Observing Marsheim, I thought it resembled a city structured like terraced rice paddies.
Terraced rice paddies are created on slopes and have a shape akin to drawers of a dresser pulled out slightly, one above the other.
Similarly, Marsheim, with its castle situated atop a hill, continued to expand by adding city walls around it, resulting in semi-circular — sometimes distorted polygonal — formations layered one after another. Due to this structure, when viewed from above, it gives the impression of terraced rice paddies.
This is most likely due to the city’s history.
Marsheim has been a land of constant territorial disputes with landlords since the establishment of the Threefold Empire. While the actual control continued from its establishment, prolonged conflicts with landlords and satellite states caused bloodshed for a long time. In short, it was recently a conflict zone and also the forefront for the empire’s engagements with foreign nations.
It is said that even when the entire empire was at peace, tranquil times in this land could be counted on one hand. This place, known as Enderede, is indeed a tumultuous territory.
Originally, Marsheim was not a city. When the Baron of the Frontier repeatedly clashed with landlords and satellite states, a castle was constructed as a military stronghold. Over time, as the battles ceased, it gradually developed according to necessity, and people gathered, resulting in a city formed without much planning.
Incidentally, there’s an interesting anecdote about the Marsheim castle.
It is said that it appeared overnight along with the hill.
This could be seen from a distant crossroad, as the surrounding area is an expansive flat land where the horizon curves, and the presence of the hill with the castle in the middle looks rather unnatural.
Given the wide open space and good access for transportation, it has frequently been chosen as a battlefield.
If a castle were built in such a strategic location, it would offer immense tactical and strategic advantages.
Perhaps the old Baron of the Frontier also thought the same and attempted to build a castle multiple times. However, landlords understood that controlling this place would be disadvantageous for them, so they obstructed the construction and tried to build their own, leading to a bitter cycle of castle-building conflicts.
Despite the massive investment of both material and human resources, they only managed to create piles of debris repeatedly, an all-too-human waste of effort. Then, one Baron came up with a bold plan.
“If it takes too long to prepare and build on site, then we should prepare it beforehand and bring it here.”
The Baron committed everything to this all-or-nothing strategy, almost exhausting the local economy. They gathered large amounts of earth and sand, collected materials to assemble the castle, hired dozens of earth-moving mages from neighboring territories, and gathered as many carts as possible.
With little regard for loss and at incredible speed, they forcibly created a hill in the center of the plain, a strategic location, and erected a castle on it.
At this moment, I couldn’t help but wonder: had someone from my hometown given them advice?
Surely, the story of the castle’s appearance overnight, embellished over generations, is a bit exaggerated. Initially, they must have only managed to set up a basic fortress on the hill. However, it must have been a significant advantage. The landlords’ commanders must have been at a loss when they saw the hill and fortress appear overnight.
The thought of visiting such a city steeped in historical romance thrilled me. The castle atop the hill is protected by tall walls, and the surrounding city and breastworks vary in height, with some parts having a mosaic-like repair pattern, creating an atmosphere that befits the city’s storied past.
The roof tiles and building heights are not uniformly aligned as they are in the Imperial Capital, probably due to a lack of funds to make such adjustments — an intriguingly practical reason.
The crowd gathered at the gates also caught my interest. There were people of the Human Race, naturally, but also the Magical Species and demi-humans, all mingling in a vivid spectacle with various loads and attire. I even saw Human Races with unique skin tones and unfamiliar demi-human species that I hadn’t seen in the capital before.
Wow! Isn’t that a mermaid poking out from a water-laden cart being pulled by porters? This is quite intriguing. But how did it get here? If it swam up a river, can it survive in both seawater and freshwater?
Ah, at first, I thought it was an optical illusion, but one of the guards handling entry procedures at the gate appears to have four arms? This is a human-related species with shoulder joints branching into two pairs of arms. I’ve never seen one in the capital, so it could be an immigrant. From the southern lands like the spider people, it seems. Watching this guard handle a spear in one hand and a notepad in the other while processing incoming visitors makes me slightly envious of having four hands.
Ah, that must be a centaur-like being instead of a horse pulling the carts. Unlike the centaurs from Greek mythology, which are either savages or prodigies, these are demi-humans from the central continent that lead a nomadic life. I remember them from the military records for their highly acclaimed human-horse unified cavalry tactics from the Eastern Expeditionary War.
Though the bustling Imperial Capital was good, this uncontrolled busyness feels exhilarating. It’s as if opening new lands in a game, flipping pages to experience something new, and it’s an extraordinary pleasure to adapt to the unknown through travel.
And it seems I wasn’t the only one entranced by this delight.
Margit, who had acted maturely up the hill until now, prompting me to go ahead, seemed quiet on my back. I could feel her body moving slightly; she must be looking around curiously, sharing the “excited traveler’s mood.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Yes… it really is.”
When I tried to talk to her, she responded in an uncharacteristically casual tone.
She had mentioned visiting an ancient city near her hometown, but the atmosphere here must be quite different. It’s understandable that she’s amazed.
