The day after the wagons were raided on the Southern Highway, a fresh stack of papers sat waiting on my desk.
Reports on the bandit damage, the names of the injured, the number of wheat sacks stolen, the location of the ambush, and the direction the thieves had fled. That much, I could handle. The problem was the second stack of papers sitting right next to it: the estimated costs. Preparation funds for requesting aid from the Kingdom Knights in the royal capital, gratuities for borrowing soldiers from neighboring domains, fodder for the horses, food expenses for the troops' stay, and a success reward to be paid after the job was done. Just looking at the strings of zeroes made my head throb.
I skimmed the first page, glanced at the second, and by the time I reached the third, I dropped the whole stack back onto the desk.
"...Clarice, what is this?"
"The cost of hiring outside help to deal with the bandits," she replied. "Deploying the Kingdom Knights from the capital is notoriously expensive, and if we borrow men from neighboring lords, they’ll expect a hefty reward. Sending troops isn't just about lending out swords, after all. Horses eat, men eat, and social debts remain between noble houses."
"My purse will bleed out before the bandits are even caught."
Clarice didn't deny it.
That was the most terrifying part. When she went silent like that, it usually meant she agreed with my grim assessment. I leaned back in my chair and stared up at the ceiling. Until recently, I’d been busy enough just trying to fix the rotting manor my father had left me. I’d purged the old guard, picked up a white-haired maid, hired a brilliant woman who’d been cast out of her own home, and even crushed a wheat embezzlement scheme. Just when I thought I could finally get a decent night's sleep, bandits had to show up. And to stop them, I’d have to watch my gold vanish into the pockets of the knights.
Give me a break. All I want is a life of leisure, yet the money meant to fund it keeps pouring into one bottomless pit after another.
"Why are the Kingdom Knights so expensive? They’re just cutting down some thugs."
"To the knights, it’s about more than just the fighting. A deployment from the capital involves protocol—who gave the order, which roads they take, where they lodge, and which nobles get to offer their formal thanks afterward. On top of that, there’s no guarantee they’ll arrive quickly."
"Expensive, slow, and they demand a thank-you note? What kind of useless overhead is that?"
"I wouldn't go so far as to call them useless, but they certainly aren't someone House Razgrim can afford to call upon casually right now."
Mylene lowered her eyebrows in a worried expression as she set down my tea. The man who had come from South Village was still resting in a guest room. His wounds weren't deep, but he’d developed a fever after his desperate run through the mud. Mylene had been tending to him since morning, bringing porridge and changing his bandages.
"Master, do the people of South Village believe the knights will come for them?"
"They probably do. For a moment, I did too. But this is the reality of the situation."
I tapped the stack of papers with a finger.
"If I call in the knights, I’ll go bankrupt before the bandits do."
Clarice let out an exasperated sigh, then immediately pulled out a different document.
"Which is why we need to look for an alternative."
"A cheaper one?"
"Don't sound so eager. But yes, it might end up costing less than the knights."
"Go on."
Clarice lowered her voice slightly.
"...Mercenaries."
Mylene’s hands stopped mid-motion.
Mercenaries. The word had a certain stigma. They were people who swung swords for coin. If the employer changed, so did the direction of the blade. Some were known to turn into highwaymen themselves once the war was over. They didn't fly clean banners, and they didn't prattle on about the King’s honor or the pride of their house. That was why nobles looked down on them—they’d hire them for dirty work, then loathe them for being the kind of people willing to do it.
But from my perspective, it was a little different.
"Mercenaries, huh? If they move for money, that makes things simple."
Clarice looked at me, skeptical. "...Are you serious?"
"Completely. Mercenaries who move for a contract are much easier to control than knights who move for honor. In exchange for gold, I can specify exactly what they must do. I can also specify what they can't do if they want to get paid. It's far more straightforward than dealing with the Kingdom Knights."
"Mercenaries have been known to desert when things get difficult."
"Knights are slow, and neighboring soldiers leave you with political debts. In that case, I’d rather have mercenaries where I can put a 'no pay if you flee' clause in the contract."
Clarice fell silent for a moment. She didn't look like she was searching for a rebuttal; she looked like she was already calculating how to turn my demands into a functional contract.
Mylene clutched her tray to her chest and spoke up timidly.
"Will the mercenaries... will they be violent toward the villagers?"
"I won't hire any who are. And if they try anything, I won't pay them. In fact, I’ll levy a fine against them."
"A fine? Against mercenaries, Master?"
"Of course. There’s no point in hiring help to stop bandits if they just turn into a different set of thugs. If they run wild in my domain without my permission, they’re no different from the bandits themselves."
A look of relief crossed Mylene’s face.
I’m no saint. I have no intention of weeping over the plight of the villagers. However, it’s a problem if things are stolen from my domain without my say-so. Both the wheat and the people are essential resources that support my peaceful lifestyle. I can't have bandits or mercenaries devouring them as they please.
"Clarice. Is there a group we can actually use?"
