"Vengeance, huh?" Jamie mused aloud, his gaze steady upon her. A faint smile played on his lips, bridging the distance between skepticism and intrigue. "I can work with that." He extended his hand toward her, his fingers open and inviting.

  Camille hesitated, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Wait... you're not even going to ask me about my Class?" she queried. Jamie could perceive a swirl of emotions crossing her delicate features. Surprise, doubt, perhaps even mistrust. It was clear she was unaccustomed to such swift acceptance, especially without thorough scrutiny.

  Jamie leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed yet attentive.

  "I don't get hung up on that," he replied calmly. "Besides, we have other ways to help someone grow beyond just their Class." He seized the opportunity to explain, knowing they were still bound by the Silence Vow's effects. The faint remnants of the spell's energy shimmered subtly around them.

  Her brows knit together in contemplation.

  "Alright," Camille finally conceded, a note of resignation mingling with cautious optimism in her voice. She extended her slender hand, her fingers cool to the touch as they clasped his.

  The moment their hands met, Jamie felt a faint surge of warmth. Suddenly, a golden interface materialized before his eyes.

  | Member Slot consumed

  | 3# Member: Camille Fleursang

  | Trust: [5/100]

  | Class: Witch [Rare]

  | Race: Elf

  | Level: 2

  | Experience: [52/3000]

  ‘Another rare Class. Interesting,’ Jamie thought, his mind already considering the possibilities. Her presence could greatly enhance the company's capabilities.

  "Welcome aboard, Camille," he said aloud, his tone warm and genuine. "For now, that's all for today. Thomas will contact you soon regarding our training sessions and upcoming missions."

  A delicate smile ghosted across her lips, the first genuine expression he'd seen from her. It softened the hard lines that guarded her features, hinting at the person beneath the exterior. "Thank you," she murmured.

  Camille rose gracefully from her seat. As she turned to leave, the door creaked open, and Thomas entered, accompanied by a cleric dressed in simple robes adorned with a silver pendant.

  The elf slipped past them with an elegant nod, not lingering to observe the proceedings. Jamie watched her depart, the soft click of the closing door leaving a muted silence in her wake.

  Thomas approached, concern etched upon his face as his gaze fell to the bolt protruding from Jamie's leg. "I brought the cleric, as you asked," he said.

  The cleric stepped forward, his eyes assessing the wound with practiced efficiency. "Let's have a look," he offered, setting down a worn leather satchel from which he retrieved a small vial and delicate instruments.

  Adjusting his position, Jamie braced himself as the cleric knelt beside him. The healer's hands were steady and sure, the touch gentle as he examined the injury.

  "This might sting," the cleric warned softly. With a swift, precise motion, he extracted the bolt. A sharp jolt of pain lanced through Jamie's leg, but he clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly through his nose.

  As soon as the cleric finished pulling out the bolt, he quickly placed his hands over the wound. A white light shone from his hands briefly. When he removed them, the wound had almost completely closed.

  "You're fortunate," the cleric remarked, applying a cool, herbal salve to the wound. The mixture emanated a soothing scent of lavender and something earthy Jamie couldn't quite place. "No serious damage."

  "Thank you," Jamie said sincerely, watching as the cleric wrapped a clean bandage securely around his thigh.

  The cleric stood, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "No trouble at all. This time, we'll give you a fifty percent discount. It wasn't too hard, and clearly, you are going to be recurrint clien—" he noticed his mistake "I mean, fervent believers of our temple."

  Jamie chuckled softly at the cleric's sly correction. "We'll certainly keep your temple in mind for our spiritual needs," he replied with a wink.

  Thomas handed over a few silver coins, which the cleric accepted with a nod of gratitude. "May the Light guide your path," the healer intoned before taking his leave, the door closing quietly behind him.

  Jamie stretched his neck, peering out the doorway of the modest cottage. In the dirt yard outside, Julie played happily, drawing patterns in the earth with a stick.

  Seated near the worn wooden platform were Bertram and Aldwin. Bertram swung his legs idly, his feet dangling as he sat on a low wall, clutching the battered remnants of his makeshift shield—a cracked piece of plank that bore the marks of earlier trials. His round face was smudged with dirt, and a hint of nervousness made his knees bounce. Aldwin sat beside him, his gaze fixed intently on the ground, lost in thought. His dark hair fell over his eyes, shadowing his expression.

  "Alright, you two, let's get this over with," Jamie called out, his voice carrying across the quiet evening air.

