Chương 19: Negotiating Merits

What is it that I want… It was curious that Faldren had started with an offer first and not a threat, despite his noble lineage. As far Alcyr could tell, the man seemed sincere. Rather than forcing out answers from him — a lowborn — the commander was instead seeking to secure his loyalty. The method was unusual in its restraint — a virtue most nobles lacked where peasants were concerned. Faldren and Lenore seemed aware of his hesitation, and that should they push too hard, they might lose him entirely.

Alcyr might lack connection, but he was not so weak or worthless that they could just dispose of him carelessly. His ridiculous growth made an investment appear favourable — the promise of extraordinary potential just lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be drawn out. The soft approach — enticing offers, praises, and gold — would not only get them a formidable fighter, but also an untapped asset that might develop into something more. In short, their desire for him was a leverage he could exploit.

I could work with this. There was opportunity here, but he had to be careful. Indulging the commander's curiosity was dangerous, yet doing nothing would be a waste. Diplomacy was not his strong suit. After some thought, Alcyr decided the blunt approach would serve him best.

"Sir, in descending order of importance, I wish to discuss the matter of my missing dagger, my monetary reward for killing a high-priority military target, and my promotion for my exemplary performance in my latest mission for ensuring the convoy reached its destination with no casualties or loss of cargo." A stretch of silence passed. To the sides where the guards stood, Alcyr thought he heard one of the Regulars inhaled with a quiet hiss, stunned by his audacity. Faldren's raised an eyebrow.

Lenore, on the other hand, chuckled faintly.

"Perhaps we should have expected such impudence from a commoner," she said.

"You dare make demands of your superior already, Private?"

"Only the first matter is a demand, ma'am," Alcyr corrected.

"I am fine being denied what I am owed for my achievement. I would expect no less from nobility. But the dagger is non-negotiable." There was another slight cough at the side, followed by more muffled wheezing. Alcyr could not tell which of the Regular soldiers was laughing, but he was glad someone appreciated his humour.

"Bold. Arrogant, even." Commander Faldren smiled slightly.

"But yours is an arrogance well-earned, so we shall ignore your disrespect this time. Your equipment is currently stored in our armoury. You may collect it once we are finished with our discussion here." That gave Alcyr some relief. Losing the dagger his mentor gave him was unthinkable.

"What about my other two merits?" Lenore was the one to answer.

"To use your words earlier, you will have what you are owed. Your rewards are rather substantial. The standard bounty for killing a High Elite is six gold pieces, but Warlord Bjorn was a menace who shot down dozens of our drake riders over the course of the campaign. We had adjusted his bounty accordingly." Six gold coins were already quite a large sum. It was enough to let a lowborn live a good decade very comfortably.

Even killing Ragna during the Battle of the Red Rime had only netted him a single gold coin, with a second having been given for his pivotal rallying action. A hint of anticipation entered Alcyr's tone.

"How much is it now?"

"You can expect no less than double." Lenore's answer made his heart skip a beat.

"That is, of course, before accounting for the warlord's personal effects. By looting rights, everything recovered from his body belongs to you, including that valuable silverite axe of his. Should you wish to sell any of it to us, you'll have to negotiate their value directly with the quartermaster." Twelve gold pieces, at least. That's worth twenty-four years of an Irregular's pay.

A lifetime's fortune had just landed on his lap — a peasant's lifetime, perhaps, but even Alcyr couldn't resist a small smile at receiving such a sum. It was more money than he ever had since he joined the military.

"Lastly, there is the matter of your promotion," Faldren said, straightening in his chair.

"To be blunt, keeping a soldier of your ability as a Private is a waste. Even making you a squad or platoon sergeant in the 3rd Irregular Company would still be squandering your potential enormously." That came as no surprise. Alcyr might be young and lacking leadership experience in others' eyes, but his proven martial capability was too much to ignore. He was someone who slew a High Elite in one-on-one combat. Keeping him as part of the rank-and-file militia was no longer an option.

"I am offering you a cadet's position within the 4th Regular Company, effective immediately should you accept," Faldren said.

"Complete your probation, and you will receive all the authority, pay, and luxuries afforded to a lieutenant. Distinguish yourself as you have previously, and further promotions will come quickly, regardless of your lowborn origins. Within a few years, you might even receive a sponsorship from the 4th Regulars to attend one of the kingdom's higher learning academies." Faldren let the offer hang in the air before adding, "I trust I needn't explain how few lowborn are ever presented with such an opportunity."

Having a peasant promoted to a Regular position was rare enough, but for a commoner to receive a military sponsorship into the kingdom's higher academies? That was practically unheard of. Faldren was essentially offering Alcyr — a lowborn with no known noble bloodlines or powerful backing — the opportunity to reach the ranks of Master or even Grandmaster in a few years. The benefits to his social standing and to his System's growth were immense.

