The town of Ascogres was milling with activity. [Farmers] were harvesting the wheat in the fields. [Traders] who knew of the harvest this month had gathered in the wheat fields, offering the [Farmers] to sell their crop for them. The others were selling goods the town wanted, fish, medicine, oil, spices, weapons, and luxury goods from the port cities. Numisley and company were within the town limits, passing the lax security checks of the town. Cultrost stared at the keep within the city and wondered why they only had low stone walls and a moat protecting them.
“So who, or what specialist do we need?" Cultrost asked.
"Someone who deals with fermentation. A [Fermenter].” Palden asked. “If there are ports, there’s always fish sauce. According to a late friend. Let’s hope someone like that is here.”
They went around the plaza where some [Traders] gather, asking them if they know someone who can ferment rotten fish.
Finally, they asked a passing friendly [Farmer] who was unloading bundles of wheat from the wagon.
"Rotten fish? Well, go right to the edge of the town and between the fields in the east of the town. Find the Grano Birras ill-Casa in Dira Street. I'm sure Çienten has a Feat or two that can help."
From what they gathered from that exchange, this was the specialist that they were looking for. However, they ferment wheat to make the town's specialty wheat beer. They arrived at the distillery: a wide building that stores barrels of fermented grain within its stone walls and the fenced grounds around it. The distillery’s sign hung above the doors as they entered, passing by the workers.
There was a muted tanginess and maltiness in the air as their entered, but the man who was inspecting a couple of barrels, smelling them as if he can detect the quality within. Graten and his men looked around the rows of barrels, wondering how many gallons of beer are within.
Çienten wiped his nose, and brushed his thick mustache, seeing his new customers.
“Welcome, customers, to the Mansion of Ascogres’ special wheat beer. How may I help you?” He smiled radiantly at them. “Çienten, at your service.”
“We’re Gildin Trading. Numisley Gildin.”
Numisley held out his hand for a handshake.
“Cultrost Gildin.”
The man shook both their hands enthusiastically, glad to have [Traders] in his establishment. He beamed at Cultrost with interest.
“My word, this is the first time I met a Satyr. Is your red skin not alchemically treated?”
“No, sir.” Cultrost succinctly answered.
“I’m sure my daughter will like you. Handsome and well-built!” Çienten stared at Cultrost’s forearm. Cultrost had noticed that he grew a bit of muscle after the ritual. He can see, hear, and smell a bit better, so that’s he tries to ignore the smell with considerable effort.
Numisley playfully elbowed his brother, teasing him about the suggestion made by the [Brewer]. Cultrost glared at him for a moment. Numisley went back to business, composing himself in an instant.
“We have a problem. As a…[Brewer], we think you can solve our fish problem.”
“Fish problem?”
“We bought fish from the ports. The [Fishmonger] gave us rotten instead of fresh fish.”
“Ah. Hmm…Pay me seven gold. I’ll try to make them into fish sauce. Let me take a look.”
Graten and the others brought in the barrels of rotten fish and opened them. Cultrost pinched his nose so that he wouldn’t smell it that much. The others backed away from the smell.
“Can you salvage these? We’ll give you a portion of our profits if we can sell them,” Numisley asked.
“I’ll try to salvage them with my Feats. Never made fish sauce before, since I’m not a pure [Fermenter]. If it fails, then I’ll give you all a barrel of Ascogres’ special wheat beer. Want a taste?”
Çienten grabbed two mugs and poured the beer from a barrel’s spigot. He handed Cultrost and Numisley the mugs as he poured more for Graten and the others. The brothers took a sip, delightfully appreciating the taste.
“Wow.”
“This is good.”
The brothers complimented the beer made by Çienten. Numisley instantly had an idea.
“Can I sell this? I’ll give you a portion of the profits.” Numisley offered.
“Sorry, but I already sold my product to five different [Merchants]. One more and I won't supply you all adequately. Not to brag, but my beer is already a local delicacy.”
