Chapter 430 - Special Employment

In order to corroborate the gravity of Gaven’s words, five towering Enlightened Trees stepped forward, each carrying a huge log chest in their hands, placing them directly beside the pit. When they landed, the thud was resounding, indicating just how heavy they were.As the log chests were opened, the mercenaries below felt as though their eyes were blinded by the light.

It wasn’t a metaphor, but a real sensation.

Yet they couldn’t look away.

Because those were chests full of Gold Coins, stacked neatly.

They were clearly enchanted with the Light Technique, making them shimmer with golden light.

These ten chests of Gold Coins amounted to at least one hundred thousand.

Isn’t this what they were fighting and risking their lives for?

The total commissions of their army didn’t even amount to half of these ten chests of Gold Coins.

But in this world, do such good things really exist?

They came to attack him, but instead of being held accountable, they were hired in return, and for an unprecedented high price.

Seeing that below there was only silent glances, no one speaking up.

Gaven spoke again, "I know what you’re worried about, you may not trust me, but surely you can’t distrust the Monastery of the Hammer of Justice.

Darnell Inquisitor, if you please."

As soon as he finished speaking, a tall figure spurred his mount, appearing beside the pit, his body radiating bright white light, raising his Sunrise Warhammer and declaring, "I am Darnell from the Monastery of the Hammer of Justice. I represent the Monastery of the Hammer of Justice to witness this hire, and should there be any unjust breach of contract during the period of hire, myself and the Monastery of the Hammer of Justice will vow to demand justice to the death, fighting until the last Paladin perishes, by Tyr’s grace, my oath shall not be broken!"

The insignia of the Crippled God thunderously appeared behind Darnell, endorsing his vow.

Darnell hadn’t been specifically requested by Gaven, but the Monastery of the Hammer of Justice, having heard of the attacks in the Three Rivers Region, had dispatched him to lead a group of Paladins to rush to their aid.

By the time they arrived, the war here had already ended.

Since they had come, Gaven certainly wasn’t going to let them leave easily.

Compared to his own reputation, that of the Hammer of Justice and the Paladins was more trustworthy.

As expected.

Upon Darnell’s declaration, the captured mercenaries in the pit suddenly came to life, whispering and exchanging looks.

"It’s Darnell Inquisitor, indeed, the very Darnell Inquisitor of the Hammer of Justice. With his endorsement, this matter must be true."

"But I heard that this Duke Gaven has always had a good relationship with Darnell and the Hammer of Justice. It’s said that a portion of the proceeds from the Ghost Grape Wine Auction were given to the Hammer of Justice, a substantial amount. Couldn’t they be...?"

"Don’t spout nonsense. The reputation of the Monastery of the Hammer of Justice resounds for hundreds of years in the surrounding areas. Which of their Paladins is not just and selfless, beyond the sway of money? If they could be bought, they’d have no right to be Holy Warriors of the God of Just. You might not believe in Paladins, but don’t you believe in Tyr, the God of Just?"

"Sorry, maybe my words were ambiguous. I don’t doubt the God of Just or the Monastery of the Hammer of Justice; I’m afraid they’ve been deceived!"

"Deception may work temporarily, but not for a lifetime, especially since they’re planning to hire us for three years, promising to pay the wages monthly. Next month, we’ll see the truth."

"May I ask Mr. Duke, how can we ensure that the wages will reach our families?" Finally, someone broke the silence and boldly questioned Gaven, and that person was none other than Archer.

Previously, when Gaven appeared beside him and struck up a conversation, it wasn’t a coincidence, but an inevitability.

Because he was the highest-ranking among these mercenaries, a Level 8 warrior.

Most of the people who gathered around him were Combat Profession Practitioners, each bearing the look of having weathered many hardships.

Even if he wasn’t the leader of these mercenaries, he was a crucial organizer, with a considerable say in matters.

To strike up a conversation with him beforehand was akin to touching base.

Although it was but a subtle hint of a phrase, a clever person could discern the implications hidden beneath.

Not sure if it was an illusion, but when he asked that question, Duke Gaven seemed to cast an approving glance at him and answered loudly, "You can write letters to your families, which will be sent along with your compensation, bringing back their replies for you. If you can’t read or write, no matter, we will arrange for someone to assist, or you can find someone to write on your behalf."

"What if someone has no family?" someone else asked. This time it wasn’t Archer; things are always easier with someone leading the way.

"For those without families, your compensation will be stored at the Monastery of the Hammer of Justice and a corresponding deposit certificate issued. When your period of employment is over, you can withdraw it from the Monastery of the Hammer of Justice with the certificate, or if you choose to put it in the Weizemay Manor, that’s also possible," Gaven used the Monastery of the Hammer of Justice as if it was a bank.

As for things like interest, these mercenaries probably didn’t even grasp the concept, and he naturally wouldn’t complicate things for himself.

Or rather, in Felen, not asking for a storage fee was already quite generous; talk of interest was unthinkable!

"Why can’t the compensation be directly given to us?" There still were mercenaries who harbored such doubts.

"Because you weren’t truly employed voluntarily, but rather conscripted as a form of punishment, signing a mandatory agreement. If the compensation is given directly to you, what if you flee midway?" Gaven bluntly clarified, "After three years, if you wish to stay and continue being employed, I will give the corresponding compensation directly to you, or if you wish to settle here and bring your family over, not only will I give you the compensation directly, but I will also provide land and housing, which will become your personal property after living here for ten years."

The implications of Gaven’s words couldn’t be clearer.

