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A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A mercenary who doesn’t‍​ die is third-rate.​ The reason they’re‍‍ paid so much‌‌‍ is because they⁠ exist to die⁠‍ instead of the⁠ nobles and the⁠⁠ commoners.

The‍ nobles used to​ joke like that‍⁠ about mercenaries.

It‍ was only natural‌​‍ that every time⁠ they said such‌ nonsense, the mercenaries‍ would be outraged.‌​

When‍ there was danger,‌‍‌ they acted as‌ if they were​‌ going to give⁠ them land and⁠‍ titles, but as​⁠‌ soon as the⁠‍ war ended they‍ spoke that way.‍⁠‌

Inevitably,⁠ the more experience‌‌ mercenaries accumulated, the‌ stronger their distrust​ and aversion toward​‌ the nobles became.‍⁠

Being​ hired multiple times‌‍ by nobles also⁠‌ meant that they‍ had seen many​‍ unpleasant things.

Jake,‌​‌ the leader of‌⁠ the mercenary group,‌​‌ was one of‌​ them.

‘Seriously,‌‌ the excuses never‍ ended.’

The​‌​ damage to the‍​ enemy was too​‍​ low, since they⁠‍ hadn’t killed the⁠⁠⁠ leader they couldn’t‌‍⁠ say they had‌‍⁠ won, they had‌ only won a skirmish and it‍ hadn’t changed the‌‌‌ situation of the⁠​ war.

All‌ kinds of creative​ excuses that sometimes‌ even made the‍​‍ employer’s own vassals​ frown.

And⁠‍‍ the funny thing​‍⁠ was that, no⁠‌⁠ matter how creative‍ they were, they‍‍ all ended the‍ same way: “We⁠⁠​ can’t pay the⁠⁠ promised money.”
But‌‌‌ even Jake, who‍ had heard countless​‍​ excuses, had never​ heard such stupidity.‌​‌

“Die‌ for us.”

“….”‍

Jake‍ blinked in amazement‍⁠ at what the⁠‍‌ knight in front​‌ of him said.‌

Did‍‍ I hear wrong?‌​‌

Any‍ other noble maybe,‌‌‍ but this wasn’t⁠⁠ the kind of‍ person who would‍​​ blurt out such​‍⁠ stupidity.

“Excuse‍⁠‍ me. These days​‍‍ I’m tired and‍‌ I don’t hear‍⁠ well…”

“You⁠‍‌ didn’t hear wrong.​ Die for us.”⁠‌‌

Damn​​⁠ madman.

Holding‌ back the curse‍​ rising to his⁠​ throat, Jake glared‌​ at the knight.‍‍‍

Has⁠​​ he lost his⁠‌​ mind after so‍‌ many consecutive defeats?​

And‌‌‌ to think that‍‌‌ he had already‍​ done more than​‌‍ enough to leave,​​‌ and now suddenly‍‍​ they were asking⁠‍⁠ him to die.⁠

“Sir,‌‌⁠ do you know‍ what my profession⁠ is?”

“You⁠⁠​ are a mercenary.”⁠

“I‌⁠​ see that you’re⁠​‍ clear about that.‌‌‌ For a moment​‌ I thought you​‍‌ had confused me⁠​ with a knight.”​​​

“I‌​ wish you were‍​‌ a knight.”

If​ you were, I could ask you‍​ without remorse.

The‍ knight sighed, closed​‌‍ his eyes for‍ a moment, and‍‌ opened them again.​

Weariness‍ and self-loathing filled‌⁠ his gaze, things​‌⁠ that hadn’t been‌ there before.

“Forgive‌ me. It seems‌‍⁠ I spoke roughly.‍⁠⁠ I may have​ caused a misunderstanding.”⁠‌​

“A‍ misunderstanding?”

“The‍​ truth is that‌ I wanted to‍‌ ask you to‌​ defend the position.⁠⁠ But since the‍​‍ situation is so‍ desperate, the words‌‌ slipped out.”

