New timber now lined the Southern Highway, and the familiar grooves of wagon ruts were beginning to mark the soil once more.
When the former bandits had first started their labor, the villagers watched from a wary distance. Women ushered their children inside, and men stood at the edge of the road clutching their hoes, no one daring to approach the outlaws. Now, however, while the fear hadn't entirely vanished, the gap had closed slightly—at least during the transport of goods. For their part, the former bandits were strangely well-behaved. No doubt Raisa’s watchful eye played a part, but many also bore the expressions of men who were terrified of losing their next meal.
I watched the scene from a slight distance in the manor’s backyard.
Gash was busy teaching a younger former bandit how to secure a rope. It wasn’t a knot designed for a quick escape, but one meant to keep cargo from shifting. Beside them, a man from the Black Claw Mercenaries stood with his arms crossed. He was keeping watch, but he wasn't shouting or hurling abuse. Further off, a former bandit with a knack for archery was repairing quivers beneath the village watchtower. It seemed he wasn't permitted to carry a bow yet; for now, he was restricted to maintenance.
“Aren't you going to let him use a bow?” I asked.
Raisa answered without looking up from her map. “He’s got decent skill, but he’s still got the eyes of a mountain brigand. If I let him arm himself in front of the villagers, it’ll cause a panic we don't need. For a while, tending to quivers and strings is enough.”
“Isn't it a waste of talent?”
“If we rush and the villagers flee, that’s a bigger loss... Being a sentry isn't just about standing there. You put the ones who are too intimidating behind their own allies.”
I see.
I looked over at Gash. Among the former bandits, he was one of the most capable. He knew the riverside trails and could predict exactly where a man might try to flee. Yet, Raisa hadn't given him a weapon; she had assigned him to scouting and hauling cargo. Those who looked like flight risks were put on fence duty where they could be easily supervised. Those with sticky fingers weren't allowed near the inventory. Those who were too well-known to the locals were kept out of the village proper.
She wasn't just suppressing them with force.
She was reading people and deciding where they fit.
The same applied to the Black Claw Mercenaries. Their numbers were modest—only about twenty were fit for duty. There were injured men among them, their armor was mismatched, and their blades were poorly maintained. An ordinary noble would either see them as disposable fodder or dismiss them as shabby rabble.
But something was off.
Despite the grueling work, none of them had touched the village's goods. They didn't even loiter near the recovered wine barrels. Even those resting would snap to attention the moment Raisa raised a hand. They weren't being screamed at, and they weren't just bound by the promise of gold.
—They’re truly following her. That woman...
“Raisa. You mentioned you were with the Kingdom Knights, didn't you?”
“Yeah, I did,” she replied, rotating her shoulder with a weary sigh.
Despite having been disciplining outlaws and arranging sentry rotations since dawn, her posture hadn't slumped. She was skilled in combat, capable in command, and her judgment in cutting off the bandits' escape routes had been impeccable.
“What was your specialty there?”
“Frontline skirmishing, rearguard during retreats, escorting supply units, countering night raids... I dealt with a lot more mud and blood than elegant ceremonies.”
“I see... And your record?”
“I won't claim I never lost... There were losing battles. But I think I was good at bringing the people I was entrusted with back alive.”
Bringing them back alive as much as possible.
I narrowed my eyes slightly at that. If it were just about winning, any skilled fighter would suffice. But a commander who can preserve their troops is a different breed entirely. Corpses don't turn a profit. Soldiers who return alive will work again. A leader who can minimize casualties is inherently valuable.
“Then why did you leave the Knights?”
“The higher-ups didn't care for me... They decided they didn't need a woman who won through 'dirty' tactics. My methods didn't sit well with the types who like to line up neatly and win with dignity.”
“I see... A bunch of fools, then.”
Raisa raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is that what you think?”
“Naturally. Neither bandits nor enemy soldiers are going to wait around in a pretty formation... Winning where you can win, crushing escape routes, and bringing your allies back alive—if you can do that, it’s more than enough.”
Raisa fell silent for a moment.
The usual casual smirk remained on her lips, but the look in her eyes had shifted. She was measuring me, trying to gauge whether my words were a passing jest or a sincere conviction.
“Boss, you really are a strange noble.”
“What of it, at this late stage?”
“Ordinary nobles don't say that much to mercenaries... To them, people like me are just sent to the front, and if we die, that's that. If we win, it’s their glory; if we lose, it’s the mercenaries’ fault. Few pay for scouting, and even fewer add a bonus just because we finished the job ahead of schedule.”
“I simply paid for the work performed.”
“And there aren't many nobles who can say that with a straight face.”
Raisa looked toward the yard. Gash was shouldering a heavy log, a member of the Black Claw walking beside him. A young village man received the load a short distance away; the interaction was still stiff, but it was an improvement.
“Besides, you don't pretend to be a saint. You’re blunt about the fact that you didn't 'save' these bandits, that you’re just using them for cheap labor... I happen to like that about you.”
“I'd prefer not to be liked by you.”
