Because made-to-order clothes take time to cut and sew, Henry and Mira stayed in Polusaro for about a week.

That said, they can't actually be idle. After lunch, the two of them walked to the local mercenary union, registered, and took a look to see if there were any suitable tasks.

Travel costs money everywhere, whether it is the cost of meals, accommodation or transportation, which is not small, plus the consumption of various tools and materials, everything is not possible without money.

Despite the fact that they are now in the state of a mission, the Mercenary Guild has never forbade mercenaries from accepting the number of tasks. It's just that when accepting the task, the mercenaries will be advised to do what they can, and as for those who are not hearty enough to swallow the elephant, and take the listed task and finally can't complete it, resulting in a breach of contract.

It can only be said.

Somewhere in the slums or at the bottom of a large merchant ship, you can always find this kind of decadent man who is obsessed with his former glory.

The Mercenary Guild has never been a charitable organization, as we have mentioned countless times.

Many, many years ago, a group of opportunists came up with a genius idea that manufacturing would be difficult to make a profit or even be eliminated as society progressed and became more widespread. Animal husbandry and farming are very much dependent on the face of nature. All industries don't last long when you think about it – but there's one thing that's not the case.

War.

It has not gone away since time immemorial, and it seems to continue to follow the history of mankind. Since war is such an almost eternal subject, it is obviously not a bad choice to do this business.

The Mercenary Guild, which struggled to survive in the cracks and now blossomed throughout the world of Rigal, is seen by many as instigators of war and the source of all evil, but it is also an indisputable fact that many rely on it to survive.

Maybe it's a bit unobjective to say this because of her position, but from the perspective of Luo An's own feelings, after a long period of travel and contact with major forces, she has the least bad feelings towards the mercenary union.

The trade union is an interest organization, an interest organization that trafficks death and war.

It has been despised by the top literati and writers, and there are countless articles and poems that have mocked mercenaries and mercenary guilds as locusts or rat infestations, and it is true that the mercenary guild officials and the mercenaries listed in the union have done something so dirty that even they themselves don't want to keep a record.

Henry and Mira are the mavericks among them, and they tend to pick up escort tasks. This type of mission is actually not liked by most mercenaries, especially those in groups of three or five, because it has less rewards and the risks are unstable.

In addition to the younger hunting mercenaries, the foundation of the mercenary union, those war mercenaries, the favorite type of task is usually the extermination type of mission issued by the noble lord "to teach a lesson to the village that disobeys the discipline".

This kind of quest doesn't require much consideration, there are no details other than killing or being killed, and it is usually very rewarding, and can be looted in addition to the proceeds of the mission.

Dirty and dark, such words really can't be shaken off no matter what.

But at least it doesn't put a gold on itself.

Trade unions are all about profit, and everything is clearly for profit.

The mercenaries are not joining this for glory, pride, country, nation and faith, but just to make money.

They provide skills, and unions provide channels for communication, so that these otherwise unknown people have a platform that can be delegated, and both sides take what they need.

In this regard alone, it is much better than the upper-class people who infect others with fanaticism, incite wars in the name of religion or the state and nation, and use others to work for their own sake, and the forces and organizations they create.

If we want to sort out the language and find out the origin of this "relatively better" conclusion, it must come down to the reason of "freedom of choice".

Like our Sage and the Loan Maiden, or many others you've met in the past, once you've joined the guild as a certified mercenary, you'll be able to subjectively choose which mission you want to choose.

Those who do not want to be enemies can become hunting mercenaries, and even those who are more likely to walk in human society can choose various transportation and escort missions instead of direct slaughter and combat.

This freedom of choice is difficult for other forces to grant.

Human beings are good at judging people by their appearance, and before they understand each other, they make a stereotypical impression based on skin color, language, and culture. This kind of empirical thinking has its own benefits, but when there is a major event related to national feelings or religious beliefs in a certain place, mixed with a fanatical crowd, you rarely have the opportunity to make a choice.

"Those who follow me prosper, and those who oppose me die"

If you don't join the current, you will become a stumbling block in its path, swept away and drowned in the unstoppable current.

