For the first time in their questionable careers, the Mercenaries of Mayhem had something nice.
Evelyn, true to her word, had delivered on the reward: a mansion—well, an old one, but still a mansion—located on the other outskirts of Border Town.
And it was theirs.
The group stood in front of the large, slightly worn-down estate, taking in their new home.
It wasn't luxurious, but it was solid—stone foundation, wooden beams, actual doors and windows, and most importantly… a roof that wasn't caving in.
Bob whistled. "Damn. This is way better than I expected."
Jim crossed his arms, nodding approvingly. "Not a single goat in sight. I already love it."
Derek inspected the structure. "The walls are still standing. That's… an improvement."
Marcus tapped one of the support beams. "Could use some fixing, but overall, not bad."
Bam simply stood in the middle of the yard and took a deep breath. "…I shall set fire to nothing."
The group stared at him.
"…For now," he added.
Jim sighed. "That's the best we're gonna get."
Once they officially moved in, everyone customized their space.
Bob claimed the biggest room (naturally), filling it with a giant bed and stacks of coins he would definitely misplace later.
Derek took a quiet, modest room with a single bookshelf, already preparing for inevitable disasters.
Marcus turned his entire section of the mansion into a workshop of questionable safety, complete with traps, half-built weapons, and a crossbow turret pointed at the front door (for "security reasons").
Jim set up a personal bar in his room, completely ignoring the rest of the mansion's well-maintained dining hall.
Bam took the old library, claiming the massive fireplace as his own, muttering something about "proper ambiance for fire magic."
Within days, the once dignified estate had been completely transformed into a chaotic mercenary hideout.
Weapons everywhere.
Furniture constantly being moved (or broken).
Suspicious scorch marks in multiple places.
Jim declared the courtyard an official "drinking & fighting arena."
Marcus rigged the back door with a "self-locking mechanism" that locked everyone out permanently.
Bob set up a giant table for "serious discussions" (mostly meal planning).
And despite the absolute chaos…
It was home.
Jim raised a mug at the dinner table that night. "To not being homeless!"
Bob grinned. "To actual walls!"
Marcus nodded. "To a workshop that hopefully won't explode!"
Derek sighed, but lifted his drink. "To temporary stability."
Bam smiled. "To exceptions."
And for the first time in a long while, they had a place to call their own.