Book 8: Chapter 19: Hohenheim Mercenary Company

“…With all due respect, young lord, I do not think it wise to rely on such characters.”

The words were cold, but they still couldn’t compare to the glare Linus directed at the newcomers from Undercity.

“Their loyalty isn’t questionable—it’s nonexistent.”

Zeke rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache coming on as he looked from his guard captain to the increasingly irritated Elder Tiger and Elder Dragon.

In his excitement at seeing his forces finally gathered, Zeke had overlooked one crucial detail: most of these people didn’t know each other—didn’t even know the others existed. Even David, one of his oldest confidants, had never met Gravitas, Ash, or Vulcanos in person, and the same held true in reverse.

But at the very least, David had grown accustomed to how Chimeroi usually behaved—a luxury Linus didn’t share. From the moment the meeting began, the man had taken offense at the casual, almost dismissive manner of the former rebels.

“Big words from such a small fella. Care to back them up with action, puny little man?”

Elder Dragon had finally lost his patience.

Linus crossed his arms and held his ground, though a flicker of confusion crossed his face—and Zeke immediately understood why. Linus was a tall man, towering over nearly everyone by a head. It was probably the first time anyone had ever called him

puny.

Still, if anyone had the right, it was Elder Dragon. The Chimeroi’s height was nothing short of monstrous. He wasn’t just tall by human standards—he surpassed them entirely. His head rose a full half again higher than most men.

Even Linus, a giant in his own right, barely reached the Chimeroi’s chest. Yet the veteran didn’t so much as flinch. “Violence? That’s your answer? If you think that proves your loyalty, you’re sorely mistaken…”

Elder Tiger, the more diplomatic of the two, stepped in. “We offer our service freely. Is that not enough for you?”

Linus turned to her, his expression hard. “In war, an unreliable ally is worse than the fiercest enemy. Neither I nor any of my men will entrust our backs to the likes of you.”

Zeke’s gaze swept over the gathered figures.

David stood off to the side, observing the confrontation without stepping in. He was caught in a difficult position, tied by loyalty to both parties.

Raileh, the elven healer, lingered in a corner, watching the exchange with an increasingly disapproving frown.

That left the Chimeroi, who seemed uncertain whether to intervene. At least, that was true for Gravitas, Vulcanos, and Ash.

Zelkara, for her part, hadn’t taken her eyes off Zeke since leaving the airship. Her gaze followed him with unwavering intensity—like a hatchling watching its parent.

“Typical human…” Elder Dragon growled. “Let me guess—you’ll only be satisfied once we’re chained or forced to swear some oath?”

Elder Tiger bared her teeth at the mention of chains, an instinctive reaction. Yet Zeke caught the fleeting glance she threw in his direction. Even Elder Dragon’s slitted pupils flicked toward him for the briefest moment. 𝑅άɴỗΒĘṥ

The realization struck him then.

They had come to a foreign city with only a handful of followers and were now vastly outnumbered—surrounded by humans, and even two Archmages, David and Raileh. If Zeke truly intended to impose restrictions on them, they would have no means of resisting.

No wonder they were tense—especially with his silence dragging on.

“Enough.”

The word slipped from his lips before he even thought about it.

“My lord, they don’t—”

Zeke’s sharp gaze snapped to Linus, silencing him instantly. He held the man’s eyes for a long moment, making sure his displeasure at being ignored was clearly understood.

“Apologies, young lord.”

Zeke gave a slow nod, then turned his attention back to the room. “I will not turn away those willing and able to follow me—nor will I put chains on them…”

The statement was meant both to make his position clear and to reassure the Chimeroi.

Still, he couldn’t simply dismiss Linus’s concerns. The man’s words had come from loyalty and caution, not malice. So, before the two Elders could grow complacent, Zeke continued, his gaze returning to his guard captain.

“Their friends and families are still waiting beneath Korrovan’s sands. Do you understand, Captain?”

Linus’s brows knit together, confusion flashing across his face—then realization. His eyes flicked toward the two Elders and back to Zeke, a complicated expression settling over his features.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“…It was my mistake, young lord. I will not doubt them again.”

Good. It seemed the man had understood his meaning. Elder Tiger and Elder Dragon had brought only a handful of warriors, leaving the vast majority of their people behind in Undercity—well within Zeke’s reach.

He hadn’t said it outright, but the implication was clear enough.

If either of them betrayed him, their friends and families would become hostages before they could even act.

Not that Zeke expected it to come to that. Chimeroi, unlike humans, were far more direct and rarely engaged in such elaborate schemes.

Before the mood could sink any further, Zeke decided to move things along.

With a sharp clap of his hands, he drew everyone’s attention.

“I know many of you aren’t familiar with each other yet, but you’ll have plenty of time to change that once we fight side by side. And you have my word—everyone gathered here is a warrior worthy of respect, someone you can trust to guard your back.”

Several spines straightened at his words, especially among the Chimeroi. Their straightforward nature made them especially receptive to praise, and they took his words to heart.

“Now,” he continued, “I don’t know how much each of you knows about the reason you are here, so allow me to explain the nature of our assignment. We will travel to Rukia, where the Empire’s Ehrenlegion has been active for the better part of a year. There, we’ll coordinate with the local resistance and the allied factions that have been sent as reinforcements.

