139: Chapter 139 The Neutral Capital! Ascalon! The Grey Falcon Mercenary Group!

In the northern territory of the Augustus Empire, north of the Will Province, amidst vast frozen earth and rolling mountain ranges, stands a neutral city that belongs to no country, yet is inextricably linked to the three surrounding powers—the city of Ascalon.

To the south lie the strict border walls and watchtowers of the Augustus Empire.

To the northeast is the edge of the boundless grasslands where the nomadic cavalry of the Kalunda Tribal Alliance roam; to the northwest are the precipitous plateaus of the Snowfield Kingdom, covered in snow all year round, where frost giants are rumored to haunt.

The three major powers interlock here with a history of endless conflict, yet they have reached a sort of interesting balance, mutually recognizing the neutral status of Ascalon.

This neutrality is not due to benevolence, but rather because of immense profit.

Ascalon is the largest smuggling hub, intelligence black market, mercenary gathering place, and a paradise for any gray-market trade prohibited within the three nations in the northern territory.

Exquisite goods from the south, imperial weaponry, the tribes' high-quality warhorses and furs, rare minerals and cryo-magic materials from the snowfields... even certain forbidden knowledge and goods can find buyers and sellers here.

There is no absolute law here, only tacit rules and unspoken agreements that could be broken at any moment.

The city itself has no unified style; buildings are piled together in a chaotic manner.

Next to an imperial-style stone building, one might find a tribal felt-tent inn, while steep, snowfield-style wooden houses are abruptly wedged in between.

In the city's central plaza, there are no statues of kings or heroes from any nation; instead, there is a giant sculpture of scales cast in bronze, silver, and gold.

One end of the scales holds a giant stone gold coin engraved with complex runes, while the other holds an unfurled parchment scroll inscribed with ancient text.

This is the symbol of the Covenant Church—

The scales symbolize justice and balance.

The gold coin represents wealth and price.

The scroll stands for contracts and oaths.

The Covenant Church, which worships Valentino, the God of Wealth and Contracts, is the true uncrowned ruler of Ascalon.

They do not interfere with specific governance, yet they maintain the fragile order of this city of sin through a set of harsh and efficient contractual principles.

Any contract reached here that is witnessed by a Covenant priest and stamped with a golden seal will be enforced by the power of the Church.

Those who violate a contract will face the wrath of the Covenant Church's Punitive Knights, and even that legendary powerhouse who sits in this city, the renowned Golden Seal Bishop, Pastor Karen.

It is said that Pastor Karen has been stationed here for over a hundred years; his word is law, and his creed of "contracts made are never regretted" is the final bottom line that all outlaws in Ascalon dare not cross.

In the southern district of Ascalon, amidst a few stone-and-wood buildings that were clearly converted from abandoned warehouses or old workshops, a wooden sign with blurred writing hung at the courtyard entrance, on which one could vaguely distinguish the words "Gray Falcon Mercenary Group."

A triangular flag embroidered with a gray falcon pattern hung on a wooden pole in the porch, occasionally flapping in the cold wind.

Compared to those famous large mercenary groups in Ascalon that often number in the hundreds or thousands, the Gray Falcon is just a small team struggling on the verge of disbandment, with fewer than fifty members, mostly consisting of the elderly, the weak, women, and children.

At this moment, the atmosphere in the base's largest conference hall was heavy.

A few pieces of charcoal burned stingily in the fireplace, barely dispelling a trace of the chill.

Around a few rough wooden tables sat twenty-something people, mostly weather-beaten and scarred middle-aged men and women.

There were also a few taciturn elders with wary eyes, as well as children huddled in the corner, looking around curiously.

The air was filled with the smell of inferior tobacco and old leather.

In the center of the hall stood two people.

A tall, burly man with a hideous scar below his left eye was the leader of the Gray Falcon Mercenary Group, Calvin.

He frowned tightly, his bloodshot eyes filled with exhaustion and struggle.

Standing opposite him, confronting him fiercely, was a girl who looked no more than seventeen or eighteen.

She wore a set of old leather armor that had clearly been resized, and her long golden hair was tied into a neat ponytail behind her head, revealing a smooth forehead and a face whose stunning beauty could not be hidden even in the dim light.

Her beauty was not the delicate tenderness of a hothouse flower, but carried a wild vitality and sharpness, with a spirited look between her brows.

But at this moment, her light brown eyes were wide with anger and disbelief, like a bristling young leopard.

"What?!" The girl's crisp voice sounded somewhat sharp as it rose, breaking the dullness of the room. "Brother! Say that again?!"

"You want me to participate in that... that beauty pageant for the Count Golden Flame of Gino County?! Are you crazy?!"

This girl was Calvin's sister—Cecilia.

She is currently the scout and apprentice physician for the Gray Falcon Mercenary Group, agile and quick-witted, an indispensable member of the group, and the sister whom the leader, Calvin, cherishes the most.

Calvin felt a bit guilty under his sister's gaze, but he did not back down.

His raspy voice carried bitterness and helplessness: "Cecilia, listen to me, this is not nonsense. This is... a mission. A mission that can save our mercenary group."

"A mission?" Cecilia laughed in anger, her furious eyes sweeping over the surrounding members who looked troubled:

"Let our Gray Falcon Mercenary Group take on a beauty pageant mission? Go and pick beauties for those bored, overfed noble lords?

"Calvin, our Gray Falcon has fallen on hard times, but we haven't sunk to the point of relying on selling my looks to put food on the table!"

"Cecilia! Watch your language!" Calvin barked, his face flushing red, but it was more out of shame and pain at being poked in a sore spot:

"It's not what you think! This is a formal, high-paying intelligence gathering mission!"

"The client specified that they need a young, intelligent woman with some self-defense ability and outstanding appearance to, as a contestant, find a way to get close to that newly appointed Count Golden Flame, Rowan Flynn, become his maid or lady-in-waiting, and then..."

"And then act as an undercover agent? A spy?" Cecilia interrupted him, her eyes even sharper:

"Brother, do you know what that means?"

"Besides, that Count Golden Flame, I've heard of him! A newly appointed count in the northern territory of the Augustus Empire, I heard even the Church supports him. Is he a simple character?"

"You want me to go by his side to spy on secrets?"

"The reward is three thousand gold coins! Five hundred upfront!" Calvin almost roared, his voice trembling with desperation:

"And, if you can bring back valuable intelligence, depending on the value of the intelligence, an additional payment of up to two thousand gold coins! Cecilia, five hundred gold coins!"

"Enough for us... enough for us to make it through this winter, pay off the outstanding pharmacy bills and pensions, get Old John a better prosthetic leg, and let the children have a few full meals..."

The hall fell into a dead silence.

Only a faint whimper from a child due to hunger came from the corner, along with the heavy coughing of an old man.

The few senior members who had originally wanted to speak up to dissuade them silently closed their mouths upon hearing "five hundred gold coins," lowered their heads, their faces filled with the same struggle and guilt.