60 - A Mercenary’s Aftermath

Even after the sun had set and night had fallen, the town of Lecole still bustled with life.

In this town filled with mercenaries, taverns and brothels made their real money after dark.

In stark contrast to that clamor, the reception room of the Mercenary Guild was utterly silent.

Sitting on the sofa with my legs crossed, I gazed at the lights of the town from the window, almost wishing I could throw all my troubles away and just lose myself in that crowd.

“Is it really unavoidable?”

“Yeah. There’s no other path.”

I answered without hesitation to the question from Arngeil, the guild master of the Mercenary Guild.

We had discussed it many times.

I had thought on it for days.

But there was no other way for us.

“The mercenary band Dawn Battlefield is disbanded.”

Arngeil fell silent again at my words.

I couldn’t say I bore no responsibility.

But at least I knew it had been inevitable.

No lone individual could ever solve the problems the Mercenary Guild had carried for generations—especially with nations themselves pulling the strings behind the scenes.

If anything, in this case, we had done well.

Otherwise, we would never have been paid in full for the high-priced request that had been designed only to bury us, nor would no additional commissions be offered. For that, I was even grateful to Arngeil.

That was how troublesome nobles were.

“Half the members of the band had weapons and armor rendered unusable. Seventy percent injured. And in that state, what? We accept some big-ticket job, succeed against all odds, and revive the band with the reward? That’s a fairy tale.”

“What really happened? From the head of the Giant Viper you brought back as proof, I can tell something abnormal occurred. Is it something you must absolutely keep your mouth shut about?”

“Even if I told you, no one would believe me. And if you died because of that knowledge, I’d have nightmares.”

Even remembering it now, it wasn’t just unbelievable—it was absurd.

Who would believe such a ridiculous story?

“If we don’t get away before the next one comes, we’ll all be dead. That’s why—even though we completed the commission, the band is beyond recovery. Disbanding is the only choice. At least by distributing the reward before anyone could contest it, I’ve made sure the members will be fine. I’m grateful, Guild Master.”

“Don’t. I’m the incompetent one who couldn’t stop you from walking into that death trap.”

“Even so.”

I said, bowing my head.

If it hadn’t been Arngeil, we would have ended in some worse way—that much was certain.

“But… even if the band is dissolved, I doubt they’ll let me go.”

“You’re right. Those above have no intention of letting you slip away. They say it’s about ‘the honor of the nobility.’”

I leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

“What a pathetic way to die.”

I had accepted dying on the battlefield. But this end—I couldn’t help but complain.

“The role given to you is bait. For the subjugation of the new species.”

“…So in the end, I can’t escape my ties to that thing.”

Arngeil looked apologetic at my bitter tone.

Apparently, if I alone was offered up as a sacrifice, that would settle matters. Under those terms, it was almost “fortunate.”

(Unlike that woman, I won’t pull it off as cleanly. But there has to be a way.)

There was still a shred of hope.

Hopeless as it seemed, I could at least imagine what needed to be done to survive an encounter with that thing.

(Negotiation material… maybe magical potions will do?)

The real problem was how to communicate that. If I was going to draw, I should have someone teach me first. I knew all too well the limits of self-study.

As I was thinking this, Arngeil leaned forward on the table, face serious.

“Do you actually have a plan?”

“Not much of one. Just thinking about what I might do to stay alive.”

“Against that?”

He must have realized it too.

That a proper fight offered no chance of victory. That even if the military went all-out, they still couldn’t fell that new monster.

From my reaction, he guessed the truth.

“Orland. I want your honest opinion. How strong is this new species?”

“Calamity-class. Put it on the same level as a dragon.”

I answered without hesitation. That should be proof enough.

“So it’s impossible.”

“Most likely. I’ve never heard of a hero in this country who could fight a dragon. Unless someone like the heroes of the great war from the old Empire’s time appeared, going up against it would be suicide.”

Arngeil frowned in thought.

A whisper escaped his lips: “Two hundred years ago… if it were Elves, maybe?”

“Well, if you’ve got people you don’t want to die, don’t let them near it. That thing isn’t just strong—its intelligence is a threat in itself.”

“Come to think of it… about the low casualty count in that battle, you said this, didn’t you? That you were ‘toyed with.’”

I nodded at his words.

That answer hadn’t changed.

Thinking back on what I saw that day, the guess of that woman, Diera—that it saw humans as toys—wasn’t wrong.

If only we could exploit that. But humans weren’t strong enough to take advantage.

“To fight while fully aware of the gap, and to toy with humans anyway… nothing but a threat.”

I agreed with Arngeil’s words.

I had thought the same at first.

(But it used fire. Lived in a civilized manner. Then again, maybe even that was just “play.” This information must remain secret, as we agreed.)

Who would believe it anyway?

No matter how passionately I explained, I’d just be dismissed as insane.

At worst, they’d say: “They made up nonsense to cover their failure.”

That kind of rumor would ruin a mercenary’s life.

Even if the band was gone, most members would keep working as mercenaries. We couldn’t afford such poison.

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

Arngeil suddenly raised his head.

“They’ve decided on a name for that new species. It’s ‘Argos.’ One of the nobles was all too eager to name it.”

A dry laugh escaped me.

“How carefree…”

I said—and the two of us laughed.

After that, with some drinks, we chatted idly.

Which liquor was best, which brothel had the best women… utterly trivial talk.

But as the night grew late and our words dwindled, we knew the time had come.

Arngeil rose.

I followed suit, straightening my back, and pulled a set of papers from my satchel.

“Orland, commander of Dawn Battlefield, hereby submits the disbandment of the band. The documents are prepared—please review them.”

Speaking in a formal tone, I held out the paper with both hands.

“Arngeil, guild master of the Mercenary Guild’s Lecole branch, accepts the disbandment of Dawn Battlefield.”

We held our positions stiffly for a moment—then burst out laughing.

Truthfully, I started it.

After years as mercenaries, formality just didn’t suit us.

“No need to go through all this ceremony, really.”

Arngeil laughed so hard he clutched his stomach.

“Shut up. It’s about closure. About dignity.”

“Oh right. You became a mercenary because you wanted to be a knight, didn’t you?”

I clicked my tongue at that.

“Eighteen years… felt long, but it passed in the blink of an eye.”

“Yeah. The brat who didn’t even know how to talk properly came this far. You did well. Now everyone recognizes you.”

“Not everyone.”

I muttered, half embarrassed but truthful.

“And now… you’ll have to figure out how to convince that tomboy sulking in the infirmary.”

“…You haven’t told her?”

“Yeah.”

I replied briefly.

“Of all people, the hardest one to convince is still left. Got any advice?”

I asked, but Arngeil only shook his head.