In the Human Empire, being a mercenary often feels like being a jack-of-all-trades, handling every odd job under the sun.
Most human mercenaries are either half-trained blue-bloods or hired by wealthy families.
They mainly take on escort missions or guard specific places or treasures.
At a glance, being a mercenary might seem like a decent job, right? But as always, every bright side of the world has its dark side.
“That bastard Maximilian. He always dumps subjugation missions on us. Hope he gets stabbed in the dark someday. A whole month of pouring rain! And he sends us to hunt a forest troll in this? It’s no different from telling us to die!”
“Still, he’s better than the last guy, isn’t he? He throws in some easy missions now and then.”
“That guy or Maximilian, they’re all the same breed.”
“True enough.”
As expected, when I came down from the leader’s room, I saw mercenaries, faces flushed red from heavy drinking, ranting loudly.
The tavern was filled mostly with beastmen, their animal ears and tails crowding the space, with hardly any humans in sight.
This place, called “Cat’s Tail,” was a tavern run by a human owner who married a beastwoman settled in the Human Empire, catering specifically to beastmen.
It also served as an inn, with beastman mercenaries like us as its main guests.
The lower district.
In this out-of-the-way corner, where the high and mighty don’t bother to come, you can see beastmen living together in their own community.
The same goes for Mosul, the city where our Black Tail Mercenaries primarily operate.
“Paramir? Done talking?”
“More or less.”
I took a seat where Furdwal and Tenok were sitting.
The two were already so drunk they could barely hold themselves upright.
A dog—no, a wolf—and a cat beastman, they were like a match made in heaven.
They bicker like they want to kill each other, but give it a moment, and they’re back to being inseparable, a sight that’s honestly tiresome to watch.
“Where do you get the money to drink like this? What about that promise to save up for a dowry?”
I asked Furdwal while ordering cheap beer from the barmaid.
As expected, Furdwal seemed to have already squandered a good chunk of his share from this job.
Even if he stuck to the cheapest drinks, he’d ordered expensive liquor and every kind of pricey lamb dish.
Tenok, freeloading off him, looked perfectly content, but no matter how you slice it, this was a waste of money.
He’d go on about proposing to Nora and saving for a dowry, only to get plastered and ramble.
No matter how much we tried to stop or coax him, Furdwal’s extravagant spending habit never changed.
“You can save up next time!”
“Ugh.”
I sighed, but I couldn’t just scold him. After all, I’d been quietly mooching off him plenty myself.
Sure, Furdwal plays mean pranks sometimes, but the reason I’ve put up with him so far is exactly this.
His wasteful spending. Being extravagant means he spreads it around to those nearby too.
“What did you talk about with the leader? Was it, you know, that?”
“Nothing like that. I told you, I like the Black Tail Mercenaries.”
“I knew it! I believed in you. Unlike this disloyal jerk, Furdwal.”
“Who’re you calling disloyal?! I believed in him too!”
Bam!
Furdwal, clearly drunk, slammed the expensive liquor bottle on the table like he meant to break it.
Then he downed the rest of the strong liquor and fell backward with his chair.
Thud!
The sound of tongues clicking—tsk tsk—echoed around, as if saying, “Again?”
Leaving the completely passed-out Furdwal at the lodging, Tenok came back and asked me again.
“You’re serious, right? You’re not leaving the mercenary band? This job was tough, and the missions are getting harder and trickier. The pay’s getting worse too. Maybe the monsters in Garam Forest are drying up… I know it’s a big ask, but I hope you’ll stay with us for a while.”
“Don’t worry. If I needed money, I’d have left long ago. No matter what, I’m sticking with the leader to the end.”
“Paramir, you’re one hell of a guy. There’s no human as loyal as you.”
“Well, if you look hard enough, there might be a few.”
“You know what I mean. Here! Another round!”
“Yes!”
Tenok and I shared the liquor and lamb Furdwal left behind, passing it back and forth.
I let some of the guys glaring enviously nearby have a few pieces—it’s no big deal.
In group living, what’s mine is yours. We eat together, use things together.
Though stealing someone’s underwear and wearing it is something I can’t stand.
I deliberately channeled mana to get tipsy, and as the buzz hit, my tongue loosened like it was greased, spouting all sorts of random nonsense.
We laughed at trivial jokes, giggled, and laughed again.
Yeah, this is what being a mercenary is about.
What other joy is there for tail-wearing beastman mercenaries who live by the sword?
Eventually, I followed Tenok, who rushed to the back of the tavern to puke, patting his back a few times before bringing up something I’d been thinking about.
“Tenok. I want to sort out the hierarchy tomorrow. Will you help?”
“Urghhh! …What did you say…?”
“…Never mind.”
Tenok, heaving out everything he’d eaten, stared at it for a while before staggering and grabbing my shoulder.
“Wait. Did I hear that right? Hierarchy… Urgh…”
“Let’s finish this first, then talk.”
“Alright… Urghhh!”
In the end, we decided to talk about the hierarchy sorting tomorrow.
