Chapter 10 - The 50-Copper Smile
"I don't know what backwater you're from, but forget about magic shops. I'm not trying to be mean. You have to know your place in life."
"I understand. I just didn't realize magic cost so much."
"It takes money just to live, you know. You think wizards are any different? They're people just like the rest of us."
The other patrons nodded in agreement with the innkeeper's words.
"Then, is there a Mercenary Guild?"
"Oh, so if you can't be a wizard, you'll be a mercenary instead? Looks like a real ambitious country kid came to town!"
Laughter broke out all around.
Lawrence refused to take it this time.
"I'll find it myself."
After settling his bill, Lawrence stepped outside and stopped a passerby to ask for directions. Usually, people just ignored the boy's questions, too busy going about their own business, but persistent effort eventually paid off.
"The Mercenary Guild? Head toward the city gates. If you follow the alley leading to the Carriage Depot, the first building you see is the one you're after."
Luckily, the Mercenary Guild wasn't far away.
Lawrence thanked the passerby and went to the place he'd indicated.
The Redanthus Branch Mercenary Guild looked more like a tavern than an official institution.
The interior appeared quite dim.
Faint lanterns hung here and there, casting shadows across the hall. The flickering shadows by the reception desk seemed like they'd never disappear.
The hall was more crowded than Lawrence had expected. Naturally, since everyone here was using the guild, they were all mercenaries.
Even their gear, at a glance, set them apart.
Some wore leather armor, others had chainmail made of interwoven wires.
There were even mercenaries in robes like Lawrence—but underneath, armor peeked out unmistakably.
Everyone carried a different weapon, reflecting their unique personalities.
Some mercenaries hefted swords as tall as a person.
Others had axes so heavy they left gouges in the floor.
He also spotted the spears and polearms he'd had in mind, and a fair number wielded bludgeons or morning stars.
It was a chaotic mix with hardly any sense of unity, but if there was one thing they all had in common, it was that they were filling the air with thick, crude smoke from their rolled cigarettes.
Lawrence brushed off the sudden memory of Reynold.
There were three reception desks with lights on. Two of them were busy dealing with mercenaries.
Only one reception desk was free. A young receptionist was checking some documents. With a pounding heart, half anxious and half excited, Lawrence made his way to the empty desk.
"Hello. I'm here to register as a mercenary. Can I sign up?"
"One moment, please. You said you're here for mercenary registration, correct? Is this your first time visiting the Mercenary Guild?"
She was a true professional.
As soon as Lawrence approached, the receptionist quickly set aside her paperwork.
"Yes. This is my first time."
Moving with practiced ease, as if she'd done this countless times before, the receptionist cleared her workspace in an instant and pulled out a wooden tablet from the desk.
"Understood. Please fill out this wooden tablet first. If you're unable to read or write, I can escort you inside for assistance."
Not all mercenaries could read or write.
It was quite common for peasants, desperate for a way to make a living, to turn to mercenary work. In fact, it was only natural that there were more illiterate mercenaries than those who could read.
"Oh, I'm fine. Do I just need to fill this out?"
"Yes. The Mercenary Guild is open to everyone. However, please keep in mind that if you're found to have engaged in problematic activities, you will be removed from the roster."
"I understand."
It was common sense. In other words, don't do anything too out of line.
"If you have any form of identification, we can simplify the registration process."
"…I don't have any."
Lawrence hesitated for a moment, thinking of the letter Reynold had given him. But he didn't want to reveal it here. Part of him wanted to put distance between himself and the Church, but more than that, he simply didn't want to show a precious letter, sealed with wax, to someone who had nothing to do with the order.
Taking the quill pen, Lawrence began filling out the wooden tablet.
The questions were mostly ordinary, asking for basic personal details.
Things like name, place of origin, age.
There was no reason to hide his name.
As for his place of origin… after a moment's hesitation, he wrote Hilton Village.
He didn't write his real age.
Lawrence thought that if he put down 14, he'd be dismissed as just a kid.
Hadn't it been the same at the inn?
So, he took a deep breath and added five years to his real age, writing down 19.
He smoothly answered each question, but his hand suddenly stopped.
On the wooden tablet, it said he had to pay a 50 Copper registration fee for joining as a mercenary.
"You need to pay the fee for that."
A businesslike voice spoke.
Apparently, the receptionist had noticed his hesitation right away.
"Is it absolutely necessary?"
"The registration fee is only required the first time, so there's no need to worry."
The receptionist's sales-like smile was irritating.
He couldn't believe how he'd already had to spend so much money right after leaving the monastery.
But what could he do?
Those were the guild's rules.
With a sigh, Lawrence took out his coin pouch.
