Dia didn’t quite understand what Claud meant by ‘special mix’, but she was beginning to get some suspicions when the patrons inside the bar turned into statues the moment the bartender took out ten silver flasks. Buckling them onto his belt, he shouted, “I’m going out to take over the underworld. Anyone wants to join me?”

Murmurs filled the place, only to be replaced by a mass of wood scraping on wood as everyone in the bar stood up.

“About time, master!”

“I’ve never liked those upstarts anyway! What gives them the right to collect protection fees? It’s unjust and unethical! We should be the ones doing it instead!”

“Can we beat them up? Can we? I’ve always wanted to try punching some of these lowlife scum!”

The bartender and Claud let the whole scene play out for a while, before the latter clapped his hands. “Alright, guys. We’re all patrons of the master’s great bar, so we should unite! Our goal is simple; we’ll be relying on our beautiful friends here” —he gestured at Dia and the others— “to force them to follow our lead! Do you know why we’re going to rely on them?”

“Nope! I don’t really care either, I just want to punch them with a bunch of other people!”

“Hurry up, Claud! My fists are itching!”

“We’ll buy you a drink, okay? Just hurry up and get over with it!”

Claud cleared his throat pretentiously, something that Dia couldn’t quite imagine the lowkey fellow to do, and then said, “These four ladies are — and you’ll find it hard to believe — mana-users!”

There was a moment of frozen silence, and then cheers began to break out. Anyone who was still sitting in their seats previously was now standing with the others, and in this mad atmosphere, the bartender let out an ear-piercing whistle.

Silence fell as everyone, including Dia, the others and Claud, turned to look at him. There was this air of leadership around him, one that made Dia think about her father for a moment, and the feeling only intensified as he drew out a shortsword.

“Today,” said the bartender, “we shall take over the underworld. Once we succeed, I will turn everyone present into an honorary Profiteer, or even better. I didn’t expect to be part of this takeover today, but since I’m involved, I shall protect everyone with the name of the Profiteers.”

Dia sidled over to Claud. “I didn’t hear about this part.”

“But he has a point, though,” Claud whispered back. “Didn’t you — oh, right. You didn’t rope him in because he’s a Profiteer…”

“What’s a Profiteer anyway?” Lily joined in. “I’ve never heard this name before.”

“If I recall correctly,” said Farah, “the Profiteers refer to a group of loosely-affiliated traders and merchants, each of them with extreme wealth at their disposal. They have their own code, but it essentially boils down to profiting ethically.”

“Basically good people, then,” Dia concluded, thinking about the old lady, Pheles, that she had met in Pletsville.

Claud glanced at the crowd of riled-up people. “That’s a very optimistic reading. But at least the master’s a good person.”

Dia turned to look at him, before returning her gaze to the bartender, who was laying out their battle plans for the night for everyone to hear. It was, all things considered, an easy one — they would storm into the headquarters of every gang in Licencia and demand their subservience. If there was any resistance, Dia would, along with the others, cow them into submission, and that would be it.

The success rate of this plan was probably slightly more than a hundred percent, but Dia had the feeling that Claud and the bartender would smack her on the head if she voiced that out for being too optimistic.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Alright, let’s set off!” The bartender turned to Dia and the others. “Let’s go. By the way, have you thought of titles for your position? As mana-users who are leading this gang, you should have a title to differentiate yourself from the common rabble like me or Claud.”

“Claud?” Dia asked. “But—”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Claud interrupted. “You four need a separate title to distinguish yourself from the others.”

A hand landed on Dia’s shoulder as she tried to press the issue about Claud being a mana-user, and she turned to see Farah shake her head slightly. She turned back to Claud, whose face was impassive and emotionless. It was clear that he didn’t value the fame and respect that came with being a mana-user, but it was entirely possible that he had his own reasons.

“What do you think about the Fated Four?” Claud asked.

“That’s a…very, um, inspired name,” Dia replied. “What do you guys think?”

“It’s a pretty lame name,” Risti said. “It’ll be better if it sounds rather close to a Named’s title. Give me some time to think about this — I have lots of references for this.”

