Gauss didn't return to Falrim until late at night.
One of the biggest differences between a metropolis and a small town was the nightlife—Falrim was still loud and bright, neon and lanterns everywhere.
Back in the city, the dwarves—who'd spent two days on edge—finally relaxed.
Everyone returned to the Adventurers' Guild and settled the commission.
"Then we'll hand this mithril over to you."
Gauss's team received the payment. He weighed it in his hand—around twenty pounds, about ten kilograms.
Albena checked it, confirmed the purity, and the commission was officially complete.
Don't underestimate twenty pounds of mithril. According to Albena, it was enough to forge three suits of armor sized for someone like Gauss—with some left over.
Mixed into high-grade steel, mithril could multiply its durability and improve mana conduction and magical protection.
"We'll stick with you guys for now."
Knowing Bruno's group were strangers here, Gauss didn't mind traveling together for the night.
They were generous clients, and staying on good terms would only help. And dwarves, generally speaking, weren't the scheming type—if you could handle their bluntness, they were usually safe friends.
…
"Drink!"
Inside the tavern, mugs clinked everywhere.
The dwarves, who'd been a little in awe of Gauss earlier, turned into completely different people once the liquor hit. Standing on chairs, faces red, they slung arms around Gauss's shoulders and bellowed.
"Gauss! I swear on my beard, you've gotta eat more. You're skinny as a stick—women won't look twice at that!"
"Bullshit!"
Albena grabbed Bruno by the collar and lifted him clean off the floor, his stubby limbs windmilling in midair.
"Don't listen to this little dwarf spouting nonsense, Gauss. You're perfect as you are."
She sounded genuinely panicked. The odds were low, but she was terrified Gauss would take it seriously and turn into what dwarves worshipped—broad as a barrel and sporting a beard like a tumbleweed.
Just imagining Gauss like that made her world collapse.
Gauss only sat there drinking, shaking his head with a quiet smile.
With his inhuman constitution, ordinary alcohol might as well have been water—he could drink forever without getting tipsy. He had no idea why dwarves got drunk so easily.
Maybe it was biology… or maybe their personalities just amplified the effect. Blunt people got louder when intoxicated.
After that, the red-faced dwarves started stomping out a tap dance in the middle of the hall.
By deep night, Gauss finally got them back to their rooms.
Now he understood why they'd wanted to tag along—around him, they felt safe enough to let go and drink themselves stupid.
…
The next morning, everyone sobered up a bit—Torga and the others especially.
"Drank too much again," Torga muttered.
"I just didn't want you feeling down," Bruno shot back outside their room.
"Morning."
"Morning, Gauss."
They greeted him.
"Sorry for the trouble last night," Torga said.
"Nothing worth mentioning," Gauss waved it off. He understood—they'd needed alcohol to burn off days of fear and frustration.
Breakfast arrived: roast meat and tea.
"Gauss, you're staying in Falrim a few more days, right?" Bruno asked.
"Yeah. We're waiting on our adventuring company approval."
"We'll stay a few days too!" Bruno said cheerfully.
Gauss glanced at Torga. She looked calm—steady.
Bruno had told him why they'd argued before. They'd left the Dwarven Kingdom and traveled south not just for experience, but with plans to head into the southern monster nations.
That had been the plan—until Bruno and Torga split on it.
Bruno thought they were too weak to enter the monster nations now and should train along the border first.
Torga thought he'd been scared stiff by the road.
Now… after being captured, she'd clearly seen the limits of her strength.
She was strong—strong enough for most dangers—but not strong enough to handle everything. In that sense, the disaster wasn't purely bad.
"What's an adventuring company?" another dwarf, Sean, asked.
"You don't even know that?" Bruno snorted. "All the more reason it's good I dragged you out—otherwise you'd spend your life doing nothing but hammer iron!"
He explained it briefly.
Gauss watched quietly.
He could tell these dwarves were likely from the same clan, and Bruno probably held higher status.
Torga was Level 6. Bruno was Level 5. The other three were Level 3–4—mostly heavy-weapon fighters.
If Gauss's company application got approved, he could eventually form additional squads. Torga's group was a tempting option.
Not just fighters—blacksmiths.
Once he built a base with a forge and logistics, all the metal loot they collected could be reforged into weapons or ingots instead of being dumped or sold for scraps.
The thought crossed his mind… but he didn't say it.
Asking now felt like taking payment in favors—like he was leveraging the rescue.
Even though Bruno had already paid mithril, their attitude made it obvious they still saw him as a lifesaver.
So—if it happened, it happened.
Gauss shook his head. If they wanted in, great. If they had their own road, he wouldn't force it.
Right now, Bruno's party was in an awkward pause: too cautious to chase their original plan, but not yet sure where to go next.
…
For the next two days, Gauss's team stayed in Falrim.
Albena found a smithy, paid for temporary use, and started forging Gauss a soft, everyday combat under-armor. She'd been hoarding materials for ages; the mithril was the final missing piece.
Everyone else stayed busy too.
