The captain, surprised by Mike Bai's willingness to raise the price, hesitated for a moment before finally biting the bullet.
"Master, could I request an advance for a month's pay?"
"That's not how things work, mercenary!" Patrick, standing nearby, interjected sharply.
"Honorable master, I understand this is unorthodox, but we need the money to cover the travel expenses of our elderly comrade, so he can return home," the captain stammered, his voice tinged with anxiety.
"Of course, I understand," Mike Bai replied, with a knowing smile. "I'm sure you'll prove yourselves worthy of the price!" His gaze sharpened. "But tell me, how do you intend to prove your loyalty and your skill?"
The captain's eyes flickered with determination as Mike Bai jumped onto the table, his voice rising with command:
"Warriors! Lend me your ears!"
A wave of attention swept through the room as every eye turned toward him.
"Since fate has brought us together today, let's make it interesting with a little game." Mike Bai tossed a heavy purse into the air. The clink of silver coins was like a spell, and the tavern fell into a sudden hush.
"If any of you brave souls can break through my men and reach me, this 150 silver dinar is yours!" he announced, his voice carrying over the crowd. "But if no one can, then the purse stays with my soldiers!"
For a moment, the room went quiet, stunned by the unexpected challenge. Then, like a switch was flipped, some of the quicker mercenaries rushed forward, grabbing chairs and hurling them toward the captain's men.
"Protect the master!" Captain Hamo shouted, rallying his troops to shield Mike Bai.
Suddenly, the tavern erupted into chaos. Tables and chairs flew, food and drink splattered in every direction. Mercenaries from all sides began brawling with one another, fists flying, as Patrick stood protectively in front of Mike Bai, his posture tense, ready for anything.
The other mercenaries, recognizing Mike Bai as the wealthy patron, made sure to avoid his table at all costs. Even as projectiles were hurled, most of them carefully avoided his area.
"Master…" the tavern owner, looking pale, approached Mike Bai, wringing his hands. "About the… table…"
Before he could finish, Mike Bai retrieved a bag of coins from his belt and pressed five gold Nomis into the tavern keeper's trembling hands.
"Apologies for the damage, owner," Mike Bai said, flashing a charming smile. "This should cover it, I believe?"
The tavern keeper's eyes widened, and he almost seemed to forget how to speak. "Enough, enough! Please, if it's not enough, come back to me! I'll replace whatever's needed!"
Mike Bai waved him off, signaling the man to step away. He stood on the table, watching the fray with keen interest. The two sides of mercenaries were roughly even in number, but from what he could see, Hamo's men were better organized, though the opposing mercenaries seemed to have better equipment and stamina.
The battle stagnated for a time. The opposing group of mercenaries was scattered, fighting amongst themselves in smaller squabbles, while Hamo's crew, sticking together, formed a solid defense around Mike Bai. Whenever someone attempted to break through, two or more of Hamo's men would rush to block them.
As the other mercenaries began to realize the problem, they turned their focus toward taking down Hamo's formation. Despite their brute strength, the haphazard attacks from the other mercenaries couldn't break the solid line Hamo's team had created. Even the northern giant, who had taken down four of Hamo's men, was eventually overpowered by Hamo's crew.
When the dust settled, the tavern was filled with groaning mercenaries, many of them lying on the floor in various states of disarray. Hamo's men, battered but victorious, approached Mike Bai.
"Well done!" Mike Bai said, tossing the purse of coins into the captain's arms. "Meet me at my estate this afternoon, bring your gear. I'm interested in working with you."
Before the captain could respond, Mike Bai produced another purse, holding it up high.
"Brave warriors, you've impressed me. This 100 silver dinar is yours—go drink, celebrate your victory!"
Cheers erupted in the tavern as the mercenaries, some still nursing wounds, raised their cups in a triumphant toast.
Later that afternoon, a bruised and battered Captain Hamo and his crew arrived at the estate as promised. As Mike Bai had expected, their equipment was rudimentary at best—aside from Hamo's short sword, the rest of his men only carried spears, well-maintained but clearly old.
"Is this your entire crew?" William scoffed from the side, eyeing the ragtag group. "I could charge in and scatter them with one horseback charge."
Hamo's men stood stoically, not reacting to William's mockery. They were used to worse.
Mike Bai stepped forward and Hamo quickly bowed his head.
"Captain Hamo," Mike Bai began, "this is a one-year employment contract. You may show it to your priests for approval, and then sign it."
"No need, master," Hamo replied, not hesitating for a moment. He pressed his handprint on the parchment without a second thought. "We trust you."
"William, Uncle, I leave Hamo and his men in your hands. In addition to the estate's security, I expect you to train them into a force that even you can't defeat." Mike Bai smiled at the challenge.
William clapped his chest, promising, "Consider it done."
Hamo's mercenaries were split into two groups: one would handle the daily security, and the other would undergo training under William's watch. The training, as expected, was intense and somewhat unorthodox. William's method was simple: charge like a battering ram, or ride around the formation, tossing mud at them, creating chaos and testing their resolve.
Mike Bai watched the crew's daily bruising and winced a little. "Won't this training break them?"
Hamo, who was observing the chaos with a mix of pride and nostalgia, assured him, "It's much better now. The pay is good, and the food's great—everyone appreciates the chance to be here. Besides, this kind of training from a knight is a rare opportunity for them."
Mike Bai raised an eyebrow. "So how did you train before?"
Hamo seemed to drift into memories. "We were poor, always fighting with other villages for water, and helping the lord with his wars. Over time, we learned some basic skills. When things got really bad, I took my people out looking for work."
"Don't worry," Mike Bai said confidently, clapping Hamo on the shoulder. "With me, the pay will always be fair."
Hamo bowed again, grateful.
But Mike Bai wasn't done. "I think we can tweak this training a little more."
The next day, every mercenary's left arm was tied with a piece of wool. Mike Bai stood in front of the group, shouting, "Listen up! If you've got the wool tied on your left arm, that means you're on the left side. On my command, turn left!"
Some mercenaries got confused and turned the wrong way, but under Hamo's stern direction, they quickly corrected themselves.
William, intrigued, asked, "What's the point of this?"
"You'll see." Mike Bai grinned, continuing to bark out orders. "Second row, right turn!"
The soldiers in the second row hesitated for a second, but under Hamo's guidance, they quickly fell into line.
"March right, in column!" Mike Bai commanded, and the small column started winding its way to the right.
"Stop, face left!"
The column reformed into a horizontal line, blocking the right side of the formation.
William slapped Mike Bai on the back, laughing. "Now this is something new! Where did you read about this?"
Mike Bai grinned, "Roman military tactics. The Romans did it like this." He said it with no shame, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Well, I'll be damned. Looks like it has potential," William laughed, impressed with Mike Bai's military acumen.