Sel no longer thought of Dwayne when she saw the mercenary corps’ dagger.

She no longer felt surprise or fear.

The events of that day had become a distant memory, and Sel had overcome another hurdle in her journey.

Just as the season climbed toward winter after autumn, Sel too was gradually climbing the slope of time, growing stronger with each step.

Lavi was preparing to head to the capital city.

He had received an imperial decree to claim the ducal succession before the year ended.

Even though the only item he needed to carry was his sword, Lavi’s footsteps felt heavier than any burden he could physically bear.

He decided to grab a cup of tea and trudged downstairs, but not a soul was in sight.

“Where has everyone gone at a time like this?”

As Lavi sharpened his senses, he heard a strange noise coming from the training room on the second floor.

“Alright, everyone! This isn’t an everyday occurrence! Place your bets! Will the Commander cause no trouble in the capital, or will he end up beating someone to a pulp again? Place your bets here!”

“I have a question. Does beating someone to a pulp refer only to official occasions?”

“No, no. Even if the Commander acts recklessly, he’s not foolish enough to do it openly. He’ll handle it out of sight. The problem is, he’s so precise about it that it’s obvious he’s the one responsible.”

“Ha-ha-ha! That’s our Commander for you!”

The mercenaries burst into hearty laughter as they pulled money from their pockets and placed their bets.

Clinging to the wall, Lavi’s face twisted into a dark scowl as he listened. His already restless mood began to boil over.

“Guys, but isn’t it a problem if you all bet on the same side? That ruins the whole point of a wager,” said Braeden, who seemed to be organizing the betting pool.

“Then how about we divide it by rank? Betting on whether he’ll hit someone above or below the rank of count?”

“That’s unfair. It favors those familiar with the aristocrats close to the Commander. Common mercenaries like me or foreigners have no way of guessing,” said Gion, appealing for fairness.

Lavi’s eyes twitched with frustration.

Just as he prepared to storm in and break down the door, a familiar voice caught his ear.

“Then I’ll bet on this side. That he won’t cause any trouble at all.”

“Vice Commander, are you serious? How much are you betting…?”

Oh. Ten rubles.

For someone as wealthy as Eric, his bet was laughably small.

“Who’s supposed to take that seriously?” groaned Braeden.

But Eric wore an air of dignity. The modest amount represented his faith in Lavi.

“That just leaves the rookie.”

“Oh, well…”

Clutching a single ruble bill, Sel hesitated, her gaze darting around. While the amount was trivial to others, it was a significant sum to her.

She closed her eyes tightly and extended her hand toward the basket where Eric had placed his bet.

“Oh, Sel is betting on the same side as the Vice Commander? Wait, Sel, you need to actually drop the money into the basket.”

“Sel?”

Philip began to pry Sel’s clenched fingers open, one by one.

Flutter. The one-ruble note drifted into the basket.

“Ughhh…” Sel let out a groan of regret as the money left her hand.

It was then that Lavi burst in.

“What on earth are you all doing here?”

“Ahhh! Commander!”

The mercenaries scattered like startled birds, fleeing the training room in every direction.

Among them, Braeden was the fastest. He quickly grabbed the basket of money and leapt out the window.

The only ones left in the room were Eric and Sel.

“Have you finished your preparations, Lavi?”

Eric asked calmly, his expression unbothered.

Lavi let out a snort of disbelief but swallowed his anger.

After all, these two were his only allies in the room—even if their collective worth was a mere 11 rubles.

—

Outside the mercenary corps’ base, carriages lined the road.

With Lavi set to be away for a few days, the mercenaries were granted a much-needed vacation. Most planned to return to their hometowns.

Among the carriages, one stood out. A grand mahogany coach bore the golden embossed eagle crest of the Penhac family, far more luxurious than the others.

Eric and Sel boarded the Penhac carriage.

Meanwhile, Lavi was in the stable, bidding farewell to his horse, Limpha, as he prepared to depart for the capital.

As Lavi loosened Limpha’s reins, the horse happily galloped toward the dark forest. Granting even Limpha a vacation, Lavi climbed into the carriage and took the seat beside Sel.

“Do many of the mercenaries have hometowns in the capital?”

Sel asked as she observed the procession of carriages heading in the same direction.

Eric, who had fully embraced the journey’s leisure, was reclining in a silk robe and toying with the sleep mask hanging around his neck.

His long, smooth legs stretched out from under the loose robe, but no one paid them any mind.

“Surprisingly, a lot of the scruffy mercenaries you see here come from decent backgrounds. Dreaming of learning from a Sword Master, many flock to this remote mercenary corps.

“If Lavi didn’t handpick who joined, we’d be the largest mercenary group in the empire.”

“Wow. I guess I’m really lucky to have been accepted,” Sel said.

Eric praised Sel while taking a jab at Lavi’s flaws.

Lavi’s lips twitched irritably, but Eric paid him no attention.

