Chapter Twenty-Seven: Occupational Hazard

Within the Mercenary Alliance, there were two mercenary groups that had been perennial rivals, constantly clashing with one another. One was the Dreaming Return Mercenary Company, the other the Amethyst Gold Mercenary Company. Both boasted three hundred members, the maximum allowed by the laws of the kingdom. After all, mercenary companies were, in essence, local armed forces; too many men could pose a threat to public order or even royal authority.

Of course, for most missions, three hundred was more than sufficient—indeed, most jobs only required a squad of four or five. It was well known that magical beasts were not fools; the higher their rank, the keener their intelligence. Should they spot a large group approaching from afar, they would flee long before any confrontation. The environments where magical beasts dwelled were harsh, and hunting itself was fraught with risk—most prey targeted were the weak or young. An injury in combat was troublesome to recover from, and during that period their strength was diminished, putting them in greater danger.

Nowadays, high-tier magical beasts would not attack humans unless driven by extreme hunger or threatened gravely. This was chiefly because it was difficult to discern the true strength of a human—an old Sword Saint in shabby garb standing quietly without releasing his aura might appear no more than an ordinary old man. High-level magical beasts had learned their lesson and avoided humans whenever possible. The sight of three hundred mercenaries approaching was enough to make all but the maddest beast flee for its life.

Naturally, there were loopholes in the law. While each group was capped at three hundred, nothing prevented several companies from forming an alliance, effectively creating a small coalition. The law could not regulate such alliances in detail, and so the kingdom of Louboler could only turn a blind eye for now. From a policy standpoint, the mercenary system was bound to be abolished sooner or later, with all missions eventually falling under the jurisdiction of official troops or the city constabulary.

A large band of armed men wandering the streets was, indeed, a dangerous thing. Moseyea City was one of the most chaotic in the nation; here, mercenaries would draw swords and brawl in the streets over a few words, and the daily deaths of a handful of mercenaries were met with little more than a shrug.

Such chaos demanded reform. The kingdom had its fair share of policy scholars, most of whom believed that, once society had developed to the point where everyone had enough to eat, few would risk their lives for adventure, and the Mercenary Alliance would dissolve of its own accord. Of course, this was an ideal far from reality.

For now, the only measure Louboler had taken was to dispatch a number of bards to reside in Moseyea City, in the hope that their ceaseless performances might instill a touch more civility in the populace—though, after several years, the results had been negligible.

Three years prior, the Black Gobi Mercenary Alliance had been riven by civil war, with the Dreaming Return Company at the head of one faction and the Amethyst Gold at the head of the other. Both sides had swelled to over a thousand men, rivaling the scale of battles between noble fiefdoms and even surpassing those of small nations.

Rumor had it the conflict began simply because the leader of Dreaming Return had been mocked for being a woman. Kevin used this explanation to placate Little Spoon, though he himself doubted its veracity. Such a pretext seemed more like a rallying cry; the real cause was surely a deeper conflict of interests. But Kevin was not among them, and did not know the details.

A great influx of bards entered the city thereafter, but it was impossible to monitor everything they said. Everyone knew of the enmity between the two companies, and so making money was easy. If the Amethyst Gold had more men present, the bard would mock Dreaming Return; if Dreaming Return dominated, the bard would heap scorn upon Amethyst Gold.

Such tales earned several times more than reciting the “Legend of Rex” or bawdy jokes. All it required was to set aside one’s conscience. Kevin himself had once visited, attempting to offer a fair and balanced view of the two groups’ relationship, but, alas, no one wanted to listen. Neither Amethyst Gold nor Dreaming Return cared for impartiality.

Had he not been a bard himself, Kevin might have lost his life there. Mercenaries generally respected—or rather, feared—bards. The death of a mercenary was nothing, but the death of a bard would be seen as a crime.

Now, this particular bard was at it again: “The other day, I was accompanying a merchant caravan under the protection of Dreaming Return. The journey passed without incident, but at the end, the merchant’s manager handed them two gold bars. According to the agreement, they should have received one and a half, so they owed us half a bar as change.”

