Ezra walked through the bustling streets of the capital, the weight of the coin bag in his pocket a constant reminder of the decision he had just made. With the payment from the witch hunt, he now had enough to purchase a place—a real base of operations. No more living out of inns or dealing with unreliable landlords. He needed something more secure, a place that could serve as a headquarters for his growing mercenary group.
After asking around, he had been directed to an elven realtor. She was known for handling property transactions in the city, particularly for those looking for something practical rather than grandiose. Ezra wasn't interested in grandeur. He needed something modest but secure—enough space for his men, a place to keep their weapons and supplies, and somewhere they could meet and plan their next moves. He couldn't afford anything too extravagant. Just a small, solid foundation to build upon.
He arrived at the realtor's office, a small building nestled between two larger stone structures. A wooden sign hung above the door, reading "Faerilith Realty" in delicate elven script. Inside, the office was tidy, simple but inviting, with warm wood paneling and a few plants near the windows. The faint scent of pine lingered in the air, and Ezra could hear the soft murmur of the city outside, muffled by the walls.
A slender woman with silver hair and pointed ears sat behind the counter. She was neatly dressed in simple but elegant clothing, her eyes sharp yet calm. When she looked up, she gave Ezra a welcoming smile.
"Good day," she said in a soft voice. "How can I assist you?"
Ezra gave her a respectful nod. "I'm looking for a place—a base of operations for a mercenary group. Nothing too large, just enough space for a few men. Somewhere central, not too far from the heart of the city but still a little removed from the hustle. Security is a priority. And something affordable."
The elf's gaze sharpened slightly at the mention of a mercenary group, but she didn't seem phased. She gestured to the desk behind her, where a set of papers and maps were neatly arranged. "I believe I have just the thing. Follow me."
She led him through a narrow door at the back of the office and into a small room where a map of the city was pinned to the wall. She traced a finger over the streets, stopping at a section near the city's center. "This area has a few properties that might fit your needs. Not too far from the main roads, but situated among smaller, quieter buildings. I can show you a couple of places, and you can decide if any of them meet your requirements."
Ezra studied the map, eyes scanning the streets and alleyways. He wasn't looking for anything extravagant, just something practical. His fingers hovered over a small cluster of buildings toward the edge of a busy market street, tucked between a blacksmith's shop and a few merchant stalls. It wasn't glamorous, but it had the right feel.
"That one," he said, pointing to a narrow building near the corner. "How much?"
The elf followed his gaze and nodded. "That one has enough space for about six people comfortably. A small courtyard in the back, which should be useful for storage. It's modest but secure. I can arrange a viewing for you if you like."
Ezra felt a flicker of satisfaction. This was exactly what he needed—a small, inconspicuous place to operate from. "Let's see it."
They left the office and walked a few streets over, winding through the busy market district before turning down a narrow side street. The building was tucked between two larger structures, the ground floor made up of a small storefront that had clearly been vacant for some time. The upper floor appeared to have been a modest living space, with a single window looking out onto the street.
"It's not much, but it will do," the elf said, unlocking the door and leading Ezra inside.
The interior was dimly lit, but the layout was immediately practical. A long, narrow room served as the main entryway, leading into a small kitchen area to the left. The space was bare but sturdy, the floorboards worn but solid. The back of the building had a small courtyard, just big enough for a few crates and barrels. Upstairs, there were two rooms, each large enough for a bed and some basic furniture. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
Ezra walked through the rooms, nodding to himself. "This will work," he said, already visualizing how it could be organized. The back courtyard could be used for training, while the upstairs could serve as sleeping quarters and a planning area. The storefront would make for a good base of operations, where he could meet clients and make connections without drawing too much attention. He didn't need anything fancy—just practical.
The elf watched him carefully, her expression unreadable. "Are you sure?" she asked. "It's a little small, but it's well located. Not much traffic, but enough that it's easy to get to."
Ezra turned to her, nodding. "It's perfect. How much?"
The elf smiled slightly, as though she'd been expecting this reaction. "The price is reasonable. I'll prepare the paperwork, and you can move in whenever you're ready."
Ezra reached into his coin bag, counting out the necessary amount. As he handed over the payment, he felt a small weight lift from his shoulders. This would be the beginning of something bigger.
The Black Panther Mercenary Core was no longer just an idea. It was a reality, and this humble building would serve as its foundation.
Ezra sat in his new base, the dim light of morning filtering through the small window. He smiled to himself, a rare moment of satisfaction. The place was modest, but it was his—a solid foundation for the Black Panther Mercenary Core. The building was quiet now, the only sounds coming from the distant hustle and bustle of the city streets. He'd managed to secure the place without too much trouble, and now he was ready for the next step.
He still had a few things to do, but for now, Ezra allowed himself a moment of peace. The money he'd earned from the witch contract had burned a hole in his pocket, and though he probably should have waited a day before diving into something else, he couldn't help himself. There was a sense of urgency to everything now, a need to get things moving.
He stood and stretched, his muscles aching slightly from yesterday's battle. He hadn't rested as long as he should have, but it didn't matter. His mind was already moving forward, thinking of what came next. He still had eighty gold left, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it.
