The World of Mercenaries

Chapter 18: The Little Mercenary Group

When Amy reentered the Mercenary Guild, the once-empty room was now bustling with people crowding around, engaged in a heated discussion.

“Is this really a dragon?”

“No way. Aren’t dragons supposed to be huge and terrifying?”

“Can dragons be this adorable?”

“Touch it—it’s ice-cold.”

“Haha, what kind of dragon knight is this?” A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd.

“Let me try riding it,” a young mercenary said jokingly, pretending to mount Lü’er.

“Stop!” Amy and Daqingshan shouted in unison, but it was too late. A cold mist emanated from Lü’er, followed by a crackling bolt of lightning that struck the room.

The crowd ducked in terror, leaving only three figures standing: Daqingshan, who was holding Lü’er’s mouth shut to stop its fiery retaliation; the hapless mercenary encased in ice and flickering with electric sparks; and Amy, sighing as he walked through the crowd.

“You’re so bold,” Amy said mockingly. “I admire your nerve, teasing a dragon. But your taste is awful—you chose to tease a baby boy dragon.”

Amy cast a Level-2 Ice Spell, Ice Shield, to dissolve the ice encasing the unlucky mercenary. Daqingshan helped the electrocuted man to a chair, apologizing profusely. “I’m sorry. I forgot to warn everyone. Truly, I’m sorry.”

It turned out that when Daqingshan had registered himself as a dragon knight, the elderly clerk couldn’t help but shout, “A dragon knight?!” Naturally, this caused a commotion, drawing more people into the small room. When they realized Lü’er was the dragon in question, disbelief quickly turned into curiosity, and soon, chaos.

Lü’er, basking in its newfound attention, proudly paraded around, puffing out its chest. Unfortunately, the crowd didn’t believe it was a dragon. Some even tried to test it—leading to the current disaster.

Amy glanced around the room, immediately guessing what had transpired. “Anyone else want to try their luck?” he asked with a grin. “Sorry, but baby dragons’ attacks are random. Don’t leave yet—it’s safe! It can only use spells below Tier-3. Don’t go! I was planning to charge two coins per touch. Please stay…”

The more Amy tried to persuade them, the faster the room emptied, including the unfortunate mercenary, who was helped out by his companions.

“Sir, you don’t have to hide under the table,” Amy said, addressing the trembling clerk. “Look, I’m a certified Level-2 Mage.”

The elderly clerk cautiously emerged, eyeing Lü’er nervously as he reviewed Amy’s form, which listed his profession as “Swordsman and Mage.”

“How do we fill out the ‘Mercenary Reputation Level’ section?” Amy asked.

“No need. Since you’re new to the guild and just bought your journals, your rank is G—the lowest level,” the clerk explained, still wary of Lü’er.

“What about the group?”

“If you’re forming your own, just write the name of your mercenary group.”

“Daqingshan, we’re just starting out. Let’s call it ‘Little Mercenary Group.’ What do you think?” Amy suggested.

“Very fitting,” Daqingshan agreed.

And so, the now-famous Little Mercenary Group was born.

The clerk collected their fees and affixed a small seal to their Mercenary Journals. With a flash of fire, their names appeared in their respective books.

“You don’t need to fill out these journals,” the clerk explained. “After each mission, the guild staff will record your completed tasks. Your rank will automatically increase as you accumulate successful missions. Don’t lose your journals—it’s expensive to replace them. Since you’re a new group, I’ll send your registration to headquarters. You can start accepting tasks tomorrow. For now, go rest.”

The next morning, Amy and Daqingshan arrived at the guild early, eager to take on their first assignments.

The clerk from yesterday had been replaced by a younger staff member. When Amy inquired about the elderly clerk, he learned the man was on leave after being “attacked by a vicious dragon.” Amy was indignant but held his tongue, knowing it would be futile to explain.

“Since you’re G-ranked mercenaries with a G-ranked group, there aren’t many tasks suitable for you,” the clerk said, flipping through records. “Here’s one: the village chief of Haimei lost two cows. The reward is one silver coin. Haimei is 20 kilometers from here.”

“Finding cows?” Amy shook his head.

“There’s another: Wark of Dal Village needs help herding sheep 50 kilometers to a pasture within two days. The reward is six silver coins.”

“Herding sheep? No way,” Daqingshan protested.

The clerk, growing annoyed, slammed the record book shut. “Do you even know your rank? G-level mercenaries don’t get daily tasks. Be grateful you have any options.”

Under pressure, Amy asked, “How can we rank up?”

The clerk explained the ranking system: mercenaries start at G-rank, regardless of their background. Completing 10 G-level tasks with a success rate of 60% or higher would promote them to F-rank. Similarly, groups needed to complete 20 G-level tasks with the same success rate to advance. Higher ranks required even more tasks and stricter conditions.

“Does this mean we have to do it this way?” Amy asked, despair evident in his voice.

“Of course,” the clerk replied matter-of-factly.

“What if we split the tasks? Can our combined efforts count toward the group’s rank?”

“Yes, your group can rank up as long as you complete enough tasks. But your individual ranks won’t change unless you personally meet the requirements.”

With this loophole, Amy and Daqingshan quickly accepted all 14 available G-level tasks for the week. They divided the tasks based on location, agreeing to reconvene in seven days.

Daqingshan’s southern route included:

Finding two cows.

Delivering a knife.

Acting as a stand-in for a blind date.

Finding a stallion for a mare.

Escorting an elderly woman riding a donkey to her hometown.

Collecting six Seven-Leafed Flower herbs.

Capturing a crop-destroying wild boar.

Amy’s northern route consisted of similar tasks.

Daqingshan completed his tasks smoothly, except for the cows, which had fallen victim to snow wolves. He returned with just two cow heads, which, due to Hamisian customs, were accepted as a successful completion.

Amy’s tasks were equally successful, barring one lost sheep from a herd of ten. The guild deemed it an acceptable loss.

The clerk congratulated them on becoming an F-ranked group and handed them their collective payment: five gold coins and three silver coins for all 14 tasks.

That night, Amy and Daqingshan lay awake, chatting.

“How much gold do you have left, Daqingshan?” Amy asked.

“Four gold coins and two silver.”

“Why so much? Didn’t you spend anything?” Amy was surprised.

“No. I hunted during the day, cooked my food at night, and camped outdoors.”

“I only have five silver coins left,” Amy lamented. “You know, delivering that spear to the capital took seven days. I had to take a sled there and back. Being broke is awful.”

He extended his hand toward Daqingshan, rubbing his thumb against his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Daqingshan asked, puzzled.

“i***t. Give me some money! What are you saving for, a wedding?”

Daqingshan, ever generous, handed over his savings. “Here, eight gold coins, including today’s earnings.”

Historians note that this gesture—rubbing thumb and fingers to request money—originated with the mercenary king Amy and became a timeless tradition among mercenaries.