It was a little too good to be true, and it immediately made Alcyr suspicious.

"How long will I have to serve the 4th Regulars if I accept?"

"No longer than your original Irregular contract of three years," the commander reassured him.

"Since you have already served a year in the 3rd Irregulars, I won't press for you to renew the contract. Simply serve your remaining two years, and you will be contractually freed from the Morwyn military. We may discuss your continued service after that if you wish. I'd gladly offer you a more permanent position then, should you be willing." To even forgo renewing the contract? That was incredibly generous, so much so that it left Alcyr baffled.

Was an accomplished highborn like Faldren really about to invest this much in a nameless peasant like him? He wasn't even asking for anything much in return — not his skills, secrets, or even his history — save for the promise of a brief military service. Lenore studied him carefully, providing no advice. Alcyr pondered over the offer. Truth be told, he had been ready to refuse earlier. His newfound strength and abilities had opened up many paths.

He no longer needed to rely on the military for opportunities, be it for growth, wealth, or standing. But if he only needed to serve the same few years as he originally planned, and if the campaign in the north was worsening for the kingdom… Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Then staying here might prove more profitable and less restrictive than I initially thought. More battles. More skills. More challenges.

And along the way, he would earn a fair amount of gold and connections as well — more than if he were to strike out on his own. It was tempting.

"I'll accept on a few conditions," Alcyr said carefully. Faldren nodded slightly.

"If it's within reason."

"If I reach the Master rank within a year from now, I want to be freed from my military contract immediately. I also want a letter of commendation from you personally recommending me for a position in the Morwyn academies, as well as a gratuity equal to the total wage of my remaining months of service." Stunned silence followed, so complete that one could have heard a pin drop in the room. Only Lenore was unaffected by Alcyr's shamelessness. The physician looked deep in thought.

"A commendation, and not a sponsorship? You wish to retain your freedom; is that it?" Alcyr dipped his head slightly. He neither confirmed nor denied. Faldren studied Alcyr with a fearsome intensity. It was as if he were seeing the soldier in a new light, reassessing his worth and potential. Perhaps he had thought it would be easy to entice Alcyr with his offer earlier. Any lowborn would have accepted the deal instantly. For a talented commoner like him to have refused, what moves could he be hiding?

After several long seconds, the commander exhaled.

"You'd have us pay you to leave early? That is far beyond reason. Not to mention your breathtaking arrogance, claiming you could reach the Master rank in a mere year… And yet, the condition you proposed sounds interesting. I will accept, with one additional stipulation." Faldren's aura rose, placing an unnatural pressure upon the room. That heavy weight fell upon everyone, but Alcyr bore the greatest brunt of it. The animal urge to look away from the commander, or even flee from his gaze, intensified.

Alcyr realised just how much power the Grandmaster had been holding back for his sake. Nonetheless, the soldier did not flinch and instead returned the commander's stare evenly.

"You will bring me the head of a High Master bounty, a full rank above Warlord Bjorn, within a year," Faldren demanded.

"I will, of course, provide you the opportunity and support necessary to achieve such a task, but the killing of such a foe falls to you. Do so, and regardless of whether you have achieved the Master rank, you may depart from the 4th Regulars with the promised gold and my blessing anytime you wish. Fail, however, and your contract with the company shall extend to eight years." Eight years. Practically a lifetime. Service with the Regulars was often seen more as a reward for a peasant, not a punishment.

Alcyr found it ironic Faldren had to frame it as the latter, given their situation. Rather than becoming intimidated, the soldier's lips curled.

"That is more than acceptable. Give me greater challenges if you can, commander. I will not shy away from them."

"You will have them." Faldren released his pressure on the room. The man's expression was satisfied.

"Welcome to the 4th Regulars, Cadet Alcyr." [New Skill: Persuasion 1 (Common)]

"That went oddly smooth." Upon hearing Alcyr's remark, Lenore smiled slightly, though her eyes remained cold.

"Faldren is not who you expect, is he?" The two of them had left the command chamber and were now walking to the armoury. Alcyr was eager to retrieve his dagger, as well as the gold promised to him for killing Warlord Bjorn.

"He's not typical of a blueblood in his position," Alcyr answered.

"I had expected more…"

"Snobbish arrogance?" Lenore suggested. Seeing Alcyr shrug in silent agreement, she elaborated.

"Have you heard of his noble House name, Vayne, before?" He shook his head.

"No." Alcyr had previously memorised all the major Houses in the Morwyn Kingdom, so for such a powerful commander's House name to be completely unfamiliar caught him a little off guard.

"I'll be surprised if you did. They are a minor House, estranged from the Highborn courts for their lacking bloodlines and court influence. That was, until Faldren came along and changed their fortunes." In other words, without major financial or social support, Faldren had still made it to the ranks of Grandmaster and secured a prominent position in the highborn courts as the commander of a Regular company. Alcyr could see what she was implying.