Ezra left the building and made his way through the streets of the capital, the sound of his boots clicking against the cobblestones. His destination was a small artist's studio near the center of town. The artist was known for creating logos, sigils, and designs for businesses and groups looking to make a name for themselves. Ezra needed a logo for his mercenary group—something that would represent his vision, something that would make his men proud and give his group an identity.
The shop was tucked between two other businesses, the window displaying several intricate designs and sketches. Inside, the air smelled faintly of ink and parchment, and the walls were lined with artwork—some finished, others still in progress. Behind a counter at the back of the shop stood an older man with spectacles perched on the end of his nose, a brush in hand.
"Can I help you?" the artist asked, his voice soft but warm.
Ezra walked up to the counter, placing a small pouch of gold on the wood. "I need a logo for my mercenary group," he said, his tone steady. "Something that reflects strength, precision, and the kind of work we do."
The artist raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "A mercenary, you say? That's a bold venture."
Ezra smiled slightly, his hands resting on the counter. "It's already begun. I'm looking for something that can be used for banners, contracts, and any other materials we might need down the line. Something that gives the right impression."
The artist studied him for a moment, then nodded. "I think I have an idea. Give me a moment to sketch something, and we'll see what you think."
Ezra stepped back, allowing the man to work. The artist's hand moved quickly, his brush strokes sharp and confident. Within minutes, a rough outline of a logo began to take shape on the parchment—a sleek black panther silhouette, its body forming a subtle curve, with its tail wrapped around a stylized sword. It was simple, but fierce, the kind of symbol that could easily be recognized.
The artist paused and glanced up at Ezra. "What do you think?"
Ezra studied the design, nodding thoughtfully. It was exactly what he wanted. The panther, sharp and swift, symbolized both the speed and ferocity of his mercenaries. The sword spoke to their skill in battle. "Perfect," he said, handing over the gold.
The artist grinned, pleased. "Good choice. I'll have it finalized and ready for you by tomorrow afternoon. You can pick it up then."
Ezra nodded, then turned and left the shop, the weight of the design settling in his mind. Now that he had the logo in the works, he could move on to the next step: recruitment. He needed more bodies to fill out his ranks, men who were capable, reliable, and loyal. His mercenary core had to grow.
He made his way back to the base, stepping into the small office area he'd set up. It was time to make things official. Ezra took out a piece of parchment and began writing the hiring notices. His handwriting was clean, but not overly elaborate—clear and to the point. He listed the kind of work his mercenary group specialized in, and what skills he was looking for in potential recruits. A few simple instructions on how to apply, and a promise of good pay for the right people. He wanted his mercenaries to know that joining the Black Panther Mercenary Core wasn't just about money—it was about purpose.
Once the notices were finished, Ezra pinned them up on the front door, outside the base, and a few other strategic spots around the city. He needed to catch the attention of anyone looking for work—and anyone who had the guts to fight for pay.
He leaned back against the doorframe, his mind already turning to the next move. With the notices posted, he would wait and see who came. But he wasn't content to simply wait. He still had a long road ahead, and the work was never done. But for now, as the sun set over the capital, Ezra allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.
Things were starting to come together. The Black Panther Mercenary Core was no longer just an idea—it was becoming real. And Ezra was determined to make sure it stayed that way.
To help him out further, Ezra returned to the mercenary office he had visited when he first arrived in town. He stood in line, and to his surprise, found himself face-to-face with the woman who had officially registered his guild. Guess this place is understaffed, he thought to himself.
The woman looked him over with a smug expression. "Guess you came to join a company after realizing how hard it is to do missions all alone?" she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Ezra smirked, dropping his overflowing coin purse onto the counter with a light thud. "Of course not. I'm here to get some help advertising my guild. You're the one who told me to come back, after all."
The woman's eyes widened, and her mouth hung open in shock. "I guess I underestimated you, Mister Dark Elf," she muttered, clearly thrown off.
Ezra raised an eyebrow, a bit confused. "Dark elf? I'm a human, lady. And my name is Ezra."
The woman blinked, even more bewildered now. "What do you mean, human? That skin color—well, I guess you don't have the pointy ears and your hair's strange, but I just figured it was some sort of mutation. Oh, I'm Lieanne, by the way."
Ezra chuckled, already used to the misconception. "Nope, human as the day was born. Never even been to the Abyss. I've only seen an Abyssi wanderer once."
Lieanne blinked again, stunned. "Well, I've never seen a human like you before. I guess I'm not as well-traveled as I thought. Anyway, you're the Shadow Panthers, right? I'll get your advertisements out there, no charge for the service, just fifteen silver pieces."
Ezra nodded and handed over the coins. "Thanks. And don't worry about not seeing anyone like me before. My clan was wiped out by the demons long before either of us were born. I'm sure you've traveled plenty yourself."
Lieanne seemed taken aback for a moment but quickly masked it with a smirk. "Guess you're right about that. I've had my share of travels." She took the silver and scribbled something on a piece of parchment. "I'll get your ads posted around town. I know where the right places are."
Ezra gave her a quick nod. "I appreciate it. You don't know how much this means. Getting the word out is key for me right now."
Lieanne gave him a sharp look. "Well, I'm no stranger to the mercenary business. You do your part, I'll do mine, and we'll see where this takes you."
Ezra smiled, more at ease now. "I'll be sure to do my part."