Chapter 119: The Nobility Noticed
**Chapter: Rumors Across Berm**
Three days after the Falmouth operation, the city of Berm no longer felt the same.
The change was subtle at first.
Small conversations inside taverns.
Merchants whispering near market stalls.
Travelers stopping beside caravans to exchange stories before continuing down the roads.
But every story eventually led toward the same name.
Atlas.
And the more the stories spread, the more unbelievable they became.
---
Inside one of Berm’s busiest taverns near the eastern district, the atmosphere had become louder than usual despite the early evening hour.
Merchants drank beside adventurers while workers from nearby warehouses filled the remaining tables. The smell of roasted meat, beer, sweat, and smoke hung heavily in the air while rain tapped softly against the tavern windows outside.
At one corner table, a merchant leaned closer toward several adventurers while lowering his voice dramatically.
"I’m telling you, they wiped out an entire brigand army."
One adventurer snorted immediately.
"Bullshit."
"It’s true."
"With what? Twenty men?"
The merchant pointed toward him.
"That’s the scary part."
Another adventurer leaned back in his chair while crossing his arms.
"I heard they used magic."
A third shook his head.
"No. Not magic."
"Then what?"
The adventurer hesitated briefly.
"...Something worse."
That immediately caught attention around the table.
Because adventurers respected magic.
But something worse than magic?
That sounded uncomfortable.
The merchant took another drink before continuing.
"They say the brigands attacked Falmouth twice."
"They did," another traveler nearby interrupted. "My caravan came from the southern road yesterday. The fields outside the city are still full of graves."
Several men at the table looked toward him immediately.
"You saw it yourself?"
The traveler nodded.
"City walls are damaged too. Burn marks everywhere."
One younger adventurer frowned slightly.
"So the brigands almost won?"
The traveler laughed weakly.
"No."
Then after a pause:
"Apparently they never even reached the walls."
That made the table quiet briefly.
Because that sounded impossible.
Even skilled adventurer groups struggled defending against large brigand forces without heavy casualties.
Yet somehow, Atlas destroyed them before they even breached the city.
The older merchant leaned forward again.
"You know what people in Falmouth are calling them now?"
"What?"
"The Thunder Soldiers."
A few adventurers exchanged uncertain looks afterward.
Honestly—
That sounded ridiculous.
But increasingly, nobody fully knew what Atlas actually was anymore.
---
Near the back of the tavern, two Adventurer’s Guild members quietly listened to the conversation while drinking beside the wall.
One was an older silver-ranked adventurer named Harlan.
The other, a younger swordsman named Felix.
Harlan swirled the drink inside his mug slowly.
"The stories keep getting bigger."
Felix looked uneasy.
"You think any of it’s true?"
Harlan remained silent for several seconds.
Then answered quietly.
"I think enough of it is."
That answer unsettled Felix immediately.
Because Harlan rarely sounded uncertain about anything.
The younger adventurer leaned closer.
"You knew Marcus back in the guild, right?"
"Somewhat."
"What was he like?"
Harlan stared toward the tavern crowd thoughtfully.
"Quiet."
"That’s it?"
"And dangerous."
Felix frowned.
"You couldn’t tell before?"
Harlan almost smiled faintly.
"No. That’s the problem."
He remembered Marcus from months ago.
Calm.
Professional.
Never loud.
Never arrogant.
But looking back now—
There had always been something strange about him.
The equipment.
The discipline.
The confidence.
None of it matched ordinary adventurers.
And now Atlas had become something far beyond ordinary.
---
Meanwhile, across Berm, another conversation unfolded inside the upper chamber of the Adventurer’s Guild itself.
The atmosphere there felt much less relaxed.
Guild officials, reception staff, and several senior adventurers gathered around a long wooden table beneath warm lantern light while rain continued outside.
Rose sat quietly near one side of the room while listening carefully.
The Guildmaster stood near the head of the table with both hands folded behind his back.
"He accepted the meeting request."
That immediately caused murmurs across the chamber.
One official adjusted his glasses nervously.
"So he’s actually coming?"
"Yes."
Another guild employee frowned.
"You think they’re hostile?"
"No."
That answer came from Rose herself.
The room turned toward her.
Rose sat straighter slightly.
"Atlas isn’t acting aggressively toward the guild."
One senior adventurer crossed his arms.
"They left a military contingent in another city."
Rose nodded.
"Yes."
"That sounds aggressive."
"No," she replied calmly. "That sounds organized."
The room quieted slightly afterward.
Because honestly—
She was right.
Atlas no longer behaved like random mercenaries or rogue adventurers.
They behaved like an actual military organization.
And that reality made everyone uneasy.
The Guildmaster slowly walked toward the window while staring out toward the rain-covered streets of Berm.
"The problem isn’t whether Atlas is dangerous."
Another official frowned.
"Then what is the problem?"
The Guildmaster turned slightly.
"The problem is that they’re becoming influential."
Silence followed.
Because influence changed everything.
