Chapter 37

Translator: Willia

It was a small, fortress-like building that seemed to have only the barest essentials.

A thick cylindrical tower about three stories high stood beneath a conical roof, with an ordinary-looking house attached to it. The whole thing looked a little like a giant snail.

Were people supposed to live in the house, then move into the tower in an emergency? Apparently not. Judging by the interior, the tower itself was simply used as living space as well.

If they actually had to fight, they could climb to the second or third floor and attack in every direction with bows or crossbows.

But geography was the most important factor for any castle or fortress, and since this one stood on flat ground, it did not seem particularly useful for that purpose.

Still, with public order as unstable as it was, it made an excellent stronghold for dealing with thugs, ruffians, and small bands of thieves.

The problem was that it had gone a long time without an owner or any maintenance, so repairs were needed everywhere. There were holes in the roof, rotten timber, cobwebs, and plenty else that needed to be cleared away, patched up, or replaced.

Fortunately, there were people to do just that. Valery and his companions had bought this abandoned house on the outskirts of Grinnen to use as their base.

They tore things out, hammered in nails, and swept away thick layers of dust, breathing life back into the house one corner at a time.

None of them were professional carpenters, so the workmanship was hardly neat, but everything functioned well enough. If anything, their repairs tended to be sturdier than necessary.

Only after two full days of cleaning and repairs did the place become more or less fit to live in. It had been brutally exhausting work, but it was satisfying.

After all, they had done it for themselves, not for anyone else.

As the finishing touch, they planted a flag atop the tower's conical roof. It had a white field with a piece of green cloth sewn onto it in the shape of a frog lying flat.

Dyes were difficult to obtain, and painting something so it would not wash away required specialized skill, so sewing on a piece of cloth was their only option for now.

Arne and Skard watched Valery plant the flag on the roof and muttered in stunned disbelief.

“Are we seriously doing this......?”

“I still think Widowmakers was pretty good......”

In any case, the matter had already been decided. They still needed to bring in furniture and household goods, but first came a little celebration. Barley beer, freshly baked bread, smoked meat, assorted vegetables, and roasted frog.

They tossed all the food into a single pot, gathered around it, and dug in. When the conversation turned to what exactly they would do from here on out, Valery laid out his plan.

“First, we win Popular Support. Second, we use that Popular Support to gain Legitimacy. Third, we use that Legitimacy to absorb or eliminate the other organizations. Fourth, we expand our influence and take control of the city. That's our grand strategy and our code of action from now on. Any objections?”

“......Could you explain it first?”

Arne asked as he tore off a piece of soft, freshly baked bread, a welcome change after so long eating nothing but hard loaves. He needed to understand what Valery was talking about before he could object to it.

“Winning Popular Support means giving people work and paying them wages. At first, we'll pay them just for doing something simple, like bringing us lumber or building stone. Then we'll use those materials to build houses for them to live in or improve this area. That gives them a livelihood.”

The others stared at Valery, clearly not understanding at all.

“Why do we have to do that? Isn't that kind of charity what Priests at a Temple are supposed to do? We're a mercenary company.”

“It gives them something to lose. People who have something to lose become afraid of losing it. Put simply, once their livelihoods are tied to us, they'll become loyal to us if only to protect what they have. Eventually, if the city itself comes under threat, they'll have a reason to go out and fight for it too.”

People did not really understand the importance of Popular Support. Rulers such as Lords and Kings vaguely understood it, but Grinnen currently had no real Ruler, and the organizations running rampant through the city were too busy exploiting the people.

Valery understood the principle not because he had studied it in theory, but largely because of his experiences before regression.

How to earn loyalty, how to expand one's power, and how to bring all of it together as a single force.

It was something he had needed to understand in order to keep winning while growing stronger, instead of being worn down with every battle.

“What about the second part? What Legitimacy are you talking about?”

Knut asked while eating frog meat that Yorik had picked from the bones for him.

“Once we've expanded our influence enough, we're going to stop them from collecting Turf Tax. Things like Turf Tax are what choke people's livelihoods in the first place. And Turf Tax is basically another name for a Protection Fee, isn't it? We'll be the ones protecting them, so no one else gets to collect it.”

“So if the other groups resist, we drive them out or kill them. If they bow their heads and come over to us, we accept them. We're going straight after their source of income, so that'll put them in quite a bind.”

Now that he finally understood, Arne explained the third step himself.

“Once enough people gather here, Skard will select the ones who can fight and train them. Arne will put the people to work and supervise them, while Yorik handles wages and the rest of the money.”

