by Ryota Hori
“Yer mug’s filthy as ever. And none of the barmaids are gonna want to touch ya with a stick, what with that shabby outfit of yours.”
“I see you’ve not changed a bit either. Eh, Crimson Lion?”
Smiling wryly at her loose-lipped attitude and the startling amount of empty alcohol bottles littering her table, Gran took a seat in front of her.
The Crimson Lion was not just the name of the group Lione led, but also her own nickname. The sight of her rushing through the battlefield with ruffled, crimson hair truly invoked the image of a lioness. All the mercenaries who knew of her were bewitched by that sight.
“But you, calling me to come over? Tonight must be a blue moon.”
Taking a sip from the bottle of ale that was brought to the table, Gran sent a probing glance in Lione’s direction.
Gran was the head of the Northern Wind Brigade, a group of mercenaries on par with the Crimson Lion Group. They’d met plenty of times on the battlefield over the years, but he’d never been invited like this before.
“Well see, I kinda ended up sticking my neck into some nasty business, and I’m trying to gather some trustworthy, skilled mercs to help me out. And since you happened to be free, I figured it was a perfect time ta ask.”
“Nasty business?” Gran cocked his head at Lione’s bitter smirk.
A mercenary’s idea of “nasty business” would usually be betraying a request they’d been given, but anyone in the business who was worth anything knew to stick to the contract and mind their relationships. He had his doubts that this red-headed woman, whom he acknowledged was his superior in this line of work, would do such a thing.
“Didja betray your client?”
“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” Lione downed the lukewarm wine in her glass and slammed it on the table.
“Then go talk it over with the guild, not me. I don’t think I can help you with that.”
A guild. In modern terms, it might be equivalent to a worker’s union. There were, in fact, many kinds of guilds in this world, including the merchant’s guild and the industrial guild, but when one said that word on this Earth, they usually meant the guild for adventurers and mercenaries. It was the association which sent those in that business into work involving combat and assorted danger zones.
The guild’s role was to handle smooth distribution of requests, and to act as mediator in case a disagreement broke out with the client. Gran’s suggestion was that if Lione had a falling out with her client, the first place she should go to for help was the guild.
“Well, the shit’s kinda hit the fan with this one. Can’t really rely on the guild here.”
“If I know you, you’re more cautious than that.” Gran’s expression contorted at her words. “Don’t tell me you took that job directly from the client without going through the guild?”
All the requests done via the guild were processed after confirming the client’s financial status and the content of the request, and in exchange, the guild took an intermediation fee for all the requests it handled.
Of course, that was a necessary expense, the guild being the massive organization that it was, but those working with their lives on the line were far from pleased to see a cut of their reward taken away. Were you supposed to prioritize your own safety, or how much you were paid? Some preferred the latter route and chose to take requests without going through the guild.
However, those kinds of requests had their share of pitfalls. Being able to haggle over the reward was all fine and dandy, but there were cases where the client would refuse to pay, and some truly vicious people would try to eliminate the people they hired to avoid future trouble. So, unless there was a great deal of trust between them and the client, no mercenary with their wits about them would easily accept a mission without going through the guild.
Thanks to the massive organization known as the guild, which spanned the western continent, the mercenaries could risk their lives on the battlefield without fearing being treated as disposable pawns...
“Nah, it’s nothin’ like that. The request itself was legit, and we took it through the guild.”
Sensing something in her words, Gran furrowed his brows.
“Alright, I understand. Sounds like this is a little more complicated than I thought... Tell you what. How ’bout I get another drink in me, and then I’ll hear you out.”
Sensing a long conversation ahead, Gran held up his empty mug to call for a waitress.
Having heard Lione’s story, Gran folded his arms and stared at the ceiling, his face expressionless.
“So, that’s the deal, Gran. I want you and yer Northern Wind Brigade to lend us your strength.”
With Lione having said her piece, silence fell between them for a long moment, which was eventually broken by Gran heaving a deep sigh.
“Crimson Lion. Assuming everything you just told me is true... The guildmaster affair is nasty enough, and on top of that, you want to stick your neck into Rhoadseria’s civil war... This isn’t just like any other battlefield we’d be working on. Even for you, with your name and reputation, this goes a lot deeper than any one mercenary can handle. If I were you, I’d get my ass out of the western continent before the guild sends someone to finish you off.”
Though Lione was an old friend, her story was too problematic. The guild always presented itself as neutral, but so long as it was run by people, connections and favors still understandably existed. A truly neutral organization couldn’t and didn’t exist. An ignorant child may not be able to comprehend that, but Gran knew it well enough. That was simply how the world worked.
Gran himself used connections with a guildmaster he was friendly with to land himself some good jobs or reject jobs he didn’t think were worth it. But on the other hand, he’d never heard of a guildmaster setting someone up for a fall in such a blatant manner.
If Lione’s claims were true, Pherzaad’s guildmaster planned to use Lione and her group as disposable pawns. It was on an entirely different level from getting slightly smaller restitution for a mission than what was promised. It cast the guild’s fundamental principles into question.