“But those fellows tried to walk off with the lot! The manager hurried to stop them, and they replied that the extra half was a tip.” The bard animatedly reenacted the scene. “The manager was frantic—who ever heard of tipping half a gold bar? If they wanted a tip, he’d have given one separately! The back-and-forth dragged on, and in the end Dreaming Return suggested splitting the gold bar in half.”

The tavern erupted in laughter. While this was technically a way to make change, it was a method associated with paupers. For such a grand mercenary company to lack the coins for proper change—how absurd!

“So be it, our manager didn’t object. But, to everyone’s surprise, when they brought down the sword, the gold bar didn’t split!” the bard sneered. “If only they’d pressed the blade down steadily, it would have snapped it in two! But they had to show off, infusing their sword with energy, and only cut halfway through.”

“At that moment, I thought—thank the gods no bandits ambushed us, or I’d have died for sure.” The bard sighed dramatically, “Never again will I take a job with Dreaming Return.”

Laughter filled the tavern, the Amethyst Gold members basking in their superiority, caring little whether the bard’s tale was true or false. They raised their cups and jeered, “What standards could a mercenary company led by a woman possibly have? They’re lucky we even mention them! What can they do? They couldn’t even spy on a couple of gorillas mating! Hahaha!”

“Exactly! Watching animals mate would be too much for a woman—they’d start moaning themselves! Hahaha!” The jibes grew ever cruder.

Kevin observed coldly. Truth be told, he despised this kind of mischief from bards, but he had to admit it was one of the quickest ways to make money.

Bang! Suddenly, a table in the corner was struck with a resounding thud—a sound well known to regulars as the cue that someone had reached their limit and was about to make a scene.

But when everyone turned to look, they saw only an empty table.

Just as confusion spread, a shadow leaped out from beneath the table, landing atop it. Only then did the patrons realize—it was a dwarven woman.

Dwarves were, on average, no taller than the tables themselves. In public places, inns usually provided booster seats so they could dine alongside humans. But if a dwarf slammed the table and stood up, they’d vanish behind it—hence the earlier confusion.

“Bastards!” the dwarven woman cried, drawing her massive sword and waving it atop the table. “Why don’t you bring me a gold bar, or—those soldiers over there, hand me your longswords! I’ll break every last one of them for you!”

The crowd scrutinized her: twin ponytails trailed down to the floor, though, given her dwarven stature, her hair was not especially long. She appeared to be an adult, though her exact age was impossible to guess. Her limbs were short and stout, her greatsword taller than she was and heavy to boot. Her eyes were large, but at the moment blazing with fury, her face flushed scarlet.

Though this was merely a branch of the Mercenary Alliance and a haunt of the Amethyst Gold, that didn’t mean Dreaming Return’s people were absent.

The bard only laughed, “Everyone knows the standard Louboler army sword for new recruits is the worst—snaps in half with a twist! If you’re using that to demonstrate, it just shows your skill level! Hahaha!”

The tavern roared with laughter. Someone chimed in, “Careful not to break any mugs—you lot are so poor you couldn’t afford to pay for them!” “Yeah, don’t chop the rookie swords, you wouldn’t be able to repay!” and so on.

Alone, the dwarven woman could not outargue the crowd. Her face reddened further, her glare fixed on the bard with murderous intent.

Meanwhile, Marcus ignored the commotion, distributing a stack of manuals on the Poison Forest. These guides were full of tips crucial for survival—a must-read before venturing in.

Kevin, however, only glanced at it before closing the book. He already knew its contents. He was more interested in the farce unfolding before him. After a moment’s thought, he quietly addressed his superior, “Sir, this mission is a disgrace for Dreaming Return. Clearly, they’re familiar with the area. If we could lend them a hand, it might help us with our task.”

Marcus shot Kevin a surprised look. “The army doesn’t get involved in mercenary disputes—it could get messy. Don’t worry about it. Read your manual and we’ll head out once you’re done.”

“Sir,” Kevin replied, closing the manual and returning it, “do you really believe they failed the mission just because they couldn’t keep their composure?” A mission left untouched for three months was bound to be tricky. Kevin felt intelligence gathering was more important, but...

Marcus frowned. “You talk too much. Shut your mouth!”

Stadt, standing nearby, nudged Kevin in warning—junior ranks instructing superiors was a serious breach of etiquette.