Although mercenaries still have this kind of problem, they can't get rid of their blood and background after all. But they at least have one more freedom of choice.

The process of getting to the union was lackluster, and after skillfully registering and looking around to find that there were no suitable tasks, the two decided to wander around town.

It's not that there are no tasks, but that there are no suitable ones.

The sage's brow furrowed slightly.

As the junction between Padrosi and Suomir, and a port, the regulars on the Polusaro Union's hanging board are naturally indispensable for various escort tasks. There were still quite a few of them when Mira and Henry checked in after checking, ranging from individual merchants and travelers who wanted to hire some low-level mercenaries to travel together, to large missions issued by large merchant groups with limited level requirements. Publishers, amounts, demanders, and destinations are all varied, and there is only one thing in common -

They were all heading south.

There was not a single mission to the north.

Naturally, this could not be a coincidence, and in fact there was no need to even ask the staff. When Henry walked to the counter, he looked up and saw him, and the staff took the initiative to say, "The mission to Suomir is gone—"

Then he took Margaret's book, and when he saw the name of the sage, he stopped himself and did not continue.

It's clear that something is going on.

With this in mind, the two wandered among the polusaro, and when they came to their senses, they were lured by the smell of ink to a printing room.

Unlike the highly developed cities of the South or Parniera, Polusaro books come straight from the printing press, and there are no ornate bookstores to choose from.

Printing shops often also take care of papermaking.

Entering through the spacious entrance, there is a stone sink on the left, soaked in plant fibers for papermaking, and the soft fibers that have been soaked for a long time are scattered in the water, making the whole sink look like it is filled with milk, and there is a thick white color.

Workers use a fine-mesh sieve to remove the base paper, fold it in a stack, and then place it under a wooden press with a rocker to squeeze the water, and after it is thoroughly shaded, it becomes usable paper.

Like the hotel where the duo lived, the printing workshop in Polusaro was run by a family. In charge of the papermaking is the eldest daughter of the family, a woman in her twenties with some freckles on her face, who wears a headscarf on her head to prevent her long hair from interfering with her work. The one who does the hard work is the son-in-law or eldest son of his family, and in addition to the second daughter, who is about eight or nine years old, but she is quick to work.

The printing aspect was personally guarded by the old printing shop owner, who with his gray beard looked like a typical old man of Raman. He was clearly educated, for the printing plate on the counter on the right was made up of tiny letters, and movable type printing required considerable education. But even a person who does not understand the difference between printing methods will immediately think that he is a learned person when he sees the small round glasses with a brass rimmed on his nose.

The print shop apparently doesn't have frequent visitors.

Especially the arrival of Henry and Mira, who were dressed as mercenaries, caused them to stop what they were doing, and the printer turned around, then took off the small glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and blinked to readjust to focus.

"You ...... Lost?" He hesitated slightly, then spoke.

"This is the bookstore, let's take a look at what we can buy. The sage raised his hand and pointed to the few wrapped books inside, and the old man was stunned for a moment, then nodded a little stiffly.

"Okay, let's see, what's there to buy......" His tone and the atmosphere of the entire printing house made Mira feel a little strange. The girl who couldn't hide her thoughts frowned, and the bookstore owner felt that mercenaries who didn't know how to learn and didn't have any thoughts about books and the like other than to sell them, so it was common for them to show their disdain. But this boss is different.

He gives the impression that the best adjective would be "numbness" if you want to go deeper.

Mira looked at her teacher, and as Henry walked towards the small bookshelf, he glanced at the top of the cabinet, his eyes swept over the typography to the dense printing plate of the general text, landed on something else beside it, and then stopped—

Throughout the ages, illustrated articles have always been the most popular, so the printing press often has a variety of engraved engravings in addition to letters.

Mira followed his gaze, but only frowned.

"Is it a nun?" she asked Henry in Arvenella, who was born in the White Church and had little influence, and even if she had contact with her later, she was no match for someone born and raised in a religious country. Mira felt a little familiar in her confusion, as if she had seen such a female figure kneeling and praying somewhere.

