Chapter 1 An Invitation to Death

Imperial capital Arwinthal was a ways to the west in the Baharuth Empire's

territory. At its center stood the imperial castle where Jircniv Rune Farlord El

Nix (also known as the Fresh Blood Emperor) resided, while important

facilities of every sort—the graduate school, the empire's magic academy,

government agencies—radiated out from it. The city was truly the heart of

the empire.

Its population was smaller than the Re-Estize Kingdom's capital, but the

scale was much grander. Additionally, due to major reforms over the past

several years, the city was in the middle of the greatest growth period in its

history. The capital was constantly importing new things, creating an influx

of materials and talent, while the old and stagnant parts were demolished. The

hope for the future that the residents carried was evident in their cheerful and

bright expressions.

The city practically clamored with dizzying excitement as Ainz walked

through it with Narberal.

Usually people who had just arrived from the countryside would move

slowly and take in their surroundings as they strolled, many of them struck by

the many differences between the kingdom and the empire.

But Ainz didn't have that kind of time.

His mental state was clearly reflected in his hurried gait.

The emotion controlling him was displeasure.

Demiurge's plan was the reason for Ainz's trip to the imperial capital, and

every time it came to mind, the furrows in his brow grew deeper—though his

face was only a magical illusion.

Patience should have been unnecessary for the absolute ruler of the Great

Tomb of Nazarick, Ainz Ooal Gown. Nor should there have been any need

for him to suppress his irritation. For an overlord whose word was absolute—

a being who could take something white, call it black, and have it be so—

there shouldn't have been a single thing that didn't go his way.

So why was he in this situation? Even though he wanted to veto

Demiurge's proposal, there was a reason he hadn't been able to.

In terms of putting the power of Nazarick on display, Demiurge's plan

was extremely straightforward and would yield immediate results. The reason

Ainz didn't like it despite that was because he felt it would bring dishonor on

the creations of his friends.

Rejecting a wonderful plan for personal reasons would be deplorable, and

he certainly didn't want anyone to think he lacked the broad-mindedness to

consider it. Besides, he hadn't been able to come up with a counterproposal.

In the end, objecting without a counterproposal is just one form of

whining. It was member of adult society Ainz, not supreme ruler Ainz, who

shouted this in his head.

Ainz repeated what he'd already told himself any number of times.

Calm down. You need to chill. If you need to choose between logic and

emotions, the correct choice for a boss is obviously logic. Guys who act

based on emotions achieve amazing results if they're lucky, but most of the

time they come up with nothing worth mentioning. Besides—

"The die is cast, I guess…" Ainz didn't have any lungs, but he took a deep

breath and exhaled.

The citizens giving dubious looks to the warrior who suddenly started

breathing heavily in the street didn't bother him.

His commanding appearance already attracted attention. Especially since

he'd been celebrated as a hero, it was actually rarer for no one to be looking

at all. For that reason, beyond special circumstances like when he had to put

on an act or moments spent riding Hamusuke, the gazes of ordinary people

didn't faze him one bit.

After a few more deep breaths, his creeping discomfort had abated

somewhat, and he finally had the energy to pay some attention to Narberal

behind him.

"Sorry. Was I walking too fast?"

Ainz was wearing armor, but there was still a big difference between his

manly gait and Narberal's feminine stride, even though she wore a robe.

Considering her strength, it probably wasn't an issue, but as a man, he still

felt the need to apologize for pushing ahead without considering her.

"No, not at all."

"Okay…"

Did she only answer that way because she's my servant? Or is it really

not bothering her? Unsure, Ainz shortened his stride and tried to come up

with a topic for conversation.

Feeling a bit embarrassed about how on edge he'd been up until now, he

racked his brains for something to talk about but couldn't come up with

anything suitable.

Small talk among salesmen generally consisted of benign topics like the

weather. Sports wasn't bad, either, but that required knowing the other

person's favorite team ahead of time.

Ainz was trying to think of something like that to bring up as he mentally

cursed under his breath. Why should I have to tiptoe around Narberal? She's

my subordinate! This is a perfect chance to practice conversing with

underlings while role-playing as a ruler. But I wonder what would be good

for a ruler, or rather, I wonder what sorts of things absolute beings chat

about…

Ainz recalled the everyday conversations he used to have with his boss at

the office and wondered if that would go over well or not. He was the elite

ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, not a corporate executive. If anything,

his position was more comparable to that of a company president.

Nah, it's not quite the same as a president… I wonder what kind of

conversations the ruler of the kingdom has with Gazef Stronoff. I wish I could

use that as a point of reference.

It was a bit late in the game to be mulling over this type of thing. Walking

in silence any longer would be awkward. Still unsure if it was a good topic,

Ainz desperately broached one. "Hey, Nabe… What do you think of my

voice?"

Ainz poked at his vocal cords—or more accurately, the place where they

would have been. He touched his gauntlets to the spot on his neck where he

normally would have felt only metal, but there was something squishy inside,

plus an out-of-place dampness inside his throat.

"To be quite honest, I don't much care for it. Not that it's an odd voice, of

course. I merely prefer Lor— Mr. Momon's normal one. I understand the

circumstances, but I do sometimes wish you would go back to your regular

voice."

"I see… I think it's pretty nice and elegant. Neuronist chose it from

among the voices of fifty people, so it's only natural that it would have a

certain charm."

Ainz suddenly groaned after remembering a time he'd heard a recording

of his own voice, but his psyche was immediately stabilized.

"Is that so? I like your normal one better."

"Thanks, Nabe. Still, I didn't even think I would be able to equip this

thing…"

Ainz poked his neck again, wondering if Narberal meant what she said or

whether she was only flattering him. He felt the creature attached to his throat

—a Lip Bug—move. If he were human, it probably would have tickled.

Did I just not know? Or did it get changed in a patch? These kinds of gaps

in knowledge could prove dangerous. What a pain that I have to verify my

information of this world and what I learned in Yggdrasil.

The creators of Yggdrasil wanted their players to enjoy the unknown.

Hoping to give people motivation to experiment, the developers revealed a

vast amount of data alongside a system worth tinkering with.

Thus, a true unknown spread out before the players.

There was hardly any useful info available about the map, nor details

about the various dungeons, how to mine ores, what was edible, what types

of magic beasts could be kept, and so on. Everything was left completely

unexplained. In the world of Yggdrasil, players had to discover all this

information themselves. To put it plainly, they even had to use trial and error

to figure out what they could and could not equip.

Sure, there were walk-through sites and information pages, but most were

nothing more than collections of widely known facts or contained tips of

dubious veracity. Yggdrasil was a game of exploring the unexplored, and any

intelligence acquired was a treasure. There was no benefit to making it freely

available to strangers.

The only intelligence that could be trusted came from the guild that a

player belonged to or traded for with a dependable guild. The rest was

generally considered to be worthless.

There was even a period when completely suspicious posts, to the effect

of "I left my guild, so I'm revealing all the info we were hoarding," popped

up.

Well, there was some true stuff buried among the lies, but…

There was one guild called The Flaming Third Eye.

It was formed by someone who ran a members-only paid Yggdrasil wiki.

They committed the atrocious deed of sending spies to infiltrate elite guilds

and steal intelligence. Only the admins didn't consider it reprehensible. They

tacitly approved it as a valid way to acquire information, but that didn't fly

with those who had been robbed.

When public fury reached its peak, the elite guilds formed an alliance and

attacked The Flaming Third Eye. Players camped the spying guild's respawn

points, their guild base, and the shrine in town, PK-ing them over and over

every time their victims came back to life. In the end, The Flaming Third Eye

was destroyed, to the point where their members scattered to the four winds.

Ainz fondly recalled how they opened up their wiki for free after that.

Well, there weren't any spies in Ainz Ooal Gown…but if it weren't for

that whole mess, we might have had more members…

The incident triggered a freeze on welcoming new members into the guild,

and they ended up topping out at forty-one, the smallest membership out of

the top guilds.

In Yggdrasil's later days, it was possible that there had been sites

publishing only reliable information, but Ainz mostly pored over those back

in the good old days when the guild Ainz Ooal Gown was at its peak. There

hadn't been much useful info at the time.

My knowledge basically cuts off back then. I at least kept an eye on patch

notes… There must be other Yggdrasil players in this world besides me,

though. I have to keep in mind that I might be at a disadvantage on the

intelligence front.

By gaining control of the Eight Fingers, their knowledge of the area

surrounding Nazarick had jumped. Ainz had learned a lot about the kingdom

as well as the empire, and now they were putting that knowledge to good use.

But there hadn't been much about the sacred kingdom known as the

Theocracy or the Council State, so they needed to cautiously gather

intelligence on those.

"Sheesh. Thinking about it only brings up more anxiety. I'm ready to talk

about something more cheerful." Ainz paused there and took a quick look

around. "The empire sure is lively."

"Oh? It seems just like E-Rantel to me."

At Narberal's response, he looked around again.

"The streets are animated, and the people walking about have a gleam in

their eyes—it's a sign that they feel their lives will improve over time."

Narberal, walking a fair bit behind him, was saying something along the

lines of "Brilliant observation, Mr. Momon," but Ainz didn't reply. He was

too busy feeling embarrassed over what he had said aloud. It was simply the

feeling he got, but he didn't trust his eyes.

