Wis'adel raised a brow.
Among Sarkaz mercenaries, a bounty was usually something only the strong and well-known ever earned. Ordinary mercs didn't get that kind of treatment.
In a way, it counted as proof of strength.
She hadn't expected that after such a short time, she would already have a bounty on her head.
"How much?"
The barkeep named a number. It wasn't especially high—roughly around the same amount as the bounty that had once been on the cloaked man You Yi had killed before.
That cloaked man had carried a bounty too, but since she hadn't brought back the body, she never got paid for it.
Wis'adel paused, then laughed.
"That's it?"
The barkeep laughed as well, his smile carrying the weary amusement of someone who'd seen a lot.
"That's not the reaction you usually get."
"What reaction?"
He wiped a cup clean in his hand. "Most people, the first time they find out there's a bounty on them, are either scared or nervous. You, on the other hand, think it's too low."
Wis'adel didn't answer. She took a sip of water.
The barkeep went on. "No idea who posted it, but the notice has only been up for a day and plenty of people have already taken the job. By now, I imagine some of them are starting to think a little more clearly."
Wis'adel remained silent. The man was the best-informed person in the whole settlement. He had probably heard about all three assassination attempts the moment they happened.
"And one more thing," the barkeep added leisurely. "Bounties usually get sent out to more than one place. By now, there are probably notices with your name on them all across Kazdel."
He glanced at her, meaningfully.
"You're a somebody now."
Wis'adel said nothing. She finished her water, rose to her feet, and headed for the door.
As she reached it, the barkeep's voice came from behind her.
"Be careful. Once there's a bounty on your head, it's not just strangers who'll want your life. Even people you know may not be worth trusting."
Wis'adel lifted a hand in acknowledgment without turning around and stepped outside.
Over the next few days, more groups came after her, just as expected.
Some worked alone. Some came in squads. Some had even traveled in from other regions specifically for the bounty.
At first, Wis'adel had been cautious. Then she became irritated. Her training had already entered a slow phase anyway, and eventually she got so fed up that she couldn't even be bothered staying home.
She said to You Yi, "This can't go on."
You Yi asked, "So what do you want to do?"
"Take commissions."
Wis'adel flipped through the job offers she'd received recently.
Ever since her name had spread, the offers brought straight to her door had never stopped. She picked one with decent pay and went out.
Time flew.
In a place like this, half a year was neither especially long nor especially short—yet it was more than enough for many things to change.
For example, Wis'adel gradually went from being a fledgling mercenary from some little settlement to becoming a name recognized throughout the region.
Unexpectedly, her reputation improved more and more as well.
It all started with the commissions.
Many jobs simply weren't things one person could complete alone. Escorting a caravan through raider territory, for instance, required scouts, rear guards, and perimeter protection.
Employers would often assign her additional manpower in advance, or tell her to scrape together a few extra hands herself. So, before long, she'd worked with all kinds of temporary mercenary teams.
And the way she led them was… a little different from everyone else.
"Are your eyes glued to your ass? That opening on the left is huge and you still can't see it?"
"I told you to scout ahead, not go die! Why are you running that far? In a hurry to get reincarnated?"
"You call that covering fire? If you can't bear to spend bullets, why'd you bring a gun at all?!"
She really did curse them out.
She really was that fierce.
But after the yelling was over, she never docked anyone's pay. Not one coin less than what was promised.
When danger came, she was usually the one charging at the front. She never treated other mercenaries like disposable sandbags.
If someone got hurt, she didn't toss them by the roadside and leave them to die. She kept them with the group and did what she could to let them recover and get treatment.
In a civilized land, that might not have amounted to much.
But in the cesspit that was Kazdel, responsibility was an incredibly rare and precious trait. Among mercenaries, anyone who possessed it usually didn't live very long.
But not only had she survived—she'd gone on to live better, and better, and become more and more famous.
"Work under the Boss Lady and you get paid well and stay alive."
"The Boss Lady's already charging at the front. What kind of shame do you have to be hiding in the back?"
"Last time Rat died on the way back, so by rights he shouldn't have gotten paid. But she still gave his share to his son. Tell me where else you'll find something like that."
"No way. Seriously?"
"Seriously. I was there. Saw it with my own eyes."
And so, more and more people began seeking her out.
Not the ones who wanted to kill her for the bounty—
The ones who wanted to work under her.
She still had never formally established any kind of mercenary band, but if she so much as lifted a finger, she could gather several dozen, even close to a hundred people at a moment's notice.
Most mercenaries wanted to work under her.
Unfortunately for them, she had always refused to accept anyone's formal loyalty. Her reason was simple: managing people was too much of a hassle, and she didn't want to be surrounded by crowds everywhere she went.
On top of that, another nickname of hers had begun to spread.
Shadowhunter.
No one seemed to know who had started calling her that. Maybe it was because of her black symbiotic suit. Maybe it was because of the way she fought—appearing and disappearing like a phantom. Or maybe it was just because it sounded cool.
Whatever the case, by now, most mercenaries knew exactly who people meant when they mentioned Shadowhunter.
That young Sarkaz girl dressed in black.
The boss lady who cursed like hell, but treated her own people right.
One evening, after finishing a commission, Wis'adel returned and sat down in the corner of the tavern, ordering a cup of water.
A few young Sarkaz mercenaries passed by the entrance. When they spotted her, they hesitated, whispered among themselves, then one of them finally worked up the nerve to approach.
"Uh… are you the Boss Lady?"
Wis'adel lifted her eyes and looked at him.
A greenhorn, barely in the trade long, with nervousness and excitement all over his face.
"What is it?"
The young merc scratched the back of his head. "N-nothing, really. It's just… the few of us were wondering if we could work under you."
Wis'adel was silent for two seconds.
You Yi laughed in her head. "Well, look at that. You've got fans now."
She ignored him and glanced at the young mercenary.
"If you're looking for work, come back in a few days."
The young man waved both hands quickly.
"No, that's not it. We want to be your people. You tell us what to do, we'll do it. As long as there's food, we're obedient!"
After sending them away, Wis'adel rubbed at her temple.
"Look at the mess you've caused."
You Yi sounded positively delighted with himself.
He really wasn't surprised by this development at all.
In the game, one of the reasons the future Wis'adel had been able to become Speaker was precisely because she had always possessed this side of herself.
She had once represented the mercenaries in meeting Theresa. She had also commanded mercenary forces during major incidents. Maybe she wasn't educated, and maybe she wasn't especially clever, but she had always possessed certain qualities that drew mercenaries to her.
It was just that now, those qualities had surfaced earlier and in a much stronger form.
Perhaps because she was no longer lost.
Or perhaps because her heart was no longer empty.
Only then could she still show care toward a pack of cunning, brutal mercenaries.
The care itself wasn't obvious. Most of the time, it looked like nothing more than small, casual gestures.
But as her strength and fame continued to grow, that trait would only be magnified more and more.
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