Henry did not answer, but stared at the engraving for a moment of silence, and then opened his mouth to the printing house owner in Lamani and asked, "Is it Suomir's order?"

"Uh-" The old man who returned to work was stunned for a moment, and then nodded: "Yes, the amount of requests is too large for us to be a little busy, so we are very sorry for the inconsiderate greeting." He said this, which explained the fact that they were a little too busy. Henry nodded, and then picked out a thin picture book from the top of the shelf: "How much is this." ”

————

————

After buying the album, the two walked all the way in the direction of the hotel.

"You told me when you got here. Mira was a little unhappy, she didn't hate Henry's words, she didn't like this kind of heartfelt silence.

"She was a native of Suomir, and after her death was added as a saint by the Jetina sect. The sage continued to explain in Avenella, and there were many pedestrians on the road, and many of them turned their heads to this direction when they heard the unfamiliar language.

"But this kind of printmaking, for some reason, should have been banned. Henry said, and Mira looked at his contemplative expression and gray-blue eyes, and somehow asked the ghost messenger this question: "And what is her relationship with you?"

"......." Henry was silent for a while, but reached out and touched her head, but did not answer.

"What a terrible grown-up. For the first time in a long time, the girl said this with anger.

"yes, a hopelessly bad adult. The sage shrugged, then smiled softly.

There was a slight awkward silence on the way back to the hotel, a rare occurrence between the two men, but it was all overshadowed by some movement in front of it—the sound of people arguing, first in Suomir and then into the less standard Lamanite.

"Anyway! this is my guest, stay away!" roared loudly, the tall young man was the same one he had met in the morning, and Mira remembered that the young man who loved horses at the inn, Ilmali, had said when they came back at noon that he was "going to deliver food to his brother", which was a coincidence, and there were several hotels in Polusaro, and they had just found the inn owned by Caleva's family.

But the tall young man was not looking for trouble with them this time, he was standing in front of the stable, with his arms open to protect his brother and mother.

Ilmali was held in the arms of the innkeeper, and his face was visibly frightened with tears on his face. And although Kaleva stopped in front of his relatives, his forehead was also dripping with cold sweat.

After all, he was just a porter, and although Suomir's bloodline gave him a reliable physique, he was only able to do a little hard work.

"Licking your face to please the nobles of the Empire, where have you left all the bones of the Northlanders?" the voice was as cold as a blizzard, the man was no worse than Galeva, and he was wearing a Brigundy-style plate armor that Henry and Mira also had, but the color was burgundy. A black hair tied into a ponytail at the back of his head, and thin lips beneath the high bridge of his nose, but the most striking thing was that scared the innkeepers and the surrounding townspeople, and made Caleva sweat coldly—

Or the one who clearly has a command prohibiting the carrying of weapons, but still swaggers behind his back-

"Kramer—" Henry pronounced the word, and Ilma's tear-stained face burst into a smile as he saw them coming, and Kaleva glanced at them, while the Suomir mercenary with the great sword on his back turned around.

"Oh, you're the one who guarded the pet of the Southern aristocracy, another trash who sold his bones and was willing to be a lackey. He noticed the dress of the two and the hanging card on his waist at a glance, and said the merciless Great Swordsman with a cold face: "I don't like to shoot at civilians, but my colleague's words are another story." ”

"Ugly words ahead, I'm going to settle that horse, if you don't know each other and step down. He reached for the greatsword behind his back.

"I'll never see the sun tomorrow again. ”

"......," Henry stood silent.

"Yes, it seems that you chose death, which makes me admire you a little. ”

"As you can see, it's a handful of Kramer. The heavily armed Suomir mercenaries spoke word by word to the sage, who was dressed only lightly and with a dagger.

"Stigmatized, banned, expelled, and yet it still is. ”

"We wait for the faith. "Qiang—" He pulled out, his shiny white blade glittering in the sunlight, and the inverted V-shaped gauntlets were adorned with brass accents.

"If you're careless, you'll be cut in half—" he said, and then attacked Henry directly.