Of course, Gran didn’t trust the guild blindly enough to assume that was entirely impossible, but he couldn’t swallow Lione’s story that easily either. And the biggest reason he was so non-committal was, even if he gained a name for himself, the matter seemed much too big for a mere mercenary with no influence or power over society to stick his neck into. He may have had personal fame and confidence in his abilities, but they wouldn’t help him much in this situation.
Lione and Gran were A-rank mercenaries, and their rank within the guild was quite high as well. They’d earned nicknames for themselves, were acknowledged by their fellow mercenaries, and the groups they led were gatherings of experienced veterans. If some country were to recruit them into a knights’ order, they had the skills to soon be made squad or company commanders.
But all things considered, Gran still felt Lione’s offer was far too dangerous. Particularly when it came to the idea of opposing a large organization like the guild...
“Yer not wrong. I wouldn’t normally agree to something this mental, no matter the price. It’s annoying having the guild ragging my ass, and like ya said, fleeing to another continent’s an option. But this time the story’s a little different.”
Picking up on what Lione was implying, Gran furrowed his brow.
“Don’t tell me that kid convinced you to get on board?”
He did sound clever enough from what Lione had told him, and Gran figured there was truth to his abilities. But even with Lione to vouch for him, from Gran’s perspective he was some suspicious kid who came out of nowhere, and his guild level being E didn’t help. He couldn’t trust some upstart with little combat experience.
“We’ll pay you good.” Lione smirked at Gran with only one eye open.
“Don’t be stupid... Money’s not the issue here.”
“What’s this? A merc’s tellin’ me he
doesn’t give a shit about money?”
Gran shook his head. The sum on offer was certainly enticing, but that didn’t mean he was willing to dive into the flames for it.
“What matters for a mercenary is whether they can trust their client, and whether their client can win the war... Compared to that, our payment hardly matters. I shouldn’t need to tell you that, right?”
Mercenaries risked their lives for money, and it was for this reason that they placed importance on their client being reliable and capable of winning. An ordinary, rank-and-file soldier may have cared for just how much they were paid, but things were different for Gran, who led a group of mercenaries that functioned like a knights’ order. He had responsibility over his subordinates’ lives. It didn’t matter how high the reward may be, it would be reduced to nothing at all if they couldn’t win.
In most cases, when a side lost in war, the employer alone had his head cut off, and the mercenaries were left with only the meager deposits they’d been given ahead of time, and at worst they might find themselves hunted down as remnants of the defeated army. Being baited in by the promise of a fat reward held that risk.
So it made sense Gran would hesitate. But from Lione’s perspective, as the one who brought the offer up, it only seemed like Gran thought her judgment wasn’t trustworthy.
“What, are ya saying ya don’t trust my judgment here?” Lione’s gaze sharpened.
“That’s not what I’m saying, but... That boy’s rank is low, and he can’t even use thaumaturgy, right?” Gran desperately argued back, overwhelmed by Lione’s glaring gaze. “He hasn’t set foot on the battlefield once. Telling me to risk my ass for an amateur is crazy. They’re not doing anything publicly at the moment, but you could end up making the whole guild your enemy.”
“I’ll admit the boy’s a novice when it comes to being an adventurer and a mercenary.”
“And you’re telling me to fight under him...? Or are you the one pulling the strings behind the scenes? It’d make things different if you were...”
War meant work for a mercenary, hence why they were cautious when it comes to these decisions.
“Do you think we have no chance of winning?”
“Sorry, Crimson Lion.” Gran folded his arms and nodded deeply at her question. “Request from an old friend or not, I can’t agree to help you with this one.”
This wasn’t just about Gran’s own life. It would influence the lives and deaths of his brigade members. He couldn’t change his mind, not even for an old friend.
But having heard Gran’s reply, Lione simply smiled.
“Well, ain’t that a pity. I didn’t even think you’d decide right here and now, anyway.”
Even after Gran’s heartless refusal, she didn’t seem to hold it against him. But the next moment, Lione’s expression took on a hitherto unseen sharpness.
“But y’know, Gran... Ya got two big debts that ya owe me right now. Those couldn’t’ve slipped yer mind, could they?”
Gran grimaced at those words. Mercenaries fighting out on the battlefield made these kinds of debts in life on an almost daily basis. And there was no shirking repayment of that kind of debt. If one forgot another mercenary’s favor in the past, no one would reach out to help them the next time they’d be in need. And once that trust was lost, one would never stand on the battlefield again. No matter how strong one may be, without the aid of their comrades, they wouldn’t survive in battle, and at worst they might even get stabbed in the back if they weren’t careful.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” Gran’s body seethed with murderous intent.
From his perspective, whether he went forward or tried to turn back, the only path laid out to him was a one-way road to hell. Between sticking his neck into the inner turmoil of a kingdom and defying a guildmaster, cutting Lione’s throat while she was right there in front of him seemed like a much easier alternative.
As if ignoring the feverish tumult of the pub, the air around those two froze like ice. Gran’s hand reached for the handle of the war axe on his back.
“Heh, I wouldn’t do that. Ya know my skill well enough, don’t ya? ’Sides, try working that pea brain of yours a bit and imagine what would happen if ya start wavin’ your axe around in here.”
