SWY 1

Chapter 1: Verden

“You want me to take on a bodyguard job?”

Sharhan, who had been dragged half-asleep to the Verden branch of the mercenary guild, stared blankly as he repeated the question. Still groggy, he wasn’t even sure he’d heard it right.

“Yeah.”

“Bodyguard as in… protecting someone?”

“Exactly! You just have to keep the client safe. Easy job for mercenaries like us who make a living with our bodies!”

Abel grinned and gave Sharhan a wink as he slung an arm around his shoulders. Sharhan scowled and shoved him off, rubbing his face to shake off the sleep.

“Wouldn’t Ras be better for this? I heard he’s worked as a personal guard before. My mercenary experience is pretty short, and I’ve never done a bodyguard job.”

Since becoming a mercenary, Sharhan had only ever swung a sword on the battlefield, killing enemies. The idea of guarding someone instead felt completely foreign.

“It’s fine if you haven’t done it. You just have to stick close day and night and make sure they don’t get hurt or killed, that’s it.”

“Stick close day and night?”

He disliked it even more now. Just as Sharhan was about to say no, Abel suddenly pulled out a coin pouch.

“See this?”

“…? It’s a coin pouch.”

“It’s our group fund. Take a look inside.”

Sharhan caught the pouch Abel tossed to him and opened it. Empty. It hadn’t felt heavy when he caught it, so he had a bad feeling – and sure enough, there wasn’t a single coin inside. Alarmed, he looked up, and Abel nodded solemnly.

“It’s empty… don’t tell me you used it all?!”

“There were 10 coppers left, but I spent it all on beer yesterday. We’re broke. If you don’t take this bodyguard job, we’re getting kicked out of the inn.”

Their mercenary group, Red Wolves, was staying at the Blue Spider’s Goblet, a fourth-rate inn whose only upside was how cheap it was. A night there cost 5 coppers per person. And now, they couldn’t even afford that, they were about to end up on the streets.

‘No wonder Abel’s been looking so stressed lately.’

Especially whenever it came time to spend money, he’d get all serious and nitpicky, enough that the others in the group whispered behind his back that their leader had gone stingy.

“Why me though? Just give it to Ras already!”

Sharhan raked a hand through his messy hair and slumped back. The rundown old inn had paper-thin walls, and he’d barely gotten any sleep from the noise next door. He was exhausted. Abel let out a heavy sigh at the sight of him slouching.

“The client asked for someone with a good face.”

“What?”

“They didn’t want an ugly guy hanging around. That’s why they came to our group. And you, well… your face is something else. You’re the flo-”

Abel hurriedly shut his mouth, but it was too late. Sharhan’s expression had already soured at the mention of his infamous nickname, Red Wolves’ Flower.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?!”

“Sorry, sorry. It just slipped out. Anyway, you’re the only one who can do it.”

“……”

“They said if you take the job, they’ll throw in a caravan escort mission too. You’re in, right? Otherwise we’re all on the streets. You know there’s barely any work going around these days. Most mercenary groups are just sitting on their asses. We’ve been doing nothing for three months. Who knows when another job like this will come up. I need the money. I’ve got a wife and kid waiting for me to send something. And it’s getting colder, I don’t want to sleep outside.”

Three months ago, the decade-long war between Marquis Valmon and Count Arle over the Arjan Plains – the Empire’s breadbasket – had abruptly ended. Marquis Valmon emerged victorious after the direct bloodline of the Arle family was completely wiped out, save for a single ten-year-old bastard.

Both houses had poured obscene sums of money into hiring mercenaries, swelling the ranks beyond count. But when the war suddenly ended, those mercenaries were all left without work. Now, every branch was flooded with fighters desperate for a job. There weren’t enough requests to go around, so most mercenary groups had nothing to do. Red Wolves was one of them.

“…Who’s the client?”

Realizing just how dire things were, Sharhan asked the question.

“You’ve probably heard of them. The Black Pearl merchant guild. You’ll be guarding their leader. The guy who came today with the offer was the Verden branch manager, Simon. He stepped out for a minute but should be back any-”

Just then, the door opened, and in walked a man with bright red hair.

“Welcome back, Branch Manager Simon. This is Sharhan, who’ll be acting as the personal guard. What do you think? Good-looking, right? The client will be thrilled.”