"His difficult upbringing made him far more sympathetic to those born without power." Lenore nodded.

"What's even more interesting is that he wasn't even born into House Vayne. Faldren was adopted into the family after he displayed magical talents as a child. Before that, he lived in an improvised orphanage in the outskirts, surrounded by other peasant children. His distaste for the lowborn thus never really developed."

"A mage found outside of a magus House," Alcyr chuckled.

"How fortuitous." There was a popular rumour that a peasant family might randomly see a child born with a mana core once every hundred generations. Whether by dormant bloodlines resurfacing after centuries of slumbers or the improbable convergence of arcane hereditary factors, such children were said to possess extraordinary magical talent, their gifts often rivalling — or even surpassing — those of the old noble houses. So my earlier theory was right, then. A peasant prodigy, adopted by a lesser noble house.

Countless generations of dormant magical ancestry aligning, producing a mana core of unusually rich potency. Ironic, but not unwelcome. Those of humble birth often made more reasonable commanders than those of highborn blood. And though Faldren came across more as a scholar than a warrior, he was no less deadly for his choice of craft. The 4th Regulars would at least respect his strength, if not his origins. It would also explain why he had been so accepting of Alcyr's lacking background.

But there was another matter bothering him.

"I had anticipated more questions about my skills and growth, considering your comments earlier," Alcyr said.

"Are either of you not curious at all how a mere Private like me slew a High Elite warlord like Bjorn? Or how I developed my skills so quickly?" Lenore shrugged.

"Cases like yours are not as uncommon as you think. A lowborn underdog achieving great feats and rapidly rising through the ranks of society? It's practically the foundation of half the ballads and sagas sung by bards." Alcyr frowned.

"But those are mere stories. They hardly apply here."

"All stories have a basis in truth. The fickle whims of the System are known to produce prodigies and geniuses in the most unlikely of places, or in the thinnest of bloodlines. Faldren is a prime example of this: a nameless orphan who manifested a powerful mana core and became a Grandmaster before the age of thirty. Why would you not be the same?" He was suddenly reminded of an old adage spoken by his teacher.

"What is fortune but the capricious pull of fate, giving rise to impossible coincidences?"

"Do you truly believe that?" he asked softly. Lenore's tone adopted a strange, whimsical edge as she continued.

"A highborn bastard abandoned to the streets, but who later develops multiple bloodline Mysteries when he unlocks his System; a peasant boy who miraculously stumbles upon a Corpse God's legacy, granting him incredible skills, Relics, and Artes; a nameless soldier who, through sheer grit and endless struggles, catches the attention of Saints and gains powerful abilities for each impossible challenge he conquers on the battlefield.

Such anomalies do occur across history, even if they are rare, and even if the highborn prefer to pretend they do not exist." Alcyr carefully considered his next words.

"In that case, are you and the commander not at all interested to know what 'anomaly' it was that propelled me to such heights?"

"We do not need to know every little detail of our soldiers' skillset or abilities. We only need their strength and loyalty."

"That seems counterintuitive." Lenore looked at him as if he were a fool.

"Even the highborn have enough tact to know that the secrets of someone else's System are not something we can or should pry into. Such an invasive violation of their privacy will alienate talent from any Regular company — not just lowborns, but highborns as well — regardless of what benefits we might promise. Even for Irregulars, the appraisal orbs we use only evaluate their highest-levelled skill and current grade. Nothing more beyond that." Alcyr supposed that was sensible. Still, he huffed in amusement.

"Perhaps it is easier for everyone to believe my fortunate circumstances are born through chance, rather than intent or merit."

"It ultimately worked out for you, so why fuss over it?" She shrugged.

"You are lucky only Commander Faldren and I are around in the stronghold to oversee your promotion today. The other captains of the 4th Regulars hold… less than charitable opinions over your suspicious background and inexplicable achievements." Alcyr had no doubt there would be many highborn officers who would take offence at a peasant's good fortune.

"Where are they now?"

"Salvaging what's left of the Irregular forces scattered across the plains. A few days ago, the barbarian tribes decided to call upon their shamans, borrowing their foul magic to strengthen their offensive. Mutant monsters now run rampant over the tundra, making coordination between our troops difficult. I expect casualty rates to break records by the time the month is over." Alcyr hummed.

"Any news of the 3rd Irregulars?"

"Their fortifications were not readied in time. Last I heard, when the monsters came, they were butchered down to almost the last man." Lenore looked over at him, her eyes flickering with curiosity.

"They were your comrades for more than an entire year. Do you mourn for them?"

"... No. Not really." If Lenore was bothered by his callous answer, she did not show it in the slightest.