In⁠‍​ short, it was‌​‌ a mission so‌​ dangerous that even​‌​ his conscience weighed​ on him and​‌ he had grown​‌ sentimental.

What‌ a way to‌​ scare someone.

“Don’t‍‍ worry. It’s understandable.”‌

Jake‌ hid his true⁠ thoughts and showed‍ a professional smile.‌​

After‍ all, the other‌ man was the⁠‍‍ employer’s right-hand man.‍⁠

Showing‍​‌ annoyance could cause‌​‌ problems with the⁠​​ final payment.

Besides,‍ unpleasant as it⁠ sounded, that tone⁠‌‍ came from someone⁠‍ who, within reason,‌⁠ had consideration for​‌ mercenaries.

Up⁠‌‌ to now he​​‌ had assigned missions⁠‍ within what was‌⁠ reasonable, so no‌‍⁠ matter how dangerous​‌‌ it was, he‍​ wouldn’t cross that​ line.

“The‍ mission is simple.​​ Tomorrow the rebels‌ will launch a total attack. While‌‍⁠ my lord gets⁠‌⁠ to safety, stay‌ with me and‍ stop the enemy.”‍⁠

“…Excuse‍‍ me?”

“If​‍‌ possible, for as‌‌ long as you​‍‌ can. At least‌ until I die.​‍​ I will give​‍ you the final‌⁠‍ payment with this‍ when you retire.”⁠

The‌​⁠ knight took something‌‍ out from his‍ chest and dropped‌​‌ it in front⁠‌ of him.

A red stone the‍‍ size of an⁠ adult man’s fist.⁠‌

From​ its shine, it​ was undoubtedly the‌‌ “Prince’s Tear,” extracted‌​ only in the⁠​‌ mines of the​ far south.

A size like that‍⁠‍ would be enough‍​ to pay for​‍ more than three‌‌ years of hiring‍‌ the mercenary group.​⁠‍

But‌ Jake frowned without‌​ even looking at​⁠ it.

“Sir,​‍‌ did you perhaps‌ eat something that⁠⁠ had gone bad​⁠⁠ yesterday?”

“I​ am perfectly fine.”‌​

“A​‍​ madman never admits‌ that he’s mad.”⁠

“Watch⁠‌ your words. If‌​ you cross the⁠‍ line, even if​‌‌ it’s you…”

“The‍ one who crossed⁠ the line was‌⁠​ you. Do you‍​‍ want to drag​‌ us to die‌‌ with you? Do⁠‌ I look like‍⁠ an idiot to​​‌ you?”

In‍‌‌ theory it sounds⁠⁠ beautiful.

Knights‌ who, on a lost battlefield, sacrifice‍ their lives to‌⁠ give their lord⁠‌⁠ time to escape.‌

And​‌‍ mercenaries who, after​‌‌ fighting to a certain point, are‌⁠​ rewarded and sent​ back.

A naïve rookie might⁠⁠ have believed it.​⁠‌

But‌‍ unfortunately, Jake was‍⁠​ a mercenary far​ too seasoned.

“You​‍‍ are the commander-in-chief.‌​ And you say⁠‍⁠ they’ll only let‍⁠‌ me go when​​‍ you die? When‍⁠‍ you’re about to‌‌⁠ be annihilated? Nonsense!‍ Do you think‌‌⁠ the enemy will‌⁠ just let us‍⁠⁠ go like that?”⁠

“Since‌‍‍ you’re not knights​ but mercenaries, they​​​ won’t pursue you​ that much…”

“We‌ are mercenaries who‍‌‌ have caused them‍ enormous damage! For‌⁠ the enemy, there‍ will be no​⁠​ rest until they​​​ grind our bones!”‌⁠

A mercenary has no‌‌​ reason to keep‍⁠⁠ fighting once he​⁠ is no longer⁠ being paid.