“What about me?”

Knut asked. After two days spent cleaning the house, he looked little different from an ordinary commoner.

“You have something else to do.”

“What?”

“There's an organization called the Black Hand. You're going to be in charge of them.”

There was no room for mercy anymore. Valery and the Black Hand had helped each other until now and could almost have been called allies, but Valery intended to simply swallow them whole.

“What kind of people are they?”

“They're a kind of Thieves' Guild, except they're more secretive and covert than the other Thieves' Guilds, I suppose. Anyway, that's what they're like.”

“Sounds fun.”

Valery had assigned everyone roles that suited their abilities. They were all still rookies, so he did not expect everything to run smoothly from the beginning.

But he believed it would work out eventually. He had accomplished things under circumstances far more hopeless than this.

“And remember this. Our purpose is to protect this city. We won't take anyone's side in the war. Of course, if we need to, we'll make use of both sides. If my prediction is right, the Duke will probably fall in this war.”

Regardless of whether they believed him, talk of matters on that scale did not feel particularly real to Valery's friends. They would find out when it happened.

Knut said nothing.

Having earned the nickname Salt Prince, Valery had an excellent reputation in Grinnen.

As a result, gathering people was not difficult. In fact, he did not even need to go out of his way to recruit them. People came on their own.

Under the direction of Arne and a hired architect, they hauled construction materials, built houses, raised stone walls, tilled vegetable plots, and mined, trimmed, and dried peat.

There were people watching all of this from a distance. They wore pieces of cloth folded into triangles over their mouths and noses as masks. They were members of the Black Hand, specifically the trio who usually negotiated with Valery.

“What are they doing? Charity work?”

The Black Hand was meticulous and secretive, and when they assassinated someone, the job got done. But even they could only be ignorant about something they had never seen or heard of in their lives.

Running a city, for example.

“Looks like they're planning to trade peat. But why bother building houses?”

“What's that flag? What is that supposed to be? Is that seriously a frog?”

“I've heard people calling them The Froskar.”

“The Froskar? You can name a mercenary company something like that? What is this, some children's game......?”

In truth, names like Widowmakers or Ball-Ripper Slayers were much more fitting for mercenary companies. Mercenaries preferred names that sounded intimidating and impressive, so most groups followed that kind of pattern.

“What are you staring at so intently?”

Someone spoke from behind them. The three immediately darted into hiding like squirrels.

“I already saw all of you. What's the point of hiding now?”

Valery said as he walked toward them. Knut was beside him.

Even after Valery spoke, none of them showed themselves. Knut looked up into a tree.

“That one climbed up there.”

It was a technique for silently climbing a tree from outside an opponent's field of vision, but Knut's keen eyes spotted it immediately.

“Why don't we just talk normally now, Reilly?”

At Valery's words, one of the three flinched. He was the one who usually spoke with Valery.

Secrecy was both their greatest weapon and their greatest weakness. Once their identities were exposed, few people were more helpless.

The Black Hand was like a razor-sharp sword made of glass.

Unfortunately for them, Valery had regressed, so he knew exactly who they were.

Before regression, Valery had risen quite high as an Assassin, and by that point, this trio had effectively formed the Black Hand's leadership.

He had only learned later, after taking control of the army, that all three had been orphans raised in the same Monastery.

They had not reached that point yet, but in the future Valery remembered, they were legendary figures in their trade who had helped the Black Hand seize control of all Grinnen.

He had no idea whether they were currently mid-level managers or something else.

“H-how......”

One person stepped out with a mask still covering his nose and mouth. His eyes were trembling.

“Funny, isn't it? All I did was say your name, and now your organization is going to suspect you. If they catch you, they'll probably torture you. Roy, Ella, I already knew you two were hiding nearby every time we made contact, so stop wasting your time and come out.”

Roy and Ella both felt their hearts drop. Other things were one matter, but their real names were among the organization's most closely guarded secrets.

“Do you want to get tortured, or do you want to talk to me? Stop keeping me waiting and come out.”

Only then did two people jump down from the tree. The fact that they made no sound when they landed showed that they had already undergone considerable training.

The Black Hand trio stared warily at Valery and Knut, fear mixed into their eyes. Perhaps because they were frightened, they kept their mouths tightly shut and refused to speak.

“Listen carefully, all three of you. Here's what I want. From now on, the Black Hand becomes a subordinate organization of The Froskar. You'll handle intelligence. Knut here will be the Intelligence Officer. In simple terms, you're going to teach Knut what he needs to know and obediently do as he says.”

