There Are No Bad Young Ladies in the World

Belmiard (1)

Unlike the noble’s garden, lined with antique art pieces, the commoners’ streets reeked of a foul odor and were filled with dampness. Only those who knew could understand this gap.

Life’s circumstances are like the fit of a garment tailored to one’s body; it’s easy to climb up but not so easy to come down.

Yet, Derek found it quite pleasant to cross the tavern street with an old friend.

“Nobles’ slop will only fatten you up like a pig. When I heard you were holed up in that duke’s house for months, I sighed so heavily.”

“Pheline. You worry too much about nothing. And not all nobles are rotten to the core.”

“Oh, look at you. A few months of luxury living and you’re already one of the household. Next thing we know, you’ll be taking a knight’s oath.”

“Isn’t that a bit too dramatic?”

Derek chuckled and glanced sideways at the tavern street.

This place, frequented by burly mercenaries, was known as one of the roughest spots in Ebelstain.

A place where people would kill for a few silver coins, survival here meant being close to violence.

And Pheline, like Derek, was a girl who made her living as a mercenary on these tavern streets.

One should not be fooled by her delicate appearance; she was a person who could dismember dozens of Ains without changing her expression.

Derek and Pheline never pried into each other’s pasts. But considering the occasional outburst of nobility hatred… it seemed her family had also met an unpleasant end at the hands of the nobles.

It was the nature of the times.

Common as it was, Derek wasn’t tactless enough to speak of such things in front of the victim. There’s nothing more insensitive than offering an objective, analytical view in front of a tragedy’s protagonist.

Nevertheless, Pheline grew up with a considerable aversion to nobles, but she wasn’t completely closed-minded.

She might curse the nobles behind their backs, but she wasn’t the type to act recklessly in their presence, occasionally taking on noble-related requests.

In the mercenary world, it’s common to cast aside pride for money. To criticize her now for being hypocritical would be provincial.

In this place, the one who survives is the one who is right.

Words like cowardly or despicable are mostly the grumblings of those who have been left behind.

– Creak

As they entered ‘Beldern’s Tears,’ a shabby tavern tucked away in a corner of the tavern street, the yawning barkeep immediately caught their eye.

“Boss, take a look at who’s here.”

“Oh, Pheline. And… isn’t that Derek? What an honor to see the soon-to-be-famous magic teacher of Ebelstain.”

“Oh, you’re still as dramatic as ever, boss.”

As Jayden stroked his bristly beard in greeting, Derek expressed his joy unabashedly and took a seat at the table.

Though it was late, the tavern’s corners were fairly filled with patrons. Most were mercenaries clad in gleaming gear, suggesting they preferred quieter haunts over noisy environments.

Not wanting to disrupt Jayden’s business, Derek spoke in a hushed tone.

“It took longer than I thought. The commission for fifteen Adel gold coins wasn’t as easy as it seemed.”

“Indeed. Where is it easy to make money? This is a fair trade, profitable enough. In fact, I might owe you a bow.”

Jayden chuckled heartily and poured fruit wine into a sizable mug for Derek.

Feline, with no regard for dignity, gulped down her drink, exhaling a satisfied sigh with a loud ‘Kahhak!’

Derek, who had only seen noble ladies elegantly lifting their teacups, felt a refreshing sense of relief watching her drink so boldly.

Feeling Derek’s gaze, Feline looked straight into his eyes as if to ask, “What are you staring at?”

“Why do you look at people so curiously?”

“Watching you, Feline, makes me feel like I’ve returned home.”

“That sounds like a pleasant thing to hear, but thinking about your visit to the noble house suddenly sours my mood. Are you saying I lack dignity?”

“Well, yes, but you’ve always disliked maintaining the pretense of nobility.”

“Hmm… I can’t argue with that.”

Feline retied her platinum blonde hair, which she had pulled back, taming any stray strands before tightening the hairband, while Jayden pushed a mug towards Derek.

“Have a toast to celebrate. Our only mage in the Veldern Mercenary Band has finally returned. What could be more auspicious?”

