As the sun rose above the horizon, sending its rays across the cobblestone streets, the sound of heavy boots and clanking weapons reverberated through the city. Mercenaries, adorned in mismatched armor and weathered cloaks, roamed the alleys, shouting at the top of their lungs that The Freelance Fellowship was hiring .

"Looking for a thrill, some coin, and a few battle scars to brag about?" bellowed a grizzledman , a grin peeking through his wild beard. "Join the ranks of The Freelance Fellowship and earn your keep in gold! Two silverii upfront and three more each month. Fight alongside us and reap the rewards!"

A younger mercenary, clad in sleek black leather overlaid with chainmail, chimed in with a cocky smirk. "We may not be the most polished lot, but we get the job done. And we always return with a tale worth telling the ladies." With a confident swagger, he added, "For those who seek true adventure and pockets lined with gold, make your way to the marketplace and enlist with The Freelance Fellowship."

Throughout the city, other mercenaries echoed similar calls, their voices carrying across the bustling streets, beckoning any who would listen. Many passersby paused, considering the allure of joining a company hired by their prince. The promise of imminent military campaigns, ripe with opportunities for plunder and glory, coupled with the upfront payment of two silverii, proved enticing to those hungry for adventure and wealth.

As such many soon found themselves walking towards the marketplace, deciding to give a watch over the recruiter and decide then on what to do.

And so more and more people went towards the marketplace.Alpheo, the mastermind behind the recruitment efforts, sat leisurely on a sturdy wooden chair, a half-eaten apple in hand. Around him, his loyal comrades— Jarza, Clio, Egil, and even Asag—stood guard, their eyes scanning the throng for any signs of trouble. To them, it seemed Alpheo was merely passing the time, engaging in a playful game to stave off boredom with that kid. Little did they know, his true intention was to assess their readiness and vigilance should they ever be tasked with his protection.

With each passing moment, the marketplace grew increasingly congested,with more and more people coming too see what was happening . Alpheo, nonchalant as ever, observed the scene with a keen eye, noting the effectiveness of his men's efforts to maintain order amidst the chaos. Yet, as he bit into the crisp apple, a small piece lodged uncomfortably between his teeth, momentarily distracting him from the spectacle before him. With a deft flick of his finger, he dislodged the offending morsel and flicked it away, only to watch as a scavenging rat darted forth to claim its prize before scurrying off into the crowd.

He rose from the chair and looked around.’More and more people are coming’ he thought as he looked at the crowd amassing towards them.The fifty men they put were struggling to push them back, some of them had to even hit the people with a rod to make step back.

‘‘Shit did not expect to see so many…’’ Jarza muttered as he approached Alpheo , his brows furrowed .

Alpheo nodded in agreement, acknowledging the challenge before them. "Most are seeking a short campaign to seize plunder during a raid," he explained, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. "They see our company as an opportunity to strike gold before returning home, the fools think we want few months of their service only’’

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Jarza sighed, his gaze lingering on the mass of hopeful recruits. "Too bad we cannot employ more. More swords could make a significant difference, you know."

Alpheo's smile remained steadfast, though tempered by the mass of people coming in . "We can only afford to hire no more than a hundred bowmen," he admitted, running a hand through his hair in thought. "We must make do with what we can afford and make the best of it.If we had more coins we would have got more men "

"But if we're short on coin, why fight for a beggar?" Jarza spat, his frustration evident in his tone.

Alpheo placed a reassuring hand on Jarza's shoulder, his gaze steady and resolute. "There are other forms of payment besides gold, my friend," he explained patiently. "Gold is not everything, even for us mercenaries."

Jarza scratched his neck, mulling over Alpheo's words. "Still can't see anything worthwhile in the trouble," he grumbled.

"Only because you cannot see them does not mean they do not exist," Alpheo countered gently, his tone firm yet understanding. With a nod towards the bustling marketplace, he gestured for the others to follow. "It's high time we start selecting our newest brothers."

As he strode forward, Alpheo's keen eyes surveyed the chaos, noting the struggles of the men tasked with maintaining order. Approaching Laedio, who bore the burden of keeping the recruits in line, Alpheo was met with a look of relief from his comrade.

"Boss, the men are struggling to contain the bastards. Shouldn't we start with the selection?" Laedio's voice betrayed the strain of the task at hand, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his neck.

Alpheo pondered for a moment before nodding decisively. "Have fifty men enter at a time," he directed, casting a brief glance at the unruly crowd. "Use your swords to maintain order if need be, but try not to cause any fatalities. Start with rods, and resort to blades only if the situation does not improve."

With a nod of understanding, Laedio hurried off to execute the orders. Fortunately, the rods proved sufficient, and soon fifty men of various ages were ushered into the designated area. After that they were given bows for the selection.

Alpheo cracked his neck as he stepped forward, the fifty hopeful recruits watching intently as he made his way toward them. Selecting a bow from one of the men, Alpheo halted

"We are recruiting men capable of wielding the bow," he announced firmly, his voice cutting through the din of the crowd. "The only qualification we seek is strength." With a deft motion, he grasped the string and pulled it taut, demonstrating the required form.

"Extend your arm as much as you can, then pull the string to your nipples," he instructed, his tone unwavering. "You will hold the position for as long as I decide is necessary. Those who cannot maintain it to my standard will be rejected."

Gazing over the assembled recruits, Alpheo continued, outlining the terms of their potential employment. "If you pass, you will receive a salary of three silverii a month, with a two silverii bonus. The contract will last three years, and failure to fulfill it will result in punishment by hanging."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in before concluding, "If any of you do not agree to these terms, you may leave your post for the next candidate."

No one moved.’Good ‘ Alpheo thought as he nodded towards the men at the side who quickly took over the exam. They stepped forward, seizing control of the process with practiced efficiency.

Following Alpheo's example, the chosen men demonstrated the test, executing each step . Observing their movements closely, they demanded that the recruits mimic their actions. With deep breaths, the candidates complied, grasping the bowstring and pulling it toward their chests while extending their arms. The task was simple yet demanding: maintain the position for as long as instructed before releasing the tension.

Alpheo's gaze remained fixed on the proceedings, his interest piqued by the display of endurance. As the repetitions continued, he noted the gradual thinning of the ranks. By the twelfth iteration, many had faltered, their efforts proving insufficient to meet the standard. Yet amidst the dwindling numbers, a resilient few persisted.

When the trial reached its conclusion, only a fraction of the initial candidates remained standing—eighteen in total, with sixteen successfully enduring to the end. For Alpheo, precision held little significance in this context; what mattered above all was stamina. In the crucible of battle, his bowmen would be tasked with unleashing volleys of arrows upon hordes of enemies, their endurance proving far more critical than any marksmanship prowess akin to that of Robin Hood.And so the sixteen were then led to a bench where they were given contract to sign, in their case simply putting their thumb on the ink and pressing it on the paper. And then other 50 took their place to take their chances to hit gold through war .