The clerk who received the registration fee took out a wooden badge from the desk.
"All set. Welcome to the Redanthus Branch Mercenary Guild as our newest member. Once your identity has been verified, you can enjoy all the benefits the guild offers. Mr. Lawrence… from today, you can start working as a Wooden Badge Mercenary. If you'd like, I can introduce some jobs suitable for your rank right now."
"No, I'll check them out later."
He could look at the job requests another time. For now, the priority was to get the equipment he needed for the mercenary work.
"Oh, and for mercenary gear, it's better to use the blacksmith rather than the weapons shop. The guild has a partnership with them, so the prices are lower and the equipment is better quality."
You should definitely check it out, she added with a faint, genuine smile instead of her usual business grin.
For a smile that cost 50 Copper, it wasn't pretty at all.
After finishing his registration and stepping outside, Lawrence found a small crowd had gathered in front of the guild, which had been empty before.
Boom boom!
A drumbeat rang out, as if demanding attention.
"We are the Wolves of the Battlefield! Everyone here knows of our remarkable feats in the Rival Plains Territory War! Heroes confident in your skills, young people eager to achieve greater glory—how about joining us and stepping onto a bigger battlefield?"
Nearly a dozen mercenaries watched as the standard-bearer raised his voice.
"The Wolves of the Battlefield? Not bad. I heard they defeated the Ironblood Knights at the Rival Plains Territory War."
"That's nonsense. I've seen the Ironblood Knights myself. They're not opponents we could possibly face."
A small stir ran through the crowd of mercenaries. A rough-looking mercenary spoke as if dismissing the claim.
"It's true they participated in the Rival Plains Territory War and won. But it's a lie to say they defeated the Ironblood Knights."
"So they won the war, but lost the real fight? Is that what you're saying?"
"Yeah. Real knights are on another level. They're monsters to the bone."
"When those guys charged in on horseback, dozens, even hundreds of soldiers were cut down. Do you think it would be any different for mercenaries? I felt that… painfully so during the Rival Plains Territory War."
His voice was almost somber.
The words, spoken from experience, left the other mercenaries hesitant to respond.
After watching the mercenary recruitment for a while, Lawrence walked away.
Every profession has its own hardships, and mercenaries are no exception.
For now, he headed to the blacksmith that the receptionist had recommended.
It wasn't hard to find the blacksmith. The atmosphere was different from the typical shops lining the street.
Sweat flowing in streams. Muscles bronzed by the sun.
Each time a hammer struck the anvil, sparks flew up.
Whether or not there were customers, the shirtless craftsmen bustled about, busy with their work.
The desperate sound of working the bellows. Never-ending tempering. The craftsmen, facing the inferno, sought their own flames.
Right now, this had to be the busiest shop on the entire street.
"Is anyone here?"
"Looking for something in particular, young man?"
A middle-aged craftsman responded to Lawrence's greeting. Perhaps it was because he had spent so many hours sitting in front of the anvil— His head was completely bald, shining under the light. At first, Lawrence thought he was short because his back was slightly hunched. But when the craftsman straightened up, he easily stood taller than Lawrence.
"I was sent by the Mercenary Guild. I'd like to take a look at some equipment."
"Ah, so you're a mercenary? Give me a moment. Gozle! Come over here for a second!"
The bald craftsman called someone from inside the blacksmith.
"Coming!"
A deep, booming voice replied from further within. A moment later, a man drenched in sweat appeared.
"What's up?"
"He came on the Mercenary Guild's recommendation. Go and show him some of the equipment."
"Ah, that job again. Understood. This way, please."
Gozle wiped the grease and sweat from his hands onto his pants.
"I'm Gozle."
"I'm Lawrence."
Their introductions were brief. Lawrence followed as Gozle led the way.
"So there must be a few mercenaries like me looking for a blacksmith, huh?"
"I wouldn't say it happens often, but it does happen from time to time. The guild's receptionist has to refer them first, though. There aren't that many mercenaries who manage to get on the receptionist's good side."
Usually, even after hearing about it, most don't bother coming by, he added, sounding half complaining, half resigned.
"So, what would you like to see? Just tell me. We have pretty much everything you might need."
"Then, could I take a look at some swords first?"
"Swords, huh… Are you planning to use it yourself?"
Lawrence nodded.
Gozle thought for a moment, then said, "In that case, this one should suit you," as he took out a sword with a simple appearance.
"Considering your build, this should fit you well. Try swinging it."
Lawrence took the sword handed to him. His first impression upon holding it was that it felt heavier than he'd expected. If he didn't handle it with both hands, he was sure he'd tire out after swinging it just a few times.
Not good.
