The Imperial Supreme Commander Has Returned - Chapter 66

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Empire’s Supreme Commander Returns Chapter 66

‘Is this the place?’

Delram tilted his head back, studying the inn before him.
In an age where most were illiterate, signs mattered.
A bed-emblazoned placard stood before the building’s entrance.

But this one was different.
Crossed swords and a shield had been added beneath the bed motif.
It meant the inn doubled as a Mercenary Guild branch.

The Mercenary Guild.

An organization that lived up to its name exactly.
A collective body of interest built by mercenaries themselves.
The guild served as intermediary between employers and sellswords, and when disputes arose, it mediated to supplement the mutual distrust between parties.
It also maintained order.

‘Eliminating mercenaries who caused trouble, assigning ranks, that sort of thing.’

Delram had never visited such a place before.
Still, soldiers and mercenaries shared considerable overlap.
Both, after all, lived by the sword.
Naturally, many of his subordinates came from mercenary backgrounds, and he understood from them exactly how the guild operated.

In any case, this was the Gullès Branch of the Mercenary Guild.
He’d told the priest they’d leave at once, but that wasn’t quite true yet.
There was something he needed to look into before heading to the next city.

He might as well pick up a mercenary credential while he was at it.
It could prove useful as a cover identity down the road.

Creak.

He pushed open the inn door and stepped inside, finding the typical interior layout.
What surprised him was how spacious the common room was.

Gullès was a sizable territory by any measure.
Which was precisely why detecting the Demonic Aura had taken over ten days.
The number of active mercenaries was correspondingly high, and to house them all required an inn with adequate rooms.

Another distinguishing feature was the bulletin board.
Job notices were sparse across the central board.
Most contained little text—instead, simple pictographs denoted escort work, Demon Beast extermination, territorial disputes, bandit suppression, and the like.

‘Let’s see what’s available.’

Delram scanned the board methodically.
Even at this early hour, torn edges showed where notices had been taken down.
Likely by the mercenaries scattered in small groups around the tables.
They seemed to be reviewing their selections now.
To secure worthwhile contracts, a mercenary had to be diligent.

“Hey there, youngster.”
“……?”

As he was absorbed in this, someone called out to him.
The man’s gait was unsteady, his face flushed red.
He’d been guzzling alcohol since yesterday evening straight through the night.

While some were hunched over commission notices from morning onwards…….
Needless to say, he was anything but a decent human being.
Still, kindhearted Delram played along with the conversation.

“You came to become a Mercenary?”
“Well… something like that. Just looking to take on some jobs.”
“Same difference. But if it’s your first time, it’ll be rough. You’ve got to hunt Demon Beasts, fight bandits too—think you can handle it?”
“…….”
“Especially Demon Beasts—they love youngsters like you. Soft flesh, and when they’re tearing into your organs, your screams are just adorable……. And bandits? Don’t get cocky just because you’re a boy.”

The man laughed with a low, creeping chuckle.
Not content with that, he curled his fingers and made jabbing motions in the air.
Something crusty clung to his beard, making it twice as revolting.

“That’s why I’m saying―”

But it was unexpected.
Because what followed was genuinely warm advice.

He was a veteran, sure enough, but of course he’d had his own novice days…….
So your situation doesn’t feel like someone else’s problem…….
I’ll share the know-how of Mercenary life with you…….
Why not join our Crew outright…….
You’re free to leave whenever you want…….

And it wouldn’t be unpaid, either.
He’d split the commission fees fairly. A genuinely generous offer!
Delram’s reaction to it was simple.

‘I should kill him.’

Delram was old enough now that sparse whiskers were starting to show.
But that very clumsiness only emphasized his youth the more.
The Mercenary Guild’s enrollment requirement was seventeen years old.
To any eye, he fell short of that mark.

Yet cases like Delram’s were quite common.
Boys who wanted to join the Guild, lying about their age to get in.

Mostly, it was the Mercenaries who passed through villages that were to blame.
When they rattled off their tales, could they possibly be true?
They boasted endlessly about catching Kobolds and hunting Ogres.

Poor young souls fell completely under the spell of those heroic sagas.
In the end, they’d run away from home with the family fortune in hand.
Buy a single sword and show up at the Mercenary Guild.

The man before him was hunting for just such boys.
He’d sweet-talk them into his Crew, then work them like dogs.
When they hunted Demon Beasts, he’d use them as bait.
Of course, freedom to leave was never a real option.

“…….”

Delram’s eyes went cold and empty.
He’d made his decision—but the drunk Mercenary had a long life ahead of him.
A man from the intake desk had come over and warned him about this.

