An immortal mercenary is third-rate. The reason they're paid so much is so they can die in place of nobles and commoners.
Nobles often made this kind of joke at the expense of mercenaries.And of course, every time such nonsense came out of their mouths, mercenaries bristled.In times of danger, nobles acted as if they would grant them land and titles, yet the moment the war ended, they spoke like that.
Naturally, the longer a mercenary stayed in the business, the stronger their distrust and hatred toward nobles grew.
Being hired multiple times by nobles meant you'd seen that many disgraceful things.Jake, commander of a mercenary company, was no exception.
They really came up with excuses without end.
The enemy's casualties were too few; they claimed that since the enemy leader hadn't been killed, it wasn't a true victory; they insisted that winning a local skirmish meant nothing because the overall war situation was unchanged.Such endlessly creative excuses often made not only the mercenaries but even the employer's own retainers grimace.And despite their dazzling creativity, every excuse somehow ended with the same conclusion: "We can't pay the promised money." That was the truly astonishing part.
But even Jake—who had heard more excuses than he could count—had never heard anything as absurd as this one.
"Go die for us."
Jake blinked blankly at the knight standing in front of him.
Did I just hear that wrong?
I could maybe expect this from some other noble, but he wasn't the kind of man to spout such bullshit.
"Forgive me, I must be tired these days, my ears are—"
"You didn't hear wrong. I said: go die for us."
Crazy bastard.
Jake swallowed the curse rising to his throat and glared at the knight.Had the man lost his mind after all those consecutive defeats lately?He had already earned enough money to justify leaving soon, and now he was suddenly being asked to go die?
"My lord, do you know what my profession is?"
"A mercenary."
"You're well aware. For a moment, I feared you had mistaken me for a knight."
"It would have been better if you were a knight."
If so, he could've asked without feeling burdened.The knight sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.Exhaustion and self-loathing, things Jake hadn't seen before, filled his gaze.
"Forgive me. It seems I spoke far too bluntly. I can see how it could be misunderstood."
"Misunderstood?"
"The truth is, I meant to ask you to hold the defensive line. But the situation is so hopeless that the words came out wrong."
So in short: the task was so dangerous it pricked even his conscience, and he'd gotten emotional.Scaring people for no reason—honestly.
"It's fine. It's understandable."
Jake hid his true feelings and put on a professional smile.
After all, the man in front of him was the employer's right-hand.Showing irritation for no reason could cause problems with the remainder of his payment.More importantly, even if the phrasing wasn't pleasant, the tone itself showed a degree of consideration toward mercenaries.Up until now, he had assigned tasks within the bounds of common sense; no matter how dangerous, he wouldn't cross the line… probably.
"The task is simple. Tomorrow, the traitors will launch a full assault. While my lord evacuates, I want you to hold the enemy back with me."
"…Pardon?"
"For as long as possible. At least until I die. I'll pay the remainder with this when you retreat."
The knight took something out from inside his coat and set it down with a thud.A red gem the size of an adult man's fist.Judging from its brilliance, it was unmistakably a Prince's Tear, mined only from the southernmost quarries.A gemstone of this size would easily cover three years of hiring expenses for Jake's entire mercenary company.
But Jake didn't spare it even a glance; instead, he grimaced.
"My lord, did you perhaps eat something bad yesterday?"
"I'm perfectly fine."
"A crazy man never admits he's crazy."
"Watch your mouth. Even for you, if you cross the line—"
"You're the one crossing it. You trying to drag us into your grave and bury us with you? Do I look stupid to you?"
Sure, it sounds nice.A noble tale of knights staying behind on a doomed battlefield, buying time for their liege to escape, sacrificing themselves to the last man.And the mercenaries who fought alongside them? They fight only to a reasonable point, then get thanked for their service and sent off with proper payment.A naïve greenhorn might fall for that story.
But unfortunately for the knight, Jake was a thoroughly seasoned mercenary.
"You're the commander-in-chief, aren't you? And you're telling me to leave only when you die? When the army's on the brink of annihilation? Don't give me that crap! You think the enemy will just let us stroll away?"
"You're mercenaries, not knights. The enemy won't pursue you too recklessly—"
"To be exact, we're mercenaries who've caused them massive casualties! From their perspective, grinding our bones into powder wouldn't be enough revenge!"
A mercenary has no reason to fight once they're no longer getting paid.That's why the moment their employer dies, mercenaries naturally flee, and the enemy usually doesn't chase.If they recklessly pursued and the mercenaries resisted desperately, they'd take unnecessary losses.The problem was: that kind of tacit agreement only worked when neither side had deep grudges.
"Do you have any idea how much I've stirred them up until now? Even a lowly foot soldier convulses at the mere mention of my name— and you think they'll just let me walk away?"
No matter how money-driven a mercenary may be, it means nothing when hatred blinds the enemy.And Jake had once pushed the enemy's command structure to the brink of destruction.Mercenary or not, they would chase him to the ends of the earth to kill him.They'd send pursuit even if he escaped right now, yet he was being asked to wait in plain sight in the middle of the battlefield?
"You're planning to use us as sacrifices."
"So you intend to drag us in as forced participants buying time for your lord to escape? How magnificent. I'm overwhelmed by such honor; my back bends in gratitude by itself!"
At the biting sarcasm, the knight clenched his lips tight.At least he had the decency to feel ashamed—his face was full of humiliation.But that shame didn't change the fact that he clearly had no intention of letting Jake go.
