The warm fog of light intoxication spread pleasantly through my consciousness, pushing anxieties and doubts somewhere into the background. My room was immersed in a cozy, relaxed atmosphere. We had settled in wherever: Frédéric, thoroughly checked out, was sprawled right on the rug, cozily nestled on one of my cushions. Louis had taken the armchair, his feet thrown over the armrest, and I was half-lying on the bed, lazily tossing a pocket watch into the air with telekinesis and immediately catching it back.
The bottle of red wine had long been empty. And it was time for drunken talk about important things.
"Too bad... you're leaving," Louis said, his words slightly slurred, betraying his state. "It was getting... more interesting with you here. I mean… interesting in general. You're smarter than my… peers, my friend."
"Plenty of 'interesting' things await me in Britain as well," I smirked, following the measured flight of the watch. My own head was just pleasantly warm, but I still felt that particular looseness of tongue and body, "but you seem to be missing more than just my company. Something on your mind, Louis?"
To be honest, I drank much less than these two, knowing I'm still young and there's nothing good in strong intoxication. Training and rituals had strengthened my constitution, and I knew my limit, not intending to cross the line. That's why I was less far-gone than my drinking companions. But the warmth and loosened tongue from light intoxication were relaxing and acted like social lubricant. So I didn't mind being a minor drinker for one night like this.
He sighed heavily, setting his glass aside.
"Ahhh… you know… it's like… everyone expects me to become Frédéric's shadow. His loyal right hand when he takes over the house. It's an honor, I know… but if my father hadn't… hadn't renounced power, then I would have been the heir, and I'd have been okay with that… but second place… that's not for me."
"And what… what is for you?" I asked, deliberately softly. Actually, I think I overestimated my own state. I was a little tipsy too. Should go out for some fresh air… and I tried not to get too drunk to stay within bounds. Besides, I'm still too young for alcohol, it's all harmful.
"I want… you know… to be free. To see the world, not from manor windows or ministry podiums. I want to…" he fell silent, searching for words, then blurted out: "I… haven't told anyone, but to become… a mercenary. Yeah, a mercenary."
I stopped tossing the watch. It smoothly descended into my palm.
"A mercenary?" I asked with interest.
"Well, not just a mercenary, but maybe… maybe I'll create my own mercenary squad and…" Louis started well, but then had a slight brain freeze.
"That's more ambitious. Tell me the… details. You won't just be guarding objects or important wizards, will you? That would be small-time."
"No, that's too small," Louis perked up, his eyes burning as he talked about it. He moved to the edge of the armchair, drunkenly gesturing. "I… I've thought about this a lot. Start… umm… small: escorting valuable cargo, scouting territories, protection… monster extermination. But then! You can gather… a big squad! Take contracts that no one else would take on alone. Elimination of dark wizards, clearing nests of dangerous monsters… umm… things few squads handle."
I nodded slowly, mentally building on his picture. And something truly grandiose was spinning in my head. Of course, he was just babbling and improvising his dream on an alcohol-fueled wave, but somehow… I'd been thinking about this too.
"I see. So you'd rely on a clientele that would need many… many mercenaries. That's smart! Great power in your hands and huge money for contracts, but the risks are corresponding, and it will be hard to… find clients. How do you plan to recruit a team? Are there many… well, big squads in the magical world?"
"Only on a voluntary basis," Louis said firmly and hiccuped. "I've been looking at a few guys from junior branches of other families, who don't want to… rot in… well, second roles. Guys who are solid, duelists, those who want to go into law enforcement… but all without a solid inheritance... Those who have something to prove. I'll vet each one personally! Yeah, personally… that's the… Trust is the main asset."
Of course, we were under the influence, but I could only think of one thing: what if this wasn't just a big mercenary squad?
I don't know how long we talked, but it felt like we understood each other half-word, because we were both drunk, but I could only fully grasp it in the morning. In general, I learned a lot from Louis about mercenaries. Mercenaries as such were common in the magical world, everyone knew that, but it turns out Louis had been studying this question for a long time. Mercenaries in the magical world were important; they were used everywhere and always. That's why many magical countries even had mercenary guilds, where you could simply hire the needed number of mercenaries through a broker. Actually, you could hire not just fighters there, but guys of a different character.
If we're talking purely about mercenaries as wizards who can help in combat, there were many, both solo and in small groups. Mostly there were squads ranging from a few wizards to a dozen.
According to Louis, 99% of all squads consisted of that many wizards, and it was the optimal number that could solve almost any task for an acceptable, reasonable price. And if more were needed, they hired several different squads.
