Mercenary's Judgment

"So, did you become an addict? Your eyes are completely messed up. Can you even hold a sword properly like that? What can you even do now? What the hell can you offer me?"

Falcoa couldn't answer.

"Listen up, all of you. If you want to act like thugs, do it somewhere else. I have no regrets about cutting you loose, and I won't try to hold you back. If you carry the name of Parrot, you follow my orders—no exceptions. If you have a problem with that, leave. Go spend your money and live out the rest of your days however you want."

The subordinates fell silent, obedient as lambs.

None of them were without their own stories, and Marsha had taken in those who had reached the end of their roads.

If they had anywhere else to go, they wouldn't have joined in the first place. To the entire mercenary group, the Fallen Saint was the only meaning in their lives.

In the heavy silence, Freeman bowed his head.

"Commander, when did you return?"

"As soon as I heard Lucas had been captured again. That bastard is sure to spill our hideout's location. We need to prepare to leave soon."

Marsha approached the collapsed Falcoa and then turned to the terrified Yuna.

"Falcoa, I made myself clear. Killing is only for the battlefield. We cannot mingle with civilians."

"Hah, there were circumstances."

"Circumstances..."

Marsha looked past Falcoa to Freeman, who simply shrugged.

"Fine, let's hear it. If your excuse isn't absolutely thrilling, you'd better be ready for the consequences."

Falcoa hesitated for a moment. But lying in front of her was useless, so he finally spoke.

"They were just kids."

He reported everything from start to finish.

How a broker had thrown gold coins at them. How that led to Amy being called to the tavern. How Shirone and his group stormed in, bringing them to the brink of a fight.

"I couldn't hold back. You know my temper, Commander. And they aren't just civilians. Two of them are swordsmen, and two are mages. They have real combat experience. They even used strange magic. That makes it fair game, doesn't it?"

"Hmm."

As Marsha fell into thought, Yuna, having heard the story, burst into tears.

"My brother..."

Marsha observed her for a moment before turning back to Falcoa.

"So you kidnapped this girl?"

"I had no choice. They're nobles. If I handled them outside, the whole mercenary group would be at risk. I used my head."

"Don't bother. Just stop thinking. Pathetic. You got beaten by kids because you're strung out on drugs."

Falcoa clenched his fists.

"...I have no excuses, but they really were strong. Even if I was at my best, they wouldn't have been easy."

"I know."

Marsha stood up.

"The blond one in their group—was his name Shirone, by any chance?"

She was certain she had heard that name.

"How do you...?!"

A cold smile formed on Marsha's lips.

"As expected, my instincts were right. If it's him, I can see why you struggled."

Freeman asked, "Do you know him?"

"No, not personally... Just a little... Never mind that. Why are we just standing around? The enemy is coming. Get ready."

"Do you really think they'll come here? Even with a hostage, she's just the sister of a lowly broker. And they're nobles. Nobles don't move over something like this."

Marsha was certain.

"They'll come."

They were the kind of hypocrites that made her skin crawl.

"Alright, move out! Everyone, arm yourselves and assemble in front of the hideout in thirty minutes. And Falcoa..."

She turned to him.

"What will you do? You're quite the rising star these days. Maybe it's time for a career change—how about becoming a businessman?"

"Don't mock me. Take whatever you want. I just want to butcher them."

"...Go on, then."

Though he wasn't being cast out of Parrot, Marsha's eyes were still cold.

Annoyed by that fact, Falcoa turned to leave the warehouse when her voice stopped him.

"Quit the drugs. If I catch you again, I'll kill you for real."

"..."

Falcoa didn't respond, but Marsha knew.

He wouldn't need the drugs anymore. Because the person who would lead him back to the battlefield, filled with blood, pain, and terror, had returned.

Once all the mercenaries had left, Freeman finally addressed Marsha as a childhood friend rather than as a commander.

"I'm relieved you made it back safely. Do you know how worried I was when we lost contact?"

Marsha frowned.

"Idiot, I was too busy running to send word. You lot never think things through. Anyway, what's Falcoa's deal? Can we even use him like this? He was always a lunatic, but at least he could wield a sword properly."

"We can't blame just him. We took the battlefield away from him."

"No, it was me."

"Still, thanks to that, we gathered enough funds. When you're ready, we can leave for another country anytime."

"Another escape, huh."

She could have lived a different life.

But ever since she left home at seventeen, she and Freeman had built this mercenary group together. Even if politics had robbed them of their foundation, Parrot was still the only home she had.

"It's bitter. How did we end up like this?"

"We were betrayed by our own country. What choice did we have?"

"Yeah. We have to do whatever we can. You haven't lost your edge, have you?"

Freeman was firm.

"I maintain peak combat readiness at all times. Marsha, I don't want anything from Parrot. I just want you to be happy."

Marsha shuddered.

"Ugh, stop. You have a way of making even good words sound nauseating. Do you have to say it like that?"

"Because it's the truth."

Freeman had never hidden his feelings for Marsha, even since childhood. But to her, it was nothing but an annoyance, and she reacted accordingly.

"Why? Who are you to wish for my happiness?"

"Because you are..."

He searched for the right words, then finally answered.

"Our commander."

Marsha snorted.

After talking to Freeman, she realized she had nothing to worry about. He was still as exasperating as ever.

"So, what will you do? Are you really going to fight those brats? Parrot doesn't back down from a fight, but this is different. Falcoa went too far. The whole group doesn't need to be involved."

"I know."

Her vague response made Freeman press further.

"Are you hiding something?"

Marsha's gaze turned icy.

Whenever she had that look, Freeman's heart pounded.

"Freeman, what do I hate the most?"

"Hypocrisy."

It was an answer that required no thought. He had witnessed the hell she endured up close.

Marsha's ability ensured that her trauma would never fade. Her mind would remain twisted forever.

She clenched her fists, a storm of emotions swirling inside her.

"Let's begin."