A few days later - on the Widow's Plain near the city of Olnalend -
Areth stood overlooking the camp before him. More than a hundred tents were scattered across the field, clustered around a single large command tent, while people moved restlessly from one place to another. As of today, Areth had officially joined the Mercenary Guild Union, and the slaves standing before him were now, by all accounts, his soldiers.
He was now officially the founder and leader of a mercenary company called the Dragonfire Company. For a unit composed of slaves, it might have been an ambitious name. In truth, he had come up with it in just a few seconds but Areth was certain that one day, this company would become the most renowned force in the land.
This time, obtaining membership had been easier. After all, the only requirement to join the Mercenary Guild Union was to command at least twenty men.
As for why such guilds were necessary to establish a mercenary company in this world, the answer was simple: this was an isekai world. In the end, Areth currently existed inside a fantasy setting written by a modern human. Most likely, the author of this world had been exceedingly lazy, because there was a guild system for nearly everything.
How does one become a merchant? Through the Merchant's Guild.
A blacksmith? The Blacksmith's Guild.
An adventurer? Naturally, by registering with the Adventurers' Guild.
At the very least, the author had the sense not to create something like a "God's Guild" one could simply sign up for.
At first, Areth had been deeply irritated by this lazy world-building. But now, after being reincarnated into this world, he had come to realize that it was not only practical but remarkably efficient.
A faint curve formed at the corner of his lips as he continued observing the camp. Just a week ago, establishing something this structured from nothing would have been nearly impossible.
He thought back to his own world.
In the real-world Middle Ages, forming a mercenary company was not simply a matter of "finding men." The real challenge was making those men legitimate. There was always an authority, and that authority would view any armed group outside its control as a direct threat.
First, the feudal system.
Most land belonged to nobles, and the people living on that land were already under a lord's protection. Walking in and declaring, "I'm forming a company, join me," was effectively a challenge to that lord's authority. More often than not, such actions ended in imprisonment or execution.
Second, logistics and financing.
Building a company was not just about gathering men who could swing swords. They needed food, equipment, and wages. Without a centralized market system, one either required a powerful sponsor or had to enter the service of a noble. Otherwise, the company would collapse before it even began.
Third, reputation and contracts.
No one would hire a mercenary group they had never heard of. Contracts were built on trust, and that trust was earned over years on the battlefield. A newly formed company had little choice but to beg for work at the gates of nobles and most of the time, they would not even be let inside.
And finally, the lack of legal status.
Any armed group without official recognition was considered bandits in most regions. That alone justified their extermination by any lord or kingdom.
"A complete nightmare…"
This world, however, operated on an entirely different logic.
The guild system gathered all that chaos under a single structure. The Mercenary Guild Union was not just a registration body; it was also a means of establishing legitimacy. What Areth had done was simple: he gathered twenty men, applied to the guild, and registered.
And just like that, he was no longer a bandit. He was an official mercenary leader. The guild stood as his guarantor. Which meant: Nobles would not hesitate to contract him, since the guild would mediate disputes. Payments were secured through the guild system, eliminating the risk of not being paid.
Connections to other guilds were established. Equipment, food, even recruitment could be organized systematically. And most importantly… no lord would casually interfere with a guild-affiliated company. Doing so would effectively mean declaring conflict with the guild itself.
A quiet chuckle escaped him. He had begun to appreciate this lazy approach to world-building.
"Sometimes… laziness leads to clever solutions… After all, even the man who invented the wheel probably did so because he was tired of carrying things."
In this world, it was not individual struggle that was rewarded, but operating within the system. There was no need to spend years building a company. One simply had to cross the required threshold.
And that threshold was twenty men.
Areth's gaze shifted towards his soldiers, who were formerly slaves. Some still bore the marks of chains, while others were experiencing the shock of eating regularly for the first time.
But now, they were all the same.
His soldiers.
Thanks to the guild, they were no longer fugitives or a scattered mass of ownerless people. They were a recognised military force, capable of signing contracts and earning money. In return for these services, Areth was required to give a percentage of his earnings to the guild. The exact amount depended on his rank.
