Cardboard Houses Do Not Tear

5 – Yeongjijeon, a traditional game in Northern Britain.

Of course, we will play in moderation.

I have witnessed so many types of mercenaries come, die, leave, and be executed over the course of five years. And among them, of course, there were those who had their hearts broken.

For things like power and money, not for women, gambling, alcohol, or even secondary illness, but for the joy of murder.

The things they pursued were different, but there was only one reason why they were defeated.

These were the guys who burned out on their own because they didn’t look at anything else around them and were immersed in and obsessed with one thing.

And their words were one.

A body that weighs as much weight as it sags as much as a saggy heart, maybe several pieces.

In my 4th year, crazy only for the goal of going back, I was convinced as I personally lifted and moved the dead bodies as colorful as my colorful purpose.

It was clear that burnout would come to me someday if I just ran like this like crazy. Because I am not a philosopher in a philosophical book.

At that moment, my conclusion was obvious. I won’t be able to run again, someone will throw my body into this pit.

So, instead of just sprinting, wouldn’t it be better to take care of a little bit of romance?

From the time I thought that, my old personality came back little by little, and I always didn’t have to wear gloves to avoid biting my nails.

It was selection and concentration for psychological stability.

“Ah. If you’re going to fight, go out and fight!”

“Ouch!”

“Profit… Evil! aaa!

I heard the sound of the guys who had been fighting again from below, getting hit one by one by the guards and being kicked out.

―Kikiiik.

Then I heard the deafening cry of a rusty hinge from the side. I think the monopoly is over.

“Hey, really oil it up.”

Hwaran grumbled and came towards me. The way he patted his shoulder and turned it, it seemed quite a bit sore.

Since my body was stiff, it was obvious that I would go to the house and do the sword dance again. So today’s work will end here.

“Why are you here? Go out and get some fresh air.”

Ah, I guess.

But that wasn’t the answer.

“Where am I going to leave Hwaran?”

I don’t even know the geography of the area because I always go around mercenaries, guilds, castle gates, and weapon stores, but sometimes the correct answer and the truth are different.

“Hmm. Not really. And that.”

He paused for a moment, and I looked at Hwar’an.

“Youngjijeon was captured. Are you going?”

I was surprised by two things after hearing his words.

The other thing is that I went through the Yeongjijeon 5 days ago, and this is the second time that the number of cases has been caught.

‘How does this goddamn North grow so many henna? What the hell is wrong with it?’

I’m not going to lie about the Yeongjijeon that I’ve played from 5 years ago until now, it’s over 300 times. Except for other missions such as bandit eradication, etc., Only the territory battle.

To put it in a good way, he is an old man.

In other words, only free labor at the top of the death rate is over 300 times.

The mercenaries I saw for the first time five years ago have lived a very difficult life, considering that there are only a handful of people left in this world or on this earth.

In other regions, it is customary to select warriors and duel in case of a tolerable conflict, whether it is for the sake of each other’s face, or because once it happens, it is a burden on the public order or economically due to confusion.

But these northern nobles had none of that. Almost like elementary school kids arguing over Naruto vs Sasuke and who fights with each other, it has almost become a custom these days to fight with a territory battle immediately when something goes wrong.

Perhaps Northern Britian is the home of another world dueling?

“I will.”

But I nodded.

I must have shaken it too hard, to the extent that Hwaran asked timidly.

“Hey, is it that good?”

“What could be better than getting the shining mercy of St. John bestowed on them by fighting for their honor instead of dirtying the hands of noble princes?”

=Isn’t the most enjoyable thing in the world to intervene in someone else’s fight, fight for them, and receive money?

Actually, I’m not interested in what those two idiots are saying, and I’d rather sit in a corner and read a book, but I can give you lip service to make money.

People are idiots, not money, because I needed that money.

Hwaran grinned as if he liked my answer.

“Seeing that you talk about making money with a sword dance in a classy way, you seem to be a mercenary. It’s different from the pitiful adventurers and slobs.”

“It’s all thanks to Hwaran.”

After leaving the mercenary guild, we started walking toward the house.

“So, where should I go to the territory?”

“We have to go to Million Mansion by 7 days. They said they were going to have a territory battle with Viscount Arnen and Viscount Arnen.”

According to my memories of cutting more than twenty-five on that side not too long ago, and five years of experience, the soil on that side of the meadow is still wet and sticky.

It’s time to start recovering your green hair, just like your hair 5 months after dyeing the grass dyed red.

“Are you sure you didn’t fight last time?”

“I see. About 20 days have passed?”

Hearing that, I wondered if I should be afraid of their potential to call the mercenaries again and start a fight less than a month after the Battle of the Territory.

Otherwise, I began to question whether I should be afraid of their immaturity, in which the loser could not accept the result and the winner could not ignore the provocation of the loser.

No matter how many times I saw it, it was a maddening sight that I never got used to.

