Oil is an essential quasi-military supply for goblin hunting.
To distribute large quantities of oil outside the city, permission from the city’s ruler is required.
In other words, the approval of the Border Count of Mosul.
Of course, the busy Border Count can’t handle every detail, so the authority is delegated to Branch Leader Maximilian to approve on his behalf.
And yet, that very Maximilian has banned the use of oil, critical for goblin extermination.
Seriously, has he lost his mind?
Goblin extermination isn’t just a source of income for us mercenaries—it’s for the safety of trade caravans and the city’s residents!
“Why the hell is he blocking the oil? Is he really trying to screw us over from start to finish? What’s going through that head of his, Maximilian?”
“I’ve never tried to screw you over. I’m an honorable noble who knows how to separate public and private matters.”
“Whoa!”
Maximilian appeared from behind.
I thought it was just some drunk stumbling around, but it was the branch leader himself.
Sure, I badmouthed him to his face, but it’s fine.
On the surface, the Border Count’s loyal human soldiers handle things, but in reality, we’re the ones busy dealing with monsters.
That’s why, even when Surabar makes what seems like unreasonable requests, Maximilian ends up giving in.
In a way, he’s a parachuted noble assigned to the wrong post.
Branch Leader Maximilian looked at us with his usual grumpy, irritated expression—specifically, he was staring right at me.
“Paramir. I heard you rose to second-in-command after Surabar in yesterday’s hierarchy sorting. Congratulations.”
He extended his hand for a handshake, and I lightly reciprocated.
“…? Thanks. But Maximilian, why aren’t you providing the oil? Isn’t the grand finale of goblin extermination pouring oil into their tunnels? Did the city run out of oil or something?”
“I was going to provide it, of course. I know how capable you are. But the higher-ups said no—what am I supposed to do? Oh, Furdwal and Tenok are here too. Stop badmouthing me and listen for a bit. I don’t enjoy making things hard for you!”
Maximilian spoke as if he’d burst into tears if we didn’t hear him out.
What’s going on? We gathered around to listen to the branch leader’s complaints and the circumstances of the higher-ups.
“You all know the Border Count of Mosul has a son, right?”
“Oh, the young guy who got knighted recently? Pretty boy, probably popular with the ladies.”
“…Please, please watch what you say. Every time I hear you talk, my heart sinks. I don’t want to end up as dew on the gallows!”
If the branch leader’s heart sank, that’d be a problem in itself.
Sure, we grumble and badmouth him, but we know this branch leader is different from the ones before.
He’s got no real power to speak of, though.
“Alright, we’ll be careful.”
I nodded vaguely, agreeing to Maximilian’s request.
It’s just exterminating low-level monsters like goblins, right? Nothing difficult.
Seeing my brazen face, Maximilian sighed heavily and shook his head.
“Is the ground going to cave in with all that sighing? You’d need bigger, more dramatic sighs for that.”
At my words, Maximilian clenched and unclenched his fist.
He knows full well he’d lose in a fight.
“…Damn it. Things got complicated. I was going to give you plenty of oil and send you on the extermination mission. But the Border Count’s great son needs some great achievements.”
“Oh, that’s what it was? Definitely not your fault then.”
“This got troublesome.”
Furdwal and I listened quietly to Maximilian’s grumbling, nodding in agreement to show we understood.
It’s hard to argue when Mosul is an outer region, the closest city to the so-called “Demon Army” of the Tribal Alliance.
Of course, for the Demon Army to reach Mosul, they’d have to reduce the Tar Kingdom and Bers Kingdom to ashes first.
Even so, Mosul is the outermost city in the Human Empire’s territory. If those two kingdoms bordering the Demon Army fall, Mosul takes the direct hit.
Yes, a military city.
The city we live in, Mosul, is practically a military stronghold under the Border Count’s orders, always prepared for a secret, horrific invasion by the Demon Army.
But the Border Count’s eldest son, with no real combat experience or proven skills? That’s an unacceptable issue.
In the Human Empire, where the hereditary system persists, this great son needs real combat experience to prepare for an eventual Demon Army invasion.
Connections with countless soldiers and high-ranking officers, built through actual combat, are surprisingly important, regardless of individual ability.
For the growth of this future Border Count, goblin extermination—safe and without risk to life—is quite appropriate.
“What’s his name? The great Border Count’s son.”
“Garland. Sir Garland Hemilton. The next in line for Mosul’s Border Count. So please, Paramir, watch your mouth.”
“You’re scarier than Furdwal sometimes. Especially make sure neither he nor the knights with him overhear! And as you know, this mission prioritizes escorting the young lord without major injuries over exterminating goblins!”
“Don’t upset him! I pitched you as the best mercenary band in our city, but please, endure whatever happens. If this mission goes well, I’ll find you easy, cushy jobs no matter what. Please, I’m begging you!”
