Old Jack's Tavern was located in the southwest corner of Black Castle Town. The terrain here was remote, surrounded by stinky horse stables and pigpens, but the tavern's business had always been very good.
This was because Old Jack's Tavern was the location of the black market in Black Castle Town.
Every day before dark, mercenaries, traveling merchants, intelligence peddlers, bards, and streetwalkers would enter and exit this tavern with various motives.
In this tavern, one could buy many things that couldn't be bought outside, provided one had money.
Nelson was sitting listlessly in a corner of Old Jack's Tavern, a heavy battleaxe laid horizontally across the sturdy oak table in front of him.
Placing a weapon horizontally on the tavern table indicated that he was a mercenary waiting to be recruited, while the absence of food and drink on the table was simply because Nelson had no money.
The weather outside was very cold, but inside the tavern it was as warm as spring.
A fire pit had been lit in the center of the tavern, and the leaping flames licked at the large pot suspended above it. Over a dozen salted rabbits were tumbling in the milky-white broth, and their rich aroma teased everyone's appetite.
Tavern owner Hal would never drive away any penniless mercenary, but neither could one expect him to give away even an inferior mare's milk wine worth only 3 copper sols for free.
Right now, Nelson could only swallow his saliva while facing the salted rabbits.
The tavern door was pushed open, and Nelson looked up to see the owner Hal bringing a flattering smile as he welcomed several fellows covered entirely in cloaks up to the private rooms on the second floor.
Nelson knew the background of these people; they were subordinates of the Black Castle quartermaster and often handed over some obsolete military supplies to Hal for sale.
Nelson's War Bear Mercenary Group had once bought two obsolete crossbows from Hal's hands. Aside from the emblems being ground off, Nelson couldn't tell where they needed to be phased out.
The door was violently slammed open again, and a one-eyed giant standing a full 1.9 meters tall rushed in carrying a gust of cold wind, prompting several mercenaries sitting near the door to curse loudly.
"Chief, it really is free." The one-eyed man paid no attention to the several provocative mercenaries, walking straight to Nelson's table and throwing two loaves of black bread weighing a full 10 pounds onto the table with a thud.
The few mercenaries who originally wanted to have a good chat with the one-eyed man using their fists quickly sat back down when they saw he was one of Nelson's men, loudly discussing whose backside among the waitresses was bigger as if nothing had happened.
"Where are the others?" Nelson picked up a piece of black bread and began to chew vigorously. The rock-hard black bread felt as crispy as freshly baked oatmeal cakes in his mouth.
"Lilia is still leading them to line up at the church, hoping to get a few more loaves of black bread." The one-eyed man scratched his short, messy brown hair and muttered, "It would be great if the Church arrested a few more wizards; then we could get some more free bread."
Every time the Church held a purification ceremony, it would distribute some food for free to the local populace, an ancient tradition that had continued to this day.
Nelson swallowed a 5-pound loaf of black bread in a few bites and smiled at the one-eyed man, "Wizards aren't so easy to catch. Eight years ago, the wizard captured in Tudor killed more than twenty people before being subdued by a Paladin. It's really rare that Black Castle didn't have anyone die during this wizard arrest."
The one-eyed man licked his chapped lips and said solemnly, "Chief, the Wyvern gang has sent word to me again; they want to talk to you."
Nelson's gaze condensed as he stared into the one-eyed man's eyes and asked in a low voice, "Gru, what do you think?"
"Chief, I'll listen to you." Gru the one-eyed man faced Nelson's piercing gaze calmly. After hesitating for a moment, he said, "However… Iron Hammer and a few others seem quite tempted."
"If they want to leave, I won't stop them, but I want to make it clear to you all: the Wyvern gang is not clean." Nelson sighed and said to Gru, "I've always suspected that the Wyvern gang is an affiliate of the Blood Fox Bandit Group. Merging with them won't lead to any good results."
"Our War Bear Mercenary Group was established more than twenty years ago. We've fought against the Sassan Empire in the north and wiped out Gnoll tribes in the south, but what we've fought the most are bandit groups. The old commander was severely injured in a battle against bandits, and before dying, he handed the mercenary group over to me. I still remember him telling me that bandits have no future, but mercenaries do!" Nelson touched the battleaxe on the table, feeling somewhat emotional but mostly resolute.
"Chief, six years ago, it was you who saved me from the bandits, and this eye of mine was shot blind by bandits. Chief, rest assured, my life is yours! Even if I starve to death, I will never work for bandits! I'm going right now to make things clear with Iron Hammer and the others!" Gru stood up excitedly and rushed outward.
"Sit down!" Nelson called out to Gru, saying with a desolate expression:
"I know what Iron Hammer and the others are thinking. Over all these years, the brothers in the group have died or been disabled… Iron Hammer spoke to me in private, telling me to disband the wounded and disabled brothers. Only in this way can the mercenary group continue to grow… What he said makes sense, but I can't bear to do it."
Nelson said somewhat helplessly, "This time the Gambis Kingdom is developing the Centaur Hills. I brought everyone here just to try our luck and see if we could be recruited by that lord to become family guards, which would also find a way out for everyone. It's just that I didn't expect…"
Gru fell silent. The strength of the War Bear Mercenary Group could be considered among the best in the industry, especially with commander Nelson being a top-tier powerhouse among mercenaries.
It was just that there were too many elderly, weak, and disabled members in the group. Out of a mercenary group of over forty people, a full 11 had lost their combat effectiveness.
Every time they took on a mission, employers would shake their heads and give up upon seeing so many disabled people. By now, the War Bear Mercenary Group hadn't received a mission in a long time.
A lord recruiting family guards was indeed a good way out for mercenaries, but which aristocratic lord would be willing to support so many useless people for free?
The two were momentarily speechless facing each other. Nelson casually picked up the large package at his feet and threw it onto the table. The heavy weight of the package caused the table to sink downward.
Tapping the package gently, Nelson said with some reluctance, "It seems we can only sell it."
"Chief, isn't this your half-plate armor? This can't be sold!" Gru stood up abruptly.
Mercenaries generally only equipped themselves with leather armor, and very few people could equip chainmail. Sturdy plate armor was enough to withstand most damage, but its heavy weight also made it unbearable for those without sufficient strength, and its exorbitant price made mercenaries flinch and hold back.
This piece of half-plate armor was a gift given to Nelson by a caravan master after he routed a bandit group that was sacking the caravan. Normally, Nelson treasured the plate armor dearly, doing even the maintenance work himself.
Now, Nelson actually wanted to sell it! Gru only felt a wave of heartache.
"Say no more. The group is running out of money, and we can't get any work right now. Sell it to tide us over first." Finished speaking, Nelson picked up the package and walked toward the bar counter.
"Call Hal out; there is something I want him to see." Throwing the package onto the bar counter, Nelson said gruffly to the bartender.
After a while, owner Hal walked out, touched the package on the counter, and said with a smile, "Commander Nelson, before you sell this half-plate armor, I want to take you to meet a big figure."
Nelson looked cautiously at the tavern owner and asked in a deep voice, "A big figure, who?"
"Baron Wimbledon!"