Chapter 7

The Northern City of Wintersteel (2)

Taylor continued.

“Even among people of equal ability, those with a record of successfully completed commissions have an advantage when negotiating contracts with mercenary companies. I’m talking about things like Treatment and the percentage of the rewards you receive.”

Kaspar nodded in understanding.

“Then who is the companion you mentioned?”

“My nephew.”

“Your nephew?”

Kaspar repeated.

Taylor stubbed out his cigarette.

“His name is Allen. He’s my older brother’s son. At this hour, he’s probably at a nearby tavern. In any case, he’s also waiting for the upcoming contract renewal period.”

“Is he a mage too?”

Kaspar showed subtle interest, but Taylor shook his head.

“Allen wields a sword.”

“Oh.”

How disappointing.

“I’m not saying this merely because he’s my nephew. Allen is fairly skilled. Back in his hometown, he regularly dealt with bandits, and he recently earned his qualification as a Sword Expert.”

“A Sword Expert?”

When Kaspar tilted his head at the unfamiliar term, Taylor gave a look of realization.

“Ah, I suppose you might not know. Just as those who practice magic are classified according to the ranks granted by the Magic Towers, swordsmen are also assigned ranks after undergoing rigorous tests at a branch of the Imperial Sword Institute. Sword Expert is one of those ranks.”

The Imperial Sword Institute divided mastery of the sword into several levels.

It began with Sword Runner, the level of an ordinary soldier, followed by Sword User, Sword Expert, Sword Graduate, Sword Master, and Grand Sword Master.

At the very top stood the Sword Saint, said to possess the might to stand alone against ten thousand enemies.

Kaspar’s eyes shone as he listened to Taylor’s explanation.

“That’s incredible. Then can a Sword Saint truly defeat ten thousand people?”

Taylor looked briefly flustered.

“…It’s only an expression. Human muscles aren’t those of a dragon. How could one person possibly cut down ten thousand enemies?”

“That’s true.”

“Of course, there are exceptions. Aldart Epros, the great founder of our Empire, is said to have cut down twenty thousand orcs during the Battle of Black Mountain, surpassing even the level of a Sword Saint and entering the realm of divine might.”

It had occurred during the early days of the Empire.

At the time, the Empire was less a powerful, centralized state and more a confederation of influential noble clans.

Perhaps sensing some ominous future in the Empire’s rise, the orcs—who had previously been locked in constant division and civil war—united in unprecedented numbers to form an army of one hundred thousand.

The vast orcish host burned countless villages and cities as it advanced, threatening to grind the Empire itself into dust. Terrified by the continual reports of defeat, the nobles and priests could only watch helplessly as the invasion proceeded.

Eventually, Aldart, the founder and first emperor of the Empire, personally took up his sword.

Everyone tried to dissuade him, calling it reckless bravado, but he refused to relent. At Black Mountain, he led an army of barely five thousand against an orcish force more than twenty times its size—and annihilated it, saving the Empire.

This was the legend of the founding emperor known as the Battle of Black Mountain. It was one of the most frequently cited tales whenever people spoke of Aldart’s greatness and peerless martial prowess.

“Of course, the story is absurd. It defies all common sense. Human muscles simply couldn’t endure something like that. Tens of thousands of enemies? And tough, stubborn orcs at that? Impossible—unless he had dragon muscles grafted all over his body…”

Taylor stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“Actually, I think that explanation might be more plausible. The mage who fought alongside him in the great battle was none other than Bayandra, the Great Mage of Ascension. Perhaps he really did transplant a dragon’s muscles into the emperor?”

Taylor casually spoke of covering the sacred body of the emperor with pieces of monster flesh—a statement that could have gotten his head displayed in the central plaza of the Imperial Capital.

“Anyway, Allen will be helpful. Taking on commissions with him will be far safer than doing so alone. Would you like to meet him?”

Kaspar had no reason to refuse.

***

That evening, Kaspar entered the tavern Taylor had told him about.

The Sword and Staff was located near Redrum.

As its name suggested, it was primarily frequented by mercenaries.

“Wel—come…”

A man who appeared to be a waiter trailed off when he saw Kaspar’s appearance.

