The candles that illuminated the tavern were exposed to the night breeze and flickered.

　It seemed to indicate the prosperity of the city itself that there were many candles to keep the lights on.

　The wavering shadows and flickering lights illuminated Bruder's face.

'You want to hire me?　Come on, what's the point? It's not like owning a stray dog. Ha-ha!

　If you want to hire mercenaries, there are enough of them in this city to make you smell like rot," Bruder's lips moved. After buying him a glass of rum, Bruder's mouth began to move in a rather talkative manner. I wish he would have said that from the beginning.

　He sniffs and narrows his eyes at Bruder's question.

　It must be strange for Bruder, that's for sure. Even I couldn't think of any reason to hire a mercenary who's been hawking alcohol and getting bruises in the back streets to pay for it.

　What was I to say?

　There was no way I was going to tell Bruder the whole story from beginning to end. In fact, doing so would only add to the suspicion he already had in his eyes.

　I opened my lips carefully, choosing my words carefully.

I want to ask you to do something that only you can do, Needleblade Bruder. Yes, a job that no one else can do.

　As if to meet Bruder's gaze as he asked where the job was, he moved his lips without pause to say that it was a job in Belle Fain.

　Bruder's eyes twisted as he said this, and he closed his lips as if to assess, playing with the brim of his hat with his fingers. This was the man's habit when he was deep in thought.

　Bruder is a man who has a strange thoughtfulness about him, even though he has the dignity of a drunkard. It's a strange thing that people who can't afford to drink every day will take a job, no matter how shady it is, like a hungry wild dog jumping on food.

　So his gesture of contemplation seemed somehow at odds with his way of being.

"Your words, they're good words, they make me feel good. But no. I don't see why it has to be me, it sounds like a bad joke.

　The drink wasn't bad, Bruder said, placing the empty china on the table. Then he sat up. As if to say that the negotiations were over.

　You haven't even told him what you're asking him to do yet, and yet he's so cautious, so impatient. Well, that's one of his characteristics.

　In negotiations with mercenaries, when one side leaves the table, it signals the end of negotiations. It was customary in this city to chase after someone who was leaving, as it was both uncouth and bad manners.

　I can't stop Bruder from walking away either. Even if I wanted to ask him for more drinks, he would only buy me one drink.

　Therefore, I didn't stop him from leaving the bar, but only called out to him.

I'll be here for a while. You can come back when you feel like it and the weather is good.


　I'll be here for a while.


　Bruder twisted his head, a strange man. It was a strange man who not only offered himself a drink, but even wanted to hire him as a mercenary.

　Bruder is well aware of his own abilities and reputation.

　He says he's a drunk and a bastard. A lowly mercenary. A man whose only skill is juggling needles. That's the assessment of Bruder's existence in Belle Fain. Bruder understands that this is quite reasonable.

　So, I still don't understand. There have been a few people who have bought him drinks on a whim, but none of them wanted Bruder as a mercenary. At best, a job is something that can be gathered in numbers. No one ever relied on me for my strength.

　I want to hire myself personally. Bruder plays with the brim of his hat with his index finger, thinking that it is a bad joke.

　Of course, I don't feel bad. Even though he was trying to make a living in this city, Bruder was still a mercenary, and no mercenary would be offended by being asked to prove himself. Even if his skills were not very good.

　Bruder, however, had a tendency to not accept strange things as they were.

　Strange things always have an ulterior motive. There's always danger behind it. A person with an ulterior motive is a person who brings danger with them. There's no such thing as trust.

　Bruder believed that trust was to be cultivated by coming to terms with each other and exchanging a joke or two if possible.

　A universal mercenary would not make such a decision. What is important to a mercenary is whether the reward is worth the risk.

　If the possible risks are less than the rewards, they will agree to do the job, regardless of whether the request has a hidden agenda or not. That is the way of life of mercenaries, selling their own lives to spend their days.

　In that light, Bruder's decision making was prudent at best, but at worst, it could be said that he was an extremely cowardly mercenary.

　Suddenly, his legs, which had been moving without much meaning, stopped. What Bruder was looking at was a guild for mercenaries. The meaning of the guild was different from the official guild used by adventurers, but everyone called it the mercenary guild because of its nature.

　Of course, some requests for mercenaries are made through individual contracts, but the majority of requests are made through the guild controlled by Belfain.

　Mercenaries were, by nature, difficult to manage. They are all rootless. They drifted to where the money was and never settled down anywhere. If they were not careful, they could quickly change their jobs from mercenary to thief, making them troublesome migrant workers.

　But that is except for the mercenary city of Belle Fain.

　By backing mercenaries, Belle Fain has succeeded in keeping a certain number of mercenaries on hand as a commodity for the city itself. The next step, then, is how to manage them.

　If all the contracts were made individually, it would be difficult to know exactly what was going on, even if Belfain took a small amount from the success fee. If possible, I would like to centrally manage the status of contracts and their rewards and absorb them like a tax.



　The Mercenary Guild was created with this in mind.

　Merchants request mercenaries from the guild, and the guild recruits mercenaries according to the request. In some cases, this was done by using mercenaries attached to the guild, and in other cases, like Bruder, it was done by gathering mercenaries who were wandering around the city.

　As a result, merchants would not have to negotiate directly with mercenaries, and mercenaries would not be overcharged or used up for nothing. In a sense, it is a virtuous circle of profit.

　However, the mercenaries who were still living day to day were not happy because Belfain was taking even more money from them than they had originally paid as guild fees.

　Normally, it's a troublesome place that Bruder can't even bring himself to enter. Today, however, he was in a slightly better mood due to the alcohol. It would be fine to go in for a chill out. He whistles merrily and puts his hand on the door.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Just so you know, there's no work for you to do right now.

　This is what the guild master said to me as soon as I walked in. He must have known I was just trying to be funny.

　Bruder sat down on a nearby chair, slumped and drunkenly pacing, choking in a funny way.

　What, these days, the merchants are wondering what they should do because of the fall of Galuamaria. The guild is temporarily idle, so you won't be kicked out.

　You look over to see the master removing a parchment from the front of the guild. The parchment was, without a doubt, a directive bearing the imprint of the High Holy Church. It is not supposed to be removed without permission.

Ha-ha-ha. Master, if you're changing denominations, go ahead. If I run to the church first and tip them off, that's all the gold I'll need, you know.

　The Master threw the parchment he had rolled up into his hand into Bruder's hand, saying, "You idiot. The parchment naturally unrolled, revealing the words on the surface and their contents.

"My lord's orders. You are not allowed to paste it out temporarily.

　He wants me to put it up, he's so selfish. So the Master complains, his mouth quivering.

　At the same time as the Master's words hit his ears, Bruder's narrowed eyes caught sight of a sentence.

　--"Dearly beloved. Death to the witch Mattia and the great sinner Lugis.

The reward is ...... a sum I've never seen before. I don't even know how many shots of rum. Not a bad joke.

　Bruder's eyes twinkled with amusement, and his cheeks lifted slightly.