Strong adventurers existed everywhere.
But Atlas was different.
Atlas protected trade routes.
Atlas stabilized cities.
Atlas employed former adventurers directly.
Atlas now possessed enough military power that local nobles and merchants would inevitably seek alliances with them.
And that meant politics.
Whether Marcus wanted it or not.
---
Far away from Berm’s taverns and guild halls, Atlas Base remained busy despite the worsening weather outside.
Rain tapped steadily across the roofs of the administrative buildings while floodlights illuminated portions of the compound beneath dark evening skies.
Inside one of the training hangars, Tomas continued supervising infantry drills despite the weather.
"Move!"
The squad shifted immediately.
Rifles raised.
Boots splashing lightly across the wet concrete floor.
"Cover left!"
Two men pivoted smoothly.
"Reload!"
Magazines swapped.
Bolts slammed forward.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The sound of disciplined repetition echoed across the hangar.
Nearby, several newer recruits watched the Falmouth veterans closely.
And the difference remained obvious.
The veterans moved faster now.
Cleaner.
More confident.
Combat changed soldiers quickly.
Tomas noticed it too.
Good.
That meant the training worked.
Rolf approached from the side carrying several folded papers while shaking rainwater from his jacket.
"You know," he muttered, "most sane people rest after winning battles."
Tomas did not even look at him.
"Most sane people aren’t preparing for the next one."
"See, that’s exactly the kind of sentence that worries me."
Tomas finally glanced toward him.
"What do you want?"
Rolf handed over the papers.
"Supply inventory from logistics."
Tomas reviewed them briefly.
"Ammunition request approved?"
"Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Marcus denied your request for another grenade launcher."
Tomas sighed quietly.
Rolf grinned.
"He wrote ’stop trying to militarize training exercises’ beside the denial."
Honestly—
That sounded exactly like Marcus.
---
Meanwhile, inside the administrative building, Marcus sat across from Elaina while reviewing the latest contract inquiries.
The pile had grown again.
Too quickly.
Elaina leaned back slightly in her chair while organizing several documents.
"Three more arrived this afternoon."
Marcus looked up.
"Already?"
"Yes."
"What are they?"
Elaina checked the notes.
"One caravan escort request."
"Expected."
"One monster extermination contract from a village north of Berm."
Marcus nodded slightly.
Normal enough.
"And the third?"
Elaina hesitated briefly.
"That one’s different."
Marcus narrowed his eyes slightly.
"How?"
She slid the sealed letter across the desk.
Marcus picked it up slowly.
The seal stamped into the wax immediately stood out.
Not merchant.
Not guild.
Noble.
A real one.
Marcus broke the seal carefully before unfolding the letter.
His eyes scanned the contents quietly.
Then he leaned back slightly afterward.
Elaina watched him carefully.
"Well?"
Marcus placed the letter down on the desk.
"It’s from Count Valen."
That immediately changed the atmosphere slightly.
Even Elaina straightened more seriously.
Count Valen was not a minor noble.
He controlled significant territory west of Berm along several trade corridors. More importantly, he possessed influence inside regional politics.
Elaina looked toward the letter again.
"What does he want?"
Marcus answered calmly.
"A meeting."
Silence followed briefly.
Because both of them understood what that meant.
Falmouth changed things.
Atlas was no longer merely attracting merchants and adventurers.
Now nobles were paying attention too.
And once nobles became involved—
Everything became more complicated.
Elaina folded her arms lightly.
"You think this is about protection?"
"Partly."
"And the rest?"
Marcus looked toward the rain-covered windows thoughtfully.
"Curiosity."
That honestly made sense.
A military organization suddenly appeared near Berm.
It possessed strange weapons.
Flying machines.
Disciplined infantry.
And enough power to erase criminal networks overnight.
Of course the nobility would investigate eventually.
The surprising part was how quickly it happened.
Elaina looked at him carefully.
"You’re thinking about refusing."
Marcus did not answer immediately.
Because honestly—
He was.
Not out of fear.
Out of caution.
Nobles brought politics.
Politics brought entanglements.
And Atlas still remained fragile beneath all the victories and growing reputation.
They had strength.
But not yet stability.
Elaina eventually spoke again.
"If we refuse completely, they may become suspicious."
Marcus nodded slowly.
True.
"And if we accept?"
"Then we control the conversation."
That answer lingered quietly between them.
Marcus leaned back in his chair while thinking carefully.
Outside the office, Atlas Base continued operating through the rain while somewhere beyond the walls of the compound, rumors about Atlas spread wider every hour.
The Thunder Soldiers.
The Flying Steel.
The men who erased the Black Hollow.
Stories moved faster than caravans now.
And increasingly, powerful people wanted answers.
Marcus finally picked up the letter again before looking toward Elaina.
"Schedule the meeting."
Elaina nodded once.
"When?"
Marcus looked toward the rain outside.
"Soon."
Because whether he liked it or not—
Atlas was stepping into a much larger world now.
And the nobility had finally noticed.