Kaspar had been unable to wash properly during the several days he had spent in the carriage, leaving him extremely grimy.

He looked so wretched that no one would have found it strange to mistake him for a refugee who had somehow wandered inside.

The waiter’s eyes narrowed.

Though still young, he was nevertheless the responsible manager of the tavern’s main hall. An infinite sense of responsibility welled up within him.

“Sir, I apologize, but our tavern requires full payment in advance.”

The waiter had invented this new establishment policy on the spot, but Kaspar neither frowned nor raised his voice.

He was well aware of how he appeared to others.

The guards at the gate and Taylor at Redrum had simply been polite enough not to mention it. Objectively speaking, Kaspar looked little different from the people he had seen in the refugee settlement.

That was precisely why he desperately wanted to wash himself as soon as possible.

—Clink.

“How much is a room with a bathtub?”

The waiter’s eyes widened when Kaspar silently produced a silver coin.

“Yes, sir! A room equipped with a bathtub that provides warm water—one of our tavern’s finest features—costs only ten copper coins!”

Having rediscovered his courtesy, the waiter rubbed his palms together and answered brightly.

“The water doesn’t need to be warm.”

“Yes, sir!… Pardon?”

“I’m saying that cold water is enough for me to wash.”

“Ah… Well, we don’t have any rooms that provide only cold water. Even if we did, no one would use them. However, the water temperature can be adjusted, so you needn’t worry.”

“I see. Then I’ll take that room. Will you bring the meal upstairs, or must I come down to eat?”

“We can serve your meal however you prefer. However, if it is delivered to your room, there will be an additional cleaning fee.”

“Then I’ll come down and eat.”

The hall was filled with the clamor of countless people. The faint smell of metal and blood clinging to them identified them as the city’s mercenaries.

The bathroom was quite fascinating.

Its basic design was the same as the monastery’s—a large tub filled with water—but here, water poured from a long metal pipe.

Even more remarkable was the metal lever above the pipe. Moving it from side to side adjusted the water temperature. According to the waiter, it was a dwarven invention.

—Splashhh.

“Goddammit, Jerome! Are you looking down on me? Don’t you know I killed a wolf monster last week? That’s right! Ralph, you saw it too, didn’t you? That wolf was as big as a bull, and I killed it instantly by burying my axe between its eyes!”

“Bullshit. It was the size of a calf at best.”

“Whoa… Hold on, a calf? Ralph, you bastard, do you have no conscience?”

To seasoned mercenaries, the boasts and shouting exchanged throughout the hall were nothing more than meaningless noise.

Surprisingly, however, they contained a wealth of useful information for Kaspar.

After refreshing himself by washing his body and hair with cold water, Kaspar descended from the upper floor.

The waiter stared at him with wide eyes.

For example—

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…Pardon? Oh, haha! It’s nothing, sir.”

Is he a nobleman…?

The waiter muttered quietly before asking Kaspar what he wished to order.

Kaspar ordered a modest meal and looked around.

“Doesn’t it seem like more monsters have been appearing around the city lately?”

“Maybe there’s been an increase in Monsterization. That’s good for us, isn’t it? It means we’ll earn more from harvesting magic stones.”

“It’s only good if the increase is moderate. When this many appear, those Magic Tower bastards drive down the price instead.”

Monsters were rampant around the city. Mercenaries regularly exterminated them and sold the magic stones harvested from their bodies to the Magic Towers.

“I heard Gart died.”

“Ah, that lunatic who killed people and made armor from their skin? Good riddance. Where did he die?”

“At the city dump. Apparently, they found him hiding there.”

“Ha! A fitting place for garbage like him.”

Among the mercenaries who slipped into the city were irredeemable villains, and they were sometimes hunted down by their fellow mercenaries.

“Is it just me, or have the refugees increased?”

“What does that have to do with us?”

“No… There’s something strange about their eyes. They look glazed over or something. They don’t seem normal. It gives me the creeps. I’ve even heard some of them muttering strange prayers.”

“Why are you such a coward? Quit this work, return to your hometown, and become a farmer.”