“Thank you. But you’re going to tally this up in the ledger, aren’t you?”

“Your sharpness is your biggest flaw, Derek.”

Laughter erupted between Jayden and Derek, with no clear initiator.

Derek lifted his mug and took a few sips. Setting it down, Jayden, arms crossed, asked,

“So, did you collect all the money?”

“Of course. But that’s not really what’s important.”

“What’s more important than money?”

“More money.”

Derek showed an old book tied to his waist.

Initially, both Jayden and Feline glanced at the book, but upon realizing it was a spellbook, their eyes widened in astonishment.

“What, what is that? Derek. Don’t tell me… a two-star spellbook?”

“No, a three-star spellbook. I got it from the duke’s underground library.”

“…Three-star? I didn’t mishear, did I?”

Feline leaned forward to get a better look at the book at Derek’s waist.

Lacking in magical knowledge, Pheline could not distinguish the grade of a spellbook by its appearance alone. However, knowing that Derrick was not one to boast about such things, she couldn’t help but be astonished.

Even a two-star spellbook was an item almost unaffordable for commoners. A three-star reached the level of rarity that it would occasionally appear as a competitive item in the noble district’s luxury auction houses.

Jayden too seemed unable to believe that the book tied to Derrick’s waist was of three-star grade, having to check several times over.

“You gave such an item to a commoner? Derrick, have you learned to boast like a noble?”

“I’ve only stated the facts.”

“I can’t believe it.”

Pheline took another sip from her mug, trying to calm herself. The term ‘windfall’ fit the situation perfectly.

If she could sell the spellbook at its proper value, she could live a much better life, in a much better dwelling, with much better equipment.

The amount was enough to end a lower-class life if she wished, but Derrick seemed to have no immediate intention to sell the spellbook.

“When the day comes to cash it in, I’ll treat you to something big.”

“Yeah, you better. And make a hefty donation to our Beldern Mercenary Corps.”

Jayden laughed heartily once again. After all, he was someone who genuinely rejoiced in Derrick’s achievements.

“So, got any new requests lately? I’m looking to take on some work starting tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about that. As you know, in this business, there’s never a surplus of mages, only a shortage.”

“But Derrick, you’ve just returned. Are you already looking to start working?”

Pheline spoke with a hint of concern, but Derrick brushed it off lightly.

“I need to start with some light subjugation work. I’ve gotten a bit rusty after resting too long in a comfortable noble’s mansion.”

At Derrick’s lament, Jayden let out a snicker.

*

From the next day, Derrick spent his time fulfilling various monster subjugation requests that came through the Beldern Mercenary Corps.

His peaceful days seemed a distant memory as he roamed the outskirts of Ebelstain, slaying numerous monsters.

Sometimes he moved alone, and at other times, he and Pheline roamed together.

As always, there was an abundance of work.

Goblins, trolls, gremlins, and the like roaming the borderlands was a common sight. Many were monsters that had escaped from nearby labyrinths, attacking merchants and travelers, necessitating periodic subjugation. For mercenaries, hunting these creatures was often their livelihood.

There were also minor tasks… driving out beggars who had crept into the territory, beating up thugs, chasing away ruffians who harassed merchants, and even simple escort missions. The variety of jobs Derrick could handle was truly vast.

He didn’t pick and choose his work, handling anything he could manage.

As he had since his youth, he tried to do everything he could. By day, he walked the tavern streets, earning the trust of various clients, and by night, he holed up in his dwelling in the market district, poring over the spellbook.

On days he went into battle, he focused on using spells he hadn’t tried much before to improve his mastery, and on his days off, he practiced harnessing his magical power alone in the grasslands of the Ebelstain outskirts. He spent each day so fully that time flew by like an arrow.

When Derrick returned to the tavern streets, it was late spring, but before he knew it, he had raced through the hot summer and was heading towards autumn.

Throughout that long time, he never allowed himself a moment of laziness, continually honing his magic. One of Derrick’s greatest strengths was his unwavering consistency.

