A Worthwhile Terrible Job
They say “speak of the devil,” and sure enough, mentioning something ominous tends to make it happen. Thankfully, there’s no sign of war breaking out yet. Phew.
Not that I’d want some idiot casually starting a war right now, anyway.
Planting season leading straight into a full-scale invasion? What about the harvest labor? Even if it’s the kingdom’s doing, morale would plummet—so it’s practically unheard of. Not to say it never happens, but still.
In that sense, spring is peaceful.
With more people around, you hear about incidents in town—petty squabbles are a dime a dozen—but the guards handle those just fine.
Outskirts work, though? Lately, that’s mostly fallen to us guildfolk. Still, thanks to transfers and a flood of new recruits, we’re managing.
Expanding and maintaining the logging roads in Baroa Forest. Developing the outer edges of Legol.
Both are massive, labor-intensive projects, but with plenty of hands on deck, we’ll pull through.
No time for the unemployed to laze around. Tough luck for those who keep making excuses to avoid work—this town’s getting stricter!
“Mongrel, got a mission to discuss. Mind stepping into the back room?”
While I was flipping through a poorly illustrated fish encyclopedia in the guild archives, the vice-leader called out to me.
Vice-Leader Jeltna of the Legol branch. With the guild leader mostly tied up in noble affairs, she’s the one holding things down here.
She usually looks exhausted, but lately, with the workload piling up, she’s been even worse.
“A mission? …Also, Vice-Leader, you good? You look kinda rough.”
“If you’re worried, you could rank up to Silver and lighten my load… Actually, that’s part of why I called you. Let’s talk somewhere else.”
“…This already sounds like bad news.”
“Hmm. From our side, it’s a considerate proposal. Hear me out first.”
Huh. The vice-leader personally calling me in is rare.
…Hope it’s not trouble. Guess I’ll just pray.
“Here’s the thing, Mongrel. Given your track record and skills, we strongly recommend you rank up to Silver. No test required.”
“…Wanna take a wild guess at my answer based on my face?”
“So you accept? Thanks, Mongrel.”
“No, no, no, hell no. Hard pass.”
Damn, I made the nastiest grimace, and she still ignored it.
“Right, you refuse. Fine. Guild rules don’t force it, so it’s your call. Still, you are an odd one… But understand—there’s external pressure. People notice your skills. They question why you’re not ranked higher.”
“Ah… I do keep turning down promotions, but is that not enough?”
“Some guildfolk do complain. ‘Why isn’t that guy moving up? It’s weird.’ I agree, honestly.”
“…So there are folks who see through my hidden power. Not bad.”
“Mongrel, you’re not exactly hiding it. You brawl in front of the guild half the time.”
Anyone who’s been here a while knows I’ve refused promotions forever… Must be the newbies feeling weird about it.
Might be those guys—like Frank from Farthest Sunray. Thinking about it, he would say something like that.
Ugh… I just wanna hide my strength and live quietly, but nooo, people won’t let me!
…Wait, no, I am hiding my real power. And still not enough?!
C’mon, a little physical enhancement isn’t that suspicious…
“Which brings me to my point. For you, Mongrel—a man allergic to promotions—I’ve got a terrible job.”
“A terrible job…? Not a good one?”
“I said it’s about a mission. I’m offering you a rotten assignment. Stingy pay, awful client—the works.”
“Uh-huh…”
Wow. A job with zero appeal. What a find.
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“We haven’t even posted it. Frankly, we planned to bury it. The client’s attitude and budget are garbage, the request itself is absurd—we’ve refused multiple times, but they won’t take no for an answer.”
“Just ban them.”
“They’re a disgraced noble. No title, no influence, no money to pay properly—but we can’t just ignore them, either. Certain… circumstances.”
A disgraced noble—no power, no respect, no cash. Basically just a nuisance at this point.
Still, ex-nobility means politics. Can’t outright dismiss them. …I could probably dig up who it is. Not that I want to.
“The job? Obtain one flawless pelt of a Silver Wolf. Client demands it be pristine—no scratches, and no black stripe along the spine. Oh, and the offered reward? This.”
“…Is this a joke?”
Too many things to nitpick. I don’t even know where to start.
But the number on the paper the vice-leader handed me? That’s the real punchline.
“First off, Mongrel—can you even solo a Silver Wolf? We know you’re strong regardless of rank, but…”
“…Well, killing it’s doable. ‘Flawless pelt’? Impossible. It’ll be shredded no matter what.”
Silver Wolves—wolf-like monsters the size of a small bear, known for their silvery-white pelts.
They’re solitary, not pack hunters. Despite their regal looks, they’re dumb, fighting like rabid mutts with zero finesse.
What stands out is their sheer viciousness. Slash or slam them all you want—they won’t flinch or flee. By the time you finally kill one, its pelt’s usually ruined. A pristine pelt? Might as well ask for the moon. Half the time, their fur’s already scuffed when you find them.
“…You can kill one? Impressive.”
“Yeah, killing it’s fine. But a perfect pelt? No shot.”
“I see…”
The vice-leader sipped her tea and sighed.
…Wait. She’s not about to fire me over refusing this, right? No way.
“Succeed at this job, and… well, you’ll feel a real sense of accomplishment.”
“…‘Accomplishment’?”
“Fail, though, and you’ll lose a lot of contribution points. Bring back a tattered pelt? We’d have to force the client to pay—legal intervention included—but to placate their tantrum, your reputation would take a hit. Say goodbye to Silver.”
…Ohhh.
“Though, as apology for the unreasonable demand, we would pay you ‘fair compensation’ in coin… But again—Silver? Dream on. Risky job, but… what do you say, Mongrel? Still think it’s worthwhile?”
A stingy, loudmouth disgraced noble pestering the guild.
A guild itching to get rid of them with justification.
Me, who doesn’t want a promotion.
…This job? Win-win-win.
“A sense of accomplishment… Yeah. I crave that.”
“Right? So, you in?”
“Sure. Just bring back the pelt, right? Even if it’s wrecked—”
“Hahaha, Mongrel. I just said it has to be pristine.”
“Hah! Hah! Hah!”
Yep. This is a terrible job. But not one I hate.
Beats grinding weaklings. And shutting up a disgraced noble? Delicious.
“We’ve got a Silver Wolf sighting, actually. That’s why I approached you. Near the hills by Morina Village. No livestock losses yet, but if we dawdle, the Dryden branch might get a kill request. Move fast.”
“‘Strike while the iron’s hot,’ huh? It’s a trek, but I’ll gladly go.”
“I’ll throw in a shared carriage pass. You’ll want to start ASAP, right?”
“Thanks, boss.”
A Silver Wolf, huh? Nice. Always thought they were crap—meat and fur—but who knew their garbage pelts could be useful?
They don’t skitter around, so fighting’s straightforward. My kind of prey.
“Good luck out there, Mongrel.”
“Leave it to me, Vice-Leader. I’ll bag that flawless pelt.”
“Hahaha.”
And so, my slightly bigger-than-usual mission was set.
Destination: the hills near Morina Village. Just gotta make some noise, and the thing’ll charge me itself. That’s how these beasts work.
Been a while since my bastard sword’s tasted fire…!
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