And the city’s inhabitants regarded the refugees with deep contempt.

A short while later, the waiter brought Kaspar’s order.

Barley bread spread with butter and honey, accompanied by milk infused with herbs.

Steam rose from the food, carrying an appetizing aroma.

Kaspar thanked the waiter, accepted the meal, and began eating.

By the time he had finished half the barley bread, someone sat down across from him.

“You’re Kaspar, right? Kaspar Hauser?”

The man had short, curly brown hair and striking, well-defined features.

“Jet-black hair and green eyes… Yes, you must be him.”

Kaspar bowed politely.

“Did Mr. Taylor send you?”

“That’s right. I’m Allen Redrum. Just call me Allen.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Allen.”

After they exchanged brief greetings, Allen looked at Kaspar’s tray.

“Bread and milk? That’s rather frugal. You should have ordered some meat.”

“This is satisfying enough.”

“I heard you destroyed my uncle’s iron training dummy.”

“He told me to display my abilities without restraint.”

“That’s a relief.”

“…?”

“Ah, I was just talking to myself. I only meant that since we’re around the same age, we should be able to become friends quickly.”

“Oh.”

As he answered, Kaspar studied the sort of person Allen was.

He possessed a well-proportioned physique, with tightly honed muscles visible beneath his comfortable clothing.

Most impressive of all was the vigilant air concealed beneath his friendly expression.

Kaspar found him quite striking.

Apparently, Allen felt the same way about Kaspar.

“Kaspar, I’m honestly surprised. I assumed you’d be some man in his thirties or forties. I didn’t expect you to be around my age. Though you do look a little younger than me.”

Allen lightly rubbed the bridge of his nose before interlocking his fingers behind his head.

Having spent his life enduring relentless bullying from people his own age, Kaspar could not understand Allen’s sentiment. Nevertheless, he nodded as if he agreed.

“And I’m a good judge of character. More precisely, I have a strong instinct for whether someone will get along with me.”

Allen observed Kaspar for a moment before grinning.

“And for some reason, I have a feeling you and I will get along well.”

“Thank you.”

“Huh? Hahaha! It isn’t something you need to thank me for. That’s simply what my instincts are telling me… Ah, over here!”

The waiter hurried over and set down a tray piled high with meat, along with a large mug of beer.

The rich, greasy aroma immediately filled the air.

Allen placed a rather large chunk of meat on a separate plate and offered it to Kaspar.

“I won’t charge you, so have some. People need to eat properly to stay strong. You’ll collapse if you live on scraps of bread and milk.”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? You’re an unusual fellow. In that case, pardon me for eating it myself.”

Despite having his goodwill rejected, Allen displayed no displeasure. He immediately threw himself into his meal with enthusiasm.

After spending quite some time shoveling meat and beer down his throat, he patted his stomach with a satisfied smile.

“My uncle told me about you. You’re also aiming for the contract renewal period, right?”

“Yes.”

“You can speak casually with me. If you’re being polite because I look older, don’t worry—I don’t care about that sort of thing. It’ll be more comfortable for you too.”

“I’m comfortable speaking this way.”

“Stubborn, aren’t you? Shall we get to the point?”

Allen chuckled and handed Kaspar a scroll.

“What is this…?”

“A commission notice. It contains a freshly issued assignment from the Mercenary Bureau.”

Kaspar unrolled it and found the page densely covered in writing.

Commission: Eliminate the Dream Merchant and His Gang
Client: Wintersteel Mercenary Administration Bureau
Location: Refugee Settlement, Southeastern Outskirts
Reward: Ten silver coins per person

Allen began explaining.

“I hear a strange powder has been spreading throughout the refugee settlement. It causes hallucinations and is highly addictive. The locals call it Dream Powder, and apparently, a mage known as the ‘Dream Merchant’ is behind it.”

“…A mage?”

“Yeah. He has taken control of the southeastern district and is using an abandoned building as a hideout. He and his gang are producing and distributing the Dream Powder there. The commission offers ten silver coins to each participant if we eliminate the mage. If you don’t like it, we can choose another—”

“I’ll do it.”

Kaspar answered immediately, his dark green eyes gleaming.