Book 11: Chapter 13: Thornblood Mercenary Corps

“Sir, there are a few mercenaries who said they accepted the Mercenary Guild’s commission waiting for you downstairs.” Not long after Qin Lun and Hill returned to the tavern, a waitress knocked on their door and gave them good news.

“So fast!” Qin Lun and Hill exchanged a glance, both seeing doubt in each other’s eyes.

They didn’t know much about the mercenary organizations in the Toril World, but they had seen how things worked. Generally, even for popular commissions, mercenaries would first consider the pros and cons before deciding whether to take the job.

Most importantly, unless they met in the Mercenary Guild hall, registered mercenaries were not allowed to approach employers privately, as per guild rules.

First, the Mercenary Guild needed to collect a referral fee. Second, sometimes more than one mercenary corps might want to take a commission, and the guild had to screen them, which was part of their responsibility to the employer.

Back and forth, even if the employer wasn’t too picky, it would still take about three or four days. Plus, both the employer and the mercenaries needed to prepare supplies for wilderness exploration, so in most cases, it took about a week to officially sign the contract and set off for the destination.

Of course, Qin Lun and the others didn’t have that much time to waste, so they tried to speed up the process. For example, they spent a lot of gold on the commission process, asking the Mercenary Guild to skip the screening and actively recommend a suitable mercenary corps.

They also specified in the hiring conditions that only a mercenary corps already equipped with exploration supplies could accept the commission.

These conditions basically limited the candidates to large mercenary corps, as only their reputation was strong enough for the guild to vouch for them, and they had the financial resources to keep wilderness survival supplies on hand.

Even then, it wasn’t an instant departure—they still needed to assess the risks and determine how many people were needed to complete the commission safely. Reducing the preparation time from a week to two or three days was the limit Qin Lun and the others could tolerate.

“It must be those jerks trying to take advantage,” Sif said in the room, his face red and breathing heavily.

He had been feeling down lately, and now that he calmed down, he always felt the world was so dark and people’s hearts so treacherous, missing the days when Old Butler Mason was still around.

“Don’t worry, let’s go down and see. Rand will stay here with you!” Hill comforted him with a smile, then gave Qin Lun a meaningful look, and the two went downstairs side by side.

“You know the Toril World better. In your opinion, is this trouble or luck?” Hill cautiously asked in the Team Channel.

“If they don’t have a referral letter from the Mercenary Guild, then it’s trouble. Otherwise, they’re probably just small players trying to get something for nothing,” Qin Lun replied with a light smile. “For us, as long as they’re not from Umberlee’s Church, it’s fine. Cannon fodder is cannon fodder—we’re short on time. If someone goes with us, that’s what matters. If gold doesn’t work, we’ll use force. We’ll see who ends up taking advantage of whom.”

The Mercenary Guild had existed in the Toril World for a long time and had a good reputation. Their procedures were very formal, and the referral letters they issued usually had specific magical seals that couldn’t be faked.

The two serial killers had no qualms; they weren’t afraid of facing tough opponents even if they had to use force. Sif was just a down-on-his-luck minor noble, and the small amount of gold he had wasn’t enough to attract truly powerful figures. Those trying to take advantage of him probably weren’t that strong and would easily be played by the three serial killers—this was something Qin Lun and the others had already figured out.

As Qin Lun and Hill chatted and laughed on their way downstairs, someone in the Oak Barrel Tavern’s main hall was also talking about Sif and them.

There were three young mercenaries, two men and one woman. The leader was tall and handsome, with a firm, chiseled face and wavy golden hair that fell to his shoulders. Even in the noisy tavern, he stood out remarkably.

He wore a set of dark purple plate armor covered in scratches, with some of the paint flaking off in places. However, the armor didn’t look like ordinary mass-produced gear. The shoulder guards arched upward, each adorned with over a dozen steel spikes.

The breastplate was distinctly rounded, making him look like he was wearing a barrel, with a faded purple rose emblem over the heart. The forearm guards extended to the elbows, connected to the shoulder guards by ring-shaped armor, leaving no gaps in the upper body’s protection.

The cylindrical helmet he held had a cross-shaped eye slit, giving it a fierce and intimidating appearance.

Some observant mercenaries could tell that this armor wasn’t available on the market. It was a heavy knight’s armor from the Shaar Empire in southern Faerûn, near the Steaming Lake and the Shining Sea. Moreover, it was a custom family armor that only nobles of knight-captain rank or higher could wear.

Judging by the young knight’s age, this rather old armor probably wasn’t his—it was likely an heirloom passed down from his father.

However, compared to the unique armor, the weapon in his hand drew even more attention from the tavern’s mercenaries.