It's not like I'm trying to be like Pandora's Actor or something… A

"sign"? How could I say something so pretentious and not be mortified…?

Do I think I'm a poet?

He had to act like a hero to some extent back in the kingdom, but it

seemed like he was still performing even now.

With shame blooming on his face beneath his helmet—not that his bare

skull could actually blush, of course—Ainz caught sight of the inn Fluder had

recommended up ahead.

Even at a distance, it was clear that the best accommodations in the

imperial capital were superior to those in E-Rantel. Still, that was only based

on a practical impression of the facilities. If E-Rantel's best lodgings were a

luxurious inn with a sense of history, then this building was more like a posh,

newly opened hotel. Deciding which one was better came down to a matter of

taste.

"Well, we can't be sure until we go in, but the atmosphere is pretty

unmistakable."

Ainz gave a quick once-over to the proof that he was an adamantite-rank

adventurer hanging around his neck before stepping toward the entrance.

Like in E-Rantel, there were muscular guards in leather armor stationed

by the door. The men glanced suspiciously at Ainz and Narberal as they came

through the arch, but their eyes popped open after resting on a certain point.

"A-are those real? It seems so, what with the impressive gear and all,

but…"

Ainz heard one of the men conferring with the other in a low voice.

When he approached the guards standing at attention, who were unable to

conceal their nervousness, one of them asked politely in an extremely

strained voice, "Excuse me, Sir Adamantite-Rank Adventurer. I'm sorry to

trouble you, but might I examine your plate?"

Ainz took his off for inspection.

"Does this inn refuse first-timers?"

"Yes. It's true that to maintain a certain dignity, we do turn people away

unless they have a suitable introduction. Naturally, adamantite-rank

adventurers are an exception."

After wiping his hands on his clothes, the guard bowed and gingerly

received the plate with his hands.

Then he turned it over and read the words on the back.

"Sir…Momon of Raven Black?"

"That's right."

"Then you are all set. Thank you for presenting your adamantite plate."

The guard was still very gingerly handling the plate as he returned it.

Plates indicating adventurer ranks were made of the same metal as the rank

name, so even this tiny name tag was worth an immeasurable fortune. It was

extremely hard, so there was no way it would become scratched if it fell, but

the compensation for losing it would be anything but small. There was no

lack of stories where just as someone was about to return a gold plate, a

crow-like bird called a kualamberat would snatch it out of their hands.

They weren't parables for urging people to handle plates with care—it

was a recounting of something that had really happened.

When Ainz took the plate back, the two guards' shoulders visibly relaxed

in relief.

"I'll be going in now."

"Yes, sir. I'll escort you to the front desk."

"Oh, thank you."

The kingdom doesn't have a tipping system, so the empire is probably the

same, right? Ainz wondered absentmindedly while one of the two guards led

him inside.

They passed through the lobby, which had a floor that seemed to be made

of marble, then headed for reception.

"This is adamantite-rank adventurer Sir Momon and his companion."

After the elegant man behind the counter signaled with his eyes, the guard

bowed respectfully to Ainz and returned to his post.

"Welcome, Sir Momon. We appreciate you choosing us for your stay in

the imperial capital."

The receptionist bowed deeply.

"No, don't worry about it. Anyway, I'll do one night for starters."

"Very well. Then would you sign the register please?"

Ainz wrote the signature he'd practiced dozens of times in the language of

the kingdom.

"Thank you. And what kind of room would you like?"

Personally, Ainz was fine with an inexpensive room. But as expected, that

wouldn't do.

I can't eat, so I'd be fine without food, but…

Ainz recalled various meals of this world: thick, green, sweet-smelling

fruit water; something like pink scrambled eggs; sliced meat covered in a

blue liquid. They all piqued his curiosity, but he couldn't eat any of them.

No desire for sex, food, sleep… There are a lot of handy things about this

body, but I've lost a lot, too. It's too bad. Of course, if I had kept my flesh

there's a good chance I'd be overindulging…

Suddenly imagining himself in bed with Albedo, his face twisted slightly

—something that went further than a manager sexually harassing a female

subordinate woman popped into his head.

Albedo seems to love me, but…it's complicated. If only I hadn't…oh!

"Sorry. Anything suitable is fine… By the way, is it all right if I pay in

kingdom gold instead of trade currency?"

"Not a problem. In the first place, the exchange rate between kingdom and

imperial currency is one-to-one."

"I see. Then I'll leave it up to you."

"Understood. We'll prepare a suitable room, Sir Momon. Would you

mind waiting in the lounge?"

Ainz's attention turned toward the fifty-seat bar. It was overflowing with

class. There was ample room between each comfortable-looking chair, and a

bard was softly playing a tune.

"All food and drink in the lounge is on the house, so please make yourself

at home."

It would seem that no matter the world, services rendered were always

commensurate with the amount a customer paid—not that there was anything

for Ainz to be particularly happy about in this case.

"Got it. Okay, Nabe, let's go."

Ainz took her over to the bar, and they sat in the nearest open seats.

There were several other guests in the lounge. Most seemed to be

adventurers.

The amount a high-ranking adventurer made for completing a single job

was extraordinary. Their standard of living improved as a matter of course

and staying at a place like this became second nature.

It was probably like that in every city. After all, E-Rantel had been the

same.

Ainz made sure the plate indicating his rank was clearly visible. If they

become a topic of conversation, their reputation as adventurers would rise,

and there was nothing wrong with that.

Conscious of the attention gathering on them, Ainz picked up the menu

that had been left in front of them.

I can't read this…

He flipped through it haphazardly. The reason he'd opened it despite

knowing he wouldn't be able to read it was to avoid looking suspicious.

He did have the reading item he'd lent to Sebas before, but he couldn't

casually use it here.

"Sebas… Tsuare, hmm…"

As he recalled his subordinate's face, the name of the woman Sebas was

involved with slipped out.

"What about her?"

"Oh no, it's nothing. I just wonder if she's getting along all right."

He'd left her care in Sebas's hands, but since Ainz had vowed to protect

her, it was his role as manager to keep tabs on his employee.

"I don't think there are any issues. The head maid is in disciplinary

confinement…so Sir Sebas is with her at all times, teaching her the various

duties. Once she learns enough etiquette, her lessons will expand to include

cooking and other tasks. Then, after determining her aptitude, she'll get her

official assignment."

"I see. Well, as long as she has Sebas, she'll be fine, right? And…isn't it

about time those two were released…? Albedo's anger has subsided

somewhat by now, hasn't it?"

Narberal said nothing and lowered her head slightly.

Perhaps noticing a pause in their conversation, a waiter approached.

"Have you made your selections?"

"I'll have an ice machiatia. What about you, Nabe?"

"The same."

"You can order whatever you like, you know."

"Yes, but I'll have the same, please. Oh, but please make mine with extra

milk."

"Understood."

The waiter bowed deeply and quietly withdrew.

A machiatia was a drink that was the same color as a caffe latte, which

Ainz had often seen at inns in E-Rantel. The smell was also similar to a caffe

latte, but he knew that both coffee and lattes existed in this world.

Incidentally, Ainz didn't know what a machiatia tasted like. It went without

saying, but he couldn't drink. He experimented once, but the contents simply

sloshed out the bottom of his jaw and he couldn't sense any taste at all, so

there was literally no point.

Nonetheless, the reason he'd ordered it was that he figured it was

appropriate since the drink only seemed to be available at high-class

establishments.

Wiping away some nonexistent sweat, he asked Narberal an obvious

question.

"…Nabe, what does a machiatia taste like?"

He asked because he knew she'd had one before.

For a little while, she looked like she was thinking it over. The expression

she had was the same as someone who wondered how best to describe the

flavor of coffee to someone who had never drunk it.

"Hmm. It's similar to a café shakelato. But I don't enjoy the faint

condensed milk aftertaste."

"…I see. Sounds tasty."

Shakelato? Never heard of it. There's a very good chance it's something

original to this world.

"I would rate it as not bad."

Just as Ainz hummed thoughtfully, their drinks arrived.

"Go ahead. If neither of us touches our drinks, it'll seem weird."

He'd gotten so used to his helmeted lifestyle in the kingdom that he said

this completely forgetting how unnatural it was to keep his helmet on even

when someone brought him a drink.

"Thank you."

"It's fine if you keep drinking but please listen. I'm thinking about taking

two days to see the imperial capital. I heard the central market is surprisingly

well stocked, enough that you can have fun just walking around and

browsing. And there's also the northern market. I heard it sells mainly magic

items and that adventurers often go there."

That information was obtained from the Eight Fingers organization that

they now dominated. There was more underground-type intelligence, but

Ainz wasn't planning on sticking his own nose into those affairs, so he'd only

skimmed the documents.

"On the third day, let's go to the Adventurers Guild. If possible, I'd like to

make the acquaintance of the empire's adamantite-rank adventurers, but if

that's impossible, let's do a short, simple job to make ourselves known. If we

can get out of here within seven days, that would be best. Any suggestions or

anything?"

Narberal, who had stopped drinking to listen, shook her head.

2

The imperial capital was a physical manifestation of the empire's power that

contained multiple astounding sights, but almost everyone who visited

marveled at one thing the most: Nearly every road was paved with brick or

stone.