Kevin, rebuffed, simply fell silent. He’d already read what he needed. Now he would wait for the others to finish, return the manuals, and then set out.

“I’ll kill you!” At last, the dwarven woman could bear it no more. She leapt forward, her greatsword swinging straight for the bard. The room erupted in shouts, many leaping to their feet.

Seeing tragedy imminent, Kevin acted on instinct—he fired a magic missile, striking the bard in the back of the knees. The bard crumpled, the greatsword whistling harmlessly overhead—a narrow escape indeed.

The bard sat sprawled on the ground, the dwarven woman’s strike having missed. She made no further move, only shot Kevin a sidelong glance. “What are you doing? Did you think I’d really kill him? Just wanted to scare him, that’s all.”

“You—you—you attacked a bard!” the bard shrieked, scrambling up. “You uncouth woman! Just wait for the constable to come for you!”

“Hmph! You’re the one who slandered Dreaming Return! And I never attacked you—I only meant to frighten you! Are you hurt?” the dwarven woman retorted, unyielding.

But, unfortunately, this was Amethyst Gold’s turf, and nearly all the mercenaries present were hostile to her. They heaped on the mockery, the tavern a chorus of jeers and foul insults. The dwarven woman gripped her sword in fury. “Say that again? Step outside! I’ll take you all on at once! Dare you?”

“Haha, bring it!” someone shouted, drawing a pair of axes.

“Kevin!” the superior called suddenly.

“Yes!” Kevin answered reflexively.

“It’s your show now,” the officer said casually. That magic missile earlier had already been far beyond what a typical recruit could manage. Seeing the others around him dumbfounded, their expressions as shocked as the bard’s, the officer thought perhaps Kevin really was something special. Letting him handle things would make his job easier.

Kevin was momentarily stunned by the order, but quickly recovered. “Everyone, stop!”

The room paused, falling silent—not because of Kevin’s strength or voice, but because, as a soldier of the kingdom, he spoke for the military. When the army spoke, people listened.

“Don’t let this shameless bard deceive you,” Kevin declared. “He only wants to stir up strife between you, profiting from your conflict. While you fight and bleed for his words, he stands aside, mocking your stupidity.”

There was a murmur of discussion. In truth, these mercenaries weren’t fools; they’d heard enough to suspect something was amiss. But they enjoyed the drama, for better or worse.

The bard was undaunted. “Everything I said really happened! I saw it myself!”

“Hahaha!” Kevin laughed. “Maybe you did see it, but think about it! Amethyst Gold and Dreaming Return have been rivals for years, evenly matched in the eyes of all. If Dreaming Return is really as incompetent as you say, doesn’t that mean Amethyst Gold is just as bad?”

A ripple of realization ran through the crowd, and the bard’s face turned pale. “You—!”

“He’s just insulting you in a roundabout way, and you cheer him for it? How laughable!” Kevin laughed.

“Who are you?” the bard demanded through gritted teeth.

“Does it matter?” Kevin stepped forward. “I’m just an ordinary recruit. Who are you? A bard? And what do you spread? Nothing but tales of conflict and bloodshed. Are you worthy of the title ‘bard’?”

The bard retreated. “You—you—”

Kevin pressed in. “So what if someone spies on gorillas mating? Do you even know who wrote these manuals? They were compiled by the professors of the Royal Academy. And where do they get their information? By personally observing, of course!”

“If we don’t study animals in the wild, how can we know when they’re in heat, how dangerous they are then, when mating is complete, how many offspring they bear, how many can be hunted without endangering the species, or too few causing ecological collapse? Studying animal behavior advances our knowledge. Every creation of the gods is marvelously made—what do you understand of it?” Kevin advanced again.

The bard had backed to the doorway. “You—you—”

“Do you know how many casualties have dropped since these manuals were introduced? Why must every mercenary read them before entering a new forest? Everyone here knows from experience. And yet you, with your ignorance, dare mock scholarship!” Kevin thundered, “Get out!”

The bard stumbled backward, tripping over the threshold and landing hard. Humiliated, he fled without another word.

The entire room gaped in astonishment, even the officer surprised. “How did you manage to drive off a bard?”

“Ah, occupational hazard,” Kevin coughed.