Of course, we shouldn't forget that mercenary squads differed in strength, professionalism, and composition. In most cases, they were just a motley crew of various trouble-seekers looking for an easy way to earn good money; there were even completely marginal groups who, for cheap, could get into shady business, but guilds didn't work with such. However, there weren't that many guilds themselves. And these guilds weren't like professional unions in the magical world, like those of the Alchemists or fantasy ones, no. It was just a place where you could, through a broker with the right connections, contact the needed group of mercenaries. Often, various bars served as guild locations. As I said, the name "guild" was a popular term, because there was a full-fledged guild in Romania, but all the other mercenary guilds were called that simply because the name stuck.
And among mercenaries, there were also professional squads, with experienced fighters in terms of power and skill at the level of experienced Aurors or even higher. You could even find people with the rank of Master of Charms or another field among mercenaries.
So, according to the drunken Louis, I understood that the largest mercenary squads he could learn about had 30-40 wizards, and there were only a couple of those in all of magical Europe. What it was like in the East, he didn't know, but ultimately, that was already overkill for taking ordinary contracts, but my drunken brain at that moment built the perfect plan for the concept that had been spinning in my head for over a year. I knew how to get rid of the main limitation in numbers.
So, by the end of the long discussion, even with a hot head, I said what needed to be said.
"What about equipment? Good protective amulets, specialized potions, portable devices, artifacts, money for provisions — all that costs a fortune. You could go bankrupt just on the initial expenses."
"I know," Louis deflated for a moment. "It's… a big problem. At first, we'll have to save up in someone else's squad… or everyone will buy for themselves."
I sat up straight, looking at him with utmost seriousness, as much as was possible in our states.
"You know what," I finally said, when I noticed him starting to nod off. "If in a year or two you haven't changed your mind, if this idea still warms your soul... I'm ready to become your first and main investor. A huge sum to start. With conditions, of course."
"What conditions?" Louis was struggling to focus his gaze on me.
"I get a share. And influence. So that if necessary, I could count on the full support of your people as my own force. Although, no! Better… we'll be partners!"
He looked at me for a long time, then slowly, very seriously, nodded.
"With you, Arcturus… I'm game! Shake on it. Though I might change my mind when sober."
"Listen, Louis. You might not have said this before, but I support you. Having a combat-ready, mobile group of specialists under your command… would be… powerful. That's real power and… such a squad… yes, in skilled hands — a tool capable of influencing a lot in the balance of power. And if you grow a squad… from a handful of mercenaries into a real… private army, with logistics, curse-breakers, medics, fighters, then the clients won't just be rich wizards, but entire… countries. They will pay us for things their official structures can't or won't do."
Louis's eyes widened. It seems he himself didn't fully realize the scale of his own idea, or rather, my idea now, until I started laying it out.
"A private army?" he whispered.
"Why not?" I smiled, feeling a clear business plan… no, not a business plan… something more grandiose, taking shape in my mind. "We start small. Five to ten trusted people and build a reputation. Create a name. Then expansion, another ten people into a separate group with its own commander… groups, and many such groups."
"Many groups…"
"We recruit specialists — medics, potioneers, experts in ancient ruins, hunters, magizoologists, but mostly fighters! Our own logistics and hundreds of wizards, Louis!"
"Hundreds!?"
"Our own army! In the end, you'll become not just a squad commander, but the head of an entire army, and I'll be the head of a trans-magical corporation offering… force solutions to entire countries."
We talked for almost another hour. I spilled details: about the chain of command, about a bonus system to maintain loyalty, about the importance of political lobbying for operational cover. Louis listened, mesmerized, asking questions and nodding. His dream was acquiring flesh and blood, turning from a romantic fantasy into a plan, but one more grandiose, much more than he had dreamed. A feasible, though incredibly complex, project. Oh, these drunken conversations…
At that, our fervor dried up. Louis struggled to get up from the armchair.
"Alright… time to take this prince away," he cast a spell with some effort, and Frédéric's body smoothly rose from the rug and floated towards the door. "I'll put him to bed myself, don't worry. Sleep well… partner."
He nodded to me and, managing the levitating Frédéric, tried to stagger out of the room. Tried, because the first time, miscalculating slightly, he bumped Frédéric into the wall, but the latter, after some muffled grumbling, fell asleep again. When he finally left, the door closed. I was left with my own thoughts. I wonder what this will turn into… I'll have my own army!?
I took a common universal antidote for weak poisons from my satchel. Downed the whole vial in one go.
Without even taking off my clothes, I just sprawled out, closing my eyes. In my head, weighed down by wine and grandiose plans, one thought slowly spun, with which I fell asleep:
Private… Magical Military Company… P.M.M.C.
***
Knocking on the door persistently pierced through the remnants of sleep. A dull, disjointed thud, then another. I struggled to peel my eyelids open, feeling a slight taste of wine and dust in my mouth. Fortunately, the silencing charm cast the night before had long since dissipated, otherwise the knocking wouldn't have woken me. I think I would have slept until noon.
