"Please lend me your strength!"
"I, Alex Spinor—a name destined to become legendary, swear to you! I will advance or retreat together with you, never abandoning you!"
Perhaps it was the influence of Earl Spinor, or perhaps that inspiring speech truly moved those fired up with zeal; people holding weapons began to approach him, and under Alex's command, they formed into a crooked line.
A swaggering mercenary walked up to Alex, extending his right hand.
"I hate show-offs, and I despise you nobles born with a silver spoon even more... But unfortunately, my boss died back in the town, and compared to other ambiguous guys commanding us, you might indeed be a bit more reliable."
"Thank you!" Alex reached out to shake his hand, but the mercenary just high-fived him, then returned to his formation.
The man patted his shoulder-mounted musket, whistling softly.
"Let me know when you need him!"
Alex clenched his fist, smiling as he said.
"Absolutely!"