“…Hmm. I feel like I’m on the verge of grasping it, but it’s elusive.”

Derrick, who practiced his magic in the grasslands on the outskirts of Ebelstain whenever he had time, reached out his hand towards the sky.

The boy longed to become a three-star magician.

It might have been an overly ambitious dream for such a young age, yet he never ceased his magical training.

Among the nobility, there are prodigies who enter the rank of three-star at their coming-of-age ceremony.

It may seem like a tale from above the clouds to commoners, but for Derrick, who had mastered magic faster than the nobles since childhood, it wasn’t such a fanciful story.

With that hope, Derrick devoured three-star magic tomes every day. However, the barrier to three-star was not easily breached. It felt like something pivotal was missing.

Still, all Derrick could do was continue to strive. Even those born with innate talent must put forth corresponding effort to achieve results.

He rarely slept more than four hours a day, and the cost of candles from reading magic tomes every night was becoming a burden. He had to think of it as an investment.

By the time Derrick’s magical prowess had maturely handled even two-star spells, the leaves had fallen, and the first snow began to fall.

*

– Bang!

The tavern ‘Beldern’s Tears’.

As the creaking wooden door swung open with vigor, Derrick, covered in blood, came into view.

The warmth of the crackling hearth filled the tavern as the chill from outside seeped in.

A few snowflakes entered the tavern, tapping the wooden floor before quickly melting into droplets.

The patrons, immersed in the cozy warmth of the winter night’s tavern and sipping on beer, swallowed dryly at the sight of the boy at the entrance.

The boy, with hair as white as the snowflakes, showed no change in expression. Despite being drenched in blood, he seemed unfazed.

Standing there, it was clear enough to deduce that the blood did not belong to the boy.

With boots caked in hard snow, the boy walked into the tavern, a large beast’s head slung over his shoulder.

Following him, Pheline hurried in and rushed to the fire to warm her hands.

“Brrr, it’s cold, so cold! Boss, a hot tea, please! My fingers are going to freeze off!”

Ignoring Pheline’s dramatics, Derrick walked further in and thumped the large head of a harpy onto the bar table. The pungent smell of blood rose sharply.

“It took a while.”

“Wow, you really went up to the middle of Kent Mountain in this weather? Youthful, indeed.”

“I’ll admit, it was a bit reckless. I never want to camp in the snow again. Thought I’d freeze to death.”

“What does it matter? It’s good to endure such hardships while you’re young.”

As Derrick removed his leather gloves stained with the monster’s blood and placed them on the bar table, Jayden quickly took the grotesque harpy’s head to the back workspace.

After a brief discussion on how to settle the bounty, he served up a warm honey brew.

On the other side of the tavern, the guests, mostly mercenaries, murmured in low voices. They could easily guess the identity of the blood-soaked boy.

Derek had slowly made a name for himself in the mercenary underbelly of Ebelstain.

Mercenaries were many, but those who invariably completed their tasks were few and far between in this line of work.

Already, patrons were lining up to entrust Derek with jobs, and Jayden, caught in the middle, had to carefully select which tasks to accept.

“…”

When Jayden brought a cloth soaked in warm water, Derek used it to wipe the dried blood from his face. The boy checked his equipment without so much as glancing at the mercenaries whispering in the corner of the tavern.

Derek’s fees had multiplied several times over since his youth, and even after fully saving the money received from the Duplain ducal family, he had more than enough to live on. Maintaining this could mean that buying a personal wand or staff, as expensive as they were, might not be an impossible dream.

“You’ve worked hard, Derek. No one but you would brave the snow and climb the mountains to bring back a harpy’s head.”

“Other bands are taking on monster subjugation tasks regardless of the weather, what of it?”

“They haul camping gear for days and move out in large groups. None of them hop over like it’s a walk in the local hills.”

“…It wasn’t like hopping over the local hills. I nearly froze to death.”

“Right, right. I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for this task. The client understands it wasn’t an easy job.”

Jayden chuckled as he tidied up the cups.