“This bastard’s at it again?”
“What? I’m just trying to help a lost little lamb find her way.”
“Shut it and get lost.”
“Tch!”

The mercenary grumbled but said nothing more, stepping aside.
The receptionist appeared to be quite skilled.
Or perhaps she held real authority over the Gullès Branch.

“Hey, what brings you here?”
“Nothing much. Just wondering if there’s a simple Demon Beast contract heading toward Belmolis—something clean and straightforward.”
“You’re killing me. I get a cartload of people like you every day. Though you don’t look like some country bumpkin fresh off the farm yesterday…”

The receptionist trailed off, studying Delram more carefully now.
His appearance was decidedly practical.
A comfortable Robe for sleeping in, a small bag, a sword—that was all.

Yet to a discerning eye, other things might stand out.
The Robe’s exterior was rough, but its lining was clearly fine material.
Or the chill radiating from between the cheap scabbard’s edges.

During her time as a Silver Plate Mercenary.
The receptionist had encountered such people very rarely.
And they were known by a single name—

‘Why is a Knight here…?’

Cold sweat trickled down her spine.
But she managed to compose herself.
By age alone, he didn’t seem likely to be a Knight.

Besides, if he truly were a Knight, she couldn’t have spoken to him this way.
That mercenary would already be torn to pieces.
She’d be too busy bowing and scrubbing up the blood pooling across the floor.
Therefore, this boy had to be a Knight’s Squire.

In that case, there was no need to be terrified.
Of course, a Squire was frightening too—but this was the Mercenary Guild.
Even a cur eats half its fill in its own home, as they say.

“Well, you do seem capable. Still, I can’t just hand out contracts willy-nilly. This is a Mercenary Guild, after all.”
“So I need to become a Mercenary first.”
“Obviously. Do you know anything about Mercenaries?”
“Just vaguely heard they use medal colors for ranks or something…”
“You really do know almost nothing. First, to become a Mercenary, you need to carry one proper weapon. We don’t count Short Swords—only longswords, crossbows, bows, that sort of thing.”

After that, there are three conditions to fulfill.
[You must be at least seventeen years old.]
[Your personal information must be clear.]
[You must undergo the test administered by the Guild.]

“The test is just a simple sparring match. We’re assessing your potential, so if you can hold a sword properly, you’ll at least get a Bronze Plate.”
“So after Bronze comes Iron, then Silver, then Gold…like that?”
“Right. If you’re genuinely skilled, you might start at Iron, and the more jobs you complete successfully, the higher you climb.”
“There are restrictions on contracts based on rank too, I’m guessing?”
“Of course. Something like those Demon Beast contracts you mentioned requires at minimum an Iron Plate—and even then, a Crew of at least three members.”
“What a pain.”

A test? A sparring match?
When on earth would that ever happen.
And Delram was always someone who sized others up.
So, conversely, the very fact of being evaluated unsettled him.

Delram scanned the room around him.
The mercenaries at the tables were all staring in his direction.
Their eyes gleamed with anticipation—wondering what he’d do next.

True to form, Delram did not disappoint them.
He soon spotted his target and approached with quiet confidence.
It was the drunk mercenary Crew he’d spoken to earlier.

A Crew ranked one step below a full mercenary band.
Four of them had been guzzling since morning.
The drunk one belatedly sensed Delram’s approach.

“What’s this, kid? Need your senior’s help after all?”
“Shut your mouth.”

Crack!
“Ugh!”

Delram brought his palm down hard against the man’s skull.
Then he seized him by the hair and drove his head into the wall beside them.
The impact was so violent the entire inn shook.

But the good-natured mercenary didn’t even cry out in anger.
He simply collapsed quietly, his face dunking into a bowl of hangover soup.
He’d hit hard enough that no bubbles rose from it.

Splort.
“Gasp…!”

His crewmates were equally good-natured about it.
They merely stood rigid, their breath catching audibly in their throats.

The reason they stayed docile despite their companion’s beating was simple.
They hadn’t even seen how Delram moved.
In that moment, they understood: do not touch this one.

In fact, reading the room was a mercenary’s basic survival instinct.
Without it, you couldn’t make a living as one.
You’d be dead within days.

“I’m taking this.”
“Y-yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
“And get him out of here fast, or you die.”
“Understood!”

Delram retrieved something from the unconscious mercenary.
It was nothing impressive—a wrinkled apple.
Probably meant to be eaten for dessert.

What Delram did with it was straightforward.
He flicked it lightly into the air.

Slice!

At the same moment, Tarving was drawn.
The blade flashed, and the apple was cut clean in half.
It was a technique mercenaries typically displayed to show off their skill.

