2 Chapter 2: The Mercenary Tavern

The mercenary tavern—Seahaven Inn.

This was a branch of the Mercenary Tavern, which was also known by another familiar name: the Mercenary Guild!

Compared to traditional guilds, the Mercenary Tavern took the form of a tavern because it was designed to serve mercenaries. After all, mercenaries were rough men who loved their drinks. They would enjoy some booze, boast a bit, and then head to the front desk or bulletin board to pick up a job. So, a tavern was the most suitable setting.

Inside the tavern, numerous seasoned mercenaries were drinking, eating, and conversing loudly, creating a somewhat noisy atmosphere filled with the scent of alcohol and a hint of blood. Perhaps it was from the canine teeth embedded in the wooden table at the front desk, or perhaps it was from the mercenaries wrapped in blood-stained bandages. Regardless, it wasn't a pleasant smell.

But Field liked it—it felt like coming home. Compared to the stench of smoke, alcohol, and vomit mixed with it in the bars of the wasteland gangs from his previous life, this place was like a breath of fresh air. At least you could tell the owner cleaned regularly.

As he pushed open the door and entered, the noisy chatter in the tavern immediately quieted down a bit. Field could feel the gazes of many upon him. After all, with his size, he couldn't help but stand out, unless he was among a pile of behemoth monsters.

But he enjoyed the attention. In his previous life, he had wanted to be a big guy but didn't have the means. In the end, he could only be a "medium-sized guy" at best.

Ignoring the curious, scrutinizing, and sometimes provocative and disdainful gazes around him, Field walked straight to the tavern counter.

Everyone was watching him, with curiosity, scrutiny, and that kind of provocation and disdain typical of old-timers eyeing newcomers.

Field grinned and greeted the bartender with a warm smile, "Hello, I'm here to register as a mercenary."

"Huh, we've got a newbie." The bartender was a hot-bodied woman with tanned skin, a beautiful face, wavy hair, and a voluptuous figure. She could definitely be described as a beauty.

"I'm Evelyn, the owner of Seahaven Inn." The woman introduced herself while unabashedly eyeing Field's chest muscles, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Field." Field kept it short.

"Welcome, newcomer Field," Evelyn said. Then she added, "Here's the rule: newcomers have to treat everyone."

Field was taken aback. "Treat everyone? With drinks?"

"Eh, yeah." Evelyn chuckled, "But if you'd like to treat them to a meal instead, I'm sure they'd be just as happy."

"Hahaha!" Laughter erupted in the tavern.

Field knew he was being teased. But he didn't mind. He joined in with a laugh and said, "Then let me finish my first mission, and I'll treat everyone later."

At these words, the surrounding mercenaries widened their eyes, and the laughter grew louder.

"Kid, are you really treating?" A bearded man beside him slapped his thigh, looking at Field with interest.

Field sat on a bar stool, turned to face the crowd, and said, "Of course, it's just a drink!"

"Don't just think of it as a drink. There are a lot of people here, and even the cheapest black rye costs more than fifty gold coins, right?"

In this world, the currency was gold, silver, and copper coins, with a conversion rate of 1-10-100.

The tavern was not small, with two or three floors. There were about six hundred people present, and a glass of black rye cost eight copper coins. It would indeed amount to more than fifty gold coins.

Field did have quite a bit of gold coins on him, which were the inheritance from the old man, plus the sale of the blacksmith shop, and the money he had saved over the years. But he didn't plan to spend it here.

However, he acted nonchalant, saying, "Fifty gold coins is nothing. We're going to become legendary mercenaries in the future. By then, we'll be earning tens of millions for each mission."

"Don't talk about treating everyone; treating the whole city won't be a problem!"

This statement provoked another round of laughter.

Though the laughter was harsh, it was just the sound of people enjoying themselves. Field knew well how to get along with these bloodthirsty folks.

After this laugh, the hostile glances directed at him were reduced significantly. After all, a newcomer meant more competition for jobs and food bowls. Few mercenaries would genuinely welcome that.

