other vicious underground predators, which could easily spell disaster for the mine.
The Roman Empire, one of the three great empires on the Galentea Continent, had once experienced a famous mine incident. It occurred at the empire's largest gold mine, where poor management had allowed Gold-Eating Rats to multiply into a plague. The infestation attracted two massive One-Horned Rock Pythons that took up residence in the mine, killing over three thousand miners. In the end, the Roman Empire dispatched a Sword Saint and over sixty Gold-tier experts, suffering devastating casualties before finally slaying the two pythons. More than forty noble families were implicated and executed, their properties confiscated. After this incident, every mine on the continent took heed: Gold-Eating Rats were to be killed on sight, no exceptions.
"What's wrong? Steve and the others didn't come?" Lorist noticed that Fatty Shrade and Terman had gone as two and returned as two — it was odd that they hadn't rounded up more hands.
"Yeah, those guys choose girls over duty. Isn't Class 3 Year 2 of the Art Department heading to Benzigan for a sketching trip? Steve dragged the Cole brothers along to play bodyguard. Sure, guarding beauties beats crawling through mine shafts with us." Fatty Shrade was annoyed — he'd been so busy preparing supplies for this private job that he'd forgotten to line up their team early. Now, just before departure, they were short-handed.
When El heard Fatty Shrade say they were short on manpower, his eyes lit up. "Hey, hey, Fatty — how about me? What if I tagged along?"
Fatty Shrade blinked. "El? You want to come? You're doing just fine as a boss — why would you come adventuring with us? Besides, this is a private job. Big risk."
Lorist opposed it flatly. "Fatty, don't listen to his nonsense. A big boss like him goes adventuring in the Beast Forest or Apocalypse Beach — he wouldn't bother with a piddling job like killing Gold-Eating Rats. He's just joking."
El put on a serious expression. "I'm not joking. Honestly, Fatty — you know I became a boss because I was forced into it. My brothers practically shoved me into the position, and I had no choice. They handle all the actual work, and here I am, the so-called boss, just wandering the streets all day with nothing to do. It's suffocating. I dream of going on adventures — I miss the days at the academy when we'd all head out on mercenary missions together. You've known me for years; you know what kind of person I am. So? What do you say? You're short on manpower anyway, and with me along, we should have enough strength to handle the risk."
"Well..." Fatty Shrade hesitated.
"No." Lorist opposed again. If this jinx latched onto them, they'd best just call the whole thing off, go home, wash up, and sleep. Otherwise, something was bound to go wrong.
"Fatty, you know what type of combat force I cultivate, and you know full well what my innate talent skill is. Bringing me along to the mine would be a huge advantage." El placed another weight on the scales.
Oh? The guy had an innate talent skill? Lorist's curiosity was piqued.
"Lorist, what exactly is your reason for opposing him?" Fatty Shrade asked Lorist.
"Well..." Lorist couldn't very well say the guy was a jinx — that letting him join would bring misfortune on everyone. "He's never worked a mission with us before. I'm worried we won't be able to coordinate."
He'd finally found an excuse. Lorist wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"I'll follow orders without question," El said.
"You promise?" Fatty Shrade asked.
"I promise."
"All right, then — welcome to this adventure team. I'm Captain Shrade. You've got half an hour to get ready, then come back and assemble. We're heading out immediately. We're going to the Cresto Hills this time, and the round trip should take about twenty-plus days. No problem?" Fatty Shrade made the final call.
"No problem. Oh, Fatty — I mean, Captain — I think we should assemble at the Red Crow Tavern. That's where private jobs get circulated. Have my uncle show you his commission book — if there are any tasks along our route, we can pick those up too. Just tell him I sent you. That old codger will believe you once he sees Lorist." Having just joined the team, El immediately offered up a generous gift.
Fatty Shrade was tempted. So the Red Crow Tavern had a side operation like this — they were poaching from the Mercenary Guild's turf. But for mercenaries, this was actually a good deal. Jobs funneled through the tavern carried less risk than those arranged privately. Besides, the tavern owner wouldn't vouch for people he didn't know or trust.
"All right then. We'll assemble at the Red Crow Tavern."
When Garrilando saw Lorist and heard they were going on a private job, he readily produced the small commission book and called Lorist and the others over to see if there were any tasks they could handle along the way.
Fatty Shrade looked through the book and found that most entries were errands and purchase requests. If these were posted through the Mercenary Guild, they'd be grunt work for Bronze or Iron-tier mercenaries, and the pay from the Guild would be negligible — worth picking up only if you happened to be passing through. But through the Red Crow Tavern, the compensation for these commissions was enough to justify a dedicated trip for one person.
After discussing it with the group, Fatty Shrade accepted seventeen commissions. All told, if they completed every one, each person would earn an extra Gold Forde — not bad at all. Garrilando also said that while these commissions were small in value and modest in pay, their strength lay in quantity. He often struggled to find trustworthy mercenaries to handle them. If they did well this time, they'd be welcome to come back for more private jobs and extra income.
El walked in wearing a brand-new salamander leather armor. Armor made from salamander hide excelled at maintaining body temperature and repelling insects, snakes, and scorpions — making it ideal underground exploration gear. It wasn't cheap, either; the kind of high-end equipment most mercenary adventurers couldn't afford. The Silver Mercenary Badge was pinned to the left breast of the armor.
El greeted everyone he knew in the tavern at the top of his lungs, practically shouting to the world that he was a mercenary heading off on an adventure. What surprised Lorist was that El's uncle, the tavern owner Garrilando, showed not the slightest concern about El joining their expedition. On the contrary, he seemed delighted — sending over a round of blackberry wheat ale for everyone and wishing them a smooth and successful journey.
After leaving the city, Fatty Shrade rode his horse up alongside the carriage and asked El, who was sitting next to the driver's seat and bickering with Lorist in the back: "Why does your uncle trust little Lorist so much? He saw him and immediately pulled out the commission book?"
Lorist was wondering the same thing himself. He'd only met Old Gar twice — the first time had involved a physical confrontation. Why would Old Gar think so highly of him?
El glanced lazily at Lorist and answered without enthusiasm: "The old codger says little Lorist has good character. The first time, he got scammed by that wretched woman, but that was because he's an upright person who's too ready to help others. The second time, when he was wrongly accused and beaten by those ordinary people, he held himself back and refused to fight — taking a beating rather than hurting anyone. A young man with that kind of self-restraint and his own sense of right and wrong is truly rare these days. That's why the old codger thinks so highly of little Lorist and even told me to learn from him. As if — I'm a Silver-tier powerhouse who chose to run rather than fight back against ordinary people chasing me. That kind of tolerance and magnanimity puts little Lorist to shame."
"Tch..." Lorist shot back: "Don't forget you were running around stark naked at the time — you barely had time to flee, let alone turn around and fight!"
Everyone burst out laughing.