None of the nearby countries—not even the Theocracy, though it was

more advanced than most—could match the quality of these roads. Not that

every city in the empire was similarly outfitted, but still, seeing the capital

was enough for visiting diplomats to understand and admire the empire's

potential.

The main street was especially grand. One of the imperial capital's largest

roads, the main street was contiguous with the highway. Like ordinary roads,

carriages and horses moved down the center, and pedestrians walked on the

sides.

What set it apart were the various safety provisions. A simple guardrail

was built on the boundary between the sidewalk and the street. Having the

sidewalk a step up provided additional protection for pedestrians. There were

also lamps along the side of the road that shone magic light on the streets at

night, as well as many patrolling knights.

Down this street, the safest in the empire, walked a man with a silly grin

on his face, humming a cheerful tune.

His stood about five-foot-seven. Agewise, he was probably almost twenty.

Blond hair, blue eyes, healthy tan skin—a man with features you could

find anywhere in the empire.

He wasn't handsome. He was only average and wouldn't stand out in a

crowd. Still, there was something appealing about him. Perhaps it had

something to do with the faint, merry smile on his face and the confident way

he carried himself.

With each step, each swing of his arms, the sound of chain links rubbing

together came from under his fine, immaculate clothes. A perceptive passerby

would gather that he was wearing mail.

He wore a sword on either hip—short swords, going by length. Knuckle

guards covered the grips completely. The scabbards weren't elaborate, but

they didn't look cheap. Farther around behind the swords, he wore a blunt

weapon, a mace. He also had an armor piercer.

Carrying a weapon or two in this world was only natural, but there

weren't many people who had three different attack types—piercing, cutting,

and crushing—at the ready.

Someone who knew a thing or two would figure him for an adventurer.

Someone who knew a little more would no doubt notice the lack of a plate

adventurers usually wore around their necks and realize that he was a

"worker."

Workers… Adventurer dropouts.

Adventurer jobs were contracted by the guild, investigated, and then

assigned to adventurers of suitable rank. In other words, the guild screened

requests at the earliest stage to make sure they were appropriate. It refused

questionable jobs—ones that threatened civilian safety or involved crime—

and sometimes blacklisted the requester. For example, the guild did

everything in its power to block requests to procure plants used to make

drugs.

The guild also rejected jobs that would disrupt the balance of an

ecosystem. For example, it wouldn't send adventurers to proactively kill the

monster at the top of a forest's food chain. If the monster was killed, the

ecosystem's balance would be destroyed, and monsters might appear outside

the forest. The guild wanted to avoid that. Of course, it was a different story

if the monster at the top of the food chain left the forest and invaded an area

where humans lived.

In other words, adventurers were like allies of justice.

But pretty ideals alone couldn't make the world go round.

There were people who simply wanted money, willing to do dangerous

jobs for good rewards. There were even people who merely enjoyed killing

monsters.

Those who pursued darkness rather than light, those who dropped out of

the adventurer system—they were the ones people, with a mix of scorn and

wariness, called workers.

But that didn't mean everyone who became a worker was that type of

person.

For example, say a boy was seriously injured in a certain village. Could an

adventurer who happened to be passing through heal his wounds for free

using magic, yes or no?

The answer is no.

There was a rule that forbid adventurers from casting healing magic

without charging the prescribed fee.

Normally, healing fell within the jurisdiction of the shrines. Sick people

made an offering to receive the effects of healing spells. If adventurers

disregarded that and healed people for free, the shrines wouldn't be able to

stay in business.

So the shrines made firm requests to the guild to prevent that scenario.

Anyone who disagreed with that sort of rule had no choice but to become

a worker.

From this perspective, the shrines seem almost like villains, but it was

precisely because they had revenue from healing that they could work for the

people without getting heavily involved in politics. The funds to train priests,

exorcise undead, develop new healing spells, and generally make people's

lives happier and safer also came from this revenue stream.

If adventurers cast healing magic for free, the shrines would end up

growing secular, their ideology tarnished.

Everything has two sides to it, a front and a back. That went for workers

as well. Cases of workers who would overhunt for money so they could make

cheaper medicine to help people were not nonexistent.

The grinning man—Hekkeran Termite—was a worker by trade.

"Wonder what I should buy…?"

The list of magic items he wanted was endless. He figured it would be

better to prioritize defensive accessories for the moment. Though there was

one more thing. It was unrelated but something he wanted.

"I'll save up money for that separately…and use what's left to buy magic

items for adventures. Er, is that backward? I'll buy the items and any left over

will go toward that."

Hekkeran scratched his head.

But then…

"As the one out front I should raise my magic resistance. Maybe it's about

time to cut into my savings. Ah, but assuming we're going to the Katze Plain

to make some cash exterminating undead, I should be on guard against toxins

and stuff, so maybe items that boosts resistance to poison, paralysis, and

sickness would be better."

Magic items were extremely expensive, and the types adventurers were

liable to want—ones useful in combat—tended to cost even more. Unique

items fetched prices that kept them out of Hekkeran's reach.

The items he had in mind at the moment weren't so extreme, but they

would still cost a normal person's annual pay several times over. It was an

expensive shopping trip. He had to decide carefully.

His expression, a bit giddy in anticipation of a splurge, tightened up the

moment his eyes met those of a knight.

A duo composed of two knights, wearing heavy and light armor

respectively, stood on the corner keeping watch over the area.

This district, where the shrines to the Four Gods were located, was known

for its strict security. The knights wouldn't question ordinary passersby, but

Hekkeran sensed their gazes beginning to focus on the weapons hanging from

his hips.

He didn't know how it was for adventurers, but as a worker with no

support, he definitely didn't want to get in a fight with a knight.

His wish was heard, and he managed to traverse the shrine area without

being stopped by the knights comparing faces with wanted flyers.

Hekkeran definitely had things to hide. Relieved, he shifted his gaze down

the road and saw, quite a ways in the distance, a peculiar structure. At the

same time, he heard a cheer on the wind—along with something like a

bloodthirsty battle cry.

This unique building could only be found in the imperial capital: the

Grand Arena. It was one of the city's most popular sights.

Since he saw his fill of blood in his line of work without going to the

arena, and he wasn't interested in gambling, the place held little fascination

for him. Still, as one might expect for the most popular entertainment for the

masses (for the nobles, it was the theater), they were having a full house if the

cheers were anything to go by.

"Must be the final round of the main fight, judging from the hubbub."

The worker team Hekkeran led had appeared once for work in a program

where they were pit against a succession of magical beasts. Surrender wasn't

allowed in beast fights; in other words, defeat meant death. Of course, people

also died in human-on-human battles. There was rarely an arena day that

ended without a death. No, the more people died, the more feverish the

atmosphere.

And out of all the deadly events, the most popular was the tournament.

Hekkeran shrugged.

He'd lost interest completely. He didn't feel like staring at a bloody,

reeking battlefield on his day off. The only reason he couldn't get it out of his

head was that arena events made for good conversation starters in all sorts of

places.

I never want to go to the arena again, but when I get back later, it

wouldn't be a bad idea to ask someone about the events.

Making a mental note, Hekkeran continued walking down the street lined

with stores on either side. Before long he came upon the familiar sign of the

Singing Apple.

It was a pub and inn said to have started with a gathering of bards who

played instruments made from apple trees. The interior was surprisingly nice.

No drafts, and the floors were polished clean. Granted, it cost a fair amount,

too, but it wasn't beyond their means. For Hekkeran's group—no, workers in

general—one could even say it was the best inn.

Certainly, compared to the most high-class inn the imperial capital had to

offer, it was inferior on every level. But those fancy places were perfect for

adventurers, not workers.

First of all, most of the jobs that came workers' ways were dirty, so

requesters would hesitate to show up somewhere it would be conspicuous to

visit. On the other hand, basing their operations in a rough part of town could

invite trouble.

The other reason requesters liked the Singing Apple was that multiple

worker teams could stay there. Since there was no guild for workers like

there was for adventurers, people who wanted to hire a team had to track

them down on their own. If they were scattered all over the place, business

would have been inconvenient.

One advantage workers had was that by staying at the same inn, they

developed a sense of closeness, and they ended up avoiding jobs that would

involve killing one another.

Last but certainly not least, the food at the Singing Apple was delicious.

Hekkeran walked through the door with his mind on the evening meal. He

thought it would be great if they served his favorite, pork stew.

The words that leaped into his ears when he went inside were not

"Welcome back" or "How was your day?" from his friends.

"—Which is why I said I don't know!"

"Even so—"

"It's not like I'm her guardian or something. We're not family. How

should I know where she is?"

"Aren't you friends? Even if you say you don't know, I can't just say,

'Oh, I see,' and be on my way. This is for work."

A man and woman were glaring at each other in the center of the pub and

dining hall on the first floor.

Hekkeran knew the woman very well.

There was nothing special about her face and its currently hostile look.

What attracted the most attention was her longer than normal ears. That said,

they were only about half as long as an elf's. Yes, she was half-elf.

Elves were more slender creatures than humans, and it was clear from a

glance that she shared their blood. She was thin overall, and neither her chest

nor her backside had any trace of smooth feminine curves. She was flat as a

washboard. From her build alone, even up close, she was liable to be

mistaken for a man.

