A Shakedown

By Renard's reckoning, he was supposed to head out that afternoon to wipe out the kobold bandits, but his lackeys stopped him.

Ben said with a pained expression, "Young master, we haven't had a proper rest in days, and we haven't had a full meal. We're in no condition to fight, and our strength is greatly diminished. I'm afraid we're no match for those kobolds."

As Renard listened, the corner of his eye drifted toward Fern. Seeing the other man's sallow face, he felt a little reluctant to push them. A little.

He thought for a moment, then tentatively asked, "Then should we leave tomorrow?"

Ben shook his head again. "Young master, you've never really gone on an adventure. How would you know the three great taboos of adventuring?"

Three great taboos? Renard blinked and said nothing, quietly waiting for him to explain.

Ben racked his brains. What the hell were the three great taboos? He'd just made them up on the spot as an excuse to get two more days of rest.

He couldn't take the blame himself. While Renard was drinking tea, he tilted his head and shot the lackeys beside him a look. The message was clear: I can't make this up anymore.

Tommy understood and was just about to speak when a confident voice came from beside them. "The three great taboos of adventuring are: don't be arrogant, don't be impatient, and don't rush."

"Don't be arrogant: don't get cocky after completing a mission, defeating an enemy, or receiving your share of the loot."

"Don't be impatient: don't get frustrated when you fail to complete a mission, encounter difficulties, or lose supplies and valuables."

"Don't rush: don't be hasty when setting out on a mission, slaying monsters, or facing an opponent."

Everyone stared in surprise at the speaker. It was none other than the newly crowned top lackey, Tracy Hayden.

Renard was just as taken aback, left momentarily speechless by the man's words. "I'm only going out to hunt a few kobolds. Is all this really necessary?"

Tracy said solemnly, "Adventuring isn't a game. One wrong move can get you killed."

Renard thought it over and decided that made some sense. He nodded. "Then when do you think we should leave?"

"That depends on how you want to arrange things, young master." Tracy looked serious. "If we're going to spend the night outdoors, we'll need to prepare tents, food, and drink. If we're going on horseback, we'll also need to prepare fodder in advance."

"We need to assign everyone a clear role during the mission: who scouts, who leads the attack, who defends, who covers our retreat, how to make up for any mistakes, and how to retreat safely if we run into a powerful enemy..."

Tracy spoke at length for a full half hour, and he clearly had plenty more to say. "Most importantly, we don't have any proper adventuring gear. We'll need swords and armor, of course, as well as climbing rope, lighting equipment..."

Renard's eye began to twitch. He wanted to say that he was only going out to wipe out a small band of kobold bandits, not leading an army into battle. There was no need for all this fuss. Besides, he'd planned to go and come back the same day.

But Tracy's way of thinking seemed to have opened the door to a whole new world for him. Since they had to prepare so thoroughly, they might as well complete a few more kill quests while they were at it.

If the lackeys knew what he was thinking, they'd beat Tracy, that bigmouth, to death.

After a while, Renard lost patience and raised a hand to cut him off. "Enough! You handle the preparations, and I'm giving you authority to assign and arrange the personnel, too. Just tell me when we'll be ready to leave."

Tracy's face brightened at his words, and the people around him looked on enviously.

After a long silence, he said with absolute confidence, "Three days. Three days will be enough for us to recover to peak condition and finish all the preparations. However..."

He trailed off, clearly finding something difficult to say.

Renard hated people who dragged things out. "If you have something to say, spit it out."

Tracy nodded and spread his hands without hesitation. "We're broke. We need money for supplies and equipment, and it won't be a small amount."

Renard's right eyelid began twitching, while the lackeys felt their pockets growing heavier.

This time, Tracy didn't hesitate. He laid out the plan and budget in full. "We can look for weapons and armor in Lord Baron's storeroom. We can borrow warhorses from the guards, and get food and drink here as well."

"You're getting ahead of yourself. They definitely won't lend us anything." Renard interrupted him again. "Even if I didn't have a conflict with Wilson, they wouldn't casually lend out warhorses and weapons, given how valuable they are."

Saint Brieuc Fortress wasn't wealthy. Why would Baron Hamilton be willing to pay such a steep price just because his son had gotten carried away?

Besides, the territory's storeroom was so empty you could race horses through it. There was no way they'd find enough spare equipment there.

Were they supposed to take it from the other guards? If Baron Hamilton found out, he'd beat them until they were flying.

Most importantly, there were the warhorses. They were scarce throughout the Barren Land, and the baron's estate kept only ten of them—barely enough to form a small cavalry unit. Would Baron Hamilton really hand over the family's entire stock to a pack of wastrels?

Renard could already imagine Baron Hamilton's expression and hear his answer: "What a joke! You won't get a single one!"

Tracy looked helpless at Renard's response. "Then we'll have to buy them ourselves."

Renard rubbed his hands together and asked ingratiatingly, "What's the least it'll cost?"

Tracy tilted his head, thinking. He immediately noticed the looks the lackeys were giving him, and cleared his throat. "At least one gold coin."

Renard felt as if his heart had been wrenched. Though he'd been prepared for it, the amount still shocked him.

He instinctively patted his purse. Inside lay a single gleaming gold coin.

After hesitating for a long time, he asked haltingly, "Can't you make it any cheaper?"

Tracy nodded with certainty. "We can prepare our own food and drink, and we won't need warhorses yet. The distance isn't far. But we still need to buy weapons and armor, right?"

He glanced around at the lackeys and continued, "The cheapest leather armor costs three silver coins. For nine people, that's twenty-seven. The worst-quality longswords cost six silver coins each, so nine of them will cost fifty-four. We also need climbing rope, lighting equipment, and so on."

When he finished, he showed his white teeth. "One gold coin is the lowest price I can offer."

Renard's throat felt dry. The previous owner of his body had been a bully at home, but had never gone on an adventure. As for his past life, he'd been a gaming nerd who hadn't even gone on an outing. Now he could only take Tracy at his word.

For the sake of his great ambition, he'd have to make a temporary sacrifice of his wallet.

He pulled out his last gold coin and handed it over reluctantly. "You'd better treat it well."

Tracy snatched the coin before anyone else could reach for it. Showing his neat, white teeth, he said, "Don't worry, young master. We'll definitely treat it well."