Abel stood up straight and tapped Sharhan’s leg. Sharhan scowled briefly but got to his feet.

“Sharhan, rank two mercenary.”

“I’m Simon, branch manager of the Black Pearl’s Verden branch. And yes, you’re quite handsome. I like it. How shall we proceed with the contract?”

Simon looked Sharhan up and down with approval. Abel glanced over nervously, still waiting on Sharhan’s final word. Sharhan let out a long sigh.

“Alright.”

After all, he needed the money too.

***

“Now that the contract is complete, let’s go meet the guild leader.”

Simon, having swiftly packed up the contract, led the way. When they stepped outside, a luxurious four-wheeled carriage awaited, drawn by four massive horses strong enough for cavalry use. Sharhan stared in awe at the kind of fancy carriage only a wealthy noble would use.

‘So the rumors were true. The Black Pearl really is raking it in. I mean, they even used magic for the contract.’

Instead of a standard agreement, Simon had presented a magic contract scroll, an expensive magical tool. Sharhan hadn’t expected anyone to bother using such things for a mercenary contract. From what he knew, a scroll like that cost at least 30 gold. And his pay was 20 gold a month.

“Please get in. The leader is waiting.”

Scratching the left side of his chest where the contract mark had appeared, Sharhan climbed into the carriage. The interior was just as extravagant. Even the floor was covered in a plush wool carpet, and the seats were so soft he sank into them as soon as he sat. There was enough space for his tall frame, 6 feet, to stretch out comfortably. He gave the wall a few light knocks; it was made of high-grade Magni-steel, solid and secure.

“Holy shit, this is insane.”

But what truly impressed him was the tiny orb embedded in the ceiling, a heatstone. Like the magic contract scroll, heatstones were ancient relics from the old empire. Powered by stored mana, they gently warmed the surrounding air. That tiny heatstone alone was probably worth 50 gold. When he saw one at the academy, it was smaller than this and cost 35.

“What kind of guild is this? Is the Imperial family backing them or something?”

The Verden branch had only recently opened, but Black Pearl was already famous. It had suddenly appeared a year ago and grown explosively, amassing wealth at an unbelievable rate. Since Red Wolves had set up camp in Verden a month ago, he’d heard all sorts of rumors, everything from “they’ll do anything that makes money,” to “they’re backed by the Imperial family,” to “they grew off loan-sharking and drugs.” The guild head was shrouded in mystery, only fueling the gossip.

Who knew if any of it was true? But one thing was certain: the leader was either very rich, very powerful, or very capable.

‘What kind of person are they? Some old man, maybe?’

Sharhan reclined and stretched his legs, speculating about the mysterious employer. Simon had gone up to ride with the driver, so there was no one to see his relaxed posture.

He yawned wide, folded his arms, and closed his eyes. The ride was smooth, the warmth just right, before he knew it, he’d dozed off.

“Mr. Sharhan?”

Someone calling his name jolted him awake. The carriage door was open, and Simon was there. Sharhan quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and got out. They were in front of a large mansion.

“I usually don’t nap, but I didn’t sleep well last night…”

He trailed off, awkwardly explaining himself for no reason. Simon simply nodded and turned around.

“The leader is waiting. This way, please.”

They walked down a corridor lined with red carpet. Simon’s pace was neither too fast nor too slow. Sharhan ran a hand through his hair and followed. Only at the very end of the long hallway did Simon stop and knock respectfully on the door.

Knock knock.

“Come in.”

A voice from inside granted permission.

“Please wait one moment.”

Simon stepped in first and returned shortly.

“You may enter.”

Sharhan dusted off his shirt, squared his shoulders, and strode inside.

“Good afternoon. I’m a rank two mercenary, Shar—?”

He still wasn’t thrilled about this bodyguard gig, but the employer was the employer. He needed to make a good first impression. He was in the middle of his polite greeting when his voice faltered. Sitting on the sofa, legs crossed and wearing a smug smile, was a man Sharhan recognized.

“Lestel?”

The man, Lestel, smiled and narrowed his eyes.

“Hey there, honey.”

Sharhan’s eyes widened in shock, then contorted with rage.

“I told you not to call me that, you crazy bastard!”