She wore formfitting leather armor. She wasn't carrying her usual bow

and quiver, but instead, a dagger dangled from her hip.

Her name was Imina. She was one of Hekkeran's teammates.

But the man facing her was someone he didn't know.

He was bobbing his head to beg her pardon, but his eyes didn't seem sorry

at all. On the contrary, there was something unpleasant in them. Judging from

his humble attitude, though, he didn't seem to be a total idiot.

With his arms and chest practically bursting with muscles, his appearance

alone made his presence seem like a threat. He was probably someone who

wouldn't hesitate to use violence, but he couldn't hope to appeal to Imina by

force.

Why? Because although she looked delicate, enough ability lurked within

her that she could kill a cocky hoodlum with no trouble.

"But it's like I've been telling you!"

At this shrill, greatly irritated scream, Hekkeran interrupted. "Imina, what

are you doing?"

Imina turned around, just then noticing him at the sound of his voice, and

looked surprised.

It seemed that despite her superior ranger senses, she had lost herself in

the conversation and failed to sense him. The oversight spoke to how agitated

she must have been.

"…What do you want?" the man asked in a threatening tone, clearly

considering Hekkeran an intruder. His eyes were hostile, and it seemed like

he might start throwing punches at any moment. Of course, to Hekkeran, who

had faced ferocious monsters and lived, the man's threats were worth about a

wry grin.

"…He's our leader."

"Ohhh, well then. Hekkeran Termite, correct? I've heard so much about

you."

The man's expression morphed dramatically into an ingratiating smile,

making Hekkeran hate him just a bit.

He didn't know why the man had come, but he had made it all the way

here—to their base. The possibility he didn't know Hekkeran was practically

nonexistent.

The threat in the man's voice had likely been to gauge what kind of

person Hekkeran was. If he backed off even a little, the man probably would

have continued in that high-handed vein.

Some workers and adventurers had no problem slaying monsters but were

reluctant to face humans. Of course, most of them would take a mile if given

an inch and attack to kill.

He threatens me to decide who's top dog the moment we meet? I just

can't…get myself to like this kind of guy.

Hekkeran knew that it was just one way of negotiating, an obvious

technique. But he didn't like that sort of negotiation. He liked his business

straightforward with no hidden purposes.

"Shh. This is an inn, you know. There are other guests here, too, so could

you keep it down?"

That's what he said, but actually, there were no other guests to be seen—

or, for that matter, employees.

It wasn't as if they were hiding. To workers, this amount of commotion

was like a morsel to go with their drinks. It was only by chance that no one

was around.

Hekkeran gave the man a hard stare. It was too much to stand tall against

the piercing eyes of a warrior who would have been mythril rank as an

adventurer. The stranger shrank as if he were facing a magical beast.

"Oh no, no, no. My apologies, but I can't do that." The man lowered his

voice slightly and was about to continue. The fact that he could do that under

Hekkeran's gaze meant he had to be in some line of work—most likely the

violent kind—that exercised strength.

What in the world is a guy like this doing here?

Granted, he himself did underworld work, but he didn't know this man

nor had he any idea why he should be getting so much attitude from him. The

guy definitely didn't seem to be fulfilling a request.

Confused, Hekkeran softened his eyes and decided to ask the man and

hear it from him. "Who are you?"

"There you go. I came to meet an associate of yours, Mr. Termite, Miss

Furt."

Only one person by the name of Furt came to mind.

I can't imagine her having anything to do with this guy. As her friend who

had fought through numerous life-and-death battles with her, that's what

Hekkeran concluded. So this must be some kind of trouble.

"Arché? What about her?"

"Arché…? Oh, right. I was confused for a second because we only ever

call her Miss Furt. Arché Eeb Rile Furt, yes."

"So?! What about her?"

"Eh, I'd just like a word with her… It's a private matter, so could you tell

me what time she'll be back?"

"How should I know?" Hekkeran ended the conversation gruffly. He was

so forceful, the man blinked a few times. "Is this conversation over?"

"I—I guess I have no choice. I'll just wait a little—"

"Get lost." Hekkeran jerked his jaw toward the entrance.

The man's eyelids fluttered again.

"I'll make myself clear. I don't like you, and it doesn't seem like I ever

will. I can't stand having guys like that anywhere I can see."

"This is a pub, and I'm—"

"Yeah. You're right, it is a pub. A place where people get drunk and start

fights…" Hekkeran grinned at the man. "Relax. Even if you get caught in a

brawl and end up seriously wounded, we have a priest who can use healing

magic. All you have to do is pay, and we'll fix you up."

"Of course, there's a surcharge. Otherwise, the shrines get upset. No way

I want the shrines to send an assassin after us," Imina chimed in, wearing a

villainous sneer. "But, well, for you we can discount it. You'd be grateful for

that, wouldn't you?"

"You heard her."

"Are you trying to threa…?" The man's words trailed off—because he

saw the worker's expression change dramatically.

Hekkeran took a big step forward, closing in to the point that each other's

faces filled their fields of vision.

"Huh? Threaten? Who, me? It's not so rare for a fight to break out in a

pub, right? I'm giving you a friendly warning, and you say I'm threatening

you? Are you trying to…start something?"

Hekkeran's face, the veins of his brow bulging, was one of a man who

had survived countless life-and-death battles.

Defeated, the other man backed up a step but clicked his tongue as his last

act of defiance. Then he set off hurriedly toward the door. He was frantically

trying to keep up appearances, but it was clear at a glance that just beneath

that surface, he was spooked. When he reached the door, he turned just his

head and snapped at Hekkeran and Imina, "Tell the Furt girl that her time is

up!"

"Yeah?"

At Hekkeran's near growl, the man practically tripped over his feet exiting

the inn.

Once the troublesome roughneck was gone, Hekkeran's expression went

completely back to normal. The change was so abrupt that if he said he had

just been pulling faces for effect, it would have been believable. And in

reality, Imina gave him a round of applause.

"So what was that about?"

"Not sure. He only asked the same stuff you heard just now."

"Ah, man. Then we probably should have gotten some more out of him

first."

Dang it. He put a palm over his face.

"Can't we just ask Arché when she gets back?"

"…But I don't really wanna go poking into her business."

"Well, I get that, but you're our leader, so suck it up."

"I'll exercise my authority as leader to have you ask her as a fellow

woman."

"Gimme a break! I don't wanna do it, either."

They winced at each other.

Among both adventurers and workers, a few things were commonly

understood to be inappropriate.

First: asking about or investigating one another's pasts.

Second: displaying excessive desires too openly.

Since many people became workers out of ambition, a little greed

couldn't be helped, but when it was blatantly over the top, there was a danger

they would stop functioning as team players. For example, how easy would it

be to trust someone to fulfill a request with lots of cash on the line or keep an

important secret when they talked about how much they wanted money every

day? Would it be possible to sleep in the same room with someone who was

always saying how badly they desired the other sex? Teammates covered one

another's backs in situations where their lives were in danger. They had to

maintain a minimum level of trust.

Being in some kind of obvious trouble dealt a serious blow to Arché's

dependability. This wasn't an issue they could simply compromise on.

They were risking their lives together, so they couldn't let even a little

uncertainty remain.

Irritated, Hekkeran furiously scratched his head. He didn't forget to wear

a this sucks face. "I guess there's no helping it. Someone has to ask her."

"Thank youuu!"

He gave Imina a deadpan stare as she smiled and waved. "What? Trying

to run away? You're asking her with me."

"Whaaat?" She grimaced but gave up when she saw that Hekkeran's

expression didn't crack a bit. "Fine. I hope it's nothing too depressing,

though…"

"Where did she go anyway?"

"Hmm? Oh, she's investigating that job."

"Aren't me 'n' Rober supposed to be doing that?"

They had returned to the imperial capital and were resting up after

finishing a round of undead extermination on the Katze Plain when a new

request popped up. The terms weren't bad, so they were leaning toward

accepting.

The plan was for the best speaker of their bunch, Roberdyck, to look into

the background of the requester as well as the nature of the job, while

Hekkeran dropped by the imperial government office to pick up the reward

for the undead extermination (a state undertaking) and then investigated the

same things as Roberdyck via different sources.

Imina and Arché were supposed to be on standby at the inn.

"Not just that, though. Stuff like the history of the region and current

conditions in the location's vicinity."

Hekkeran nodded that he understood. Arché may have dropped out of the

Imperial Magic Academy, but she still had some connections. She would be

best at collecting academic knowledge. Maybe she was digging through

documents at the Wizards Guild.

"That's why she said she'd look into things with Rober. He has a fair

amount of knowledge himself, plus shrine connections, you know? So what

did you find out, then?"

"About that…," said Hekkeran as he sat down. Then he lowered his voice.

"I can see why they're hiring workers. Or at least, based on the location, it'd

be impossible to hire adventurers. But—and the requester mentioned this, too

—it does seem to be true that they're talking to other teams as well."

"So it's actually a joint job? The requester must be expecting quite a

return considering no one's ever set foot in these ruins."

"Gringham's team got the request, and he was saying the same thing.

Heavy Masher seems to be thinking of going. We have to decide what we're

doing by tomorrow, too."

Hekkeran's team only received the request and had yet to accept. They

had until the next day to give their response, but if they were going to go,

they had all sorts of preparations to make.

