In the recesses of Avi's mind, an amalgam of surprise and pride surged forth as a seemingly providential option presented itself—a silent affirmation of yet another judicious decision.

"This sword, acquired from a weapons merchant, offers a potential avenue for denunciation," he declared.

Such was the efficacy of his "eloquence" skill, weaving an argument hitherto unconsidered, as if gifted from the divine.

"Though uncertain, I dare conjecture—the very blade you seek may rest within our midst."

With deftness, Avi untethered the bundle near his saddle, unveiling the weapon within, its silhouette bathed in the waning light of dusk.

"Behold—the Fang of Leg Biting!"

"Ready yourselves—"

In the gloom, a cacophony of drawn swords rent the air, sending a frisson down Avi's spine.

Identifying a rare artifact posed no challenge, and the knights erupted in clamor, shedding the veneer of dignity they had previously borne.

Spurring their mounts, swords aloft as if poised to charge imminently; the balance of life and death hung upon the forthcoming discourse.

Unfazed, Avi began his prepared oration.

"Pray, hold, noble knights. Even the condemned deserve their moment of defense. I can elucidate the provenance of this blade, but grant me but a few moments."

The foremost knight hesitated, loosening his reins, allowing his mount to draw closer to Avi.

In this moment, Avi beheld the visages of these knights: Cheng Liang's gleaming plate, kissed by the flames of twilight, his sword a scintillating beacon. A true Imperial Knight, emblematic of the Empire's grandeur.

In this moment, the finely wrought accoutrements stirred a romantic yearning within Avi; donning them seemed to promise heroism akin to Sigmar's defiance of chaos and orcs, a legend of yore, perhaps even a deity.

But reverie must yield to reality; Avi readied himself to "clarify" the sword's origins, respectfully proffering it to disarm any hostility.

The knight commander accepted the runic sword with caution, inspecting it before returning it to its sheath. He turned to Avi, inquiring, "Speak of this blade's lineage."

"From a weapons merchant, its true nature eludes me," Avi shrugged, feigning innocence. "As I've stated, I am but a penniless mercenary, and this blade... appears valuable, thus—"

"A merchant," the knight commander scrutinized Avi. "Detail his whereabouts. Should your account prove veritable, a reward awaits."

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"A reward?!" Avi's eyes gleamed, momentarily blinded by the promise of coin. He nodded eagerly, "I shall divulge all, yet I tread cautiously, for I am but a mercenary, wary of making foes—"

"Fear not; anonymity shall cloak both reward and accusation," the knight commander reassured. "Should you excel, Lord Boris himself will oversee your affairs, ensuring a smooth resolution."

"Very well, I am reassured," Avi cleared his throat, recounting his arduous trek to Middenstadt and the deceit he encountered from the merchant.

In scant minutes, the matter was "settled."

Though not wholly convinced, the knight commander found Avi's demeanor sincere. Coupled with his innate charm and eloquence, doubts were assuaged.

It was the only recourse; the merchant's nefarious reputation was notorious in Middenstadt, exacerbated by whispers of dealings with the Imperial Arsenal.

"Your information proves invaluable, mercenary," the knight commander nodded in gratitude. Securing the runic sword, he informed Avi, "This blade is the Fang of Leg Biting, a legacy of the Middenstadt Electors."

"A storied artifact," Avi mused, having heard tales of the thirteen runic swords of the Imperial Electors but never fathomed he'd witness one, let alone wield it.

"Your name and residence, for future reference," the knight commander intoned ominously. "Be it reward or retribution that comes your way..."

"I'm Avi, currently residing at the 'Happy Nightingale' in Middenstadt," Avi replied.

"Very well, the matter is resolved, you may pass," the knight commander stated, grabbing the reins to prepare to lead the group away, when another option presented itself before Avi.

"Could you provide us with some supplies? Consider it an advance payment, as you can always find me later," Avi proposed.

"Um... well..."

"What?" the knight commander inquired.

"Could you spare us some food?" Avi's eyes darted around before continuing, "We had hoped to earn some money for food by completing the sword delivery job, but now..."

The knight commander glanced at Avi, then at the infantrymen accompanying the cavalry.

"Alright, but I have a condition."

Two hours later.

Night fell, enveloping the outskirts of the city in darkness.

Thanks to the "charity" of the knights in providing food and medical supplies, the cheating mercenary group returned to Middenstadt before curfew, finding themselves in the courtyard of the "Happy Nightingale," where they heard news of some unfortunate soul being apprehended for interrogation.

"It's that guy who always buys high-end stuff, heard he was taken away by the provincial military knights."

"Taken away by Imperial Knights? He's in for it now! That sly fox, who knows how many people he's swindled. Back in the day when I just started out..."

Listening to the discussion about the "unfortunate soul's" exploits, Avi felt a twisted sense of satisfaction.

"The one who cheats, shall be cheated," Avi thought. "Even if there's no so-called bounty, it doesn't matter. At least the issue of food is resolved, and a small revenge is exacted."

Is it really just a small one? Avi didn't want to dwell on such matters. Tomorrow, they would continue hunting orcs, and he needed to quickly organize the team, especially to tend to the two wounded.

He opened his interface again, staring at the almost unchanged data above, feeling troubled.

"What other ways are there to improve my own experience without harming other team members, while still making money...?"

Seeing Avi lost in thought, Rafe plopped down beside him. As usual, the fellow had his mouth full of food, chewing on dry bread like a mule.

"Boss, I want to try my luck at the beast-fighting competition tomorrow," Rafe announced.

"What?" Avi turned to look at Rafe. "Beast-fighting competition, what's that?"

"You don't know? This area believes in the existence of the White Wolf God. Every once in a while, they capture wolves, jackals, as well as goblins, trolls, and wild orcs, and pit them against people one-on-one."

"Is there prize money for winning?" Avi's eyes gleamed with gold.

"Of course there is."