Bronze members, who had at least twenty men under their command, were required to surrender sixty per cent of their income.
Areth, however, currently possessed 214 slaves.
Which meant he had already surpassed the threshold for Silver and even entered Gold.
The guild's classification system was simple, yet ruthless. As the size of your force increased, your status rose… but the guild's cut decreased. Because you were no longer an inexperienced unit, but a force capable of operating in the field.
Twenty men: Bronze. Sixty percent.
One hundred men: Silver. Forty percent.
Two hundred or more: Gold. Twenty percent.
The faint smile on Areth's lips deepened.
"Twenty percent…"
A rate no warlord in his original world could even dream of. But the real issue was not the rate. It was the scale.
Two hundred and fourteen men.
That number was no longer just a random crowd; it was a force that could be divided into tactical units. Squads of ten, formations of fifty… even basic line formations were now possible.
But Areth was thinking beyond that.
Because these men were not soldiers.
Not yet.
They were people who had just been freed from their chains; people who valued avoiding starvation more than fighting. Some of them did not even know how to fight. And in truth, a mercenary company was not made up solely of fighters. At the very least, feeding over two hundred men required cooks.
Areth's gaze moved across different sections of the camp. At first glance, it looked like a chaotic crowd but with proper organization, it could become a self-sustaining system.
For that not everyone needed to wield a sword. In fact, everyone wielding a sword would be idiotic. A mercenary company was not defined by its just fighters. A good company relied more on the people who made fighting possible.
His eyes drifted toward a smaller, smoke-filled area behind the main tent. Several women were working over large cauldrons. Areth had separated them deliberately.
Most of the women among the slaves were not suited for frontline combat. But that did not make them useless. On the contrary… when used properly, they could become the backbone of the company.
On the first day, he had conducted a simple test.
Who could start a fire?
Who could prepare basic meals?
Who could manage supplies without waste?
The results had been surprising. Some already knew how. Even though they were born into slavery, they learned how to survive. So he assigned them directly to the kitchen unit. It was now the most organized part of the camp. The food was simple, but consistent and that directly affected morale.
A hungry man does not fight. But a fed man questions orders less.
Areth's mind moved swiftly through the rest of the necessities.
Carriers.
Weapons, armour and supplies did not move on their own. Without pack animals, people would have had to carry them themselves. Strong slaves with little desire to fight were ideal for this role.
Repairmen.
Armor broke. Blades dulled. After every battle, maintenance was essential. Even a few individuals with basic knowledge of metalwork could significantly reduce external dependency.
Scouts.
Not everyone was on the front line. Light and fast individuals, especially those inclined to flee, could be repurposed for reconnaissance. Sending them forward instead of letting them run was both ironic and effective.
Enforcers.
Every unit required discipline. But discipline was not maintained by constant shouting. Areth had already noticed a few individuals who were harsher and more ruthless. They were better suited to carrying out orders than receiving them.
Then his gaze paused.
At the edge of the camp stood a small group, separated from the rest.
Children.
There were only five or six of them. Thin, silent, and overly cautious. They had been born into slavery. In this world, that was not unusual. But most companies would never carry such "burdens." They could neither fight nor contribute in the short term.
Areth thought differently.
"Burden… or investment."
Children were like blank sheets of paper. If filled with useful knowledge and handled carefully, they could become books. But if wasted on nonsense, they were no more than kindling.
Provided they survived and Areth trained them properly, they could become the company's most loyal members within a few years. Because they had nothing else. For now, their role was limited. Carrying water, handling small tasks, running errands within the camp.
"Master, the guild informed us that a lord in the east requires assistance. Are we heading there?"
Areth turned toward Rosavelle, who stood beside him holding the reins of her horse. As beautiful as ever, she wore simple armor, her pink hair swaying in the wind as she sat atop her mount. Just a few weeks ago, she had been timid and withdrawn. Now, she had changed. Around Areth, she was more at ease, her blue eyes no longer clouded with that same depression. It was clear she was happier and it definitely suited her very well.
"We will… but before that, I need to find this man called Valdren."