A sword is something you have to use facing an opponent in real combat. He was certain it would be at least twice as tough in an actual fight.
On top of that, he couldn't even guess how much time it would take to get used to it.
He was deeply disappointed.
Having grown up wandering back alleys and gotten used to all sorts of manual labor, he'd always been fairly confident in his physical strength. But now, facing the reality that he couldn't even handle a single sword properly, he couldn't help but sigh.
"It was originally designed for women. As you can see, it prioritizes practicality over appearance, so it's not exactly pretty... but it's light, so it should be easy for you to handle."
And yet, this was considered light.
Without hesitation, Lawrence set the sword down. He couldn't entrust his life to a weapon he couldn't rely on in an emergency.
He couldn't use the sword. At least, not right now.
"Do you happen to have any spears instead of swords?"
"A spear? I actually have even better options for spears."
With a bright smile as if Lawrence had made an excellent choice, Gozle pushed the sword aside and took a spear down from the rack.
"Unlike swords, spears don't require a long time to master and are great weapons you can use immediately in real combat. It's a shame not many people know that."
"Is that so?"
"There's a reason spears are issued as standard weaponry to soldiers. Go ahead and try this one for yourself."
The spear Gozle picked was a bit shorter than a typical spear. The shaft was sturdy, and the tip gleamed sharply.
In other words, it was a short spear. You could say it was a type of Short Spear.
This one wasn't exactly light either. But compared to the sword he'd just tried, it felt much lighter. Above all, since it was meant to be wielded with both hands, it felt much less burdensome.
If he used a spear... Should I focus on thrusting as expected?
He tried thrusting the spear forcefully into empty space.
Whoosh—a satisfying sound rang out.
The force was there.
The speed, too.
He hadn't actually struck a real opponent, but the power seemed more than enough.
"Do you like it?"
"Yes. I'll take this one. By the way, do you also repair armor?"
"Of course. This is a blacksmith, after all."
Lawrence took off the leather armor he was wearing and showed it.
The leather armor he had received from Reynold was worn out and had so many frayed spots that it didn't seem very usable as it was.
"Hmm… I'm sorry to say, but what do you think about getting a new one instead?"
"Is repairing it that difficult?"
"No, it's not that I can't do it. But to be honest, with the condition it's in, buying a new one would actually be much cheaper."
"Is that so? Then could you show me some leather armor?"
He set aside any lingering attachment. Unlike the robe Edith had tailored for him, the leather armor didn't really fit his body. He felt a bit sorry for Reynold, but when it came to armor that his life might depend on, it was better to have something more reliable.
He bought the spear and leather armor set that Gozle recommended. The total came to 1 silver and 30 copper. After some haggling, he managed to get 30 copper knocked off and paid a neat 1 silver.
With most of his preparations finished, Lawrence returned to the inn. He ate dinner in his room and, while the water he fetched was cold, he used Fire to warm it and soaked his body.
As soon as he slipped into the hot water, it felt like all his accumulated exhaustion melted away.
After washing away his fatigue, he lit a candle.
He left the window slightly open. The night air drifting in from outside helped keep his sleepy eyes open.
Time to begin. Lawrence gathered his resolve and focused his mind.
In the shadows dancing from the candlelight, Shadow began to take form.
He reached out, shaping Shadow into an arrow. He'd only recently realized that keeping his hands busy doing something—anything—helped much more than just having them sit idle.
It wasn't that he was actually touching it; rather, it simply aided him in picturing it more clearly in his mind.
Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, he could focus without worrying about anyone watching him.
Shadow began to take on the shape he was picturing in his mind.
The once-blunt tip grew sharp, like a spear tip. The arrow shaft, which until now had been inexplicably thick, also thinned out. It looked quite similar to the spear he had bought at the blacksmith.
Lawrence swallowed dryly.
This is where it really matters.
How long can he hold this shape? And will the arrow-shaped Shadow actually fly toward its target? Aiming for the open window, Lawrence released Shadow.
Or rather, he only willed himself to shoot. Shadow drifted weakly through the air, vanishing before it even reached the window side.
"..."
For a moment, disappointment flickered in Lawrence's eyes. But that quickly turned into joy.
He'd done it. Perfect-looking or not, he had finally succeeded. His clenched fist radiated the thrill and excitement he felt.
He had changed the shape of Shadow and even glimpsed what might come next. Right now it could barely manage to fly, but if he kept working at it, he was sure he'd be able to use it like a crossbow one day.
He didn't even feel any pain in his chest or head this time.
So, it looked like firing a single shot posed no problem for him. And that night, as if to celebrate Lawrence's achievement, his dream led him once again to a familiar scene.
…The forest where he had met Red Eyes.