After the tournament concluded, Rafe found himself engulfed by the jubilant crowd as he made his way to the post-match banquet. Amidst the enchanting blend of wine, ripe fruits, and the aroma of freshly baked bread, the echoes of Midnestang's monthly real sword combat event still reverberated through the quaint town.

As twilight descended upon them, Avi and Rafe found solace in the sanctuary of the "Happy Nightingale," meticulously counting their coins in the intimate glow of candlelight.

"Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine... There we have it, a perfect tally of one hundred gold coins! We've struck gold, boss!" Avi exclaimed, his gaze fixed upon Rafe whose eyes sparkled with joy, his bandaged form exuding an air of triumph.

Witnessing Rafe's unbridled elation, Avi couldn't shake off a pang of remorse towards his steadfast companion.

"Who wouldn't covet a right-hand man proficient in both the arts of war and wisdom, were it not for the scarcity of capable allies?" Avi pondered silently.

"With this windfall, the needs of our comrades-in-arms are duly addressed," Avi remarked with satisfaction. "With this substantial sum, we can outfit each member with a complete ensemble of gear, and I shall ensure you secure a noble steed as well."

"And what of you, boss?" Rafe inquired with a glint of curiosity. "Surely you too must consider a replacement for your faithful mount?"

"I need not trouble myself with such matters. Recall the knights we encountered yesterday? I brokered a deal with one of them. I relinquished credit for the recovery of the 'Leg Biter Sword,' and in return, he graciously provided us with provisions and bestowed upon me a steed of exceptional pedigree," Avi elucidated.

"And what of the steed?" Rafe pressed on.

"Who can say? Should that gentleman lack the integrity to honor our agreement, he may conveniently abscond from his obligations," Avi shrugged nonchalantly. "Yet such trifles are of no consequence. Rest here awhile, my friend; I shall seize the opportunity to procure the necessary accoutrements for our companions."

"But did not the arms merchant fall prey to the law? Whence shall you obtain the requisite armaments?" Rafe queried.

"In a market as sprawling as ours, alternatives invariably abound," Avi reassured him with a knowing nod. "I have negotiated another arrangement; it is airtight."

"Pray, what manner of arrangement?" Rafe persisted, his countenance fraught with uncertainty.

"A mere dalliance with the arcane," Avi responded evasively, realizing Rafe's ignorance regarding the intricacies of the 'system.' "Rest assured, my friend; all shall be well. Now, make yourself comfortable; I shall away."

"Wait, boss," Rafe interjected tentatively.

"What troubles you?"

"Might you procure some jerky on my behalf?" Rafe scratched his head sheepishly, a lopsided grin playing across his features. "The banquet's fare, largely herbivorous in nature, has left my palate devoid of any discernible flavor."

"...," Avi uttered in silent acquiescence before quietly closing the door behind him.

The market square lay strewn with detritus from the day's revelries—discarded parchment, fruit peelings, and sundry refuse intermingled with patches of mud upon the haphazardly laid cobblestone streets.

Though the tournament had drawn to a close, numerous enthusiasts lingered in the marketplace, animatedly recounting the spectacle of the day's battles. Avi overheard discussions of the 'savage warrior wielding a colossal blade' on more than one occasion, further cementing Rafe's newfound epithet, much to Avi's delight.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Navigating his path to another purveyor of armaments, Avi noted the conspicuous dearth of patrons outside the establishment. A pair of meticulously burnished suits of armor served as the sole advertisement, suspended by wooden struts. The desolation of the shop was palpable, with not a soul in sight within its confines.

"Could this be... yet another dubious establishment?" Avi mused to himself. Despite recent enhancements to his bargaining skills, Avi resolved to venture forth nonetheless—his acumen in negotiation would serve as a safeguard against undue exploitation, should the proprietor prove to be engaged in illicit commerce.

Furthermore, with this being the solitary emporium of its kind within the town's precincts, Avi found himself with scant recourse.