“Oh...” Numisley’s face fell.
“I’ll consider it if I manage to make the fish paste,” Çienten reassured.
“I see. I see. I shall look forward to our partnership.”
Numisley paid him seven gold coins and left the barrels to his care. They left the brewery, but Graten held a hand up. Green shapes moved within the fields of wheat, clever enough to cover themselves with discarded stalks of wheat, bearing stolen weapons. The bloodthirsty green eyes scanned the brewery on the outskirts of the town, meeting Graten’s highly perceptive eyes.
“Goblins!” Graten alerted. The bell tower rang a second after they noticed the Goblins within the grass. Now, the town of Ascogres knew that Goblins are attacking the town, seeing the horde outside their walls. The people living outside of the walls started to seek refuge in the walled section of the town, abandoning their tasks. Many locked themselves within their homes, barring the doors and shutters.
Their militia mobilized and took to the walls and towers of the town. Many of them helped the townsfolk evacuate toward the center of the town. The Goblins were fast approaching, already killed the wayward [Farmers] and people gathering berries on their way to Ascogres. With the shrill battle cry of the squat green brutes, they emerged from the wheat fields. Some of their blades were already tainted with blood. However, they are still far away from them.
“Protect me,” Numisley told Cultrost. “We’ll tell the [Brewer] to hide if they didn’t hear the bell. Graten, protect this brewery.”
The brothers followed the workers inside the brewery, with Palden watching their backs. They barred their doors as soon as they were inside.
“Alright. Goblins, huh? Been long since I killed one.” Graten whispered to himself.
“Just gobs, heh.” Kortson, one of Graten’s surviving men, uttered.
“Don’t underestimate them. Clever bastards can kill Golds with the right numbers. Crossbows up!”
Graten’s lieutenant, Josaif gave the order. They armed themselves with crossbows, stabbing their shields at the ground for cover.
“Loose! [Rapid Reload]!”
The Severed Swords unleashed two consecutive volleys of bolts, killing some of the Goblins. Their [Quartermaster] continued to supply his comrades with spare bolts, instantly making crossbow bolts appear on their person and reloading their crossbows at the same time.
More goblins are emerging from the wheat fields. Graten used his new [Grieving Frenzy] on himself and his men, layered with other Feats. The Severed Swords, tears in their eyes, saw the goblins as those who killed their comrades. They deflected stones launched from the goblin’s slings, raising their shields.
They stood in front of the brewery, holding the line against a horde of monsters.
“[The Fallen Gave Me Strength]. [Moontear Blade: Crescent Cut].”
-
“What about your [Mercenaries]? They’re outnumbered!”
The [Brewer] followed Numisley pacing around, making sure that the doors and windows were boarded up properly as Cultrost and the workers put up barricades with wooden boards and barrels. That is the only thing he can do.
“Mister Çienten, my [Sword Captain] obtained a Feat that may even the odds,” Numisley reassured. “Your town has [Mercenaries] right?”
“Militia. There are [Soldiers] in the keep too. However, Lord Ascore Comerro, bless their House, was with [Knights] to subjugate a Goblin Tribe in the next town.”
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“So, this idiot left his territory to fight goblins. While we’re being attacked.”
“Don’t call our [Lord] an idiot. Calling him anything less than a [Lord] is heresy! The Inquisition-”
Numisley decided to ignore Çienten’s complaints. Numisley and the other Libertalians were annoyed at the locals’ unusual religious fanaticism of their nobility.
“Barricades’ done,” Cultrost reported.
“We shall wait.”
-
The militia of Ascogres had fended off the goblin raid. They already counted casualties: ten men, and seven women taken by the goblins or killed. They sent more men to secure the area around the outskirts of the town. A group of them headed towards the brewery on the outskirts of the town. They saw seven [Mercenaries] among a spread of goblin corpses. Dozens of them were sliced in half, along with a large portion of the wheat field, severed stalks of wheat spattered with blood and guts.