It was an ordinary-looking wide-bladed Horse-Cutting Saber, but its size was impressive—nearly twenty-five centimeters wide, two meters long, with a spine an inch thick and a slightly upturned tip. The handle, about forty centimeters long, was wrapped in cotton cloth, with occasional worn spots revealing the smooth, polished oak beneath.

A few older mercenaries looked at the saber, their eyelids twitching, and their usually loud voices dropped to a murmur.

In their minds, there was only one evaluation for this weapon: it was definitely a deadly tool. Warriors below the Great Knight rank couldn’t wield it—its weight alone would exhaust an ordinary fighter.

This weapon was the ultimate combination of strength and beauty; when fully unleashed, it could even slice a land dragon in two.

“The commission Miss Linda referred to us isn’t easy—Death Lands… I hope the employer isn’t an idiot, or we’ll be exhausted,” said the other man.

He wasn’t as tall as the golden-haired knight and wore no armor, only a set of cloth garments. His limbs were long, and his hands and feet were wrapped in cotton bandages. His hands were pale and smooth, with slender fingers.

He looked somewhat lazy, chewing on a piece of dry grass and squatting on a wooden stool like a monkey. Only his bright eyes occasionally scanned the tavern entrance, watchfully observing everyone who entered.

A curved horn dagger was tucked at his left waist, while he toyed with another pitch-black dagger in his right hand. This dagger had an eye pattern etched on the blade, and the hilt was a fearsome dragon head, making it intimidating to look at.

He was a dual-blade rogue, or perhaps an assassin who also dabbled in wandering.

“Lago, change that lazy attitude of yours. Miss Linda has referred us quite a few good tasks—stop complaining,” a pleasant voice spoke up among the three. The only woman in the group began to speak.

The young woman wore a black velvet cloak with a hood and a white veil over her face. Under the cloak was a white double-breasted robe, which looked like either a priest’s robe or a mage’s gown.

Although her body was completely covered by the robe and her face was veiled, her eyes—the only part visible—were bright and captivating, making one instinctively feel she was a stunning beauty.

She held a branch-like staff in her right hand, topped with a small fire crystal. However, her next action completely ruined her originally calm demeanor, revealing a mischievous nature—she actually used her short staff to tap the rogue on the head.

“Hey, Winnie, I was just saying,” the rogue quickly slipped off the stool and hid behind the knight, smiling ingratiatingly at the female mage.

“Hmph, you know we spent all our money to redeem ‘Twilight’ for you last time. If we don’t take on a job soon, we’ll be sleeping on the streets,” the mage retorted, glaring at the black dagger with the eye pattern in the rogue’s hand.

“Still better than you always spending money on perfumes more expensive than gold… I’m wrong, I’m wrong, Winnie, please don’t get worked up,” the rogue muttered, then looked up to see the female mage raising her staff menacingly, and his face instantly paled.

“Rick, Leader, stop her! If she burns down this tavern, we don’t have the money to pay for it now.”

“You know that, so don’t provoke her!” The valiant knight sighed irritably, grabbed the rogue by the collar, and tossed him in front of the female mage. “Winnie, scold him later. Our employer seems to be coming down—let’s focus on business first.”

…

Qin Lun and Hill looked at the three mercenaries before them, a flicker of surprise in their eyes.

“Trouble?” Hill whispered in the Team Channel.

“Doesn’t seem like it. Looks like paying that hefty fee to the Mercenary Guild was useful after all,” Qin Lun replied with a smile. “These two men and one woman seem quite capable.”

“Hello, I’m Rick, the Leader of the Thornblood Mercenary Corps. These are my companions, Winnie and Lago. Oh, and this is the referral letter issued to us by Miss Linda, the guild registrar.” The tall, valiant knight handed Qin Lun a red-sealed envelope.

“Are you Sif Hulan?” the rogue beside the knight asked warily, looking at Qin Lun.

“No, I’m a friend of Sif. He’s upstairs. If we agree on the commission, I’ll take you to him,” Qin Lun replied with a nod. “Since the Mercenary Guild recommended you, you should already know the details of the commission, right?”

“Yes, to escort you to the Death Lands, protect your safety along the way, and return to Baldur’s Gate. The daily payment is 100 gold pieces,” Rick said seriously. “However, we need to add one condition to this task.”

“What kind of condition?” Qin Lun didn’t refuse immediately but looked up at the knight intently.

“Two weeks—we’ll only protect you for two weeks at most. In other words, aside from the round trip to Baldur’s Gate, you can only stay in the Death Lands for one week,” Rick explained, though he muttered to himself that this condition wasn’t his idea but a personal requirement added by Linda when she assigned the task.