Episode 110

Three months later, in the Medici Republic, at the palace of Piedmont city.

Dalton, Heinz, and I were immediately invited to a banquet upon our arrival.

A banquet prepared by the Medici Republic, famed for its wealth on this continent, was bound to be filled with fine wines and expensive dishes, right?

Three years into this world, and I’m already receiving treatment one could only dream of…

“And just a few days ago, Lucia became my woman. Now I have two beauties, like holding flowers in both hands…”

This is the epic life I dreamed of in fantasy games.

While lost in thought, Heinz, the deputy commander, shrugged his shoulders and spoke up.

“Captain Dalton, our treatment has really improved compared to before, hasn’t it? Before Martin arrived, we were just standing in the background at small lordship disputes or wars.”

“Damn, that’s true. I never thought our fortunes would change this much in just three years. Just last month, a count from Rheinfalz sent me a letter offering to commission me as a high knight.”

“Lucky you.”

I couldn’t join their conversation.

It would sound like I was mocking Dalton if I, who even refused a baron’s offer from Estel, the Border Count, joined in.

“Martin, by the way, are you looking forward to this banquet?”

I responded with a bitter smile and a shrug.

“Honestly, I am. But, I’m worried about someone trying to compete with us once we get in there.”

“What’s the big deal? As long as we don’t throw gauntlets, slap faces, or beat anyone up, it’s fine. And we’re already here. Stay sharp.”

As we entered, the scene was so luxurious it made one wonder if these people were really mercenaries.

Mercenaries were not typically dressed in clothes decorated with gold threads or jewels, as nobles would be, given the formal nature of the event.

However, everyone was dressed in neat silk suits, and the food provided was not only tasty but also visually appealing.

There were carpets from the East, various expensive-looking furniture, and paintings all around.

Seeing this, I muttered in awe.

“… The Medici folks seem like they’re rotting in money. Or has our value risen so much that we receive such treatment?”

As I was dazed, Dalton slapped my back.

What used to be a painfully strong slap now felt just slightly numbing.

“What are you spacing out for? Grab a drink and let’s go around greeting people.”

Dalton immediately gestured to a maid nearby, received wine, and handed it to me and the deputy commander.

“There are quite a few good wines from Piedmont. Have a drink.”

The wine tasted slightly sour, bitter, and deeply aromatic.

‘Delicious.’

‘Should I occasionally take Lucia and Karin out for such wine to set the mood?’

Neither Karin nor Lucia was particularly fond of luxury, but they really appreciated it when I set such a mood just for the two of them.

While I was lost in thought, a man approached us.

He didn’t have the typical mercenary leader vibe but rather that of a true noble, which took me aback for a moment.

“I am Alberto Piedmont, captain of the Brown Shark Mercenary Group, active mainly in the Medici Republic. It is an honor to meet you.”

Dalton represented us in greeting him.

“I am Dalton von Prime, captain of the Whitebeard Mercenary Group.”

“Oh, were you originally a high knight?”

“I had to leave a count’s family I was serving due to some matters.”

“It’s not usual for mercenaries to inquire about each other’s pasts; I apologize for unintentionally digging into yours.”

The mercenary captains I had seen before used more direct and rough language…

It felt awkward to have such a cultured conversation.

“No, Captain Piedmont. It was my fault for speaking out of turn.”

“That’s alright. Ah, I need to greet other mercenary groups as well, so I’ll take my leave now. I hope we can have a detailed conversation sometime, perhaps over some good wine.”

Piedmont then vanished from our sight.

Afterward, we engaged in brief conversations with three or four other mercenary leaders and officers. It was then we noticed someone approaching us, their demeanor slightly provocative.

“It seems you’re not from the Medici Republic. I don’t recognize you. Which mercenary group do you belong to?”

Tapping his feet on the ground and giving us pointed looks, it was clear…

He didn’t have particularly good feelings towards our Whitebeard Mercenary Group.

Faced with that impolite question, Dalton replied in a relatively courteous tone.

“We are the Whitebeard Mercenary Group, primarily active in the Rheinfalz Empire. My name is Dalton von Prime, the captain.”

“The Rheinfalz Empire? My ears might be failing me, as I’m not well-versed in affairs outside the Medici Republic. But it seems you’ve made some achievements…”

The man smirked at Dalton.

“Honestly, I’m not sure how well you’d fare among the mercenaries here. Sorry to brag, but only the top-tier mercenary groups recognized in the Medici Republic are invited to this place.”

Top-tier mercenaries are akin to ‘national athletes’ when compared to sportsmen.

And the second-tier mercenaries we used to associate with were more like ‘national team reserves,’ not incomparable but clearly different in skill.

Naturally, this implies a significant difference in treatment and status.

“Even in our Red Rose Mercenary Group, there are six knights of expert level and seven mages who have reached the intermediate level. We boast a long history and firm trust, a commonality among other mercenary groups here.”

Others around us nodded and voiced their agreement.

“These newcomers rolling in from who knows where are different.”

“Never heard of them before…”

“These Red Rose guys have just barely climbed up to first-tier and are already throwing their weight around.”

As this atmosphere of hostility grew, I signaled to Dalton and then smirked.

Undeterred, he continued speaking.

“But I’m not so sure about you folks.”

As he was about to turn away without introducing himself, I grabbed his shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry about that. It seems you’re not familiar with the Red Rose Mercenary Group.”

Mercenaries often size each other up and compete, even when not in conflict, due to their inherently macho culture and the need to collaborate while competing for achievements.

‘And if we back down here, we might end up being sidelined despite our skills.’

Being underestimated due to failing to stand up to rivalry could lead to one’s abilities being underrated anywhere.

And the way to handle this situation is simple.

“You really don’t have to worry. Our Whitebeard Mercenary Group has proven its capabilities enough in Rheinfalz before coming to the Medici Republic.”

He looked at me with a mocking tone.

“Could you specify how you’ve contributed?”

“We participated as allies of the empire in the recent war between Montmart and the Rheinfalz Empire. There, with a force of 2,000, we ambushed and annihilated a Montmart army of 5,000, and under the command of Estel, the Border Count, we captured a commander leading 15,000 Montmart troops.”

Even for top-tier mercenaries with national team-like status and corresponding abilities, defeating an enemy force 2.5 times larger and capturing an enemy commander is no easy feat.

‘Such achievements should earn their respect.’

“I’ve been a mercenary for just over three years, but as far as I know, mercenaries speak through their deeds rather than boasting about their history or how many knights or mages they have.”

The guy who tried to belittle me shuddered.

Losing a verbal duel after initiating it must be frustrating when you’ve run out of comebacks.

“Does this sufficiently explain our value? Can you acknowledge us now?”

He sighed as if in disbelief.

“If that’s the case, I’ll acknowledge it. It was a bit surprising to see an unknown mercenary group at an event exclusively for first-tier groups…”

Accepting defeat like a sore loser was irksome, but what could you do?

After all, proving our abilities through achievements is right; engaging in unnecessary fights when a cool response is needed benefits no one.

“Thank you.”

…Since you’ve initiated this rivalry, watch closely just how formidable we are.