“Oh, the militia,” Kortson uttered in his native tongue.
“Who are you? Did you kill them all?” The leader of the militia asked. Graten stood up from looting the goblin corpses. The militiamen tensely gripped their spears, pointing toward the Severed Swords.
“We did. We are the Severed Swords, employed by Numisley and Cultrost Gildin.” Graten spoke in Corisduman. They seem to understand him despite the thick Libertalian accent that they have.
“Dozens of them?” The [Militia Leader] crossed his burly arms. He held a smith’s hammer in one hand and a mundane sword in the other.
“Yes.”
Graten turned as Numisley, Cultrost and the brewery’s workers shuffled out of the door, stunned at the carnage in front of the building.
“Greetings.” Numisley greeted the militia. “I’m Numisley Gildin. This is my brother, Cultrost Gildin. We’re Gildin Trading. These are my [Mercenaries]. How may I help you?”
“D-Daemon!” Someone yelped at Cultrost, pointing his pitchfork in horror. Numisley’s face soured before them. Cultrost was about to confront him, knuckles turning white, but Numisley held him back, looking at each other in the eyes. Cultrost knew that Numisley was holding him back. This was not their home continent after all.
Numisley glared at the [Militia Leader], containing his fury within him, trying his best to ignore whoever shouted that, and the crowd’s murmur.
“We thank you for helping us, killing all those goblins.” The [Militia Leader] finally spoke. “Are you here to trade?”
“Yes,” Numisley answered.
“I see your [Mercenaries] are pretty good. Can you help us?”
“Only with payment.” Numisley coldly replied. The [Militia Leader] hesitated. “I’m only here to trade, as you have said. If you wish to waste my time, it will cost you an arm and a leg. Merdejo.”
Numisley verbally spat, irritated beyond belief at the townsfolk. Cultrost watched Graten and the Severed Sword cut goblin ears or fingers. They also cut their eyes and some organs, to be sold to the local Adventurer Guilds or [Alchemist].
“If you’re going to ask for payment, the [Mayor] will provide.” The [Militia Leader] stated.
“If he wants to pay me, I’ll be in the brewery. Then, we’ll discuss the terms. Brother, let’s go. Graten, sell those goblin parts if they have an Adventurer’s Guild.”
Numisley and Cultrost walked away. The [Militia Leader] held his objections, since under the continental hierarchy, [Merchants] and the like are a step higher than them. Nevertheless, he reported it to the acting-[Mayor] since their [Lord] was gone. Graten and his men burnt the rest of the goblin corpses and brought a sack of goblin ears, eyes, and fingers to the local Adventurer’s Guild to sell. They were allowed to stay in Çienten’s spacious compound, staying in one of his guest rooms, as thanks for saving him.
“You think I–we can make it in this continent?” Cultrost asked Numisley, lying down on separate beds.
“I know how you feel. I didn’t expect that moving to another continent was this difficult.” Numisley spoke while reading the brown book.
“Speciesists.” Cultrost huffed.
“We will prove ourselves. If the [Mayor] comes tomorrow–assuming that he or she ain’t a bitch–I’ll send you and the Severed Swords for the job. Palden and I will be in the brewery. I’m no [Warrior], so your insights will help.”
“Graten leads the [Mercenaries]. He has more experience-”
“Exactly. He is a [Mercenary], through and through. Even if I bound him using my [Bloodbound Contract], there’s no guarantee that he’s completely loyal. Yet. I just need you to watch him and help them if ever we get hired for the job. I and Palden will stay in the brewery.”
“How can a [Brewer] make fish sauce?”
“Similar Roles occupying different niches may share one or many Feats.” Numisley jabbed a finger on the brown book’s page, pointing at a specific sentence. “I guess that the person who pointed us to Çienten’s somehow knew this–well, not that it is esoteric knowledge.”
