Two weeks later...
"Astra's Mercenary Solutions," he'd painted on the wooden sign with his left hand, the letters slightly uneven but readable. It hung outside what had once been a storage room above The Drunken Griffin tavern—the only space he could afford in a neighborhood where decent people didn't walk alone after dark.
The first rejection letter arrived within a week.
"While we appreciate your interest, we require established companies with proven track records..."
One month later...
The rejections had become routine. Merchants who needed caravan guards wanted references from other merchants. Noble houses seeking personal protection demanded recommendations from other noble houses. Even the Adventurer's Guild contracts required proof of successful operations.
"You need experience to get work, but you need work to get experience," Astra muttered, reading the latest rejection. His voice echoed in the cramped room, bouncing off walls stained with old smoke and whatever the previous tenant had spilled.
Three months later...
The stack of rejection letters had grown thick enough to use as kindling. Twenty-three in total—he'd counted them this morning while eating stale bread for breakfast. Again.
Astra sat on his single chair—also his desk chair, also his dining chair—and stared at the mathematical certainty of his failure spread across the rickety table. Rent for the room: eight silver per month. Remaining funds: twelve silver, three copper.
"One more month," he said to the empty room. The smell of roasted meat drifted up from the tavern below, making his stomach clench with hunger. "Maybe two if I skip more meals."
Outside his single window, he could hear the familiar sounds of the Rat's Quarter—drunken arguments, the crash of breaking bottles, someone retching in the alley. This wasn't how he'd imagined starting over.
His right hand, still wrapped in its perpetual bandages, lay motionless on the table.
"What went wrong?" The question had become his daily meditation, asked of walls that never answered back.
He knew what went wrong. Everything. His plan had been built on assumptions that crumbled the moment they met reality. He'd assumed his years as a royal guard would mean something to civilians. He'd assumed his combat skills would translate into business acumen. He'd assumed people would care more about competence than reputation.
All wrong.
The worst part wasn't the poverty—he'd been poor before. It was the daily confirmation that he'd become irrelevant. A has-been warrior trying to play merchant, fooling no one but himself.
His fingers found the silver card in his travel pack, the enchanted metal still warm to the touch. Princess Roxene's offer of future contact, extended three months ago when he'd still believed he could make this work alone.
He'd avoided using it. Pride, mostly—the same pride that had gotten him into this situation. What kind of man runs back to beg help from a twenty-year-old princess the moment his plans fail?
But pride was a luxury he could no longer afford.
An hour later, he stood before the castle gates, certain he was about to be turned away despite the enchanted card in his pocket. The guards examined the silver rectangle with expressions that shifted from skepticism to surprise to something approaching alarm.
"Please wait here, sir," one of them said, his tone suddenly much more respectful.
To Astra's amazement, Elena appeared within minutes, approaching with the same measured grace he remembered.
"Master Astra," she said with a polite nod. "Her Highness will see you. Please, follow me."
As they walked through corridors that practically dripped with wealth and history, Astra caught glimpses of the castle's training grounds through tall windows. Royal guards moved through practice forms with mechanical precision, their movements speaking of years of disciplined training.
One of them glanced up and their eyes met briefly. Astra felt the familiar tension of recognition without introduction—the shared understanding between soldiers, even across the gap between his former low rank and their elite status.
Elena led him to a private sitting room where Princess Roxene waited, looking exactly as composed as she had three months ago. She gestured to a chair across from her.
"Tea?" she offered.
"Actually, Your Highness, if it's available... I prefer milk and bread. Maybe with some kind of filling?" Astra felt slightly foolish making such a mundane request in such elegant surroundings.
"Of course." She nodded to Elena, who departed to arrange refreshments. "I trust you've been well?"
Astra pulled out his traveling pack and carefully extracted another collection of elemental stones—not quite as perfect as his first set, but still of exceptional quality.
"I brought additional materials, Your Highness. If you're still interested in purchasing them."
Roxene's eyes lit up with genuine interest as she examined the stones. Finally, she thought. Patience has paid off. Now I need to make sure I don't lose him.
"These are excellent quality," she said aloud. "I'd be happy to purchase them."
As she counted out gold coins, Astra accepted the payment with a quiet nod. But Roxene noticed the way his shoulders sagged slightly, the brief flicker of weariness that crossed his features before he composed himself again.
