I woke early the next morning and prepared to head to the mercenary office.
Before leaving, I placed a portion of wolf meat near Rusty so it could eat when hungry. I informed Duracal that I'd be out for the day and asked him to keep an eye on it. He nodded without question.
Only then did I head into town.
At the mercenary office, the receptionist noticed me immediately. She smiled, though there was a trace of concern behind it.
"You've become a little irregular," she said. "That's fine at first, but if you're going to be absent, you should inform us. Otherwise, your reliability rating will drop."
That caught my attention.
She explained that every mercenary was assigned a staff handler. Their job was to manage requests, coordinate commissions, and recommend suitable mercenaries to clients. If a mercenary's rating declined, it didn't only affect the mercenary—it reflected poorly on the handler as well.
"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "I'll be more careful from now on."
She nodded and began listing available requests. The first was an escort mission to the northwest, near the Leonion family's lands.
Two weeks.
I declined. I didn't want to leave Rusty so soon.
She was about to continue when a familiar voice interrupted.
"Looking for work?"
I turned.
Ron—the captain of the Winged Sword.
I greeted him, and he gestured toward a table.
"Let's talk."
Once seated, he explained the situation.
A village bordering the Dark Swamp Forest had been suffering repeated lizardman attacks. Because the Winged Sword held three copper stars, the village elder had been able to request them directly.
"We scouted the area," Ron said. "There's a colony of roughly forty."
"That's large," I replied.
"It is," Ron agreed. "We can clear it—but not without risk."
He continued, "The colony includes four lizard mages and two sword specialists. Both use water-based techniques. The sword specialists fight on par with newly appointed knights. And in swamp terrain, they hold the advantage. That's why we need extra manpower."
That caught my attention.
"Water-based attacks," I muttered. "In a swamp."
Ron nodded.
"We left the team guarding the village and came back to recruit temporary support."
His gaze settled on me.
"You fight both at range and in close combat. That versatility matters."
I considered it briefly.
"Payment?"
"Based on confirmed kills."
I nodded.
"I'm in."
Ron smiled once.
"Good."
Ron's mount was a sturdy horse—red-coated, blue-eyed, with a black mane. When he asked about mine, I explained briefly.
He laughed.
"Then you'll ride with me."
As we traveled, I studied him. Clean posture. Well-maintained gear. His sword wasn't ornamental—but it wasn't common either.
He looked more like a minor noble than a mercenary.
I kept the thought to myself.
By afternoon, we reached the village.
The Winged Sword was already assembled.
Sam spoke the moment he saw me.
"Captain, why bring a newcomer? We could've hired someone experienced."
Ron didn't answer immediately.
Maria crossed her arms.
"Experienced mercenaries demand higher shares. You know that."
Sam clicked his tongue.
"And rookies die."
That was directed at me.
I met his gaze calmly.
"I don't plan to."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
Paul finally stepped in.
"Enough. If he messes up, we adjust."
Sam didn't look convinced—but he said nothing more.
Ron gathered us.
"The colony is deep in the swamp," he said. "Their footing is better than ours. They've reinforced the area with wooden fencing—not strong, but positioned to funnel attackers."
He pointed to a rough map.
"Both the lizard mages and sword specialists use water-based attacks. Expect slowed movement, pressure strikes, and binding techniques."
Then he tapped the outskirts.
"We don't attack the colony directly."
Everyone looked up.
"Lizardmen hunt in small groups," Ron continued. "We'll target those patrols first. Thin their numbers quietly. Reduce the colony's strength without alerting them—rather than launching a frontal assault."
Sam frowned.
"And if they don't notice their patrols going missing?"
"They will," Nile said calmly. "They depend on hunting—for food and territory control."
He glanced around the group.
"We start at dusk."
The swamp wind carried a damp chill as the plan settled in.
This wasn't a simple subjugation.
And once it began, there would be no clean way out.