"And then this trouble comes up right when all this is going on… I

wonder if it's related."

"I can't say for sure other teams aren't scheming because they think they

can make a killing with this job, but we should talk to Arché first. If one of

the other teams is giving her grief, we should either leave the job on the table

or take it ready for a fight."

"We should fight, though, right? If someone tries to start something with

us, we should beat on them till all their teeth are chipped away so they never

do it again."

"That seems excessive…"

Imina was more cutthroat than she looked, but Hekkeran didn't think her

proposal was a bad idea.

If they were underestimated, he wouldn't go as far as to say their careers

were over, but people would definitely think less of them. That was

something workers, with one foot in the underworld, had to avoid.

When he silently nodded with a hard glint in his eye, a creak echoed

through the pub. Two figures entered through the wide-open door.

"Hey."

"We're back."

A woman's faint voice. And a moment later, so as not to talk over her, the

voice of a well-mannered man came as well.

The first to enter was a skinny woman for whom the word girl might still

be more appropriate.

She was probably in her mid to late teens. Her glossy hair was cropped

shoulder length, and she had an extremely pretty face. She was less of a

bombshell and more of an elegant beauty. There was something almost

inorganic about her, doll-like.

She carried an iron rod longer than she was tall. There were numerousing like that—inscribed on it.

She wore a loose fitting robe. Beneath that, she had thick clothes that gave her some degree of

protection. It was a look that made it clear she was a caster.

The man was clad in full plate armor, although he didn't go so far as to

wear a close helmet. Over it, he wore a surcoat decorated with a sigil. A

morning star was slung from his hip, and from his neck hung the same sigil

featured on his surcoat.

The outline of his face was rugged, but his short hair and bit of a welltrimmed beard gave him a clean-cut appearance. He looked to be around

thirty.

These were Hekkeran's other teammates, Arché Eeb Rile Furt and

Roberdyck Goltron.

"Oh, welcome back," Hekkeran replied stiffly. Is this good timing or

horrible?

"Is something the matter, you two?" Roberdyck spoke in a politer tone

than would be expected of the oldest member of the group. This stemmed

from his personality but also because they were equals as workers.

"N-no, nothing."

"Th-that's right. Like he said."

Arché and Roberdyck squinted at Hekkeran and Imina flapping their

hands.

"Uh, well, it's awkward to talk here. How about we go over there?"

Cutting to the chase with an earnest expression, Hekkeran pointed at a

round table in the back of the pub. "Before that: drinks. Hey, Imina. Where's

the innkeeper?"

Imina's expression seemed to say, You're finally asking? "Shopping. So

I'm watching the place for him."

"Seriously? Then what should we do? Just drink?"

"I'm fine without."

"Yeah, me too."

"…Okay… Then…well, uh, shall we start our meeting, Foresight?"

With that, everyone erased all traces of their previous expressions. They

leaned in around the table, bringing their faces closer together. Talking in this

conspiratorial manner even when no one else was around was like an

occupational disease.

"First, let's review the content of the request."

Hekkeran continued after confirming all eyes were on him. His tone was

completely different from the one he'd used up until this moment. When it

was time to get down to it, he got serious—as was only natural for a leader.

"The requester this time is Count Vemeer. The request is to survey some

ruins in kingdom territory, a large building—possibly a tomb—that extends

underground. The reward is two hundred in advance, a hundred and fifty

after. It's rare for a contract to have such a large advance, and the amount

overall is pretty big, too. There could also be additional compensation

depending on the outcome of the survey; however, all magic items

discovered go to the count. He'll allow the ones who found them to sell to

him at half off the market rate. Jewels, precious metals, and works of art will

be split fifty-fifty after determining their worth. He's been talking to other

teams as well and may hire more than one—this we've confirmed."

Hekkeran filled Arché and Roberdyck in on what he'd heard and then

returned to reviewing the content of the request.

"The survey will be three days at the longest. The assignment is to

examine the ruins from various angles. The most important thing is that he

thinks there are monsters there and wants to know what types and so on.

Well, I guess it's a fairly standard ruins investigation…"

It was quite common for monsters to nest in deserted cities and ruins. For

that reason, worker team surveys were usually more like reconnaissance-inforce missions.

"…except for one major thing. Supposedly this tomb has yet to be

discovered."

The moment he said it, the atmosphere changed.

A number of countries were destroyed two hundred years previously

when the evil spirits went on a rampage—not only human countries but

subhuman and grotesque nations as well. Sometimes there were extraordinary

treasures—usually magic items—sleeping in their ruins. Discovering these

treasures was the dream of any adventurer or worker.

That's why they all sought ruins that no one had ever looted. Foresight's

chance was right in front of them.

"Also, the count will provide transportation for the way there and back, as

well as food for the duration. I think that's it. Arché, Roberdyck, let's hear

your report." Noting the gleams in his teammates' eyes, he passed the ball to

the two who had been out gathering intelligence, starting with Arché.

"Then I'll go first. Count Vemeer's position at court isn't so great. There

was a rumor that the Fresh Blood Emperor treats him coldly. I also heard that

he's not hard up for money."

"We're supposed to survey these ruins in kingdom territory, but Arché

and I both looked and couldn't find any rumors of ruins in that area or any

indication that there was a city there in the past. If there really is a tomb there,

it wouldn't be strange for some information to have been left behind, but…

honestly, it doesn't even make sense for it to exist. Geographically, all that's

over there is a little village. If we ask around the village, we might be able to

learn something, but…"

"We can't do that. We're supposed to keep this under wraps as much as

possible, although he did say we don't need to do anything to anyone who

sees us and that he'd rather we didn't."

"That makes sense. The area is directly under kingdom jurisdiction. One

wrong step and we could make enemies of the Vaiself family and the whole

country."

It was practically a crime to survey ruins in another country's territory,

which was why this request had come to workers, not adventurers.

"So it's just a typical dirty job?"

"Yeah, but there is that one little problem," said Roberdyck.

"Well, yeah. If workers from the empire got rowdy in the kingdom, there

would be all kinds of issues. If we're not careful, an incident might be

possible to trace back to the count."

"In that case, there's one question."

"You mean where the tip about the ruins came from?"

"Yeah. It's weird no matter how you look at it."

"Really? It's near the Tove Woodlands, right? Couldn't it have just been

discovered while clearing the forest?"

"Nah, that doesn't make sense. Look at this." Arché spread out a map and

drew a circle around one location. "I don't know the details, but supposedly

it's around here." She moved her small finger and tapped. "And here, there's

a village, but it's pretty small. More like a hamlet. I highly doubt the people

in that village have the wherewithal to clear the forest."

"Hmm, you're right. Clearing the dangerous woodlands would be nearly

impossible for a tiny village like that… It could be that the kingdom

undertook clearing the forest as a state project, but location-wise I can't

imagine there's a reason they'd be so interested. And in the first place, there's

no information floating around about a project like that."

The four of them racked their brains. Should we really take this job?

Because they didn't have the support of an organization like the

Adventurers Guild, they needed to scrutinize the details of each job. First,

they looked into the background of the requester; then they researched the

location. Only upon then examining the content of the request would they

finally take the job. Even after being so thorough, they often ran into trouble.

Workers risked their lives on their work. No matter how much they

investigated it would never feel like enough, but they couldn't stay in the

business unless they were thorough. If a job seemed too dangerous for them

to handle, they had to leave the offer on the table no matter how good the

terms were.

"…When I confirmed about the payment, he gave me the advance…"

Hekkeran set a gold plate on the table. It was inscribed with lots of little

letters. If they refused the job, they had to give it back. "I checked the gold

ticket at the bank, and the full amount has been paid. We can cash it at any

time."

Gold tickets, managed by the empire and guaranteed by the bank, were

like checks.

The downsides were that to make them hard to counterfeit they were quite

elaborate and took time to prepare and that there was a fee involved, but the

benefits were innumerable.

In nearby countries, it was usually the Adventurers Guild that did this

work, but in the empire, the tickets were backed by the state.

"So it's not a trap… Well, I figure we can assume they're serious if

they've given us a gold ticket."

If it was a trap, there would have been no need to pay such a high

advance. Of course, it could have been a ploy to make them think that and

lower their guard, but Hekkeran couldn't think of a reason a noble he'd never

even met would have something against him.

"I think—"

"Wait. Imina, I'm not finished. I want you to keep your mind a little more

open."

"Sure. Then tell me: There are a few things I don't understand, even for a

rush job. For example, hiring multiple teams. Why is he doing that?"

It was just as Imina said. Considering the time it would take to contact

everyone, it was strange to hire multiple teams if he was in a hurry.

"Not sure. I don't know why it's a rush job in the first place. I haven't

heard anything about any of his associates having some sort of emergency,

and it's not like there's a ceremony or anything coming up in a few days. If

anything, I imagine it's because he's worried the kingdom will discover the

ruins? And hiring more teams yields a better chance of success?"

"Hey, Hekkeran. Did Gringham's team have any ideas?"

"You think he would tell me if they did? Plus, I had my hands full trying

not to leak any of the information we'd acquired while asking him if he'd

been contacted." Hekkeran shrugged as if saying he didn't know what else he

could have done.

"It could be that the count has a rival."