Neither Furdwal, passed out and tossed into his lodging, nor Tenok, endlessly vomiting, was in any state to discuss it.
***
“Hierarchy sorting? Not a bad idea. Good thinking. It’s better than leaving it to Furdwal and Tenok. Paramir, as of today, you’re the deputy leader. Of course, we’ll announce it after the hierarchy is settled. Furdwal, Tenok, don’t try to win just to show off—go down appropriately. Paramir, don’t go breaking bones either. A trip to the temple costs money.”
The next day, when I brought up the hierarchy sorting to the leader, Furdwal and Tenok were immediately summoned.
Still pale from last night’s drinking, the two responded weakly with a “Yes.”
Surabar didn’t need to worry—they’d already seen with their own eyes that I’m a swordmaster.
They wouldn’t get any funny ideas… probably.
“It’s about time we sorted the hierarchy again. Paramir, control your strength. You two, figure it out yourselves. Don’t make excuses about losing because you got drunk the night before.”
“Understood.”
“Yes, Leader.”
Say what you will, but Furdwal and Tenok are clearly the most trusted senior members under the leader.
Having stayed with the Black Tail Mercenaries for over ten years, reaching senior status with all limbs intact and no major injuries is proof of their skill.
Aside from me, our beastman-only mercenary band always takes on the dangerous, dirty jobs that human mercenaries avoid, so members’ faces change frequently.
Still, they say almost no one under Surabar has died, except those who left voluntarily.
Since I joined, not a single person has died.
It’s not for nothing that I stick with the leader.
Whether doing mercenary work or something else, beastmen who get gravely injured or crippled and end up dying in some corner are a common sight in the Human Empire.
Considering the empire’s hidden reality, Surabar’s ability to ensure his men don’t go hungry or die is something “great” doesn’t fully capture.
“Everyone, assemble.”
“Yes, sir!”
After the forest troll subjugation, the Black Tail Mercenaries, who spent a full day with booze and women, looked like absolute human—no, beastman—trash.
Still, when the leader came down and called for assembly, they showed some semblance of discipline, sitting down in a somewhat decent manner.
“Hm. Looking at you lot, we can’t do this now. Rest until noon, then gather at the mercenary guild’s training grounds. No exceptions.”
Surabar finished speaking and headed back to the lodging.
Though he cherishes and treasures his men like family, seeing them like this makes both him and me wonder if we really need to try this hard.
I’ve never heard it directly from the leader, but I’ve caught glimpses of regret in his expression.
We each went to nurse our hangovers or catch up on sleep.
At noon, as promised, we headed to the mercenary guild in a rush, led by Surabar.
When sorting the hierarchy, we borrow the spacious, well-equipped training grounds that Mosul’s mercenary guild branch boasts.
“Damn it! Why! Why! The subjugation’s done! Let us rest! You got extra pay too! This isn’t a wrestling ring for you to mess around in!”
At Surabar’s request to use the training grounds for a day, Maximilian jumped like a lid popping off a boiling pot, making me let out a pfft sound.
“Sorry, Maximilian. It’s that time again.”
“Just get out! Go outside the city and fight among yourselves!”
Ah, our dear Branch Leader Maximilian!
Seeing him so delighted to see us visit the guild’s public training grounds warmed my heart.
Furdwal and Tenok seemed to feel the same.
…According to the contract, mercenaries registered with the guild may use the training grounds provided by the guild at any time…
Surabar recited the mercenary rights, which most mercenaries don’t even know, in front of Maximilian, who was worried we’d wreck the place again.
He’s memorized that long text without even looking at it. Truly a respectable leader.
“Damn it! Do whatever you want!”
These days, mercenaries don’t train, so seeing the free training grounds so crowded must fill the branch leader with joy, right?
Seeing us make such active use of the training grounds, I bet he feels the mercenary industry’s future is bright. My heart feels warm.
“I’ll make sure we don’t break anything like last time.”
“Don’t just say you’ll be careful—don’t break anything! Think about me having to bow to His Excellency the Border Count! Argh!”
Leaving the exceptionally happy Maximilian behind, we headed to the training grounds.
The mercenary guild’s training grounds are for all registered mercenaries, regardless of race.
There’s no clause prioritizing “human mercenaries.” It’s a loophole in the contract, you see.
Maximilian could try to block us from using the grounds, but what’s a frail branch leader, specialized in paperwork, going to do about it?
We’ve seen it before—Maximilian, shedding tears of joy at our voluntary use of the training grounds, makes me feel so good.
“You bastards… Fine, use it! Use it! Break it or not, do whatever! Ungrateful beasts who don’t know who feeds them…”
“Thanks as always, Maximilian.”
“Just go to another town already! Screech!”
As always, the wailing Maximilian was dragged out by the guild receptionists.
Last time, he said he’d supervise to prevent damage, but he couldn’t resist our members’ taunts, joined the sparring, and got thoroughly beaten.
The delicate branch leader was always looking for a chance to get revenge on Furdwal, but that day didn’t seem likely to come.