  "Who's going in first?" Bertram asked, glancing up with a mixture of eagerness and apprehension.

  "Both of you," Jamie replied with a faint sigh. "No point in dragging this out. Come on."

  Jamie was weary. The day's events had drained him more than he'd anticipated. Expending a significant portion of his mana to delve into Camille's legend had left him almost exhausted. All he wanted now was to wrap up these final interviews and rest. Fortunately, he already knew quite a bit about these boys.

  Jamie returned to the small table inside Thomas's cottage, easing himself onto the creaking chair. The room was modest but cozy. Bertram and Aldwin shuffled in after him, taking seats opposite. Bertram fiddled with the edge of his torn tunic, while Aldwin folded his arms tightly across his chest, his posture guarded. Thomas leaned casually against the windowsill nearby, gazing out at the village but keeping a keen ear on the conversation.

  "Alright," Jamie began, his tone attempting warmth despite his fatigue. "This part is simple. I just want to get to know you both a little better."

  Bertram nodded eagerly, a tuft of sandy hair falling into his eyes. Aldwin remained silent, his sharp features impassive as he regarded Jamie.

  "So," Jamie continued, "who are you? Where do you come from? And what do you want with the Golden Fiddle Company?"

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  Aldwin spoke up first, his voice steady but lacking enthusiasm. "I'm Aldwin, and he's Bertram. We're from here—we've lived our whole lives in Hafenstadt."

  He offered nothing more, his answers clipped and devoid of detail. As he spoke, he tightened his crossed arms, a subtle barrier erected between them.

  Jamie observed the two boys thoughtfully. He could sense Aldwin's reluctance. A hard shell crafted to keep others at bay. If he was going to trust them, he'd need to break through that facade.

  He leaned forward slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "And what are you to each other?" he asked casually. "Friends? Sweethearts? Lovers?"

  As each word left his lips, he watched their reactions closely. Bertram's cheeks flushed a deep scarlet, his eyes widening in surprise. Aldwin's face contorted with a mix of embarrassment and indignation, a flicker of anger igniting in his eyes.

  "You... you—" Aldwin stammered, his voice raised. Unable to find the words, he abruptly lunged forward, his chair scraping against the floor. He moved as if to vault over the table, fists clenched.

  But Jamie was prepared. With practiced reflexes, he extended his arm swiftly, his open palm connecting with Aldwin's face in a firm push.

  "Easy there," Jamie said calmly, his gaze steady.

  Aldwin recoiled, one hand pressed against his nose where Jamie had stopped him.

  Bertram looked between them anxiously, his hands gripping the edge of his chair. The room was thick with tension; the only sounds the distant chatter from the village and the rustling of leaves outside.

  Jamie turned his attention to Bertram, his expression softening. "Well?" he prompted gently. "Care to answer?"

  "We're brothers," Bertram declared, his voice resolute yet tinged with a hint of defensiveness.

  "Brothers?" Jamie repeated, his brows lifting in surprise. He glanced between the two youths seated before him. They bore little resemblance to each other. Bertram, with his stocky build and round face framed by tousled sandy hair, and Aldwin, leaner with sharper features, his dark hair partially concealing eyes and ears that held a glint of elven heritage.

  "Yes, brothers! At least as far as we know," Aldwin retorted sharply, a flicker of irritation igniting in his gaze.

  Bertram offered a conciliatory nod. "We were raised together by the same father but have different mothers," he explained softly, casting a sidelong glance at Aldwin as if to temper his brother's bristling demeanor.

  "Ah," Jamie murmured, the pieces falling into place. He leaned back in his chair, the worn wood creaking softly beneath him.

  "So, what is it that you seek from the Golden Fiddle Company?" Jamie inquired, his tone gentle yet probing.

  "I want to not have to live on the streets," Aldwin stated bluntly, his eyes meeting Jamie's with a hard, unwavering stare.

  Jamie tilted his head thoughtfully. "But didn't you have a father and mother—or rather, two mothers?" he asked, genuinely curious.

  Bertram's shoulders slumped slightly. "They passed away some time ago," he admitted, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Without decent classes, we haven't been able to find good jobs. Leaving the city would be even more dangerous, with so many monsters along the roads."

  A somber silence settled over the room, broken only by the distant clatter of a cart on the cobblestone street outside. Jamie nodded slowly. "I see," he said softly. "Is that why you joined the Cutpurses?"

  Bertram hesitated but then nodded. "Yes," he confessed quietly. "We didn't have many options."