“No, I think you two have a lot of money.”

“Since they have blue blood, there must be something. Shouldn’t we just be cutting and making money?”

Let’s ignore the fact that blue blood is an idiom that came to mind not by lineage, but by the color of blood vessels. Because this is the world

So let’s admire it. After all, about the wealth and potential of water owners with mana elixir flowing in their veins rather than red potions.

Envy the child.

I asked Hwaran while avoiding the deep puddle.

“So, you never know who will come out on the other side this time? This time, please, I want ‘familiar friends’ to appear.”

“I’ll go and tell you.”

Not just the Northern Britian mercenaries, far away. In this world, there was one unwritten rule that was also used in the other world, Earth.

Ordinary aristocrats who have a lot of reputation and are busy with construction often treat them like office workers who turn on automatic hunting during working hours and cover their phones when a territory war takes place.

If there were cases where a lord directly stepped forward, nobility did not directly participate in the territorial battle, to the extent that one would wonder if the lord was suffering from mental illness or because the other lord had insulted him.

That’s why there’s nothing special about the British Northern Territory War. Siege warfare is an absolute taboo, and there is only a clean match that ends in one or two rounds on the plains.

So, as of now, only a few guards are placed at the back of the mercenary corps to check the results and monitor whether or not Gara is being played.

There’s no way arrows will stick through their windows anyway, so it’s more efficient to use the lower ones.

But both the guards and the mercenaries prefer splashing drops of alcohol to splashing blood, so they pursue a more ‘compassionate direction’.

Everyone knows that their lives are precious, so if they are moderately friendly with each other, they will roughly shout swords, eat grilled meat, drink alcohol, pass the time, shake hands, say which side won or lost, and after watching the shobu, a few weapons from each other return as spoils of war.

And just kneel down in front of the landlord and lord, and put some saliva on your lips.

‘With Viscount Milion, I returned with the honor of the Viscount under the protection of St. John (or the sun god). May the viscount’s protection be with you on the road ahead!’ While making a comment like this.

Anyway, this song is a time-honored tradition, so I can’t help it.

Hwaran and the mercenaries on the other side should come. The two Lancers made a tacit agreement and said they were going to drink, but you can’t say what you’re doing without fighting here. You have to do what you ask.

And in the northern part of the fictitious day where the Battle of the Territory breaks out, if you didn’t say that, the mercenary guild here would have already disappeared before the f*cking floor rotted.

It was because of Gara that at least the mercenaries did not dry up.

Even though the mercenaries we met in the previous Yeongjijeon did not have a face-to-face relationship with us, and the enemy Lancer did not see Hwaru in Trash Talk and brought out the taboo word, ‘Why is an old man who laughs at his granddaughter and daughter’s butt still standing around?’ There was bloodshed in the wind, but-

“Okay.”

“Yes?”

Far’an caught me.

Looking back, he was pointing at a huge iron gate. Above the door was written the words [Hwar’an Mercenary Corps].

“Why are you thinking that the mercenaries are passing by? Why, are you going to the academy even now?”

“Ah.”

While thinking about all sorts of things, we arrived at the mercenary headquarters.

The 3-meter high blue gate with the signboard reading [Hwaruan Mercenary Corps] At the top opened quietly, unlike the door of the mercenary guild branch manager’s office. It’s worth removing and oiling all the hinges.

Then, as a commemoration of becoming a free man, I would like to introduce the Hwaruan Mercenary Headquarters, commonly referred to as the House.

To put it in a description that fits into the minds of adults, it’s a 3-story mansion that costs 5 gold and sits within 10 minutes of the lord’s castle.

To express the sensibility of a thirty-three-year-old G-House who still has a dream, it is a three-story brick building with a bench in the front yard that is good for lying down and reading a book, and a training ground in the back yard.

The mansion built of gray bricks with a blue roof to match the blue gates is very antique with ivy growing on the walls, and every room has windows so there is plenty of sunlight. It’s literally the type of house that a self-made student would love the most and a vampire would hate the most. It was a house worth mentioning.

Indeed, it feels like an old gentleman should live instead of a wild man like Huaruan.

“Hey. Did you curse at me just now?”

“Yes?”

“Something tickled my ears.”

I don’t know who it is, but if you get caught, I’ll beat you up.

Saying that, let’s stop talking about Hwaran’s gossip and come to a conclusion about the appearance of the mansion.

I can’t describe it as a style because I’m not an architecture major, and I’m not an advanced major in Western history.

On top of that, the front yard is quite short enough to reach the front door after walking roughly 20m from the gate, but the parade ground in the back has the size of a high school playground.

It can be described as a genius that upsets the wallets of mercenaries and adventurers who are crazy about cutting and training.

I would like to go further and talk about the internal structure, but I cut it.

“What are you doing? Don’t call everyone together.”

“Yes.”

What I have to do is not to describe An, but to gather our mercenary friends who have no way of knowing where they went.