Free Web NovelChapter 35: Standard Negotiations
Adventurers were fundamentally lawless entities, yet they rarely breached the structural boundaries of a signed covenant.
In a world where communication lines were fragmented and undeveloped, a mercenary’s professional reputation was their primary liquid asset. Very few active professionals would willingly execute a breach of basic contract rules—such as demanding an immediate tariff adjustment seconds before an operation launched.
Elyra glared at the six-man squad with absolute, icy disdain.
Behind her, the twenty standing guards of Redoak Vale had already tightened their grips on their polearms. Andre’s face was flush with rage; had Elyra not extended a hand to hold him back, the veteran soldier would have already drawn his steel to settle the dispute right there on the floorboards.
The remaining nine mercenaries—the Bramble Syndicate and the three independent solo operators—remained passive, observing the friction from their respective tables.
They were technically abiding by the rules. However, Elyra was no fool; she recognized that if she failed to suppress this sudden rebellion, the structural integrity of the entire deployment would fracture. The moment she compromised with the troublemakers, every other blade in the room would immediately demand an identical pay modifier.
It was basic mercenary math.
"The specific distribution metrics were fully verified before you attached your marks to the parchment," Elyra said, her voice strained as she forced her tone into a calm, diplomatic register. "The guild logs your signatures. Breaking a sovereign covenant before deployment will permanently degrade your professional standing."
The faction spearheading the unrest was the secondary six-man squad hired alongside the Brambles. They had risen through the regional ranks over the past six months, establishing a highly efficient mission-completion rate that had initially made them look like prime candidates.
But their current behavioral pattern was entirely irrational. Demanding an immediate double-tariff on a fixed-fee contract was unheard of for standard low-tier units. Elyra’s analytical faculties immediately triggered a warning; there was an underlying variable here that didn’t align with simple greed.
The purpose of this sudden escalation wasn’t financial.
They are actively trying to delay the column’s departure, Elyra realized, tracking the shifting micro-expressions of the squad’s leader.
An external actor must be pulling the strings from the shadows. Someone deliberately orchestrated their bidding process to compromise our timeline, planning to break the contract at the staging area to ensure Redoak Vale remains under demi-human control.
"Miss Elyra, our vanguard operates under absolute professional code," the squad leader responded smoothly.
He was a human Ranger marked by severe, striking albinism. His physical features were gaunt and pale, but his logged agility metrics were exceptionally high. His name was Verne, though the tavern registries simply recorded his handle as ’Cat.’
As the undisputed commander of his unit, Cat narrowed his pale eyes and adjusted his leather bracers. "We harbored absolutely zero objections toward the baseline currency distribution listed in the original draft."
"Then explain the immediate structural breach," Elyra demanded coldly.
"Because fresh intelligence has rendered the initial parameters obsolete," Cat replied, a thin, patronizing smile touching his lips. "An independent scout recently crossed my path with verified data. The demi-human horde currently occupying Redoak Vale isn’t just a pack of wild grunts. They are directed by an active bloodline Sorcerer."
"Doubling the operational tariff when a baseline contract expands to include a Tier 1 spellcaster is standard guild protocol, is it not, Miss Elyra? Therefore, I formally propose we terminate the current document and draft an adjusted covenant."
Elyra’s knuckles turned white. "Absolutely impossible."
Cat’s eyes thinned to predatory slits. The ambient pressure inside the common room dropped instantly, the air turning thick with static tension.
At that moment, the commander of the Bramble Syndicate set his flagon down with a heavy thud, drawing the room’s attention.
"If an active spellcaster is anchored to the defensive layout, a tariff adjustment is standard procedure," the veteran Level 5 Fighter stated gruffly. "However, my scouts haven’t personally verified this intelligence. The Brambles will remain neutral for the duration of this specific debate."
"But let me be entirely clear: if their squad receives a double modifier, my people expect an identical adjustment to maintain equity. Is that metric understood?"
The three solo operators nodded in silent agreement. If the baseline pay scaled up for one faction, the entire deployment expected a matching increase. Otherwise, their motivation parameters would crater before they even reached the valley walls.
Elyra took a slow, deep breath, but instead of fracturing under the pressure, a cold smile manifested on her face.
In truth, while the albino Ranger’s sudden rebellion was an operational nuisance, it was entirely within their calculated projections. Her young master had already mapped out this exact scenario during their initial planning sub-routine. Xander had anticipated that a compromised asset within the mercenary pool would attempt to disrupt the deployment timeline.
The Bramble Syndicate’s motivations were entirely transparent—their leader required immediate capital to purge a supernatural blight from his child, making them highly predictable. But why had this rapidly rising secondary squad taken the contract so eagerly?
Xander had factored this variable into his calculations and left behind a definitive counter-measure.
"Your intelligence is correct," Elyra announced, her voice echoing clearly across the wood beams. "The demi-human vanguard is indeed directed by a bloodline Sorcerer. Furthermore, my logs confirm the target has achieved Tier 2 evolutionary markers."
The albino Ranger’s smile widened slightly, an undercurrent of triumph flashing through his pale pupils. The half-elf is folding, Cat thought, his pulse steadying. She’s preparing to negotiate.
"Since the parameters are out in the open, shall we sit and log the new tariff requirements?" Cat asked, leaning back against the bench.
Inwardly, he sneered. Let her draft a hundred contracts. We didn’t accept this deployment for the guild silver.