  "Well then," Jamie replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It'll be a pleasure working with you both. Especially setting you straight," he added, reaching out to give Aldwin a playful ruffle of his hair.

  Aldwin scowled, batting Jamie's hand away, but there was a subtle softening in his eyes, a hint of begrudging acceptance.

  Jamie stood and extended his hand toward them. "Welcome to the Golden Fiddle Company," he announced.

  Bertram rose swiftly, his face lighting up with a genuine smile. He grasped Jamie's hand firmly, his grip strong and enthusiastic. The boy's hands were calloused, evidence of hard work despite his youth.

  As their hands clasped, Jamie felt a subtle warmth. A familiar sensation that accompanied the activation of his abilities. A golden notification flickered at the edge of his vision.

  | Member Slot consumed

  | 4# Member: Bertram Loom

  | Trust: [35/100]

  | Class: Butcher [Common]

  | Race: Human

  | Level: 1

  | Experience: [220/1000]

  "Wait a moment," Aldwin interjected, his expression a mix of confusion and skepticism. "Don't you even want to know our Classes?"

  Jamie turned to face him, his hand still extended. "Why?" he asked with a casual shrug. "I can already guess they're not particularly high-impact. Besides, I believe that with the right training, I can help you both become much better."

  Aldwin eyed him warily, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's... presumptuous," he muttered. "You don't even know us."

  "Perhaps," Jamie acknowledged, his gaze steady. "But I see potential. And I'm willing to invest in it. The question is—are you?"

  For a moment, Aldwin hesitated, his eyes flickering between Jamie's earnest expression and the floor. Finally, he exhaled softly, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. "Fine," he relented, reaching out to accept Jamie's handshake.

  As their hands met, the familiar warmth surged once more. Another notification appeared.

  | Member Slot consumed

  | 5# Member: Aldwin Loom

  | Trust: [20/100]

  | Class: Herbalist [Common]

  | Race: Half-Elf

  | Level: 1

  | Experience: [180/1000]

  Jamie glanced at the translucent display, swiftly dismissing it from his vision. He gave Aldwin's hand a firm shake, offering a reassuring smile. "I'm glad to have you both on board," he said sincerely.

  Aldwin withdrew his hand, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "We'll see," he murmured.

  "Excellent!" Jamie proclaimed, clapping his hands together. "You're both free to go for today. Thomas will reach out to you soon about training sessions and upcoming missions."

  Aldwin nodded curtly, turning on his heel and heading toward the door. Bertram lingered a moment longer, his gaze earnest. "Thank you," he said softly. "We won't let you down."

  "I believe you," Jamie replied, giving him an encouraging nod.

  As the door closed behind them, Jamie let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his tousled hair. The weight of the day's events settled upon him.

  Thomas stepped forward from his place near the window, his arms folded across his chest. The fading sunlight cast a warm glow over his rugged features. "We only managed to recruit three," he remarked thoughtfully. "We needed ten. Wouldn't it have been better to hire at least the two most experienced mercenaries?"

  "I thought about that too. However, I need someone who is with us for more than just a pouch of coins," Jamie explained.

  "What do you mean?" Thomas asked.

  "Traditional mercenaries are only in this business to receive their next payment. There's nothing wrong with that, but when we get involved with the underworld, many will try to lure our soldiers into betraying us or leaking information," Jamie said. "The Elf doesn't desire money; she's looking... for something else. The brothers, before money, want to change their lives; they want hope. It makes it harder for any of them to be seduced."

  "Even so, we have fewer than we had planned," Thomas remarked, though he did not disagree.

  Jamie shrugged lightly, moving to lean against the edge of the table. "It's not a big problem," he assured. "For now, we'll focus on making them strong. Once they start proving themselves, others will take notice. We'll begin attracting more candidates."

  Thomas arched an eyebrow. "So, our focus is on training them for now?"

  "Precisely," Jamie confirmed. "But we have other endeavors to attend to as well. We need to ensure our beer takes off. Get it into every tavern and inn in the region. Once we start seeing some gold flowing in, we'll have more resources to expand."

  "Right," Thomas agreed, pulling out a chair and settling into it with a weary sigh. "It's been a long day."

  Just as Thomas began to relax, Jamie pushed off from the table, a glint of excitement sparking in his eyes. "What are you doing?" he asked, a playful lilt in his tone.

  Thomas blinked up at him. "Sitting?" he replied, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Are we not done for the day?"

  "Hardly," Jamie quipped, a grin spreading across his face. "You still need to sample our first batch of beer. Come on!"

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