The mercenary city of Belfain.

　It is a large city located in the suburbs of Garouamalia, and has a particularly strong military force among the surrounding city-states. The city is overflowing with mercenaries, adventurers, and their cripples, living a life of daily pleasures, not knowing what tomorrow holds.

　Why does Belfain have so many mercenaries and adventurers as the city's second name? It is due in part to the policies of Belle Fain, but most of all it is due to its location.

　Galuamaria is a prosperous trading city, and naturally large numbers of merchants and goods flow into the city. As goods flowed in, people gathered, and as people gathered, they eventually attracted thieves and robbers.

　Hence, merchants sought military power. To protect their property from being snatched away. The means to keep from succumbing to the threat of the blade and leading their lives into bankruptcy.

　Of course, there are mercenaries and adventurers in Galuamaria. But there is no way to reach all the merchants who visit Galuamaria.

　Galuamaria has developed on a large scale, but it is covered by a hard shell of walls. There is a limit to the number of people it can hold, and it is impossible to keep up with its expanding economy.

　The city of Belle Fain, a mercenary city, became the recipient of the conflicts of the merchants and Garou Amalia. Belfain accepted mercenaries widely and became a backer of these rootless people.

　In exchange for a portion of their earnings, the mercenaries gained a stronghold. And so, just as adventurers have the backing of the nobility, the city-state itself has become a shield for mercenaries in Belle Fain.

　The demand is so great that it reeks of corruption. After all, the trading city is just around the corner. Merchants who wanted guards came to Belfain in droves.

　Through such a process, the mercenary city of Belle Fain has established its position.

　Many of the merchants and mercenaries are running fast, trying to make the most of their time. It would be no inconvenience for me to go out.

　I leave my horse and trample the sand in the street. There was a familiar smell. A strange mixture of alcohol, sand, and blood. With a hint of burning from the meat stalls.

　Not a bad feeling. There's no one else around here, just me. I felt a strange lightness in my shoulders.

　It's selfish of me, but when there are too many people around, I sometimes feel like I need to be alone. Thinking back, I wondered if there were times like that for our former savior, Herd Stanley. He was almost always accompanied by someone else on that journey. He's got a great mind.

　Anyway, from here on out, it's all up to me which tavern to use, which people to use, and which means to use. It's all very casual. I don't have to worry about what the saints, Kalia, and Fialaat think of me anymore.

　I walked through the crowded streets with a completely light step.

　No matter how crowded the streets are, it's not that difficult to walk down a familiar path. In the past, I would have taken a wallet out of my pocket, but I was somewhat afraid to do so now. If I did, I would feel as if I were returning to my old self, and my hands would shrink.

　I'm not sure if this is a good idea, but it's a good idea.


　I'm not sure what to say.


You'll be able to find a lot more than just a few of them.

　The father of the tavern stroked his gray beard and said calmly. I'm not sure if it's because it's still early afternoon that his eyes look strangely sleepy.

　But that's strange. I thought this was his favorite bar.

Remind me again. He's got to be here. He liked a bad rum.

　My father wrinkled his brow, "I don't know," he said again, his lips moving loosely. I don't know." He wrinkled his brow and groped his lips again. I let out a sigh.
　Apparently, this father is no different. It's not as if time hadn't passed, of course.

No matter. I'm a little early, but God forbid I drink alone. Just get me an ale and some good cheese. That'll do.

　He smiles cheerfully and pours a generous amount of ale into the china. The wrinkles on his face lifted up in a sly grin.

　But the expression on his face is once again somewhat gloomy.

But ...... I still don't know that mercenary. I've never even heard of him, let alone a mercenary.

　I've never heard of him, even if he wasn't a mercenary..." The old man said, not in a hushed tone this time, but clearly. It wasn't as if he was cheating, he was trying to remember seriously, and still couldn't find it anywhere in his head.

　It's strange, isn't it? I checked the atmosphere inside the store and the view from the window once again. The pile of barrels piled high, almost unorganized, and the lights of the gambling hall seen from the window. It's exactly the same as I remember it.

　I'm pretty sure he was here in this tavern. I frown as I dip my tongue into the ale.

　I'm sure he was in this tavern.

　After all, there's plenty of work to be done here. I used to be able to barely make ends meet as an adventurer while dredging ditches, but the economy was good enough that I was able to get a good amount of work.

　But still, it was not all good memories. In fact, the bad memories are stronger. My lips twisted up unconsciously.

　The man who had been my partner, albeit briefly, during my stay here was supposed to be here. I stroked my chin and squinted.



　I wonder if the time has shifted slightly. I don't remember what time and day we met. It's also possible that he's currently based in another tavern.

　It can't be helped. I'm going to find out.

　I press the hardened cheese against my teeth and force the ale down my throat. The bitterness and the inexplicable gargantuan taste are rather pleasant now.

　I never thought I would drink in this land again like this. I had no intention of ever stepping on this land again. Strangely enough, I'm feeling light-headed.

　I don't know whether to call it elation or just restlessness.

"Dad. You should do something about the liquor hawkers who are in front of the store every day. That's gonna ruin your reputation.

　I had my second glass of ale on my lips. A mercenary walked into the store and, despite his words, said something amusing.

　I know exactly what those words mean. The next words were the usual ones.

"I took care of it today, but... Next time--

　It's a common thing for overpowered, roughnecks.

　Kicking and stomping on the beggars, just to vent their frustration. They have no room to maneuver. They want to think that by doing so, they have become superior.

　But there's nothing wrong with that. And I'm not in a position to ask about class either. In fact, I would classify myself more as a ragdoll.

　So, I pour the ale down my throat without worrying about it. Strangely, the heat burned my esophagus.

　Then, suddenly, you leave your seat. A fragment of a memory passed through my mind. There was a flickering sensation in my brain.

　-Sake sales.

　No, wait. I don't think so. I don't think so. But I had a weird feeling. A feeling that made me nod my head in the back of my mind as if it were right.

　I left the silver coins on the table and walked out the back door.

　No one would use the street as a stage to start a quarrel. If they did, the government would not be able to keep quiet.

　Therefore, the back streets are always the place where fights and brawls take place. The smell of raw sewage and mud pokes at your nose. As I avoided the filth that was strewn about, I looked deeper into the back streets.

　There, I saw a figure. He must have been beaten to a pulp. He was leaning against the wall, his arms and legs spread out as if he were dangling.

　The lines of his body are not so thick, but rather thin. He wears a broad-brimmed hat, his face drooping and bruised, but his lips are lifted in his cheeks. He had the same features as someone I knew well.

　I opened my lips slowly, thinking, "No way. I didn't know it, but a smile appeared on my cheek.

　Deep in my heart. In the flicker of emotion, there was a strange certainty.

"Bruder, what are you doing? Bruder with the needle. You look as if you're about to die.

　He shrugged his shoulders and muttered to himself as if he were talking to an old friend. We know him, but he doesn't know us.

　He sounded just as familiar as he had in the past.

"Good word, you called my name. But alas, the needle fence is out of business. You can call me Bruder the Drinker if you want. I'm sure the stubborn tavern owner would be happy to share a drink with me!

　The way he sounded so happy was unmistakable. He's a mercenary I know well, a former business associate of mine.

"That's fine, you can drink to your heart's content. But I need you to get back into mercenary work.

　And there he was, my friend Bruder, the man I had once let die.