The moment they entered a re-negotiation sub-routine, the column would be forced to return to River Shore City to register the amendments through the central archive. The delay would buy his anonymous employer days of uninhibited time. That single noble handler had promised them an extraordinary sum simply to paralyze the estate’s recovery efforts without swinging a blade.
"A new contract?"
Elyra let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "You misunderstand our position. We have absolutely no intention of altering a single line of the signed ledger."
"If your squad chooses to execute a deliberate breach of contract here, you will immediately forfeit your guild collateral and pay the mandated default penalty."
The smiles across the rebel squad instantly vanished.
What? Cat’s posture stiffened. She’s maintaining an unyielding stance despite a Tier 2 spellcaster threat?
Even the Bramble captain stood up, his heavy iron armor clanking as he looked at Elyra with a grave expression. "Miss Elyra, if a Tier 2 caster is entrenched on the field, the operational mortality rate surges exponentially. I strongly advise a formal re-evaluation of the deployment parameters."
He harbored no desire to sabotage the operation, but as a veteran commander, his primary algorithm was the survival rate of his subordinates. Even a primitive demi-human caster could incinerate an entire infantry line if left uninhibited.
"The defensive layout is already accounted for," Elyra countered smoothly. "The demi-human chieftain is a Tier 2 Sorcerer. However, the Redoak estate has already retained an independent specialist to handle that specific high-value target."
"Your collective contract remains strictly limited to clearing the common grunt forces. The spellcaster is entirely removed from your operational orbit."
A specialist?
A sudden, sharp spike of anxiety hit Cat’s chest. This variable completely deviated from his employer’s brief.
Before another word could be uttered, the heavy timber door of the inn groaned on its hinges. A lean, shadow-draped silhouette stepped quietly through the threshold, slipping into the crowded room like an ink blot spreading across parchment.
The figure wore a dense, featureless leather mask. Fixed to his reinforced utility belt were two identical, blackened hilts.
"My apologies for the logistical delay," Xander stated, his voice artificially dropped into a raspy, menacing baritone.
[Identity Registered: Masked Twin Blades]
The ambient atmosphere inside the common room instantly transformed into a powder keg.
Xander stood entirely motionless near the doorway, his silence projecting a heavy, suffocating pressure across the room.
One by one, the mercenaries slowly rose to their feet, their expressions turning deeply analytical and tense. As Tier 1 adventurers, they were hyper-aware of the shifting power dynamics in the regional underworld. The individual standing before them was the exact entity who had single-handedly liquidated the entire leadership tier of the Acheron syndicate in a single evening.
The late boss of the Acheron gang had been a confirmed Tier 2 combat professional. freewёbnoνel.com
Furthermore, rumor logs directly linked this masked figure to the absolute annihilation of the Miller estate’s private security detail inside the highly fortified upper district. To execute a high-profile liquidation inside the city’s high-security sectors required an absurd level of stealth and lethality.
The Masked Twin Blades had rapidly evolved into one of the most terrifying urban legends in River Shore City.
Xander remained silent, allowing his reputation matrix to do the heavy lifting. Elyra turned her gaze back to the albino Ranger, her tone shifting into a dominant, unyielding command. "The Sorcerer is his exclusive assignment. Your blades will focus solely on the infantry line. Do you still find the original contract terms mathematically unviable?"
Cat remained frozen, his pale forehead breaking into a cold sweat as his mind frantically worked to calculate a new vector. Their primary excuse for delaying the march had been completely neutralized.
"There’s a massive municipal bounty riding on your mask," a deep, booming voice broke the silence from a corner table.
It was the solo Pugilist. His massive, muscular frame was lined with heavy scar tissue, and his hands were wrapped in reinforced iron-studded knuckles. His guild handle was ’The Rock’—a title earned not from his defensive capabilities, but because his striking force could systematically shatter solid granite.
The Pugilist fixed an aggressive, opportunistic stare on Xander. "You’ve got a lot of nerve embedding yourself in a standard contract column with that kind of heat on your head."
"Then try and collect it," Xander replied, his voice entirely devoid of emotion.
His hidden gaze didn’t just lock onto the Pugilist; he executed a slow, calculated visual sweep of every mercenary in the hall, letting his eyes linger for three distinct seconds on the members of the rebel squad.
The common room fell into a deathly, freezing silence.
"If the caster is removed from our tactical equation, the Bramble Syndicate honors the original mark," the veteran Fighter announced, breaking the standoff as he reseated himself. "We have zero interest in municipal bounties or underworld politics. Our objective is strictly bounded by the mission parameters."
He glanced briefly toward Xander’s daggers before adding, "We harvest our silver from the field, not from assassination contracts."
"I still harbor a formal objection!" Cat barked, realizing his control over the room was slipping away entirely.
He leaned over the table, his pale face contorting into a mask of righteous skepticism. "How do we verify this urban legend can actually suppress a Tier 2 Sorcerer? If his execution routine fails on the frontline, our entire infantry line will be exposed to area-of-effect spells!"
The Pugilist, reading the room’s shifting tension, let out a low, predatory chuckle. "The albino makes a solid point. The Masked Twin Blades has a spectacular reputation in the taverns, but what are his actual combat metrics?"
His tone shifted, a mocking challenge laced into his words. "Master Verne, your vanguard vanguard includes Green, does he not? He’s logged as one of the finest rogue assets in the lower tiers. Why don’t we let the two of them exchange a few quick calibrations right here on the floor? Let’s verify if this masked figure actually possesses the attributes to back up the rumors."