"That is a possibility. That would explain the rush and the large number of

workers. Oh, right. Something big happened in the kingdom recently. Not

that it seems to have anything to do with these ruins in the E-Rantel area…"

"Tell us anyhow, Rober…"

After prefacing his report with "I didn't really get much on it" and "It's

basically a rumor," Roberdyck gave an uncertain description of the huge

incident that had occurred in the royal capital. He said he would need more

time to be able to say anything further, but sure enough, as it stood it was a

rather unreliable, fractured account.

"Hmm. It might be related, but it might not be. For the time being,

Arché's idea seems the most plausible. And you agreed, too, Rober."

"If we make that assumption, then…considering the multiple teams and

the fact that it's a job in kingdom territory, it's possible that we'll be up

against kingdom adventurers there by official request. We wouldn't be able

to find that out just by asking around in the empire."

"The other thing we have to watch out for is a team requested by someone

else—a hidden threat. No way I am getting my head cut off in my sleep right

when we think we've accomplished our goal."

"Are adventurers a threat? They're better than the alternative. At least

with adventurers, you can negotiate and it won't get ugly."

"If it's workers, people will die."

"What do you think, boss?"

Nothing had been left unsaid. All they could do now was speculate and

make predictions.

"Before we decide, there's one thing I need to say…well, ask, I guess."

Hekkeran heaved a sigh, and Imina quietly held her breath.

"Arché, there was a weird guy here to see you."

Arché's almost artificial-looking expression contained barely any

emotion, but now her eyebrows twitched. From that reaction, Hekkeran

gathered that she knew who it was.

"When he left, he said… Er, what did he say?"

When he turned to Imina, he was met with a What are you talking about?

look, but then she realized he really couldn't remember and said in an

exhausted voice, "He said, 'Tell the Furt girl that her time is up.'"

"Yeah, that's it."

Everyone's eyes turned to Arché. She took a breath and spoke reluctantly.

"I'm in debt."

"In debt?!" Hekkeran yelped in spite of himself. Naturally, he wasn't the

only one in shock. Imina and Roberdyck also looked surprised. They all

knew how much each member made as workers because they split their

rewards evenly. With that much going into their pockets, debt was

inconceivable.

"How much?!"

"Three hundred gold…"

The others exchanged glances again.

In terms of an ordinary salary, it was an outrageous amount. Even as

workers of their caliber, it was impossible to earn that in one job. Yes, the

total for this job would come out to three hundred and fifty, but that was the

reward for the entire team. From there, necessary expenses such as

communally used consumables plus other team-based spending would be

deducted. In the end they would each get about sixty.

Their team was fairly elite as worker teams went. In adventurer terms,

they had ability equal to a mythril-rank team. How had she managed to go so

far into debt that even at their class she couldn't pay it off in one job?

Arché probably sensed all their puzzled eyes. Her face was gloomy.

Of course, she didn't want to talk about it. But she couldn't not. If she cut

off the conversation here, it wouldn't be surprising for her to be kicked off

the team.

Perhaps realizing that, she finally spoke again. "I couldn't tell you

because it's humiliating for my family. We were stripped of our noble status

by the Fresh Blood Emperor."

The Fresh Blood Emperor—Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix.

As the sobriquet implied, he was an emperor whose hands were stained

with blood.

He'd assumed the throne directly after mourning his father, the previous

emperor, who died in a freak accident. Immediately following the emperor's

death, he broke off relations with one of the five great noble families—his

mother's family—based on the suspicion that they assassinated the emperor.

He then consigned each of his siblings one by one to oblivion. As if carried

away on the winds of death that raged across the land, his mother also died in

an accident around that time.

Of course, there was an opposition. But they were no match for the then

crown prince, who had the force of the knights at his disposal. With that

overwhelming military power behind him, he cleaned up the nobles as if he

were reaping ears of wheat until only the ones who—whether sincerely or not

—swore loyalty to the emperor remained, and his assumption of absolute

centralized rule was complete.

But the Fresh Blood Emperor didn't stop there. He stripped many nobles

of their status on the grounds of "We don't need any useless people," and

instead, he promoted anyone with ability, including commoners, further

solidifying his authority.

There were two things about this that astounded everyone. One was that

the cleanup of opposing nobles, carried out on an impossible scale, was done

with such inspired efficiency that it didn't decrease the nation's power. The

second was that the emperor who had achieved it was still a young teenager.

Nobles who had been ruined by this man weren't hard to find, but—

"The thing is, my parents are still living as if they're nobles. Of course,

they don't have the money for that. So they're borrowing from this sort of

nasty guy to make up the difference."

The other three looked at one another.

They were doing a good job hiding it, but it was still possible to detect

their irritation, displeasure, and anger.

I'm a good caster. I want to join you, a skinny kid holding a staff taller

than she was had said. It seemed like Hekkeran wasn't the only one recalling

how stunned they'd been back then—and how dumbfounded when they

found out what she could do.

Since then, over two years of adventure after adventure, where one wrong

step would have meant death, no matter how much money they made, it

seemed like her gear had barely changed at all.

Now they finally knew why.

"Are you serious?! Want me to give them a real talking-to?"

"We should teach them the words of the gods. Or perhaps fists first."

"Maybe their ears don't have any holes, and we need to start by making

some!"

"Please wait. Since I've said this much, let me also say…depending on

what happens, I might take my little sisters and leave."

"You have little sisters?"

Arché nodded, and the other three looked at one another again. They

couldn't say it, but they all felt that maybe they should force her to quit this

line of work.

Certainly, workers made more money than adventurers, but the catch was

that the jobs could be extremely dangerous. Foresight meant choosing jobs

only after making sure they were safe, but unforeseen issues cropped up all

the time.

If things went poorly, it was entirely possible Arché could die and leave

her sisters behind. But everyone felt they shouldn't poke their noses any

further into her business.

"I see… Well, for now at least we understand your issue. We'll leave you

to solve that, but as far as whether or not to accept this job…" Having said

that much, he cast a cold look at Arché. "Arché, sorry, but you don't get to

vote this time."

"You don't have to be sorry. It's no problem. I know I might not choose

correctly, given my financial troubles."

Money can make you blind.

"Honestly, I'm just glad I'm not getting kicked off the team."

"What are you talking about? We're lucky to have a caster with your

skills."

He wasn't just being polite. It was the truth.

Especially with regards to the talent she'd been born with. Hekkeran and

the team had been saved by her miraculous eyes more than a few times.

To give a name to Arché's special ability, perhaps something like "magic

detection eyes."

Apparently arcane casters had an invisible aura of magical energy

surrounding them, and Arché could see it and know what tiers of magic they

could use.

It was unnecessary to explain how useful it was to be able to gauge an

opponent's power.

As far as Hekkeran and the others knew, there was only one other person

in the empire with that ability—the greatest, most powerful wizard in the

country, Fluder Paradyne.

In other words, Arché was Fluder's equal, if only when talking about their

eyes.

"I can't believe the magic academy let such an outstanding student get

away."

"Truly. You're so young, yet you can use the same tier as me. You might

make it to tier six someday."

"That seems hard, but if there were even a slight possibility, I'd be

happy."

When the atmosphere had relaxed somewhat, Hekkeran clapped his hands

together. The dry sound drew everyone's eyes.

"So, are we going to take this job or not? Roberdyck?"

"I'm fine with it."

"Imina?"

"Why not? We haven't had a proper job in quite a while."

Worker jobs didn't come along so often. Indeed, the previous week they'd

been exterminating undead on the Katze Plain, but they were simply paid for

how many they killed. Taking on a job from a requester was a bit different.

"Then—"

"If you're worrying about me, please don't. Even if we don't take this job,

I'll find another way to make money."

The three of them exchanged glances, and then Imina grinned. "No way!

Hadn't even crossed our minds. I mean, it's not a bad job, you know. We

want that fat reward! Right, Roberdyck?"

"That's right. We're not doing it for you but for the many items sleeping

in those undiscovered ruins. Isn't that so, Hekkeran?"

"Like the man said, Arché, although it's too bad we won't get famous as

the ones to discover them."

"Thank you, everyone."

Arché bobbed her head, and the others looked at one another and smiled.

"Okay, so Arché will come with me to cash the gold ticket. You two, start

getting the stuff for our adventure ready."

They couldn't slack on checking their magic items, making sure they had

rope and oil—all the equipment they'd need for their trip. It was appropriate

work for methodical Roberdyck and Imina with her thief skills. Or maybe

Hekkeran was just awful at it.

"Okay, let's get going, but Arché…"

Arché cocked her head as if to say, What? and Hekkeran posed the

question on his mind.

"You know, we won't make enough on this job to pay back your debts."

"It's okay. If I pay that much, I can get him to wait a little longer."

"We could lend you the rest!" Imina chimed in.

"Sure. You can just pay us back after the next job," added Roberdyck.

They wouldn't just give it to her; that much was a given. The members of

Foresight were equals.

"I'll pass. Really, my parents should be the ones paying it back, but I'll

put in my time and do my filial duty."

"That makes sense."

The four of them exchanged glances and then set about their respective

tasks.

3

In one district of the imperial capital was a high-class residential district lined

with old yet sturdy, formerly gorgeous mansions on spacious plots. As one

might expect, the masters of these historic yet by no means outmoded houses

were mostly nobles.

