Chapter 267: Drawing the Holy Sword (1)
“First of all, thank you for saving the Mercenary King. Without you, he would have died to the demon,” Dreigan said.
The Guildmaster of the Mercenary Guild spoke with the gravity of a man who understood what that rescue meant. The guild’s reach owed much of its present weight to a single figure at the top—the Mercenary King. If anything happened to the Mercenary King, the guild’s influence would be cut in half overnight. For the guild, Ketal’s intervention was not merely helpful; it was a debt that would take years to balance.
“I do not make a habit of letting comrades die,” Ketal replied, light as ever, as if he had taken a walk rather than dragged someone back from the edge.
“Even so, you are a benefactor to the guild, and a debt deserves repayment,” Dreigan said as he set a velvet-lined coffer on the table and opened it.
Inside lay jewels. They were not a handful, not a scattering, but a small trove, each stone large and flawless under the lamplight, the facets throwing clean fires across the wood.
Ketal let out a low, pleased sound despite himself. He did not pretend to know gems, yet even an untrained eye could see value here. If he had known the exact worth, he would have been the one to snap the lid closed; the contents could have bought a fortress, walls, and banner besides.
“This is a personal token of thanks,” Dreigan said. “Please do not refuse it.”
“In that case, I will accept it with thanks,” Ketal said, and took the coffer without ceremony.
Dreigan’s eyes brightened.
“You did not come only to deliver gratitude,” Ketal said, amused. “Shall we speak plainly?”
“There is no fooling you, Ketal.” The Guildmaster chuckled. His voice dropped a notch. “You are registered as a mercenary, yes?”
“I am,” Ketal said.