With this little joke, Field dispelled much unnecessary hostility, reduced the gap brought by the arrival of a newcomer, and the tavern became lively again.

And who knows, maybe someone would mistake him for a greenhorn rookie and come to fleece him. Then Field would have another opportunity to make some easy money.

A win-win situation, wasn't it?

"Not bad." Evelyn looked at Field, who was chatting and boasting with the bearded man, with a glint in her eyes. Then she pushed out a piece of paper and a card.

"This is the mercenary contract. Sign it, and you'll officially become a mercenary."

"Starting from the lowest rank of Bronze Mercenary, you must accept at least three bronze-tier missions each month. Failure to do so will result in loss of mercenary status."

"This is your guild identity card. Write your name in blood on it, and you can use it to enter and leave other mercenary taverns and pick up missions."

Field nodded, took the contract and the card, and began filling them out, while asking.

"How do I advance to higher ranks of mercenaries?"

"It seems like you really want to become a legendary mercenary," Evelyn said, her chin resting on her hand as she leaned against the counter, the low neckline of her top revealing a deep cleavage, whether intentionally or not.

"Of course, you don't think I was joking, do you?" Field chuckled.

With his rugged face and sincere smile, Field's demeanor was genuinely confusing, like that of an honest man who never lied.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow and replied, "Once you complete a sufficient number of bronze-tier tasks, you can apply for a promotion challenge. Then, after completing at least three promotion tasks, you'll advance."

"It's pretty much the same from there."

"Got it." Field nodded and handed the completed forms back to Evelyn.

After glancing at them, Evelyn took out an anti-counterfeiting stamp of the Mercenary Guild and stamped it on Field's card. Then, Field pricked his finger and dripped a drop of blood onto the card. The card glowed briefly, and the blood imprint was sealed on it. This blood imprint would serve as a magical means of verification, confirming that the card belonged to Field himself. It was like a magical version of an ID card.

"Eighteen copper coins," Evelyn said as Field received the card.

Field was taken aback. "Wasn't it ten copper coins?"

Evelyn blinked. "Don't you want to treat the beautiful landlady in front of you to a drink?"

Field chuckled and took out a few silver coins. "Of course, I'd be delighted to!"

Evelyn happily accepted. She was quite willing to establish a good relationship with this handsome big guy. After all, he seemed to have a lot of potential.

"Lady, another extra-large portion of smoked chicken rice, a seaweed salad, and three pieces of pork leg," Field continued, handing over five silver coins. These servings were more than enough for three people, but seeing Field's size, Evelyn tactfully refrained from commenting. After taking the money, she quickly brought out a table full of dishes for Field.

"Aren't you drinking?" Evelyn asked curiously, sipping her own drink.

This big guy treated her to a drink but didn't drink himself.

"I don't drink before missions," Field said, starting to eat heartily.

As he ate, he continued in a low voice, "By the way, landlady, do you have any recommended tasks, preferably ones with good pay?"

"For bronze-tier tasks, there aren't many that pay well; they're all more or less the same," Evelyn replied.

"So, that's when we have to ask the kind-hearted landlady for help," Field said with a grin.

Evelyn rolled her eyes.

It seemed that this big guy wasn't as honest as he appeared on the surface. A drink and some flattery were all it took to extract information from her. Normally, this information would be worth dozens or even hundreds of gold coins. After all, these tasks were considered "good jobs," either paying well, requiring minimal effort, or both. Mercenaries all scrambled for them.

However, Evelyn found Field quite pleasing to the eye, and... the less honest, the better. Don't think dirty—being less honest in the mercenary business meant being less likely to be taken advantage of and going further!

Evelyn had high hopes for Field's potential. So, next, she needed to use these "good jobs" to test whether he was just a big guy with potential or someone with real skills!

She didn't answer but discreetly handed Field a piece of paper while the others weren't paying attention.

Field glanced at it.

Well, it really was a good job!