Surviving as the Emperor's Assassin

Chapter 13. I Got the Mercenary Tag.

“Hmm.”

Swish.

I sheathed the sword.

The heated body cooled down.

Deep below.

A memory raised its head.

I didn't know, but Luke Ivers knew this swordsmanship.

Of course, it was natural.

Because it was the sword learned from his master, the Sword Saint.

Celestial Sword.

“From Cumulonimbus comes Shower. From Stratocumulus comes Mist.”

From Overcast to Rainy.

A cloudy sky leads to rain.

Cloud and rain form a pair, thus predictable yet unstoppable, like the heavens themselves.

The swordsmanship that made the Sword Saint the Sword Saint.

Knowledge I didn't possess surfaced like bubbles.

It felt natural, as if it had always been mine.

And simultaneously, frustration welled up.

What I could draw out now was only a tiny fraction ingrained in the body.

I could definitely do more.

Could have done more.

‘Insufficient.’

The Celestial Sword wasn't just this level.

The missing pieces in my mind felt so vividly clear, it felt like standing before an endless cave, lost.

“Brother……”

My thoughts were broken by Pol's voice.

Pol fidgeted as if waiting for an evaluation.

By mimicking Pol's movements, I could gauge his achievement.

This body, while far from matching Luke Ivers, was definitely not at a mediocre level of learning.

Considering his young age, not yet an adult, he was quite outstanding.

Normally, praising him would be fine.

However, guessing from Luke and Pol's relationship, Luke likely wouldn't have praised him easily.

It was important for me to treat Pol like Luke Ivers would.

“It was decent enough, but there are still many places to fix. Practice.”

A harsh evaluation compared to his performance.

Pol's reaction to it was…….

“Keoheuk……”

“Are you crying?!”

Did I say something that harsh?

Was Luke actually kind when teaching Pol?

“I'm just so happy that you praised me, Brother……”

Pol said in a trembling voice.

A completely different reason than I thought.

The tears flowing down Pol's cheeks weren't of sadness, but of joy.

'Decent enough' was apparently such great praise that Pol had never heard anything like it before.

“It’s also the first time you’ve pointed out the areas to fix in such detail……”

Touching testimonies followed one after another.

Luke Ivers.

How on earth did you teach Pol?

* * *

“Don't get cocky just because you received one word of praise.”

“I know!”

Perhaps the words added to rectify the situation sounded like encouragement instead, as stars seemed to pour from Pol's eyes.

Somehow, my cheek felt itchy.

“That's enough for today.”

My current self wasn't complete.

I had only recalled a part of the body's memory; the skill I could produce now was just a fraction of Luke Ivers's.

Trying to extract more swordsmanship by keeping Pol around unnecessarily, only to reveal my own lack of depth, was disadvantageous.

“Thank you for the teaching!”

Pol bowed so deeply his head almost touched the ground.

The moon was high.

It was a pleasant night.

“By the way.”

Halfway down the wall, one thing suddenly occurred to me.

“Is it right that you're using a better sword than me?”

I subtly pointed towards Pol's sword.

It was unpleasant how my sword got unilaterally worn down when they clashed during the day.

Losing due to skill is one thing, but losing due to item difference is too unfair.

“Hut! Here it is.”

Pol unfastened his sword without a shred of hesitation and offered it.

An excellent attitude for a younger brother figure.

“I'll return it when I get a better sword.”

I patted Pol's shoulder.

“No need! I can just get a new sword!”

Pol shook his head brightly.

“Do you have the money for that?”

“I'll earn it!”

Earn it?

A usable sword is quite expensive.

Requests like slime hunting or guard duty would take ages.

Eventually, he'd need to take on proper requests, but how could he accept requests without even a sword?

Being positive is good, but he's too reckless.

“Use this at least.”

I handed Pol the sword I had taken from the bandit and been using.

It had been used roughly here and there, so its condition wasn't great, but it was better than nothing.

“Thank you! The sword Brother used……! I'll treasure it forever!”

Even though his sword was swapped for a worse one, Pol was purely delighted.

“Phew.”

That sucker.

He keeps making me feel pangs of conscience.

* * *

By the time we descended from the wall, it was late at night, so it wasn't until the next day that Pol and I headed to the Mercenary Guild together.

“Do you think it's right to leave saying you'll talk for a moment, then show your face only after the day changes? Without even reporting after completing a guild-assigned request. Do you think the guild is a joke?”

The Guild Master, with a displeased face, was waiting for me.

His manner of speaking was such a spitting image of the department head at my previous company that I almost reflexively asked if he was perhaps from Korea.

“I apologize.”

I bowed my head almost automatically.

Anyway, it was true that I was at fault.

“If you apologize so meekly, what does that make me? React like a mercenary, will you?”

Not letting it go even after an apology is also typical of a workplace superior.

What exactly is a mercenary-like reaction?

Should I have snapped back, asking why he was being petty about such a thing?

“You finished the test request. Aren't you even curious about the result?”

“Hmm. I am curious.”

Truthfully, I wasn't particularly curious.

It was a test with no room for failure.

I wasn't particularly worried about receiving disadvantages for failing the test.

They could potentially make an issue of me not reporting properly at the end, but I didn't need an exceptionally high evaluation either.

I wasn't going to make a living as a mercenary forever, and the more famous and widespread my name became, the higher the chance of my identity being exposed.

Having some demerit points might actually be better.

“Rank Semi-3rd. That is our guild's evaluation of you.”

The Guild Master said it as if doing me a great favor.