He busied himself with cleaning up, knowing that once done, Derek could return to his lodgings to rest.

“You’ve had a tough time; will you take a break for a while?”

“Are there any new tasks coming in?”

“It would be harder not to have any.”

“I think I’ll rest tomorrow, but after that, I’m fine with any job that’s lined up.”

Derek answered nonchalantly as he tightly retied his boot laces.

Watching Derek, ready to take on another task after such an ordeal, Jayden couldn’t help but click his tongue.

Still, having such an active mage in the mercenary band was a blessing. Jayden laughed heartily as he rummaged through the pile of documents under the bar table.

“Still, after causing a ruckus in the snowy mountains, I’ve accumulated some fatigue. It’d be nice if the next job didn’t require going too far.”

“Hmm… There is one simple task with good pay that’s come in.”

“Where in the world would you find such a job?”

“Of course, there’s always a reason why a job is both easy and well-paying. You can pass it up if you don’t want it.”

Jayden pulled out a request form and placed it on the bar table.

“It’s from the Count of Belmiard. It bounced off the Rohel mercenary band on the west street. They were looking for someone who can use magic.”

“…A noble’s request got turned down? The Rohel band is quite big, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s an odd situation.”

It was uncommon for renowned noble houses, swarming with commoners, to put out requests to mercenary bands. The more powerful the authority, the more surplus labor they had.

Thus, requests from noble houses were rare, and even rarer were those that paid well. Nobles were known for their lavish spending.

So it was only natural for mercenaries to scramble for a commission from such a grand noble house.

Last spring, the Beldurn Mercenaries were able to take on the Duplain Duke’s request simply because Lady Aiselin scattered requests far and wide in search of a tutor for Diela.

Ordinarily, a minor mercenary group like this wouldn’t receive commissions from noble houses.

Derrick narrowed his eyes and examined the request.

“…Indeed, there’s always a reason.”

The Velmiard Count’s house was looking for a commoner to assist with magical duels. The notice included that anyone who could handle first-level magic would suffice.

There should be plenty of opponents for magical duels in a noble house. To specifically seek a commoner magician was essentially looking for someone to beat up for practice.

It was nonsensical for a commoner to try to best a noble magician, and there were hardly any commoners who could.

Derrick seemed to understand why no one had taken this request.

Active commoners who knew magic were rare. They always had more lucrative jobs to choose from, so they wouldn’t bother taking a job that only involved getting beaten up and throwing away their pride.

Even the magicians of the Rohel Mercenaries had their own planned beast subjugation or escort missions; they didn’t want to be punching bags for petulant nobles.

The commission wasn’t substantial enough to consider, especially for a noble house’s request.

“So, I just need to join in on a magical duel in the noble district?”

However, Derrick was too exhausted from a long harpy subjugation.

He didn’t want to take on a job that required traveling far, so he preferred something where he could just fit in.

“You’ll do it?”

“Just lose appropriately and take a few hits. Please process it as my acceptance.”

“If you’re okay with it, then alright.”

Derrick said so casually, tapped his tightly laced boots on the floor a few times, slung his leather pouch over his shoulder, and stood up.

“The honey wine was good.”

“It’s all on the tab, mate.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

Derrick planned to return home, wash up, and delve into his magic books. Even after a long journey, he had no intention of neglecting his magic training.

Watching the ever-busy Derrick, Jayden waved his hand nonchalantly.

“Felinne. You’ll get burned if you sleep there.”

“Eek!”

Felinne, who had been dozing off, warmed by the fire’s glow, suddenly came to her senses.

Derrick left a farewell for tomorrow and once again pushed open the tavern’s wooden door, plunging into the harsh winter night.

The tavern’s patrons quietly sipping their beers watched Derrick’s retreating figure as he braved the winter night’s frost.

Time forged the boy.

Braving the blizzard, his figure returning to his abode was that of a veteran mercenary, already seasoned with maturity.

A year passes.

Soon, when his birthday arrives, he will be 17 years old.