Seeing Maximilian practically on his knees pleading stirred a faint sense of pity I’d never felt before.
“…Alright, Maximilian. I’ll make sure nothing you’re worried about happens.”
“Trying isn’t enough! Don’t upset them, period!”
“Let’s go, guys! We’re running late.”
“Answer me before you go, you bastard Paramir!”
We headed out of the city, hearing Maximilian’s enthusiastic cheers. Man, what a voice.
***
Despite Maximilian’s warnings, Sir Garland Hemilton, the young, handsome (which makes it even more annoying) heir to the Border Count’s seat, acted like a typical highborn the moment he saw us.
“So, you’re the famous Black Tail Mercenaries?
I’ve heard of your reputation, but don’t get too wild. I trust you understand this extermination isn’t just for the safety of Mosul’s citizens.
If you think you’ll get in the way or be a nuisance, it’s better to head back to the city now.”
…What a jerk. Representing the Black Tail Mercenaries, I bowed my head to avoid causing trouble for the leader and Jasmine, who were likely enjoying sweet time in the city, showing the utmost courtesy a mercenary could muster.
That meant bowing my head, saying “Yes! Understood!” to whatever he said, and acting immediately.
Sir Garland, pleased with my demeanor, spurred his horse and galloped down the road.
Damn it.
We don’t even have a single pony, let alone a horse!
They’ve got horses for every man, and they’re charging like madmen without considering our situation—I wanted to turn 180 degrees and head back to the city.
But doing that would mean not getting a single coin of the extermination reward.
We poured all our strength into chasing the horses’ tails at a quick march.
Huff, huff…! God, I’m gonna die!
Thankfully, Garam Forest was close enough to reach in about two hours from the city (though that’s at a horse’s pace, not a human’s, which is the problem).
The supreme commander of the extermination force raised his hand with a stern expression, issuing orders to the soldiers.
“Halt. We’ll rest here briefly. Set up tents and scout the terrain.”
“Yes, sir!”
The dashing knight, clad in shining silver armor and a red cape straight out of a movie, gave orders, and Mosul’s loyal soldiers saluted sharply, immediately following through.
Us? We’d been running full tilt just to keep up with the horses’ tails, so we collapsed onto the dirt, panting heavily, not caring about the ground or anything else.
Furdwal, Tenok, and I have decent stamina, so we were fine, but the rest looked like defeated soldiers or refugees.
Sir Garland, looking down at us from his white horse, sighed and beckoned me with a gesture.
“They said you were impressive, but you can’t even keep up with this pace? I’m disappointed, mercenary leader.”
“…My apologies, Your Excellency.”
“Not ‘Your Excellency,’ Sir Garland. Well, rest as you see fit, leader. What I expect from you is to chase down any goblins that slip through, not direct hunting.”
“Understood, Sir Garland.”
“Rest easy.”
His words made something boil inside me, but I held it in.
For this mission, I was officially standing in for the leader, and whether this arrogant Sir Garland or whatever thought of me as the real mercenary leader didn’t matter—as long as I completed the mission without issues.
Endure, endure. Patience is victory… I mentally traced the character for patience, channeling a Buddha-like mindset.
Is this his first time hunting monsters? Seems like his first time working with mercenaries too… What a pampered young lord.
Anyway, once this mission is over, I’ll likely never see him again.
As the esteemed heir of a noble family, even if we live in the same city, we move in entirely different circles.
Since the supreme commander of the goblin extermination said so, we set up temporary tents at a distance from Mosul’s human soldiers.
Normally, we’d drive the goblins out of their tunnels and burn them alive with oil, but without oil, it was unclear how many days it’d take to complete the mission.
I don’t want to deal with this jerk for long…
“What do we do?”
Tenok, sauntering over after leaving the tent setup to the others, asked me.
What do we do? Obviously, we stay put.
I don’t know how much food we brought, but this is about dealing with goblin packs in the outer parts of Garam Forest.
Even periodically pouring oil into their tunnels and setting them ablaze doesn’t fully wipe them out—they’re tenacious.
If we collect enough of their dirty, long green ears, they’ll probably say they’ve done enough and head back.
If not, then maybe…
“As Sir Garland wishes, we’ll just stand by in the outskirts. Let’s take it easy. Since the noble lord’s involved, they’re paying us extra, so isn’t that nice?”
“Got it. Just mark spots for digging pits and make a few short spears?”
“I knew I could count on you, Tenok.”
It’s no big deal.
Tenok shrugged and went to instruct the others on what we needed to do.
The ones sweating and struggling in Garam Forest will be those knights, not us.
Whatever that annoying supreme commander and his entourage do, we’ll just do what we’re supposed to.