It was already unbelievable that Valery knew their real names, and now he had suddenly made an impossible demand. The trio had no idea what was happening or how they were supposed to respond.

More accurately, their minds were so tangled that they could barely think at all.

Valery shattered what remained of their composure with something even more shocking.

“The guild master is the Abbot, right? He gathers abandoned children and ones with nowhere else to go, raises them, then puts the useless ones into a Begging Racket or just sells them off early. The ones with nimble fingers become pickpockets, and if they don't meet their quota, he cuts off their fingers. Then he picks out the best among them and turns them into Assassins. Am I right or not?”

Before regression, Valery had not come from the Monastery. No matter how capable he was, there had been a limit to how high he could rise within the organization because the upper ranks of the Black Hand consisted entirely of people raised in the Monastery.

“......”

“Let's put a stop to that. We'll kill the Abbot and make sure they can't do those things to the children anymore. You won't have to walk around with your faces covered all the time. You won't have to hide your names either. In exchange, you work for us.”

It was easy to say. Even if it was something good for the trio, the situation itself was too much for them to accept all at once.

“Knut is the Third Young Lord. He's on the run right now, so he doesn't have any real authority, but at the very least, he's someone with enough status for you to lean on. It means you can gain official recognition. That's what you've always dreamed of, isn't it? Living openly, with nothing to be ashamed of, just living ordinary lives like everyone else. I'll make that possible. Think it over.”

After saying that, Valery turned to leave with Knut.

After a brief hesitation, Reilly hurriedly called out from among the trio.

“W-wait.”

Valery turned back, and Reilly asked him a question.

“How... how did you know?”

“Hmm...... You're still inexperienced. That's why it all shows in your eyes. Those naive thoughts of youth, I mean.”

He could not exactly tell them that he knew because he had regressed. They would never believe something like that anyway.

But what he had just said was not a lie either. The trio Valery remembered from before regression had possessed eyes devoid of all life, almost mechanical.

He did not know what they had gone through to end up that way, but for now, there was still life in them. If that light went out, there would be nothing more Valery could do for them.

Nothing except kill them.

“Hey.”

One of the three spoke as she lowered her mask. It was Ella, the only woman among the trio. One of her pinky fingers was missing, and a scar ran across her cheek.

“Guarantee it.”

“Guarantee what?”

“That you'll keep us safe.”

Valery looked at Ella's face. Revealing herself meant she had left herself no way back.

Perhaps unwilling to leave her alone in that decision, Reilly and Roy lowered their masks as well.

They all had young faces. They could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen, around Valery's age.

“If we drag this out too long, they might notice. It doesn't take someone talking. Tiny changes in the way you act are enough. So we kill him tonight. That's my guarantee of your safety.”

Valery spoke coldly. Then again, there was not a warmhearted person among them. Certainty was more comforting than clumsy reassurance.

“......The Abbot isn't an easy opponent. We don't live like this for no reason.”

“Do I look like an easy opponent?”

The trio had watched Valery for some time.

From what they had seen, Valery seemed like a human being who was perfect in every respect.

Planning and execution, schemes, swordsmanship, he possessed top-class ability in every field, along with strength, courage, wisdom, fortitude, and the bold decisiveness to act without hesitation.

It was enough to make them wonder whether the legendary heroes of old had been like this. No, even legendary heroes usually had at least one flaw, yet they could not see anything of the sort in Valery.

He showed no greed for wealth, no weakness for women, and none of the ordinary vulnerabilities that might make a person waver.

Whether it was because of those qualities or because there was something else they could not quite identify, the truth was that hope had slowly begun to sprout inside the trio whenever they looked at Valery.

Maybe, if it was him.

That kind of hope.

But they could never have been the first to approach him.

“There'll never be another person like you. Maybe that's why this is the moment to make the biggest gamble of our lives.”

Reilly spoke. Perhaps because all their secrets had been exposed, he looked strangely powerless, and there was something mournful in his eyes.

For the Black Hand, having one's secrets exposed was no different from receiving a death sentence.

Valery answered him.

“Sorry, but I don't gamble. I take on challenges. And I don't fail at the challenges I take on. Come by the house later. We'll discuss the operation.”

With that, Valery turned and walked away with Knut.

The trio remained behind, standing there like abandoned children. None of them spoke.

There truly was no turning back now.

Could they really kill the Abbot? Could they really trust Valery all the way to the end?

Just as Reilly had said, this was the moment of a lifetime.

A moment of choice that would change everything.

It was a little forceful, but Valery had pushed them into making that choice.