If you choose to make your home here, you will be absolved of all past offenses, the terms being equivalent to those of the Tesser Immigrants.

These terms caused the captivated mercenaries to whisper among themselves, reluctant to raise any new questions.

This special kind of employment was not only unprecedented for them but also unheard of; they had no reference experience, and many had a blank mind.

"Are there any other questions? If not, then let’s get started! Extend the ladders! Line up one by one; only one person may come up at a time. I must emphasize again, when registering information later, try to be as accurate as possible, particularly regarding your strongest skills and the true addresses of your family members, as these will be related to the arrangements for your subsequent work and the prompt issuance of your compensation." Following Gaven’s words, twenty ladders were simultaneously lowered.

The crowd of captive mercenaries stirred, but despite the shoving and pushing, no one seemed willing to step forward to the ladders.

Gaven was not surprised by this reaction and spoke again, "After the registration of information, you’ll be taken to eat and will be assigned work accordingly. We adhere to the principle of voluntary agreement, and those unwilling to sign will be treated as normal captives.

Also, do not mistake my kindness for weakness. Once an agreement is signed, it has a binding effect. If anyone attempts to escape, I will send people to pursue. At that time, the violators will taste what is meant by earthly hell."

Awooo! Awooo! Awooo!

The Dog Demon howled skywards, followed by the harmonized cries of hundreds of wild wolves behind him.

This made the captive mercenaries’ faces change subtly as they remembered their true situation.

So much for the voluntary principle.

This agreement—they had to sign it today, willing or not.

Archer’s scalp tingled, as he noticed that Duke Gaven’s gaze seemed to drift towards him intentionally or unintentionally.

When he failed to take any action, Gaven turned his head directly towards him, his gaze unabashedly fixed on Archer.

The message was clear; he was expected to lead by example.

Whether to stick one’s neck out or not, the guillotine awaited either way.

No longer hesitating, Archer went straight up the ladder, and at twenty meters ahead of the ladder’s end, he saw a makeshift desk made of logs and stone, where a human sat with pen and paper, waiting for his approach.

Behind the desk hung a large cauldron, bubbling and steaming, guarded by several gnolls wearing hessian aprons.

Previously in the sewer, he had not felt much, but now that he had climbed out, the faint breeze carried an aroma that went without saying.

Archer, who had been ravenous with his stomach grumbling, felt his intestines churning.

Since their capture, they had neither had a drop of water nor a grain of rice.

The situation behind the other twenty ladders was no different from this one.

Everywhere showed that the enemy’s method of dealing with prisoners was not impulsive, but well thought out and meticulously arranged.

Everything had been so thoroughly prepared in just one night; the efficiency of their actions was extraordinarily high.

"Name?" asked the Tesser immigrant recording the details. He started going through the form without wasting words.

This form, it was said that the Lord himself had personally designed it and then had staff transcribe it overnight. Although the handwriting varied, the content was uniformly the same.

There weren’t just two thousand copies, but three thousand.

It was said that after the fact, Tesser immigrants would also fill out this form for archival purposes, and then their posts and salaries would be finalized.

Sensing that the matter concerned himself, the recording clerk was particularly diligent. He had already memorized the form inside out, contemplating countless times to find the work most suitable for himself.

"Archer Lahn."

"Place of birth?"

"Place of birth?"

"That is, where you were born."

"Scar Valley."

"Family residence?"

"Scar Valley."

"I need specifics, down to the village, somewhere they can be located."

"Chandler Road Town of Scar Valley, the Lahn family."

"Are you a Combat Profession Practitioner?"

"Yes."

"What profession?"

"Warrior."

"Professional Level?"

"Eight."

"What are you best at?"

"Does fighting and killing count?"

"It does, but aside from combat skills, do you have any life skills? Like carpentry, hunting, fishing?"

"I can do a bit of everything, but I’m not particularly skilled at any."

"Can you ride? Are you good at naval warfare?"

"Good at sailing, good at naval warfare."

"Can you read?"

"Yes."

"Can you write?"

"I can write."

"How much can you write?"

"I can generally write all common characters."

"Good, your information has been recorded. You can go to the back to get your food and eat. Just wait for the arrangements afterward. Next, name."

Archer didn’t need to listen to know that the questions asked of him would be nearly identical, as the others held thick stacks of books with the same handwriting.

His was just one of many sheets.

Such a process-driven way of working was new to him.

Extremely convenient: As soon as the questions were asked, the copying was done, with each interview taking no more than three minutes.

But considering the large number of captured mercenaries, it would probably be noon by the time they were through with the process.

Those captives who moved slowly would have to bear the hunger and the blazing sun while waiting here all morning.

Hmm!

One had to admit, the gnolls’ cooking skills were pretty good.

The stew he’d just been served had more vegetables than meat, and while the pancakes that came with it clearly contained coarse grains and did not taste great, they were at least provided in generous amounts.

The gnolls clearly didn’t restrict how much they could eat, allowing them to get seconds of both food and bread. The source of this content ɪs ɴovel(ꜰ)ɪre.nᴇt

After discovering this,

Archer certainly didn’t hold back.

He let loose and devoured the food voraciously.

From childhood, he had been known for his large appetite, which had strained his already not-so-wealthy family, leading to his being kicked out to fend for himself at a young age.

After becoming a warrior, his appetite naturally grew.

He could eat the equivalent of four or five adults in one meal.

Normally, he held back. Even as a relatively strong mercenary warrior, he couldn’t afford to eat like this twice a day.

He had forgotten the last time he had eaten his fill.

Today, he finally got to savor that feeling once again.