A noble's residence was a status symbol, and one who didn't decorate

their house because they felt it was a waste of money would be ridiculed.

Furnishings, jewelry, clothing, house, garden—these elegantly

ornamented items were the equivalent of military might on the battlefield of

noble society. They accurately conveyed not only a noble's wealth but also

the breadth and depth of their social connections. Living in a shabby house

was enough to be looked down upon. For that reason, unless they were of a

military temperament and had next to no interest in politics, nobles decked

out both themselves and their houses. In a way, it was like a demonstration of

martial power, one only people with enough clout could make.

Looking around the area, a few things were apparent.

The neighborhood was in a very safe part of the capital and was quiet, but

the silence seemed to stem from something else. There were many houses

that lacked any human presence.

And in fact, there wasn't anyone in those houses. They'd been abandoned

by former nobles, who could no longer maintain them, stripped of their rank

by the Fresh Blood Emperor.

Amid the empty boxes were some houses that were still inhabited, but

their outer walls had fallen into disrepair and the pruning of the trees in the

yard had been neglected.

In the sitting room of one of those houses, wearing a hard expression,

Arché was welcomed by her parents. Their faces had the well-bred noble

look, and they wore well-tailored clothes.

"Oh, welcome home, Arché."

"Welcome back."

Before replying to them, she shifted her gaze to the piece of glasswork on

the table. It was an extremely elaborate sculpture shaped like a cup and had

the prim air peculiar to luxury items.

Her brow twitched because she had never seen it before.

"What's that?"

"Ah, this is a piece by the artist Jean—"

"That's not what I'm asking. This wasn't here before. Why is it here

now?"

"Well, because we bought it this morning."

Her father's remark, as casual as if he were discussing the weather, sent a

wave of shock through Arché's body.

"For how much?"

"Hmm… I believe it was fifteen gold pieces. A steal, don't you think?"

Arché's shoulders slumped. It was a natural reaction for anyone who had

just used their advance to pay off part of a debt only to return home and find

that same debt had increased once more.

"Why did you buy it?"

"Any noble would become a laughingstock if they didn't spend money on

things like this."

Arché couldn't help but give a hostile glare to her father, with that proud

look on his face.

"We're not nobles anymore."

At her words, his face hardened and flushed. "You're wrong." He

thumped the table. Perhaps it was lucky that since the sitting room table was

so thick, the glass cup didn't budge. Arché had no problem with it breaking,

but it probably wouldn't have even fazed her father. He would just think,

Well, it was only fifteen gold pieces…

While Arché suppressed her irritation, her father continued shouting,

spittle flying from his lips. "Once that wretched fool dies, our family will

resume our status as nobles! Our house has supported the empire for over a

hundred years! I will not forgive this interruption of our glorious history!

This is an investment for the future, and besides, by showing off our power

like this, we can send a message to that villain that we won't give in!"

Idiot.

That was Arché's opinion of her excitable, arrogant father. "That villain"

was surely the Fresh Blood Emperor, but he probably didn't care one bit

about their family. Plus, shouldn't there have been a better way to get back at

him?

Prisoner of his own little world, her father couldn't see outside.

Arché shook her head weakly.

"Would you two please stop fighting?"

Her mother's leisurely tone triggered a temporary truce.

She stood up and handed Arché a small bottle. "Arché, I bought you some

perfume."

"How much was it?"

"Three gold pieces."

"Oh…thanks."

That makes eighteen. She calculated the total in her head as she thanked

her mother, took the bottle that had barely anything in it, and put it away in a

secure pocket.

Arché had a hard time being cold to her mother. And from a certain

perspective, things like perfume and makeup could be considered smart

purchases.

If she dressed up and attended the right party, a powerful noble might fall

in love with her. The idea that a woman's happiness was in marriage,

pregnancy, and child-rearing was considered correct by most nobles. Buying

those sorts of things as an investment toward that end wasn't so wrong.

Still, she didn't feel it was appropriate to be shelling out for perfume right

now, considering the family's situation. An ordinary household could sustain

itself for a month on three gold.

"I've told you a million times, but you shouldn't waste money. Only buy

the minimum daily necessities."

"But I just told you! This is a necessity!"

Her father cast an exasperated look at her, his face splotchy with rage.

They'd had this conversation any number of times, and it always ended in a

compromise. Arché partly blamed herself for things having gotten this bad. If

she had made some kind of power move earlier on, this wouldn't have

happened, and she wouldn't have caused trouble for her teammates in

Foresight.

"I'm not contributing any more money to this household. I'm taking my

sisters and leaving."

This quiet announcement made her father furious. His first thought was

probably, "Then who'll make the money?" she thought icily.

"Who do you think has supported you up until now?!"

"I've repaid my debts to you," she declared. The money she had given

them already was quite a sum. And it was money made on adventures that

was supposed to go toward growing stronger with her friends. Of course,

everyone was free to use their rewards how they liked, but there was a tacit

understanding that a good part of the funds would go toward building up their

strength.

What had her friends thought of her, seeing that she never bought new

gear?

Not upgrading her equipment meant that one of the team's members was

weaker than the others.

But no one ever said anything to her about it. She'd taken advantage of

their goodwill.

Arché scowled fiercely. It was a gaze that conveyed her tenacious will,

and her father averted his eyes like a coward. Of course he did. There was no

way Arché, who had survived any number of life-and-death battles, could

lose to a foolish noble.

With a glance at her father, who had nothing more to say, Arché left the

room.

She closed the door behind her and sighed. Then a voice addressed her, as

if it had been waiting for the chance.

"Miss."

"Jimes, what is it?"

Jimes was the family's longtime butler. His wrinkled face was taut with

worry. She knew why immediately—because she'd seen the expression

several times since her father was stripped of his noble status.

"It pains me to bring this sort of thing up with you, miss, but…"

Arché interrupted him with a raised hand to indicate he needn't say any

more. She had the feeling it wasn't a conversation they should have right

outside the sitting room, however, and they moved a short distance away.

Arché took a small leather pouch from her breast pocket and opened it.

There were various gleams inside. Most of them were silver and then copper.

Precious few were gold.

"Will this be enough somehow?"

When Jimes took the pouch and examined its contents, his face softened

slightly. "This should…suffice for my salary and to repay the merchant."

"Good." Arché sighed with relief that ends would somehow meet, even

though the family was hovering near bankruptcy.

"You couldn't stop him from shopping?"

"No. The seller came with a noble he knows. I did try a few times, but…"

"I see…"

They both sighed.

"I wanted to ask you… If I were to let all the staff go, what is the

minimum amount of money I would need to prepare?"

Jimes's eyes widened slightly, and then he smiled sadly. The fact that he

wasn't shaken must have meant he'd been expecting it.

"I'll make an approximate calculation and inform you later."

"Thanks."

Just then they heard the sound of scampering footsteps coming down the

hall. Arché didn't have to look to know who it was.

The corners of her mouth relaxed into a weak smile, and she turned

around to see a single figure dashing toward her. It plowed straight into her

without slowing.

The one who leaped at her was a girl scarcely over three feet tall. She

must have been about five years old. Her eyes looked very much like

Arché's. She puffed out her pink cheeks in disapproval.

"You're so hard!"

She wasn't calling Arché's chest flat.

Clothing for adventures that made generous use of treated leather

provided good defense. The pieces covering Arché's chest and abdomen were

particularly tough. That's what the little girl had jumped into—she probably

felt like she'd been crushed.

"Are you okay?" Arché caressed her face and patted her head.

"Yep, I'm okay, Arché!" The little girl grinned, and Arché smiled at her

younger sister.

"…I'll take my leave."

Arché nodded at the butler as he withdrew to give them space, and then

she ruffled her sister's hair.

"Uré, running might not…" Having said that much, she hesitated. It was

absolutely improper for a noble's daughter to run down the hall, but as she

had told her father, they weren't nobles anymore. Wasn't it fine to let her run

around, then?

Arché's hand hadn't stopped moving during that time, and the little girl

getting her hair messed up erupted in carefree giggles.

Arché looked around and saw that the other one wasn't there. "Where's

Koudé?"

"In our room!"

"Oh yeah? …There's something I want to talk to you guys about. Let's go

find her."

"Okay!"

Her smile's so cheerful. It's my job to protect it. With that strong sense of

mission, Arché took her sister's hand.

She could feel the warmth of the little hand completely surrounded by her

own.

"Your hands are hard, Arché."

Arché looked at her free hand. Cut numerous times during adventures and

calloused, they were no longer the hands of a daughter of a noble family. She

didn't regret it, though. Her hands were proof of her time with her friends,

Foresight.

"But I love them!"

Arché smiled as her sister squeezed her hand. "Thanks."

The imperial capital's northern market was bustling with activity as usual.

But since most of the shoppers who came here weren't ordinary folk, the

crowd wasn't jam-packed like the central market; here it was possible to walk

along the rows of stalls and browse without bumping into people.

Hekkeran and Roberdyck arrived and began strolling around, relaxed in

the familiar atmosphere. They could be so easygoing, as if the words on

guard had been erased from their dictionary, because there were no

pickpockets or other robbers—it was possibly the safest place in the whole

safe capital.

"So, Hekkeran, what are we going to buy?"