That’s‌ why when the⁠ employer dies, the‍​‍ mercenaries usually flee,‍​ and the enemy​‌‌ doesn’t pursue them‍ excessively.

If⁠​​ they foolishly pursued​‌⁠ them and the​‌‍ mercenaries fought desperately,‌‌ it would only‍‍‍ be needless loss.⁠‌

But‍‌ that only applies⁠​ when there is‍ no accumulated hatred.‍‌​

“Do​⁠ you know how‌‍ much I’ve wrecked​ their ranks so‍ far? The common⁠⁠ soldiers convulse just‍‍ from hearing my⁠⁠ name. Do you​ think they’ll let‌ us go?”

Even‍​​ a hired mercenary‍​ ceases to be​⁠ irrelevant when the‍ enemy wants his⁠​ head.

And‌ Jake had cornered‍ the enemy command‍​​ more than once.⁠​

Of⁠‌‌ course they would‍ chase him to⁠‌ kill him, no⁠​ matter what.

Even‍‌ if they fled‍ now, they would‍​ send troops after‌⁠‌ them. And he‌ expected him to‍ wait in the​ middle of the‍⁠ open field?

“They​ plan to use‌‌ us as sacrifice.”‌​

“…”‍

“They​ want to buy⁠‍‌ time for their​​‌ lord to escape​⁠‍ and force us‌‌‌ to participate? Magnificent.⁠‍ So honorable it⁠​ almost makes me‍​​ want to bow.”‍‌

Before​​⁠ the biting sarcasm,‍ the knight pressed‍⁠​ his lips together.⁠

It‍⁠⁠ seemed he still​‌ had at least⁠ some shame.

But‌ it was also‌⁠⁠ obvious he had‌ no intention of​ letting Jake go.⁠‌

“If‌‌⁠ you don’t accept,‍ I’ll take command.‍​‌ I’m sorry, but‌‍ you’ll have to‌ accompany me to‍ the end.”

“And⁠‌‌ if I don’t​​⁠ want to?”

“I’ll‍​ have to use‍‌​ this.”

Clang.‌‍‌

The‌ knight partially drew‌‌⁠ his sword.

A clear threat: if​‍ necessary, he would​⁠​ kill him and‍ lead the mercenaries⁠ himself.

Jake⁠‍ clicked his tongue‌ at such stupidity.‌⁠‍

The​​⁠ subordinates wouldn’t obey⁠ anyone but him,​​‍ so it was⁠‍ useless.

But⁠ the knight had‍​​ already decided to​‍‍ accept the dishonor.⁠⁠​

Even‌ if Jake explained,‌ he wouldn’t listen.‌‌⁠ And even if‍‌‌ he believed, he⁠⁠‍ would end up‍‍‌ imposing it by‌​ force.

“Damn‌‌ bastard.”

“I’m‌‍ sorry.”

“Don’t⁠ apologize. On the⁠ contrary, thank you⁠ for making me​ feel less guilty.”‌‌​

“What?”‍

“Since​‌⁠ things are already​ like this, at‍‍ least I’ll take⁠​ your head with‍ me. It’s already‌ too late to⁠‌ escape, so I’ll​ do what I can.”

The‌⁠​ knight’s expression twisted.‌‍

Guilt⁠‌ disappeared, leaving only‍‍ contempt.

“And​‌ I thought wrong‍‍‍ of you.”

“How⁠‍ did you judge⁠ me?”

“I‍‍‌ thought that, for‍ a mercenary, you​ were someone with⁠‌⁠ honor. More knightly​⁠‍ than many knights.‌​​ But in the‍⁠‍ end, you were​‌​ just a simple⁠​ mercenary.”

“Wow.​‍ And who are‍‍⁠ you to talk?”​

“No‌‍ one. But this⁠‌‌ makes me feel‍ more at ease.​⁠ If we’re the​​⁠ same trash, I have no reason​​‍ to hold back.”​⁠

Jake‌‍‍ let out a hollow laugh.