Within the confines of the shop, a constellation of oil lamps cast a warm luminescence, illuminating an eclectic array of weaponry and armor. These wares, sanctioned by imperial decree for civilian trade, lacked the refinement of military-grade equipment, comprising largely unassuming forged articles.

Manning the counter was a middle-aged, slightly portly gentleman. Perhaps due to years ensconced in the rigors of accounting and negotiation, he bore a shining bald pate that rivalled the radiance of the oil lamps themselves.

"Welcome," the shopkeeper intoned wearily as Avi made his entrance. "How may I be of service to you?"

"I am in the market for provisions—sufficient armor and arms to outfit a contingent of twenty-four," Avi declared, his gaze sweeping the premises and alighting upon an array of iron and chainmail, a burgeoning sense of trepidation taking root within him.

"Will one hundred gold coins suffice?"

"Twenty-plus people, is it a mercenary band?" The shopkeeper suddenly perked up. "May I ask for your name?"

"Um..." Avi hesitated briefly on whether to tell him. "I'm Avi."

"Ah, Avi, a name reminiscent of a leader from the south. You seem to have won a prize in the morning's competition, if I recall correctly..."

Interrupting the weapons shop owner's struggle for words, Avi couldn't help but interject, "Is there something you need my help with?"

"Um..." The shopkeeper scratched his head and hesitantly said, "I have a task here. If you don't mind, could you lend a hand?"

After explaining the situation to his team members standing in the courtyard, Avi shrugged to express his helplessness.

"I bought back these supplies at half price, and he even hired some laborers to deliver the goods here."

"Boss, what task did he ask us to do?"

"To take out a group of orcs from the Shattered Leaf Tribe and retrieve his family heirloom ring."

"..."

The mercenaries, who had just been eagerly sorting out equipment, suddenly fell silent.

"Boss, are you serious? Isn't the Shattered Leaf Tribe quite powerful, occupying several cities? It wouldn't be wise to provoke those green-skinned creatures. It'll be hard for us to move around here in the future."

"My parents were killed by those green-skinned monsters."

"So was my brother."

"My sister..."

The team members spoke up one after another, recounting their painful memories of encounters with orcs from the Shattered Leaf Tribe. Whether witnessing or hearing about loved ones dying at the hands of those orcs, nobody wanted to provoke this tribe of green-skinned creatures.

"Boss, I think we need to think this through. That's an entire tribe."

"Those are things I already know, but..." Avi sighed, looking at the team members around him. "Do we have any other choice right now? Are we going to spend our lives killing these wretches and orcs for a living? Are you willing to do such tasks for just one silver coin per orc?"

During their stay in Midnestang, the team members had learned from other mercenaries what tasks true mercenaries undertook and what rewards they received.

They already had some misgivings about the rotund president of the Merchants' Guild, and when Avi mentioned this matter, they fell silent in unison.

"Boss, do we have any other options?"

For these people born in the northern villages of Midnest, the Shattered Leaf Tribe was akin to a harbinger of death. Suddenly provoking these green-skinned creatures was quite a daunting task.

Just as Avi was at a loss for what to do, the 'eloquence' skill once again came to his rescue, presenting him with an option that appeared conspicuously in his field of vision.

"Only the north belongs to the Shattered Leaf Tribe. After earning money, we can go to Midnehelm. Those filthy orcs have killed our loved ones. Don't you want to avenge them? Won't those brainless orcs come into Midnestang for revenge?"

"Brothers, the Shattered Leaf Tribe is nothing more than orcs, and we are within the jurisdiction of Midnestang!" Avi declared. "Think of those who were killed by the orcs. Can't we avenge them? Can't those mindless orcs charge into Midnestang for revenge?"

"Furthermore, we already have new equipment. Everyone is no longer inexperienced recruits. They are just orcs. Let's defeat them with our swords and armor and with human wisdom!"

Though plain, this speech proved effective. Stirred by emotions, the team members picked up their equipment, proclaiming their intent to exterminate those ungrateful orcs.

And so, the Cheat Mercenary Group spent a peaceful night in Midnestang, a rare occurrence for a long time to come.