“Don't let it worry you. It just means I’ve found an interesting employer.”
I didn't care about being interesting.
But this woman was useful.
She had the strength, the leadership, and the charisma. Most importantly, she knew how to manage people. She had turned Gash into a guide, kept the thieves away from temptation, and kept the intimidating ones away from the civilians. She didn't just bind those likely to run; she made them feel that staying and working was the more profitable choice.
That wasn't a skill you could learn just by swinging a sword.
To let such a talent wander the countryside—the Kingdom Knights clearly had no eye for quality.
—No, that wasn't right.
I should be grateful to the Kingdom.
This was a person who, by all rights, should have been a knight commander—or higher. Yet here she was, her reputation tarnished, her entire group struggling to find a place to belong, standing right in front of me. Rather than hiring her for a one-off contract at a premium, I could secure the entire group permanently if the conditions were right.
Truly, my luck was holding out.
“Raisa.”
“What is it, Boss?”
“Do you have your next job lined up?”
Raisa narrowed her eyes. “Nothing certain... Just the usual. I’ll take the group and look for the next contract. Escorts, bandit hunting, cleaning up someone’s mess. If there’s work that puts food in our bellies, we’ll take it. If not... we sleep under the stars.”
“A rootless existence, then?”
“That’s the life of a mercenary. But lately, I’ve been having second thoughts... This job at the manor doesn't leave a bad aftertaste. My people are eating, and they aren't discarded the moment they get hurt. Even the former bandits are being given a chance to be useful....Nobles like you are a rare breed.”
As I thought, letting her walk away would be a massive loss.
“Listen... How would you feel about me hiring your entire group?”
The smirk faded from Raisa’s face. Beside me, Clarice, who had been focused on her ledger, let out a sharp breath.
“...What did you just say?”
“I said, let me hire the entirety of the Black Claw Mercenaries. Not as individual contractors, but as the standing soldiers of House Razgrim. The pay will be low, of course... but I’ll provide food and quarters. If you’re injured on duty, I’ll cover the medical expenses. In exchange, you protect the highway and you keep these former bandits in line. Set up a watchtower system for the village so that I don't have to deal with reports about bandits every single day.”
Raisa didn't answer immediately.
“Boss... I’m a mercenary. I’m an outcast from the Knights with a terrible reputation. They call me the woman who doesn't win with honor. The Black Claw is the same; people say we take on the dirty jobs no one else wants. If you take us in, the reputation of House Razgrim will suffer.”
“It’s already in the gutter, isn't it?”
Raisa blinked.
Clarice made a face—the look of someone who desperately wanted to argue but couldn't find a single lie in what I’d said.
“I’m called a villainous noble. They say I only pick up people with baggage. People say whatever they want; adding the Black Claw at this point is a mere rounding error.”
“A rounding error? You really are something else...”
“A reputation won't protect a highway. A title won't mend a village fence. A 'clean' history won't make a bunch of former bandits follow orders. You look at people and you find a use for them. That is exactly what I am paying for.”
Raisa let out a long, slow breath.
“You’re fully intent on buying us for a pittance, aren't you?”
“Naturally. If you were expensive, I wouldn't want you.”
“Food, a roof, and medical care if we’re hurt. Keeping the whole group together. And you pay extra when you see the results... Boss, you might think you’re buying us cheap, but for people like us, that’s a godsend.”
“You’re exaggerating. It’s just bread, beds, and medicine.”
“I’ve seen a thousand mercenaries who couldn't find all three at once...”
Raisa looked back toward the yard. The Black Claw members were watching us intently. Gash, still holding his log, was waiting with a look of desperate hope on his face.
“Just so we’re clear, the Black Claw is rough around the edges. We won’t be 'proper' soldiers. And I still won't fight with 'honor.' If you’re fine with that, then we’re yours.”
“It’s not a matter of being fine with it. I’m hiring you because you’re useful.”
“Right, right... we’ll call it that then.”
Raisa gave a low laugh and extended her hand.
“The Black Claw Mercenaries are under your command as of today. The highway, the village, and the outlaws—I’ll take care of it all for you.”
I took her hand and gripped it firmly.
“The contract is sealed. Work for my sake.”
“For the sake of House Razgrim, you mean?”
“I’m fairly sure I said my sake...”
Clarice closed her ledger and let out a small, soft laugh. “It’s the same thing.”
I highly doubted that. In the yard, as word spread that Raisa was staying, the Black Claw members exchanged glances of relief. Even Gash and the other former bandits looked strangely at ease.
—Why are they so happy?
I had simply secured more labor for a low price. The grocery bills would go up. The medical expenses would go up. The paperwork would increase. Still, it was better than me being dragged out every time a bandit stubbed their toe on the highway.
As I was brooding over the numbers, Gash timidly raised his hand.
“Lord Vain... Will there be food tomorrow, too?”
“Yes, provided you work for it.”
In that instant, the former bandits' faces lit up with joy.
That’s why it’s so heavy.
Feeling the weight of their gratitude, I turned away and began calculating just how much the food expenses were going to hurt my coffers.