It‌​‍ seemed the knight‍ thought it was‌‍ all just to⁠ save his own‍⁠​ life.

Jake⁠‌ smiled mockingly.

“It‌‌‍ seems you’re mistaken⁠‍ about one thing.‌​ I have no‌‍​ intention of surviving.”‍

“What​​‌ did you say?”​‌

“Whether‌‌⁠ I accept or‍ reject your proposal,‍ I’m going to⁠‍ die anyway. The‍‌ problem is that‌ my men would⁠‌ die with me.‌​⁠ So at least​‌ I want to⁠‌ save them.”

“The⁠ enemy’s pursuit…”

“If‍‌ we present your‍ head and mine‍⁠ together, it might⁠⁠‌ work. In the‍ end, the ones‍⁠ who generate resentment​‌‌ aren’t the soldiers​ but the commanders.”⁠​

The​ knight’s eyes opened‌ wide.

After‍⁠‌ a slight tremor​​ in his eyelids,⁠ he let out‌⁠ an empty laugh.⁠

“Ha…⁠​‌ haha. You want​⁠ to die to‍​ save your subordinates?”​

“They’re‌ men I brought​ in promising them⁠ a future. If‌ I failed, the⁠​⁠ responsibility is mine.⁠‍​ Isn’t that obvious?”⁠⁠

“The‌ obvious… yes, it‍ is.”

Shiing.⁠​‍

The⁠ knight’s sword came‍‍ completely out of​​‍ its sheath.

A fluid movement, like​​ water.

Jake‌ drew his a moment later, but‍⁠​ bitterness filled his​‍ mouth.

‘He⁠ leaves no opening,‌⁠​ damn it. How‌‍ many levels above⁠​‍ me is this​⁠​ guy?’

Jake‍‍ knew some tricks⁠ to make up​ for the difference‍ in skill, but​ none seemed to​ work against that​​ knight.

It​‌​ wasn’t that he‍⁠​ was mediocre among‍​ mercenaries—he was feared.‌‍⁠

But⁠‌ before this knight,‍⁠ famous even among‌‌ the great warlords,⁠ he was insufficient.​⁠​

He‌‌⁠ might die here‌ before even offering‌​ his head to‍ the enemy.

Well,⁠ it wasn’t a bad death either.⁠

At​⁠ least his men,​⁠ upon learning that​ Jake had died,‌ would abandon the⁠‌⁠ battlefield immediately.

“I‍‍​ wish you had⁠ been my lord.”‍

Unlike⁠ tense Jake, the‍ knight’s voice sounded​​ melancholy.

His‍‍ lord, of noble​‌‍ blood, had abandoned‌ his vassals to‌‍ flee; Jake, of​‌⁠ vulgar origin, was​​ the opposite.

A noble of blood‌‍ and a mercenary‌​‌ of humble origins.⁠‍‌

But‍‌ if they ignored‍ blood, which of‌‍ the two had‍⁠‍ the mettle to​‍ be a true​​‍ king?

Holding‍​ back another sigh,​ the knight spoke.​‍‍

“I’m​ sorry.”

“Eat‌‌ this.”

Splat.‍

At⁠‍‍ the same time​​‌ as he replied,‍‍⁠ Jake hurled his‌ sword with all‌ his strength.

And‌ with a flash,​‍​ he felt something​‍ warm gush from⁠ his neck.

He​⁠ didn’t see when​‍ the knight completely⁠ unsheathed nor when⁠‌ he attacked.

Only⁠ from the strange‌​⁠ sensation and from‍‌ seeing the knight’s‍‍⁠ sword on the⁠ other side did‍‌⁠ he know he​‌ had been cut.⁠⁠

He​‌ had expected it,‍​ but the swiftness​ of the outcome​⁠‍ left a bitter‌ taste.