“References?” the bartender asked, his hand patting Claud’s shoulder, who had staggered when Risti gave her honest opinion.

“Let’s just believe her,” Farah said. “She has a rather illustrious background.”

“I’m listening,” said the bartender.

“Risti, do you mind…?”

“Sure, go wild, countess.” Risti smirked.

Claud blinked. “You’re a countess? Well, that at least explains why you’re so—”

“Complete that sentence, and I will smack you into the middle of next week,” said Farah.

“I was about to say ‘dignified’,” Claud replied. “What did you think I was about to say?”

The two exchanged glares for a moment, and then Claud sniffed. Turning away to finish his glass of apple juice, he slid out of his seat and followed the bartender out, where the others had already formed up into a nice, orderly group. Dia emulated his actions a second later, and the group shifted to gather around her and the others.

“This feels great,” Lily whispered. “Being surrounded by a group of people and being seen as their leader is fun.”

“Fun, eh?” The smirk on Farah’s face vanished, replaced by an expression that made Dia feel somewhat nervous. “The weight of responsibility, of the lives that you support, is not something that can be described as fun. I’m not being a spoilsport here, but once we take everyone in, we also bear responsibility for their safety and their lives. That cannot be described as anything fun. Believe me.”

The others trembled at those words. Even Claud turned to look at her, a complex light in his eyes.

“Well said,” the bartender murmured, turning to look at the countess. “Farah…of course. Countess Farah of the county by the same name. I would like to visit your territory one day. For its ruler to be this enlightened, your lands must be thriving.”

“You flatter me,” Farah replied.

“Our first meeting may be acrimonious in a sense, but your words earlier are ones that would put even the most rebellious of subjects at ease,” said the bartender.

The countess chuckled. “I think that was entirely my fault, though.”

“There is some dissonance in how you can be both noble and rude at the same time,” said Claud, “but from what I can tell, you’re a good person overall. I think this field trip might have done you some good, Countess Farah.”

Farah fidgeted slightly.

“Are you, by chance,” said Dia, “unused to praise?”

The tips of Farah’s ears turned red. “N-no! What makes you say that?”

Everyone laughed, and she let out a little sniff, before walking to the front of the group. Dia wasn’t sure where they were headed — a few brave men and women were already leading them to their first destination — but it didn’t take long before they came to a halt.

Dia looked around the area cautiously. The shops that lined most of Licencia’s streets had been replaced by long lines of warehouses and other storage facilities. If she had to harbour a guess, this was probably where most headquarters of Licencia’s gangs were settled at.

“Alright, let’s go deal with the closest ones,” said the bartender. “Can one of you guys help make a dynamic entry for us?”

Dia exchanged looks with the others.

“I’ll do it,” said Farah. “I’ve always wanted to try it out anyway. Come, Delphinus!”

A blue light appeared in her hand, and she walked up to the metal door that blocked her way.

“You already have a soul-bound weapon?” Risti asked.

“I’ve met the minimum requirements for it,” Farah replied, taking up a stance for an overhead slash. A faint sheen of mana wrapped around the blade, and everyone else retreated a few steps away from her.

With an azure flash, the metal door fell apart, cleaved into two. Surprised shouts followed a moment later, but the others had already streamed into the warehouse with weapons drawn.

“What is the meaning of this?” A scarred, burly man jumped down from the upper floor of the warehouse. “Are you trying to make enemies out of — Moons!”

He had clearly seen the blue light around Farah’s greatsword, and a moment later, the burly scarred fellow fell to his knees. “Y-your Excellency. D-did one of my men somehow offend you?”

“B-boss?”

“Shut up! Her Excellency’s a mana-user!”

A small tremor ran through the others assembled, which was a small crowd around twenty people strong, before they followed suit and fell to their knees.

Dia looked at the sight and stifled an urge to laugh.

“Y-your Excellency…”

Farah cleared her throat as she took in the sight. “You wanna take over, master?”

The bartender smirked. “Sure.”