“Well, it makes sense now why the food in the mess hall is so good. Always meat dishes, plus snacks labeled in foreign languages.”

It was said that the better the food at an institution, the higher the salary and quality of personnel.

Even in her old village, the mercenary corps was rumored to serve the best meals around.

After her mother’s absence, Sel had never had the luxury of using soap or lotion. The mere thought of washing her body with fragrant soap felt like an incredible indulgence.

As Lavi puffed up at the compliment of being wealthy, he flashed the smile of a tycoon. He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a wallet and rummaging through it. The wallet was brimming with large-denomination bills and promissory notes.

“With my level of wealth, I could easily provide three hearty meals with meat every day. I can buy whatever you need, whenever you need it,” he declared confidently.
For a lifetime. Until death.

“That must be really nice for you,” Sel replied, her tone and expression notably stiff.

“Out of things to brag about, you resort to flaunting money in front of a rookie? Shut your mouth and let’s travel quietly,” grumbled Eric, who was lying sprawled on the seat opposite them.

Hearing that, Sel hastily got up and moved to sit next to Eric. She scooted into his spot, nudging his head aside with her hip.

“Where are you sticking your rear end, rookie?” Eric complained, clearly annoyed.

Sel, entirely unbothered, gestured toward the seat she had just vacated next to Lavi.

“Commander, why don’t you recline and travel comfortably? Vice Commander is already lying down, so it wouldn’t do for you to be inconvenienced because of me.”

Even if he was an irksome leader who flaunted his wealth, Sel didn’t think ill of him. After all, it was thanks to Lavi that someone like her had the chance to join such an esteemed mercenary group.

On top of that, Lavi had covered all of Sel’s expenses for this trip to the capital. Being in no position to contribute financially, Sel wanted to show her gratitude by accommodating him as best she could.

“Well, I was already comfortable before, so there’s no need to…” Lavi trailed off, clearly disappointed.

Eric, who had lifted his sleep mask, watched Lavi’s reaction with amusement. His eyes gleamed with mischief before he leaned back down, resting his head on Sel’s lap.

“What are you doing?” Lavi exclaimed, his voice tinged with irritation.

“Helping each other out as fellow mercenaries. Why? Does your perverted mind see this as something improper again?” Eric retorted sharply, crossing his arms in defiance.

Meanwhile, Eric’s face softened into relaxation as he rested his head on Sel’s lap. Her thigh was just the right amount of soft to make for a comfortable pillow.

Sel’s leg twitched slightly as Eric’s silky brown hair brushed against it, causing her to chuckle softly.

Watching the scene, Lavi made a sound like air hissing out of a balloon and rose halfway to his feet. His towering frame nearly hit the roof of the carriage.

“As the Commander, I can’t just sit back and allow discomfort among my members!” Lavi suddenly proclaimed.

Eric groaned, his irritation obvious as he lifted his sleep mask slightly. But before he could react further, he found himself being lifted off the seat.

“W-What the—?!” Eric stammered in disbelief, staring at Lavi, who had effortlessly picked him up like a bride.

Eric struggled violently, his long limbs flailing and hitting the carriage’s polished wooden interior with loud thuds. The impact left small dents on the supposedly bulletproof kauri wood.

“You perverted brute! Where are you touching?!” Eric shouted, his face twisted in outrage.

Somewhere along the line, Eric had developed an aversion to Lavi even slightly touching him—likely stemming from incidents like the underwear theft debacle or drunken outbursts about not being a “weird” guy.

Despite Eric’s struggles, Lavi’s impressive strength rendered him powerless as he deposited Eric onto the seat next to him.

“There. You’ve been working hard, so I can’t even offer you a little lap pillow? Relax and enjoy the ride,” Lavi said with an exaggeratedly cheerful tone.

Eric’s head met Lavi’s thigh—firm and unyielding like a rock. It was a stark contrast to Sel’s soft lap.

When Eric tried to lift his head, an invisible pressure held him down, pinning him to Lavi’s thigh.

“Are you seriously using your energy for something like this? This power is meant for battle, not…this nonsense!” Eric grumbled through gritted teeth.

“Don’t reject my kindness,” Lavi replied with a forced smile.

“Kindness? This feels like hell, you idiot! Your thighs are so damn hard—”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Lavi interrupted, smirking slightly.

The air between them crackled with tension as Sel tried to mediate.

“Commander, I think it’d be much more comfortable for both of us if Vice Commander and I sat together,” she suggested gently.

“Nonsense! Eric has been working so hard lately. I just want to take care of him—my dear friend!” Lavi declared, patting Eric’s shoulder with exaggerated camaraderie.

Each pat made Eric cough uncomfortably, his patience clearly wearing thin.

And so, Eric endured the ride to the capital with his head on Lavi’s lap—two towering men forced into an awkwardly intimate situation.

Their thoughts were chaotic and filled with frustration, and Sel, seated across from them, endured the tense atmosphere like a soldier braving a battlefield.