"First, healing items. Pricewise, I'm aiming for Slight Cure Wounds

wands or maybe Middle Cure Wounds wands… But not if they have only

half their uses left. Since we're going to a tomb, we might end up using them

on undead, too. Besides those, we'll want basic undead countermeasures,

items that will work against poison and disease. If possible, I'd like to make

sure we have stuff that will work against negative energy and incorporeal

undead, too… Items with permanent enchantment are expensive, so any

scrolls with the right magic will do fine."

Wands were items containing multiple uses of a spell, so the rate per cast

ended up cheaper than single-use scrolls. Thus, it was possible to save money

by buying wands of commonly used spells, like ones to heal wounds.

"Is that so? I thought maybe you were here to buy a gift and that you

invited me to get my opinion."

"A gift?"

"…Never mind, Hekkeran. Let's find those bargains!"

"…R-right."

The shops at this open-air market carried a lot of shabby-looking items.

Most of the stalls were a single thin board as a display table with only one

thing on it. Almost nothing was new; they were mainly scruffy, worn-out,

secondhand items.

The keepers of these shops seemed fairly capable themselves, for the most

part. With thick biceps or the look of a magic caster, these sellers seemed like

they would be better at battle than setting prices or haggling. At first glance,

it appeared that security guards were manning the shops, but they really were

the shopkeepers—for this one day only. Normally they made their livings as

adventurers or workers. In other words, they were in the same line of work as

Hekkeran and Roberdyck.

They were selling things they had been using or items they had discovered

on their adventurers but which wouldn't be used by someone on their team—

stuff they didn't need. Finding a buyer themselves rather than selling to a

merchant who specialized in magic items or the Wizards Guild (since there

wasn't a broker fee) was better for both sellers and buyers, even considering

the small fee paid to the commerce guild to set up shop.

That's why most workers and adventurers like Hekkeran and his friends

tended to come here first. Some people even showed up daily during their

stay at the capital to hunt for deals.

It was also the reason there was virtually no crime in the northern market.

Who would willingly attempt to prey on shopkeepers specialized in combat?

They would deserve whatever awful things happened to them.

After looking around for a little while, Hekkeran and Roberdyck's faces

weren't grim, but they weren't cheerful, either.

"Nothing, huh?"

"Nothing."

The items on sale were ones their owners didn't need, so naturally

Hekkeran and his team didn't need most of them, either. If they had been

lower-rank adventurers or green workers, they might have bought some

things, but unfortunately, there was nothing they wanted, even with the needs

of their two other teammates in mind.

"That's too bad. Maybe it would have been faster to just buy things

normally."

"Well, we came hoping for deals. Can't help it if there aren't any. This

sort of persistent frugality is step one of saving money, you know."

"Saving money, hmm…? What do you think will happen, Hekkeran?"

"I'd be a super-elite caster if I knew what you were talking about just

from that… Arché, right?"

"See, you know."

"Well, I was kinda able to guess from the thread of our conversation…"

"So you know what I'm trying to say then, right?"

"You mean that this might be our last adventure?"

"Please don't say it in such a depressing way." Roberdyck winced. "But I

suppose you're not far off. Arché was talking about taking in her little sisters.

If that happens, it won't be very easy for her to go adventuring."

"Yeah, guess not. She'll have to pick up a trade or find some job where

she can make money without traveling."

"I'm sure she'll find a job fast enough. She's a caster who can use tierthree spells. I don't know how many little sisters she has, but she should be

able to make enough to support a family of three or four."

"Yes, most likely. She wouldn't say she would take them in if she didn't

have the means."

"So then we're the ones with the problem. If our wizard leaves the team,

what'll we do to get a new member?"

"Wonder if there are any free tier-three arcane casters around."

"Please save the dreams for bedtime… If we were adventurers, we could

have the guild find someone for us, but looking on our own…it will mainly

come down to luck."

The pair looked at each other and sighed in unison.

The death of a friend, being unable to keep up, or being more capable than

the rest of the team—those were the types of reasons adventurers and

workers quit their teams. It certainly wasn't an uncommon occurrence. On

the contrary, being with the same team for one's entire career was quite rare,

and most people switched two or three times.

That went for Hekkeran, Roberdyck, and Imina as well.

But that was an entirely different issue from whether they would be able

to easily find an arcane caster, not to mention one who could use tier-three

spells.

"We could get someone who can use tier two and train them up?"

"Shouldn't that be our last resort? I'd rather not train someone if we can

help it."

"Poaching someone would be tricky. And so many workers are morally

bankrupt to begin with; we really need to be careful who we team up with.

No combat maniacs or whatnot…""In that sense, our team is kind of a miracle."

"The unusual case of a team that came together simply because we all just

wanted money. Well, I guess we found out about Arché's issues after the

fact, so not quite."

"Miss Arché showed up right as we were trying to figure out what to do

about our final member…" Roberdyck was looking off into the distance.

Hekkeran figured his eyes must have been doing the same thing.

"I even remember what I was drinking that day… Her appearance was so

timely it made me think that perhaps the gods formed our team."

"Really? Wow. I don't remember it as well as you, Rober. What were you

drinking?"

"Water."

"That's what you always drink! You basically never touch the hard stuff.

I'd hate it if you drank as much as Imina, but…"

"Imina sure is a handful when she's drunk. Anyhow, it's not my fault I

can't stomach it."

"Well, yeah, you turn red, blue, and then white from just one glass. I

wonder how it would have been if you hadn't protected yourself against

poison the first time you drank."

"Maybe you'd have a different teammate standing here instead of me.

Some people die from alcohol, you know." Roberdyck shrugged. "Let's get

back to the topic at hand. What should we do if Arché leaves? Is there a

chance we'll disband?"

"If we can't find another member, that'll be our only choice, won't it? It's

too dangerous to take jobs with only three of us… Maybe we could go back

to being adventurers?"

"I absolutely refuse to follow the shrines' rules when all I want to do is

save people. If it came to that, I would just retire."

"Retire…? That wouldn't be so bad, either."

"I have some money saved up. I'd like to do some kind of work that is

useful, that helps the weak. I wouldn't mind working the fields in a frontier

village and acting as a pseudo-priest. What would your plan be, Hekkeran?"

"Hmm, what would I do?"

The corners of Roberdyck's mouth tweaked upward. "…Is it all right for

you to decide that all on your own?"

It took a little while for Hekkeran to see what Roberdyck was getting at.Finally the implication sunk in, and his face twitched. "What?!"

"Heh-heh." It was a wicked laugh. "Did you think we wouldn't notice?"

"Ahh, ahh. Ahh! Ahh! But it's not like we were trying to hide it. It just

wasn't the right time, you know? …So that's what you were talking about

with the gift."

"Who made the first move?"

"Hey, Roberdyck! Look over there!"

Hekkeran was pointing to a pair of people browsing items in a splendid

tent.

One was a warrior clad in raven-black armor. A crimson cape hung down

the figure's back, draped over huge swords.

"Quite a contrived way to change the subject… Well, that's fine. I'll have

you tell me all about it later. Mhmm, that is some impressive gear. If the

person inside is worthy of it, they would be one skilled warrior. Maybe

someone we know got new armor?"

"I'm not positive, but I don't think it's anyone I've seen around the

imperial capital before. And besides, see that woman standing there kind of

hidden? She's a new face."

"I don't have a good angle. Who's more beautiful, her or Miss Imina?"

"Don't go there, man. I can't be answering a question like that… But

honestly, the lady standing over there is prettier."

"Miss Imina is quite a pretty lady. If you, head over heels in love, would

say that, then… I see. They must be travelers or adventurers who ended up

here. Or maybe they're going to start with a fresh base in the city."

"But they're shopping around the daily-use magic items. Isn't that

weird?"

There were all sorts of enchanted goods inside the splendid tent but not

the kind adventurers or workers would use—more just for everyday use. For

example, one was a Refrigerator—a box that could be filled with chill to

protect items held inside. There was also a Fan, which created a nice breeze.

Most of these items had been thought up two hundred years ago by the

minotaur known as the All-Talk Sage.

He was a warrior, and the nickname came from the fact that he proposed

lots of items but didn't have the ability to make them, nor could he explain

why they were shaped like they were or by what logic he'd arrived at them.

Supposedly, he was a first-rate warrior, though, to the point where there

were still fishy-sounding legends being told, saying he could whip up

tornados with a swing of his ax and split the earth if he struck it. He was also

known for mobilizing the large country of minotaurs, who thought of humans

only as food, to elevate the human race to the status of slave laborers.

Adventurers usually lived in inns, so it was rare to see one interested in

buying household items thought up by that subhuman. They were difficult to

take on adventures.

"It's not so strange. The empire's magic technology is fairly advanced.

You can buy things cheaper than in other countries, so perhaps they estimate

shopping is worth it even figuring in the effort of taking their purchases

home."

"Ahh, I see. That could be."

"Certainly if you figured us as the standard customer, it'd be odd, but I

don't think it's so weird for someone passing through."

"Yeah, that makes sense. When I think of it that way, I understand why

they look so invested."

The warrior in the armor was inspecting all the magic items very

thoroughly—opening and closing the doors, holding things up, flipping them

over. Hekkeran thought he could see beads of sweat forming on the

merchant's forehead.

"Maybe we should get that invested in our own search."

"Yeah."