"…If you refuse, then I will take command authority. I'm sorry, but I need you to stay with us to the end."
"And if I don't want to?"
"Then I'll have to use this."
Clack.
The knight's sword slid slightly from its sheath.
He meant that if necessary, he'd cut Jake down and take command of the mercenaries himself.
Jake clicked his tongue at the absurdity that made him laugh.Jake's subordinates wouldn't obey anyone but him, so it was a pointless threat.
But the knight had already resolved himself to accept dishonor.
He wouldn't listen even if Jake explained, and even if he did believe it, he would still force things through out of desperation.
"Disgusting bastard."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You've actually eased my conscience—so thanks."
"What?"
"Since it's come to this, I might as well take your head. It's already too late to run, so I'll do everything I can."
The knight's expression twisted instantly.Where guilt had been moments ago, only contempt remained.
"I misjudged you."
"How did you judge me?"
"As a man who upheld morals, even for a mercenary. Someone more knightly than most knights. But you were just a mercenary after all."
"Oh, listen to that. You're one to talk."
"No. But I do feel better. If we're both trash, then I don't have to feel conflicted anymore."
A hollow laugh escaped Jake.It seemed the knight believed Jake was doing this to save his own skin.Jake curled his lip in a mocking sneer.
"You're misunderstanding something. I have no intention of surviving and going home."
"What?"
"Whether I accept your proposal or reject it, I die. The problem is that my men die with me. So shouldn't I at least try to ensure they live?"
"The enemy's pursuit—"
"If I offer your head and mine together, they might let it go. In the end, the one they bear a grudge against isn't the foot soldier—it's the commander."
The knight's eyes widened, clearly unprepared for such an answer.His eyelids twitched for a moment, then his expression collapsed into hollow disbelief.
"Ha… haha. You'd die just to save your subordinates?"
"They're men I brought with me to show a better future. If that fails, the responsibility is mine. Isn't that obvious?"
"Obvious… yes, it is obvious."
Shing—
The knight's sword slid completely from its sheath.His posture was smooth, fluid—like flowing water.A beat too late, Jake drew his own blade, but the bitterness welled in his mouth.
No opening at all, damn it. Just how many steps above me is this guy?
He knew a few tricks to cover the gap in skill, but they wouldn't work on the knight in front of him.Jake wasn't someone who'd lose face in the mercenary world, but that reputation meant nothing here.
Compared to this knight—whose prowess made even powerful warlords click their tongues—he was woefully lacking.At this rate, he might die here before he ever got the chance to offer his neck to the enemy.
Well… that wouldn't be the worst outcome.At least his men would immediately flee the battlefield the moment they realized he was dead.
"I almost wish you were my lord instead."
Unlike the tense Jake, the knight's voice was sorrowful.The lord he had served for generations had abandoned him like a disposable pawn, while Jake—the mercenary before him—seemed like an entirely different kind of man.
A lord of noble blood and a mercenary commander of humble birth.
But if you ignored the blood running through their veins, who truly suited the title of king?Suppressing yet another sigh rising in his throat, the knight spoke.
"I am sorry."
"Eat shit."
Fwack—
At the very moment he answered, Jake swung his sword with all his strength.A flash of steel burst before his eyes, and blood welled hotly at his neck.He hadn't even seen when the knight drew or swung.All he could infer was that the blade must have passed clean through and was now on the opposite side.
He had expected it, but the speed of the conclusion—so fast it was almost meaningless—left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Damn it.
Even in defeat, the knight—who had never once doubted his own victory—remained calm.Not a trace of tension was visible on his face, and Jake couldn't help but let out a wry smile.
Talent, huh…
With that final thought, Jake's vision sank into darkness.
非非非非
"…Young master! Young master!"
Jake awakened suddenly, head spinning.
Someone was shouting something directly into his ear while shaking his body violently.
…What? Am I alive?
Impossible.He had felt, unmistakably, the sensation of a blade splitting his neck open.Not even a legendary saint performing a miracle could've saved him from that.So was this… a dream?
"Young master! Oh heavens, young master!"
But it felt far too real for a dream.The ringing in his ears pounded through his skull, and every time his body shook, nausea surged up his throat.He wanted to yell at them to stop, but before he could, the person raised their hand again.
"Please wake up! If you die like this, I'll be killed too!"
Smack, smack, smack!
You lunatic—stop hitting me!
The hand was small, yet every slap rattled his skull like a hammer.When both cheeks reddened to the point of burning, Jake couldn't hold back any longer and shouted:
"Stop… stop it…!"
"Y-young master! You've come to your senses!?"
Through his blurry vision, Jake focused on the figure in front of him.Looking closer, the voice was high, and the body was small—just a boy.Jake opened his mouth to complain about the throbbing pain, but before he could, the boy burst into tears and cried out:
"You're safe, young master! I thought you had left us for good!"
What? Young master?
Jake blinked at the absurd address."Young master"—he had never once in his life been called anything like that.Even with good treatment, a mercenary might be regarded as something like a half-knight at best.Yet this boy was calling him as if he were the scion of some noble house.
"What kind of nonsense are you spouting after slapping my face like—!"
Jake's hand, which had been rubbing his swollen cheeks, suddenly froze.His palm was… too soft.Up until moments ago, it had been covered in calluses.His real hand could never feel like this.
Wondering what was going on, Jake checked his own palm.
"…What the hell is this?"