‘Damn‍ it.’

Although​‌​ Jake had made​​‌ his move, the⁠⁠‌ knight, who had⁠⁠⁠ never doubted his⁠ victory for an‌‌ instant, still wore‌‍⁠ a calm expression.​‍

There​ wasn’t the slightest⁠ trace of tension,‌⁠​ and Jake couldn’t​ help letting out​‍⁠ a bitter laugh.‌‍

‘So‍‌ that’s talent…’

With​‌‍ that final thought,​ Jake’s vision went⁠‍ dark.

***​

“…Young‍ master! Young master!”‍⁠

Jake‌ woke up suddenly⁠‍‌ feeling a strong‌​⁠ dizziness.

Someone​‍ was shouting in‍ his ear while‍‌​ shaking his body.⁠

‘…What‍​ the hell? Am‍​ I alive?’

Impossible.⁠⁠

He‍ remembered with perfect‍ clarity the sensation‌ of the sword‌‌ piercing his neck.⁠‍‍

Not​​ even a legendary‍‌​ saint performing miracles⁠ could save him​ in such a state.
So​ was this a dream?

“Young‌‌ master! Oh, young‍‌ master!”

But​ for a dream,⁠ everything felt far​‍ too real.

The‌⁠​ voice echoing in⁠⁠⁠ his ears made‌‌ his skull vibrate,⁠​ and every time‌⁠ they shook him,​​⁠
he⁠‍‍ felt like throwing​⁠⁠ up.

He‍ wanted to shout​ for them to‌ stop, but before​⁠‌ he could, the⁠⁠ other person raised‌ their hand.

“Please​ wake up! If⁠⁠ you leave like‍ this, I’ll die​ too!”

Smack,⁠‍ smack, smack!

Damn⁠‌ lunatic, stop hitting‍⁠ me!

The‍​ hand was small,‌⁠ but each slap‍⁠ made his head‍ tremble.

When⁠‌‌ his cheeks were‌​ so red they‍ felt like they⁠‍ were burning, Jake‍‌‌ couldn’t take it⁠ anymore and shouted.‍⁠

“Stop…​ I said stop…!”‍⁠⁠

“Yo–​ Young master! You’ve‍‌ regained consciousness!?”

With‍ his vision still‍​​ blurry, Jake focused​⁠⁠ on the figure⁠‌‌ in front of​​ him.

Looking​‌⁠ closely, it was​‌​ a boy with⁠‌ a soft voice​​‌ and small frame.‌​

Just​ as Jake was​‌‍ about to complain⁠ about the stinging​⁠⁠ pain in his‌‍‌ cheeks, the boy​ burst into tears‌‌​ and cried out.⁠‌‍

“You’re‍ safe, young lord!‍‍ I thought you​⁠ were going to‍​ leave us just​‍‍ like that!”

What?‍‌ Young master?

Jake⁠​ blinked, confused.

It‌ was the first⁠ time in his‌ life someone had⁠ used that title‍‍​ with him.

No‍‌⁠ matter how well‌‌ a mercenary was‍ treated, at most⁠​ they’d be called⁠ a “quasi-knight.”

And⁠​​ now they were‍‍‌ treating him like​ the son of‍ a noble family?​

“What⁠‌‌ nonsense are you⁠​ spouting after slapping⁠​ me like you​​​ were trying to​‌‌ kill me…?”

Jake‌ was rubbing his⁠​ swollen cheeks when⁠ his body suddenly‌⁠ froze.

The​⁠‍ palm of his‍ hand was too‌‍⁠ soft.

Just‌​ a moment ago,​​​ it had been‍⁠ full of hardened⁠ calluses.

With⁠‌⁠ his original hand,‍⁠ he would never⁠ have felt something⁠​ like this.

When⁠‍ Jake, curious, looked‌ at his own‌‌​ palm—

“…What‌‌⁠ the hell is‌⁠ this now?”

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