At some point Lione’s hand had gripped the handle of the dagger strapped to her waist. The axe certainly boasted impressive power, but it was too long and heavy. In a situation where they were both in range of each other, its long reach would put him at a disadvantage.
The moment he reached for his axe without considering where he was and Lione reached for her dagger, Gran lost. As used as he was to this weapon, his actions were too rash. He could only bitterly curse his own decision.
With Lione’s gaze stabbing at him, Gran bitterly took his hand off the handle of the axe. But this wasn’t to say he had accepted things. He regarded Lione with a look of spite as she pleasantly downed another glass.
Heh... Looks like that really pissed him off. Guess I’ll throw him a bone.
The way Gran eyed her as if she’d gutted his parents was all part of the plan Lione had concocted with Ryoma earlier.
“Ah well, I’m not out for yer blood or anything. I’m another leader of a mercenary brigade, same as you. I’m not gonna use that debt to force ya into my war.”
Lione’s seductive words made Gran tilt his head in confusion.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Given the flow of the conversation, it only felt natural based on how the conversation had gone so far to assume she’d brought up the debt for that reason. And indeed, it was because Gran assumed so that he was willing to take her life.
“All I want is for ya to hear my boy out. Ya can decide if you’ll help us after you meet him... Whaddaya say? That’ll write off one of yer debts.”
Gran gravely considered her proposal, as it practically begged him for an answer. It truly was a tempting offer.
“All I need to do is meet him? That’s it?”
“Yeah... Meet the boy, and if ya still think we don’t stand a chance and refuse, I’ll give up quietly.”
The offer didn’t seem to have any downsides for Gran. Having one of his debts wiped clean just over meeting someone was an easy enough offer.
“Fine. I’ll meet him and hear what he has to say.”
In the end, Gran had no choice but to accept her proposal. With their talk finished, Gran headed for the pub’s exit, and Lione watched his back as he left.
Sorry, Gran... I didn’t want to have to do this. But we don’t have the leisure to choose our means right now. Well, I’ll wipe that other debt ya owe me for this, so just make do with that.
Just how many times had these words crossed Lione’s mind over the last few days? From the moment Lione called Gran here to this pub, he didn’t have a choice in the matter, and nor did any of the other mercenaries she called for.
Given the circumstances Lione and her group were in, it was obvious even fellow mercenaries and friends would hesitate to help them out. So they had only one means available to them— forcing them into voluntarily joining the fighting.
Lione held this clandestine meeting with Gran in this pub. Normally, a secret meeting would be held in a more fitting place, but Lione deliberately picked the Verdant Forest Parlor, where the eyes of their fellow mercenaries were gathered, so it would reach the ears of Pherzaad’s guildmaster. Or rather, whether that information reached Wallace in Pherzaad wasn’t the main issue here. People meant to tail Ryoma and Lione’s movements may have been dispatched from Pherzaad, but what mattered most was that Gran felt pressured by the fact Wallace might be after them.
Now that he’d heard the truth of the matter from Lione, there was no way Wallace would spare Gran. And once Gran and his men would be made to feel that way, they’d be pressured to side with Lione. They couldn’t ignore the fact that their lives were in danger, and Gran alone lacked the power to face this threat.
The issue was how to c
urb their anger once they realized they’d been set up.
Can’t be too cautious around you, eh, boy. So far, everything’s gone the way you said it would... But it’s up to you to convince Gran.
Lione didn’t doubt Ryoma when it came to resourcefulness. But mercenaries were big-headed and wouldn’t trust a commander who wouldn’t stand in the frontlines and wield a blade. No amount of money and scheming can earn true loyalty. And if he couldn’t quell Gran’s anger once he realized they’d been had, they would never take to the battlefield.
I’ve set everything up just the way you told me to. Now show me what you can do, boy...
With a nasty smirk on her face, Lione downed another drink.
“Arand! So the Crimson Lion convinced you into coming over too, did she?” Catching sight of an old friend in such an unexpected place, Gran raised his voice in a shout.
“Ooh, Gran... Heh, that Crimson Lion... So she lured you here, too.” The forty-year-old Arand slapped his cleanly shaved head and contorted his flushed, intoxicated face. “I heard she’s been hitting up all her old friends. I guess she’s hellbent on sticking her neck into this civil war...”
Those words made Gran guess at Arand’s feelings on the matter.
“Only natural, given their position...”
The two looked around. This was a maneuvering ground set up on the outskirts of Pireas. Knights in brilliant armor would normally be using this place to practice, but it was currently occupied by filthy people who looked more like ruffians and brigands, roughly four hundred in number.
Their armaments were, to put it kindly, distinctive. The uniform length of their swords and spears were one thing, but some of them carried sledgehammers, war axes, double-headed swords or metal canes. The same held for their choices of armor; leather and metal. Some of them wore a single-layer kimono made up of scales fixed together with chains.
Their gear had a great deal of variety, making it clear that there was no uniformity to speak of in this group. And the scars and nicks etched into their weapons spoke to the depth of their experience. They were a group of distinctive, unique people, unlike any ordinary soldiers.
