Join the Gray Hawk Mercenary Group

The next day.

While Gagnor was eating breakfast on the first floor of the inn, Ryan came in from outside, ordered a drink, and sat down across from him.

"Well? Not bad here, right?"

Gagnor nodded, then asked, "Ryan, I'm considering joining the Gray Hawk Mercenary Group. Do you have any advice?"

Ryan wasn't surprised. After thinking for a moment, he said, "I'm not sure how capable you are in combat, but I estimate... you might not meet the requirements for the mercenary group's long-term combat contract."

"Long-term combat contract?"

Ryan pointed at his own shoulder badge. "Once you sign this contract, you'll be an official member of the Gray Hawks. For rogues, you need to reach class level two to qualify for a long-term combat contract. It's about the same for hunters. If I'm not mistaken, your combat ability should be that of a first-level hunter."

Gagnor didn't know whether he qualified as a first-level hunter by the guild's standards. After thinking it over, he asked, "What are the benefits of a long-term combat contract, and what restrictions are there?"

"According to the contract's basic terms, the mercenary group provides soldiers with food, lodging, basic equipment, medical care, and training... plus a monthly salary of eight silver coins," Ryan said. "Of course, there's an additional combat allowance during operations—five to thirty copper coins per day. The death benefit is one hundred and twenty silver coins."

"As for the restrictions, or rather, the obligations..." He paused. "They're the obligations of a soldier—obeying orders."

After hearing Ryan's explanation, Gagnor fell silent.

It was more or less what he had imagined.

The benefits were decent, but the requirement to obey orders was rather discouraging for him.

Just then, Ryan suddenly changed the subject. "Can you make Healing Stones?"

Gagnor nodded.

"What about Pain Relief Potions?"

"I can."

"Rage Potions and Swiftness Potions?"

"I've studied them in books, but I've never made them myself."

Ryan smiled. "In that case, you can choose a non-combat contract and join the mercenary group as an alchemist. The benefits are considerably better than a soldier's, and you won't have to take on combat obligations."

Gagnor asked, "What if I want to participate in combat?"

Ryan looked a little surprised. After thinking for a moment, he said, "To be honest, I don't think I've ever heard of an alchemist volunteering for combat... But if you insist on doing so, it shouldn't be impossible."

He couldn't help asking, "But why do you have this idea? You don't look like someone who's obsessed with war."

Gagnor said, "I just feel that an alchemist who only quietly makes potions will never become someone worthy of admiration."

"You could develop toward becoming an alchemist—a herbalist, potion maker, or alchemist. Many famous master alchemists followed that path," Ryan said.

Gagnor had no choice but to change his explanation. "All right, I admit I'm a little obsessed with war."

"Hmm, looks can be deceiving." Ryan shrugged. "Still, combat can help someone grow quickly. Anyone with ambition won't avoid it."

The two chatted about some other things.

Before leaving the inn, Gagnor suddenly remembered something. "Right, since the Gray Hawk Mercenary Group has long-term combat contracts, are there short-term combat contracts too?"

"Of course. In fact, whenever there are dangerous missions, the mercenary group goes to Raven Street to sign a batch of short-term combat contracts." Ryan lowered his voice. "I heard the magistrate say that South Sea Town's public safety improves every time because of it."

"..." Gagnor didn't know what to say.

"Come on. I'll take you to the camp."

Although the Gray Hawks were a mercenary group, they only provided services to non-hostile forces in Nordanlun. In many respects, they were actually similar to the duchy's regular army, and they had their own permanent base.

Under Ryan's guidance, the two arrived at Gray Eagle Camp.

The first thing that came into view was a rather large training ground, followed by several buildings scattered around it.

Based on Gagnor's understanding, the layout here was somewhat like the middle-school campuses he had often seen in his previous life, and the area was about the same size.

The biggest difference was that the people living in Gray Eagle Camp were a group of Falaro mercenaries. The sounds of weapons and armor scraping and clashing could be heard everywhere.

As he walked through Gray Eagle Camp, Gagnor looked around. Suddenly, his gaze sharpened, and he looked into the distance.

A streak of fiery red caught his attention.

He looked carefully and saw an unusually tall warrior swinging a greatsword on the training ground. The movements were fluid and seamless, while the fiery red, flame-like feature was the warrior's flying long hair.

The sword dancer, whose height definitely exceeded two meters, was like a storm of flames, impossible to miss.

Unfortunately, they were somewhat far away, and many onlookers blocked his view. On top of that, the other party moved extremely fast. Gagnor couldn't make out anything at all, and he wasn't even sure whether the weapon was actually a sword.

Gagnor followed Ryan into a room.

The room was very dark. A tall, slender man in black with short hair stood with his back to them, seemingly looking at a map on the wall.

"Commander," Ryan said respectfully.

The man in black said nothing.

Ryan seemed accustomed to this and continued directly. "This is my friend Gagnor. He was the one who saved me last time. Gagnor is an excellent alchemist, and he hopes to join the Gray Hawk Mercenary Group through a non-combat contract."

The man in black finally reacted. He turned around, his eyes hidden in shadow fixing on Gagnor.

Gagnor clearly couldn't see his eyes, yet he still shuddered, as if the other man's gaze possessed some profound penetrating power.

"Have you processed Everlasting Moss?"

"No," Gagnor answered honestly. He had only seen herbs of that level in books. Priest Green had probably never seen the real thing either.

"Do you have an alchemist's badge?"

"No..."

The man in black fell silent briefly. "Sign the contract according to the standards for a first-level alchemist."

"Yes."

Ryan led Gagnor out of the room.

After leaving the room and seeing daylight again, Gagnor suddenly realized that his forehead was already covered with a slight sheen of cold sweat. He couldn't help asking, "He's the commander?"

"No. Night Owl is the deputy commander in charge of intelligence." Ryan added, "He has Greater Darkvision. To him, nighttime is no different from noon."

Gagnor asked, "Do you know his class level?"

"He should be a level-six rogue."

The two came to another building nearby.

A slightly stout, bald man exchanged a few sarcastic remarks with Ryan, then reluctantly threw a contract in front of Gagnor. "There. Sign it, Mr. First-Level Alchemist Without an Alchemist's Badge."

Gagnor carefully read through the contract.

A monthly salary of fifteen silver coins, with food and lodging included.

His job was to produce a certain quantity of Healing Stones and Pain Relief Potions for the mercenary group every month. He had no combat obligations.

He hesitated, then asked, "If I want to volunteer for some combat missions, what should I do?"

The bald man said, "Do whatever you want."

Gagnor said no more. He immediately signed his name, officially joining the Gray Hawk Mercenary Group.