The difference, if any, was that they usually produced four pieces.
Delram, on the other hand—

Thwack-thwack-thwack.

Sliced apple fell like rain, pouring down in a deluge.
He’d asked Owl to use Wind to keep the apple suspended in mid-air longer, then hacked away like a madman in the meantime—the result was before them.

That was the end of the skill demonstration.
The receptionist was swallowing hard.
Delram spoke simply.

“Let’s not waste each other’s time. You can see as well as I can that I’m not really the type to be doing Mercenary work, right?”
“W-well, yes, but why did you come here in the first place—”
“I’m looking for some information. Like I said before, if you’ve got a Demon Beast contract that’d be worth handling on the way to Belmolis, let me know.”
“Just a moment, please!”

The receptionist quickly produced a stack of papers.
Rifling through them as if something had come to mind, he selected one sheet.

“There is one! Just as you said, it’s on the road toward Belmolis. But the details are a bit… ambiguous, so I was hesitant to recommend it.”
“What is it?”
“A Harpy subjugation request from Lumberjack Village.”
“A Harpy, hm. But if it’s not on the bulletin board and only in the back records, that means it’s been sitting here a while. It still hasn’t been resolved?”
“The completion fee is 10 Gold. No advance payment, either. It would’ve been manageable even at that price in the old days, but recently Demon Beast subjugation requests have exploded, and prices have gone up accordingly. And since it’s a flying type…”
“Hm? Now that you mention it, Lumberjack Village is under the Lord’s direct rule, isn’t it? The Lord should be handling this himself, not the Guild.”
“Haha…”

The receptionist laughed awkwardly.
It was indeed the obvious thing to expect.

A lord pledged loyalty to the king and received title and domain in return.
The same held true for the lord’s subjects.
They paid taxes to their lord and received protection in kind.
Especially for work like stone and timber processing, which most lords managed directly, the protection was meant to be particularly robust.

And yet the Harpy was left alone?
It meant: fend for yourselves or die, just keep the lumber coming.

‘Don’t like the look of this one.’

The Lord of Gullès was proving to be exactly that sort.
Not content with turning a blind eye to the slave trade, he’d gone as far as to neglect his duties?
Delram decided to add one more line to his report, already drafted.

[No Demonic Aura detected]
[No additional defense garrison required]
[…However, unsettling atmosphere noted in the territory]

A trivial line.
But why had this place made it onto the dispatch list in the first place?
Because the lord had shown bad character from the start.

So even this much would make the lord sweat blood.
No—considering the temperament of King Leosax II himself, it might not just be blood. The lord could lose his domain entirely.
Gradually. Piece by piece.

Which begged the question: why did he keep stepping on toes?
Even if he didn’t realize it, this was deliberate negligence.

“I’ve got the gist of it. That’ll do.”
“Are you certain? You should know that Harpies are―”
“And you said there’s no one else to take it anyway, right?”

Harpies were mid-tier Demon Beasts.
Their raw strength was only marginally superior to lower-tier creatures.
A seasoned Mercenary could hunt one down in a one-on-one encounter without much trouble.

Yet there were two reasons they were classified as mid-tier.
One: they flew, which made them devilishly hard to pin down.
Two: they hunted in packs.

Neither of those mattered to Delram, though.
If anything, he was their natural predator.
With Owl and the bow Imir at his side, he was unstoppable.
Harpies were nothing but targets.

“That information’s enough. I’ll head out.”
“Ah, you’ll need to take this with you.”

The receptionist quickly pressed an Iron Plate into his hand.
It was the highest rank the Branch could issue.
No name had been engraved on it yet, so the surface gleamed smooth and unblemished.

“It’s proof that you’ve been commissioned as a Mercenary. You can have your name engraved however you like later.”
“Sure, I get it.”

Delram chuckled softly and pocketed it.
The way they’d scrambled made it clear they’d been waiting for just this chance.
They wanted to keep a thread connecting them to him, no matter what.

But that was the mark of true ability―
Making an obvious ploy feel perfectly pleasant.
Delram leaned toward the receptionist and spoke quietly.

“I’m Delram Pler.”
“Gasp! You’re nobility?”
“If you ever find yourself with nothing to do, or if you want to take on something truly extraordinary, come find the Biztache Family in the Royal Capital. Just mention my name when you arrive.”
“I―I’m honored!”

Delram grinned.
Capable people were always worth cultivating.
Whether they wielded a blade, cast spells, or simply closed deals.
Because there was a darkness to face.

‘I can’t do this alone, brute-forcing my way through everything.’

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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