“Our mission is simple: drive the Empire out by any means necessary. Failing that, we’ll hold the line and help as many civilians escape as possible.”

He swept his gaze across the room. “Questions?”

David’s hand was already raised before the word had even left his mouth.

“Why are we getting involved in such a messy affair, young lord? From what I hear, Rukia is already lost, and that so-called resistance can barely hold the line. Wouldn’t it be far more efficient to coordinate with the Alliance and fight the Empire at the front?”

Zeke nodded. “It would be, yes. But there are several reasons we aren’t doing that.”

“…Such as?”

“First, Leo is currently trapped in Rukia,” Zeke began, counting on his fingers. “Second, the Empire cannot be allowed to gain a foothold on both sides of the continent. Third, Rukia fulfills a crucial role in the Alliance and cannot be surrendered without a fight.” He paused, a slow smile curving his lips. “And lastly—and most importantly—we’re being paid to fight in Rukia, not at the front.”

As he said it, his gaze flicked toward Raileh, still standing quietly in the corner. David followed his line of sight.

“The elves…” he murmured, studying her carefully. “A Life Mage as payment—an Archmage, even. A tempting reward indeed.”

Zeke shook his head. “Raileh isn’t the payment. She is… a bonus.”

David’s eyes widened. “…A bonus? An

Archmage

as a bonus?”

Zeke shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’m quite the negotiator, don’t you think?”

David nodded absently, clearly re-evaluating his entire understanding of the world. Zeke almost felt sorry for him. The man had spent a lifetime clawing his way to the Archmage rank—only to learn that, in the right deal, people of his level could be given away as freebies.

Truly disheartening.

“Anybody else?”

Linus stepped forward next. “Young lord… is it really wise to go to war at this time? You’ve worked so hard to attain the rank of Merchant Lord. Is it worth risking all that just to fulfill a request? Whatever they paid, it can’t compare to such a title.”

Zeke shook his head. “You’re right. It isn’t worth that price.”

“Then—”

Zeke raised a hand, cutting him off. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I have no intention of giving up my position as a Merchant Lord.”

Linus stared at him as if he’d gone mad. “Young lord, have you perhaps forgotten about the neutrality clause?”

Zeke’s smile didn’t waver. “I haven’t. And I don’t intend to break it.”

Now every pair of eyes in the room was on him—confused, doubtful. All except Zelkara, whose gaze still burned with that strange, feverish devotion. He chose to ignore that for now.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any to announce it,” Zeke said, pausing just long enough for suspense to build. “From this moment on, you are all members of the Hohenheim Mercenary Company. Congratulations.”

“…Mercenary… company?”

Zeke nodded solemnly. “That’s right. And remember this—we’re not going to war. We’re simply fulfilling a contract for a client.”

His announcement was met with stunned silence from the humans, while the Chimeroi looked more puzzled than anything else.

David was the first to recover. “Young lord… isn’t that excuse a bit too flimsy?”

Zeke shook his head, still smiling. “It’s not an excuse. We’re officially registered—an entirely neutral mercenary company. Anyone can hire us… even the Empire.”

David’s eyes widened. “You would fight for Arkanheim?”

Zeke rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But you just—”

“I said they

can

hire us,” Zeke interrupted, “but first, they’d have to afford our price.”

“…Our price? Surely that wouldn’t be an obstacle for the Empire.”

“You’d think so…” Zeke replied, a slow smile spreading across his face. “But let me tell you—the elves paid with a personal Oath from one of their Exarchs, along with the service of their foremost expert for the next few decades. Oh, and they also gifted me an Archmage,” he added, glancing at Raileh, who didn’t look too pleased at being mentioned as an afterthought once more.

“Tell me, do you think Augustus Geistreich would swear an Oath and offer his personal service just to hire us?”

“That…” David faltered, his words trailing off.

There was no need to answer. The price the elves had paid was nothing short of monstrous. In monetary terms, it was beyond reason. Yggdrasil serving as Maya’s teacher alone was something beyond valuation. No amount of gold could buy such a favor.

And even if the Empire somehow managed to compel his service, Zeke still held the final say in who would be deployed to fulfill that contract. If it came to it, he could always find a few ‘new members’ to send in his stead.

It was something he was beginning to understand: Words were dead things, unable to compel the living without a willing hand to enforce them. And he already knew that Midas wouldn’t do that.

The longer he lived in this city, the less faith he had in contracts. He was starting to understand why the dwarves preferred dealing only with those they trusted—there were far too many ways to twist a loophole.

Zeke noticed another hand go up—someone who hadn’t spoken since the meeting began.

“Vulcanos?”

“I… uh… I was wondering if you had any more of those ships,” the Chimeroi asked hesitantly. “It was already cramped on the way here, and now that we have even more people, I doubt we’ll all fit.”

Zeke shook his head. “Unfortunately, we won’t be bringing any Wraiths with us. They’re already promised to the Alliance. I’ve delayed their delivery long enough by sending them to pick you up.”

Vulcanos’s expression fell. Clearly, he’d grown attached to the ships during their short journey—and who could blame him? Once someone experienced the smooth, near-silent flight of a Wraith, returning to a traditional airship driven by air propulsion felt archaic.

“Fortunately,” Zeke continued, a wide grin spreading across his face, “I have something far better…”