“You should be happier!”

“Waah-”

I forced a happy expression to meet the Guild Master's expectation, but his face didn't brighten at all.

What a troublesome person.

“Is Semi-3rd rank high?”

Pol asked.

Words like Semi-3rd rank didn't seem to register well with Pol, who didn't know much about mercenaries.

“Ahem. I suppose I should explain the mercenary ranks.”

The Guild Master looked pleased to have seized the opportunity to explain.

“First, when one initially becomes a mercenary, there is no rank. This period is usually called Rankless (無級) mercenary.”

The guild doesn't broker requests for Rankless mercenaries.

A Rankless mercenary is someone ambiguous, neither guaranteed anything nor clearly distinct from a thug who just wields some strength.

Requests given to Rankless mercenaries mostly involve hunting the lowest-grade monsters or being called to places needing miscellaneous force to fill numbers.

“After working as a mercenary for some time, if the Mercenary Guild judges that this person will continue being a mercenary, their name and nickname are recorded in the list, and this is the standard for Rank 4 mercenary.”

The reason a nickname is needed to be treated as a proper mercenary is for the guild to keep track of mercenary information.

Most mercenaries come from backgrounds not particularly good, lacking family names.

A nickname is necessary to distinguish mercenaries with the same given name, which is why having a nickname is considered an essential condition for becoming a Rank 4 mercenary.

“Rank 3 mercenaries are veteran mercenaries who have survived quite a long time. This far encompasses the general mercenary.”

Rank 3 and Rank 4.

The image that first comes to mind when thinking of mercenaries is precisely these, and that thought isn't particularly wrong.

Because they are the absolute majority that sustains the mercenary industry.

“Rank 2 mercenaries are mercenaries renowned within their active city or region.”

Since hiring them costs a considerable amount, they undertake special requests rather than general mercenary work.

Usually, wealthy individuals or nobles hire them to ensure definite results.

“Rank 1 mercenaries refer to mercenaries whose names are known throughout the Empire.”

The pinnacle of mercenaries.

Celebrities recognized wherever they go.

Since there are almost no requests that even Rank 2 mercenaries cannot handle, they spend their time accepting requests that suit their fancy or building their own forces.

Then occasionally, they prove their raison d'être by being hired by the Imperial family to carry out requests comparable to disasters.

Talents irreplaceable by other mercenaries are Rank 1 mercenaries.

“And above that, there is a rank called Special Grade, but once they reach this level, they soon receive noble titles or similar, making it hard to call them mercenaries anymore. Should I say it's a rank that exists only temporarily? Among those who were Special Grade mercenaries, the most famous is undoubtedly the Sword Saint.”

Beings that even the mighty Empire cannot leash by force, but must coax and appease.

A position beyond the standard of mercenary, no…… beyond the standard of human.

“Heeh……”

Pol nodded, eyes sparkling.

Was he imagining becoming a great mercenary?

Mercenary work was supposed to be just a temporary means to earn money, yet he was excessively immersed.

“But, what's Semi-3rd rank?”

Pol, who had been counting on his fingers for a while, belatedly pointed out the rank the Guild Master had assigned me.

“Rank 4 mercenaries cannot hunt Hond Wolves. Based on skill alone, you would correspond to Rank 3, but…… for someone who has only completed a couple of requests, there isn't enough accumulated trust to make them Rank 3 yet.”

Thus, the ambiguous rank of Semi-3rd, between Rank 3 and Rank 4, was assigned.

It was certainly a convincing reason.

“You'll likely become a Rank 3 mercenary soon enough. Since you passed the test excellently.”

The Guild Master declared confidently with a stylish smile.

“What exactly was that test anyway? It was completely meaningless. We just spent time doing nothing, and it ended.”

Pol did intrude by climbing the wall midway, but that was an issue to be buried and moved past.

After all, testing the response to someone climbing the wall when it's uncertain if anyone would even attempt it doesn't make sense.

“That's the key. Whether you cause trouble when given a thankless and boring request.”

The Guild Master answered triumphantly.

“You were the brains……?”

The intention must have been to check the reaction to stress.

Considering the pathetic patience of mercenaries, it was somewhat rational.

Somehow, it felt strange that he announced it was a test right from the start.

Patrolling the wall nervously, thinking it was a test from the Guild Master, would have made the time feel several times longer.

In normal situations, even guys who would ordinarily complete requests properly have a drastically increased chance of committing impulsive actions when boredom combines with tension.

“How did I become the Guild Master? I took over the guild with this head, I tell you.”

The Guild Master tapped his temple pointedly.

Indeed, running an organization requires a lot of brainpower.

My evaluation of the Guild Master rose slightly again.

“Combat power sufficient. Patience unshaken even by meaningless requests. Plus, polite manners. Very promising future. I have high expectations for our ‘Green’.”

I lowered my evaluation of the Guild Master again.

The way he spoke was exactly like Manager Park who used to torment me.

Makes me want to resign.

‘I should run away as soon as I get the mercenary tag.’

This is definitely not a place to stay long.

“So when is the mercenary tag issued…….”

Just as I was about to ask the most important question right now.

Bang!!

“Ben! Green Ben! Are you here?!”

Bill burst in, kicking the door open.

Immediately, the Guild Master put distance between himself and me.

Manager Park did exactly that when a client boss stormed into the office because of my mistake back then.

“Knew you were here!”

Bill spotted me among the mercenaries and strode over.

“You patrolled the top of the wall last night, right?! There's a problem! Follow me quickly!”