Numisley turned his body towards Cultrost, placing the deceptively plain brown book on the nightstand between their beds.
“Let’s hope that it works,” Cultrost said.
“Good night.”
“Night.”
-
The next day, the [Mayor] arrived at the brewery, a bit irritated because the [Trader] made her come here instead of his office. She was flanked by two [Soldiers], who stood by her side as she sat on the bench, alone. Çienten prepared a mug of their local beer, made from wheat.
"The audacity of that [Trader] to be late…” She impatiently drummed her fingers on the table.
She looked up, staring at a young blonde man, wearing a simple vest and shirt, shuffling towards her with a walking staff, possessing a gem at its tip. For a moment, she thought he was a [Mage], but he has no magical potential. Yet she wonders why it feels like she was looking at one of the nobility. Beside him is a red Satyr, a one-handed mace hanging at his side. She knew them as demon-folk, the savages of Libertalia who raid cities and ships at the northern seas.
“Apologies for the delay. Numisley Gildin.”
Numisley sat on the opposite end of the table, loosely clasping his hands together. Cultrost sat with him, vigilant.
“Cultrost Gildin.” Cultrost held up his hand, but the [Mayor] pulled her hand away in disgust. He ignored the blatant disgust the [Mayor] is showing to him.
"I'm Mayor Maryra Aneisa. Alcalde of Ascogres in the absence of our [Lord]."
The [Mayor] finished her mug and Çienten served Numisley and Cultrost.
“We heard you got a goblin problem.”
The [Mayor] coughed.
“Lord Ascore Commerro and a few errant [Knights] and his household guard set out to eliminate a Goblin Tribe in the neighboring town of Tienen, one of the House of Commerro’s holdings. Goblins started attacking our town for five nights. With most of our defenders gone, many citizens died defending the town."
"So why didn't you hire adventurers?"
"We did. We spent much of our gold to hire the adventurers who accepted the quest. Copper-ranks. But, some of them died in that cave. Our militiamen were injured or died when they raided our town for five days. Adventurers were now less interested after the death of the Copper-ranks. So, without our [Lord], we have to fend for ourselves. They are now getting bolder, raiding in daylight. We will hire your [Mercenaries] to eliminate the Goblins in that cave.”
“How much can you pay?”
“A silver for every Goblin that you kill."
"Pay us upfront. Ten gold."
"Two silver per kill. Our coffers are dry."
Numisley calculated how much he can gain from two silver per goblin, assuming that it is a tribe of them. However, there is another factor that he wanted to use.
"Fine. My only condition is that you will all treat my brother well. Not just my brother, but the non-Humans under my command. Treat them like people. We are both owners of our company, so he will come with the [Mercenaries]. "
The [Mayor]'s eyes bulged. But she grudgingly accepted the terms. It was like she was forced to bring along a rabid animal on a leash.
"Fine. Meet with the [Militia Leader]. He'll lead you to the cave."
The [Mayor] abruptly stood up, leaving the brewery with her guards.
"Why did you settle for that price? I'm pretty sure you can go higher." Cultrost asked his brother, referring to the payment for each Goblin killed.
"Goodwill is its reward. I assumed that if I went higher, they wouldn’t accept it. We shall build influence, starting by helping them. Gaining their trust so that I would have a foothold here.” Numisley explained. “There’s a lot that we need to build our company from the ground up. And I’m still learning the trade.”
“True. We can’t just do it Libertalia-style.” Cultrost sighed.
“Just go with Graten for now. I know it’s hard, but try not to pick any fights with the locals when they try to get a rise out of ya’.”
“I know, I know. I’ll tell the other non-Humans in our party that too.”
“Good.” Numisley stood up from the bench, leaning on his walking staff. “Stay safe and best of luck, brother.”
Numisley raised a fist, and Cultrost bumped it with his own. After assembling Graten and the Severed Swords, they headed to the rest of the militia, mustering at the western edge of the town.