"Arcturus? Are you still alive?" Céline's melodious voice came from behind the door.
I coughed, trying to get my vocal cords into working order.
"Yeah… I'm here. One second. And how did you…"
"I'll tell you if you open up." The girl's voice was heard from behind the door.
I quickly checked that I was fully dressed, and looking in the mirror, was satisfied with my appearance. Slightly fixing my hair and removing the evidence of the crime in the form of the empty bottle, I finally unlocked the door.
If the door weren't protected by its own enchantments, I'd have to manually set everything each time, but I'm staying with rich relatives, so the door here was well-protected and locked from the inside in a way that simple unlocking spells couldn't open.
The door opened a crack, and Céline's face appeared in the gap. Her gaze slid over me, standing opposite in slightly rumpled clothes from yesterday, and a smirk trembled on the girl's lips.
"Did you wake everyone up?" I grumbled, rubbing my temples. Though I must admit, my head was surprisingly clear — thanks to my strong young constitution and the antidote for weak poisons I took before bed. So, no heaviness, just slight muscle fatigue.
Good thing I've recently started always carrying a supply of various useful potions with me.
"Pretty much," Céline replied, and her eyes sparkled merrily. "Frédéric and Louis overslept too, I wouldn't have come myself, but you know house-elves can't enter your room. Seems you had a rough night."
Thoughts of breakfast and the impending departure made me hurry.
"Yeah… rough…"
The girl snorted into her fist, but to get downstairs faster, I had to close the door in Céline's face, saying:
"I'll be quick. Ten minutes."
I had to skip my morning workout. An unforgivable decision, but there was no other way. A quick shower, change of clothes, a couple of sips of a tonic elixir, and I was ready. Exactly ten minutes later, I was already descending the stairs, fastening my cuff.
Breakfast had a peculiar atmosphere. The whole family was gathered, except for Jean-Luc, Céline's father. Probably already at the ministry. Actually, we didn't really get to talk much over the summer, but that wasn't necessary, given how low he was on the Millefeuille family food chain.
Madame Isabelle, with a cup of coffee in her hands, was scrutinizing us. A cold, appraising glance slid over me, then turned to her son and nephew. Frédéric sat with his elbows on the table, clutching his head as if afraid it would fall apart. His face was an earthy shade, and he seemed to be praying that the scrambled eggs on his plate would stop smelling. Louis, sitting opposite, looked a bit better, but he was betrayed by the way he slowly and very carefully stirred his coffee, in which the sugar had long dissolved, but he did it, concentrating on the action as if the fate of humanity depended on it.
I took my seat and wished everyone a good morning.
"Good morning, Arcturus," Madame Isabelle's voice seemed as usual, but I detected a light, steely undertone. She definitely figured it all out and will undoubtedly have a "fun" conversation with the two sufferers later.
My gaze met Céline's. She sat with pursed lips, but her eyes were laughing, darting from her brother's pale, sheet-like face to her cousin's suffering visage. Her amusement was so blatant that I barely held back a smile.
Breakfast passed quickly and without extra talk. I ate well, which was bad because I remember feeling a bit nauseous when I portkeyed into France. Those portals are even worse than Apparition.
Interestingly, throughout breakfast, I felt two pairs of bewildered, slightly foggy eyes on me. Frédéric and Louis kept glancing at me, clearly not understanding how I, having drunk as much as them (actually less), looked and felt so fresh.
Apparently, Louis didn't have much experience with drinking alcohol, if he didn't guess my method. Although I drank for the first time in this life, the simple conclusion — to take a universal antidote for weak poisons — was obvious.
After breakfast, I went up to my room to gather the remaining things. Luckily, most had long since migrated to the satchel. Everything else — scattered scrolls, a couple of books, toiletries, some clothes — just had to be neatly, but without ceremony, packed inside. In fifteen minutes, the room looked the same as I had found it a month and a half ago.
I stood in the entrance hall in my formal, expensive, and majestic robe made of Acromantula silk from the Isle of Barneo-Novane. The more I wore this robe, the more it fascinated me, and the less I wanted to wear anything else. It made me fall in love with it more and more with each wear. The only problem was that, at my mother's insistence, when wearing this robe, I had to remove the shoulder holster for my wand, so the wand was attached to my belt… which is less reliable and generally harder to draw quickly.
In this luxurious attire, I stood in the entrance hall, fully ready to depart. My drinking buddies from yesterday, Frédéric and Louis, were still trying to recover under the scorching gaze of Madame Isabelle. I didn't envy them… oh, I didn't envy them. Now I'll leave, and they're in for inevitable punishment… One way or another, everyone gradually gathered downstairs. It was time to say goodbye and leave in style.