Alia's dream-world cooldown ended, so she spent her days in the plant markets, hunting for magical plants to transplant into her dreamland.
Magic plants weren't cheap—anything with strong mana ran tens to hundreds of gold. But it was a team expense: everyone could benefit from the fruit later, so they paid out of the shared fund.
Gauss didn't waste time either. He picked a few nearby commissions and went out with Shadow for a couple quick jobs.
…
One morning, Gauss gathered everyone and headed to the Adventurers' Guild together.
He'd been notified yesterday afternoon: their application had been approved.
"So fast?" Alia blinked.
"Yeah," Gauss admitted. He'd expected weeks… months… maybe even rejection.
But it had gone through cleanly.
At the guild, a clerk guided them into an office. Gauss paid 100 gold as the registration fee.
"Congratulations."
"Thank you."
"Next, you'll need to finalize your company name."
"Can we discuss it first?"
"Of course."
They sat in a serious circle.
A name mattered—especially for recruiting.
It had to sound good, be easy to remember, and immediately connect to the founder.
They'd talked about it on the road. This was the final decision.
"If no one objects… we lock it in."
Once chosen, names were rarely changed. A name carried reputation—and reputation was wealth.
"Red Dragon Company."
In the end, they rejected anything fancy.
A pretty name meant nothing without power behind it. Better to be simple, memorable, and uniquely theirs.
A red dragon mount—no other company had that.
Red dragons, in common imagination, were the apex of the chromatic line: power and destruction incarnate.
"Understood. I'll register it now."
Next came the base location.
This was one of Falrim's perks: for another 100 gold, approved companies could purchase a plot of city land for a headquarters—basically half sold, half gifted compared to real prices.
Most company founders took it. So did Gauss.
He chose a plot near the city gate—not too far from commercial streets.
Prime land was already gone to older companies, so the options were mostly outer-ring plots that had been reserved for future organizations.
Paperwork finished.
When Gauss stepped out of the guild, he still felt dazed.
That was it?
He had his own adventuring company—and land in Falrim.
The plot was still empty, sure, but his mind was already building the future.
"Let's go see the site."
Everyone was fired up. That land was theirs now.
They hurried over.
It was near the South Gate, slightly away from residential blocks. The plot had been idle a while—scrubby grass, a little bleak.
No one cared.
"We should start with fencing—get the perimeter up," Albena said.
"And hire construction mages for the buildings, forge, and roads."
They dove into planning on the spot.
Serandur went back to the guild to post construction contracts.
The rest pulled weeds and sketched layout zones:
forge
warehouse
dorms and living quarters
reception hall
defensive fence and gate
roads connecting inside and out
Gauss counted the company fund.
They were down to about 1,200 gold.
It sounded like a lot, but building a base would eat it fast—materials, labor, furniture, security.
"Gauss, let's get the forge built first," Albena said quickly, seeing him count coins. "I can reforge all that scrap iron we've hoarded into fine steel. Selling it should bring in good money."
"Then I'm counting on you," Gauss said, grateful.
Money made miracles happen.
Within days, buildings rose from the earth.
The once-empty lot became a neat, functional compound:
A sturdy fence—nearly three meters tall—of thick logs reinforced with iron bands.
At the gate stood two stone pillars carved with dragon-scale motifs, with space prepared for the company emblem.
Inside, pale stone paths linked the core zones.
Closest to the entrance: a one-story stone-and-wood reception hall, bright and airy, with a solid counter, sofas, tables, and an empty bulletin frame.
Next: a training yard—basic racks and equipment for now.
The core members' living area: a three-story house. Nearby: dorms, a mess hall, and transplanted silverleaf plane trees.
The forge and warehouse sat together in a corner—still ringing with hammer blows.
Albena worked tirelessly, melting down broken weapons and scrap into usable metal.
In the yard, their beasts—wolf, raven, and red dragon—rested.
Outside the fence, children gathered, pointing and whispering at the massive creatures inside.
Gauss hovered overhead, looking down on the compound.
A deep satisfaction—and responsibility—welled up in his chest.
This was the beginning of Red Dragon Company.
He landed.
"Boss, here's the list of gifts from visitors over the last few days," two sweet-voiced reception girls said, handing him a ledger.
They were locals hired through an agency. The company would need more ordinary staff soon to keep operations running.
"Thanks. You've worked hard."
Shop owners and merchants had already started visiting, having heard about the base being built at full speed.
Even Albena's fine steel ingots were fully pre-ordered.
The money helped refill the fund—briefly—before it went right back into construction.
"But for now… this is as far as we can go."
They were down to 300 gold.
The forge and warehouse had swallowed most of the budget.
But some expenses couldn't be avoided.
Tools, facilities, warehouse security, and compressed storage spaces were expensive—but essential.
With more money later, upgrades would be possible.
For example: Gauss had wanted a few magical automata to handle hauling, sorting, and cleaning in the warehouse. Then he saw the price—300 gold per unit—and quietly gave up.
"So much to do," he thought.
And along with that thought, the urge to earn more money burned brighter than ever.
~~~
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