"How is your mercenary company progressing?" she asked casually, as though making polite conversation.
Astra's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"It's... a work in progress, Your Highness."
Of course it is, Roxene thought with satisfaction. Elena's reports from the merchant district have been quite thorough. Twenty-three rejection letters, if I'm not mistaken.
"These things take time, I imagine," she said with apparent sympathy. "Establishing credibility in a new field must be challenging."
The understanding in her voice—so perfectly pitched between genuine interest and royal politeness—made something crack in Astra's careful composure.
"No experience means no contracts, but I can't get experience without contracts," he admitted, the words coming out more bitter than he'd intended. "It's a circle I can't seem to break. Everyone wants proof of competence I can't provide."
He caught himself, straightening with embarrassment. "I apologize, Your Highness. A royal like yourself doesn't need to hear about a middle-aged man's business problems."
Roxene was quiet for a long moment, and Astra felt increasingly foolish for taking advantage of her kindness.
"I may have a solution," she said finally. "I have a research expedition planned during the academy's upcoming break. The location is remote and potentially dangerous—I'll need experienced protection for the journey. Would you be interested in a security contract?"
Astra blinked, genuinely surprised. He'd expected polite sympathy at best, not actual assistance.
"Your Highness... that's incredibly generous, but I couldn't—"
"It's not charity," she said firmly. "It's a legitimate contract with fair payment. The research site requires someone capable of handling unexpected threats, and you'd be providing genuine security services."
Perfect, she thought, watching his expression carefully. Remote location, dangerous conditions, extended contact time for comprehensive testing. And he'll be grateful enough to cooperate fully.
Feeling overwhelmed by her unexpected consideration, Astra reached for the silver card, intending to return it.
"I should give this back. I don't want to presume—"
"Keep it," Roxene said before he could finish the gesture.
At that moment, the door opened and a woman in royal knight colors entered. She was tall, sharp-featured, with the kind of bearing that suggested she could cut through steel with her glare alone.
"Your Highness, I—" She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes fixing on the silver card in Astra's hand. "What is that doing here?"
"Knight Captain Valkyrie," Roxene said calmly. "This is Astra. We were just discussing a potential security contract for my research expedition."
"Return that card immediately," Valkyrie demanded, her hand moving instinctively toward her sword hilt. "Those are reserved for—"
"For those I choose to give them to," Roxene interrupted, her voice carrying royal authority that brooked no argument. "And I choose to let him keep it."
Valkyrie's jaw tightened, but she said nothing further about the card.
"A research expedition?" she said instead, suspicion creeping into her voice. "Your Highness, if you require additional protection for field research, we should employ an established mercenary company with proven credentials. There are several reputable firms that regularly work with noble houses." She gestured toward Astra without looking at him directly. "We cannot simply hire unknown individuals without proper background verification."
"That's reasonable," Astra said quickly, not wanting to cause more friction. The last thing he needed was his first potential job ending in conflict with the royal guard.
"Actually," Roxene said, a slight smile playing at her lips, "I think I'll handle the evaluation personally."
This is perfect, she thought to herself. A chance to test my latest theoretical framework while observing his capabilities firsthand. Two objectives accomplished simultaneously.
Elena, who had returned with refreshments during the conversation, recognized that particular expression on her mistress's face. The princess always looked like that when she was about to turn a social situation into one of her experiments.
Both Astra and Valkyrie stared at her.
"Your Highness—" Valkyrie began to protest, but stopped when she caught the determined glint in Roxene's eyes. She'd seen that look before, and knew better than to argue when the princess had made up her mind.
"Master Astra, are you prepared for a practical demonstration of your skills?"
Astra looked between the princess's expectant expression and Knight Captain Valkyrie's obvious disapproval. His stomach tightened with more than hunger. This wasn't just about getting his first contract anymore—if he failed here, he'd be putting the princess in danger during her research expedition. The thought of a young woman coming to harm in some remote location because of his inadequacy made his chest constrict with anxiety.
He'd spent three months learning that his reputation meant nothing in the business world. But this was different. This was about protection, about keeping someone safe while they conducted important research. That was something he understood, something that mattered beyond money or pride.
"Yes, Your Highness. I'm ready."
The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders like familiar armor. Whatever test she had in mind, he couldn't afford to fail. Not when someone's safety during a dangerous expedition might depend on him proving he was still worth trusting.