"...I’ve heard a rumor about one. The Black Claw Mercenaries. They aren't many in number, but they have a high success rate with highway escorts and bandit hunts. However, the knights despise their methods. They aren't the type to announce their names and fight fair. They move at night, they use traps, and they block off escape routes before they strike. The knights call it 'dirty' fighting."
"They sound perfect for bandit extermination."
Clarice’s eyes widened slightly. "So you don't mind that part?"
"If bandits surrendered just because a knight shouted his name, I’d pay the premium for the knights. If they run, block the exit. If they hide, strike at night. I'm not trying to host a ball; I'm trying to crush bandits."
"You really say things that would make a knight's blood boil without even blinking, don't you?"
"Will their anger reduce the number of bandits?"
"No, I suppose it won't."
"Then it doesn't matter."
I pushed the first stack of papers aside and kept only the one with the mercenary group's name on it. The Black Claw Mercenaries. The name lacked any shred of class, but class wasn't what I needed right now. I needed the power to reclaim my wagons, clear the Southern Highway, and protect my wheat and my peace.
◇
Clarice dug deeper into the Black Claw Mercenaries.
The leader was a woman named Raisa Vangrit. She was young, but she’d reportedly been a member of the Kingdom Knights. She hadn't been some low-level squire, either; her skills had been highly valued, and she’d even been entrusted with her own squad. However, she’d left the knights after a clash with her superiors. The exact reason was unclear—disobeying orders, rebelling against a superior, bruised egos, or defiling a knight's pride. The rumors were many, but they all boiled down to the fact that she wouldn't follow her betters.
Since then, she had been leading her own mercenary band for about three years.
"An elite knight turned mercenary? She sounds like a handful."
"She probably is. A female captain who walked away from the knights would be difficult for both nobles and knights to manage. And if she’s already hated for her 'dirty' tactics, it makes her even more of an outcast."
"By 'dirty,' do you mean she steals?"
"No. I'm talking about her combat doctrine. Using decoys, setting traps, striking while the enemy is asleep, and only attacking after their retreat is cut off. To a knight, that's cowardly. But against bandits, it’s perfectly logical."
"I like her more and more."
Clarice gave a resigned shrug. "I figured you’d say that."
"However, I’m not hiring her just because she’s cheap. Even a low price is a waste if they desert. And it’s a disaster if they cause trouble in the village. Since I'm bringing armed outsiders into my territory, I need to vet them personally."
"So, you're going to meet her?"
"What? Me?"
"...You are the employer, are you not?"
"You should go. I'll wait here at the manor."
Clarice placed her hands on the desk and stared at me with a heavy, silent pressure. Mylene was also looking at me with a troubled expression. Stop it. Both of you, stop acting like I’m the villain here.
"Master," Mylene added softly. "If you meet the mercenaries in person, won't it show them that we are serious about this contract?"
"...Even you’re ganging up on me, Mylene?"
"Yes. The people of South Village must be very anxious as well."
"So to ease their anxiety, I have to do more work? The world really isn't designed for my comfort, is it?"
In the end, I was forced to go.
It was a hassle, but I knew I had to see them with my own eyes if I was going to hire them. I didn't care about their looks; I cared about the maintenance of their blades, the way the men stood, their attitude while listening, and their eyes when gold was mentioned. Those things told a story. In my previous life, I could tell more about a person's work from the state of their desk than their resume. This was no different.
◇
The inn where the Black Claw Mercenaries were staying was located on the outskirts of the town, just off the path to the Southern Highway.
It wasn't the kind of high-end establishment a knight would frequent. The walls were weathered and the sign was chipped. However, the horses tied up outside were well-groomed, and their leather harnesses weren't cracked from neglect. The spears leaning under the eaves were worn from use, but their tips were kept sharp.
I stopped at the entrance.
"Hardly a place for a noble," Clarice whispered. She had accompanied me today; Mylene had stayed back at the manor to look after the injured man and the pantry. I wasn't so bored that I’d drag my entire household around with me.
"That’s why it’s cheaper than the knights."
"You really are consistent, I'll give you that."
I pushed the door open.
The interior was a cacophony of noise. The smell of cheap ale, roasted meat, leather, and iron filled the air. Mercenaries were laughing, slamming their mugs, and shouting toasts. But not all of them were distracted. A man near the entrance sipped his drink while his eyes never left us. A woman by the window sat with her back to the wall, positioned to watch both the room and the street. An archer in the corner hadn't even unstrung his bow.
Not bad.
They were boisterous, but they weren't sloppy.
In the back sat a woman with reddish-brown hair tied in a messy knot. Her leather armor was scarred, and the sword at her hip looked like it had seen its share of battles. She was young, but her eyes had the weary weight of someone much older. The moment she saw us, she arched an eyebrow.
"What's a fancy noble doing in a dive like this? If you’ve come to gawk at the woman mercenary captain, I’m charging an admission fee."
Her voice was rough and gravelly.
I glanced at the woman's sword, then noted the positions of her men before answering.
"I don't have money for gawking. I'll pay if you can crush bandits."
The corner of the woman's mouth curled into a smirk.
Raisa Vangrit, the captain of the Black Claw Mercenaries.
The woman the knights despised had eyes that were far more interesting than I had expected.