As I rode closer to the city on Castor, I gradually understood the flow of the crowd. Merchants seemed to head to the south gate, citizens of Marsheim carrying loads to the north gate, and mercenaries and adventurers wielding armor boxes and weapons toward the west gate.
There must be a division of roles by gate similar to the capital. The guards’ responses likely differ based on who arrives, indicating efficiency.
Upon turning our horses toward what seemed to be our designated gate, the line stretched quite far. The mixed crowd had some still in full armor and others in casual travel attire, and there was a somewhat tense atmosphere. Observing further, there seemed to be more guards here than at other gates, and they appeared well-trained.
It’s likely that because they deal with those who make a living through violence, there is plenty of conflict. Even small disputes can escalate into brawls, causing trouble, I suppose.
“Hey, kid!”
Suddenly, a voice called from below, so I lowered my gaze and saw an imposing bald man.
He casually hoisted an armor case that must have weighed considerably, making him appear truly formidable. Standing well over two heads taller than me with a chest thick enough to hold two children stacked, topped with a harsh, almost bandit-like face, he radiated an oppressive presence. Quite frankly, a child lacking courage would likely cry or run upon seeing him.
“Nice horse there, what’s its name?”
However, contrary to his intimidating appearance, his topic was surprisingly mundane. His stern face lit up with delight as he scrutinized Castor and Polydeuces with evident enjoyment. The horses didn’t seem uncomfortable, likely sensing no ill intent from him.
“My horse here is Castor, the other is Polydeuces.”
Despite his imposing figure, he didn’t seem like a bad person. His demeanor was gentle, his tone rough but not rude, more like a jovial old man at a racetrack.
“Foreign names? Haven’t heard many like those. But they sound great—brave, ain’t they?”
He nodded in agreement, muttering something about stallions as they should be. This made him seem even more like a horse-loving elder.
“Your horse is a bit on the heavy side but built sturdy, he’s got to be fast, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, with a load or pulling a carriage, it’s the best in the empire.”
“Of course. Look at that smooth neck—he’s a real gentleman.”
Neck set refers to the shape of a horse’s neck, a term used by those familiar with horses. A horse’s speed is often judged by its body as well as neck shape, making it one of the criteria that experts use to assess the quality of a horse.
“Great horse. Whether you’re a mercenary or an adventurer, it’ll surely serve you well. Make sure to take good care of it, alright?”
“Yes, they are invaluable companions.”
Upon hearing my words, he widened his smile—it made his face seem even more intimidating but was genuinely pleasant.
“Great attitude, kid. I like you.”
With a hearty laugh, he reached out his large hand and shook my shoulder. Sensing trouble, Margit quickly hopped off Castor’s rear.
And then what do you know? I was shaken violently—wow, he’s strong! A child with weak core strength would snap their neck at this rate.
“So! You’re young, but… what’s your color?”
“Color?”
As I held my aching neck and returned the question, the man who was laughing loudly suddenly turned to me looking slightly displeased. He bluntly reminded me that when adventurers talk about color, there’s only one meaning.
Ah, yes, that’s right. Adventurers are ranked by color through their guild. The lowest rank starts with Soot Black, followed by Ruby, Amber, Yellow Jade, Verde, Azure Jade, and Lapis Lazuli as the light wavelengths shorten, moving toward higher ranks. The highest rank is said to be Amethyst, a forbidden color reserved for the Emperor, representing an honorary title.
This color scheme seems familiar somehow… The nostalgia of an ideal world gone awry and the smell of ozone-filled laser beams come to mind. But let’s assume it’s just a coincidence, maybe a jest from fellow countrymen, and move on.
“No, we’re going to become adventurers now.”
“Yes, so we’re currently unranked.”
After explaining the situation—and perhaps sensing the lack of danger from not having my shoulder shaken again—Margit returned to my back. The man looked astonished, wide-eyed, and scrutinized us from top to bottom.
“So, you mean you haven’t any experience in rough work as an adventurer?”
“Yes, I have completed a minor assignment, one might say my first battle.”
I wasn’t lying. I’ve certainly been through tough situations, but as an adventurer, I’m a complete beginner. Without hesitation, I could confidently claim to be a Level 1 Fighter. Surely, any gatekeeper would approve my passage with a simple “Good job!”
“Hm… Is that so…”
His admiring murmur hinted at awe. He slightly tilted his head down, resting his chin in thought, then informed us.
“If you’re going to be an adventurer, the guild facilities are located on the main street near the Adrian Grant Square.”
He kindly informed us of the guild’s location, saving us the hassle of bribing a guard for directions. In a new city, unlike in my previous life, it’s quite risky to wander aimlessly, so knowing our destination was greatly appreciated.
“Thank you very much for your detailed guidance. As we’re newcomers, we’re quite unfamiliar with the geography.”
“Hmm, for a country bumpkin, you’re too polite, almost like a rich boy. Well, just by appearances, that is.”
The large man quickly erased the thoughtful look, laughing in a way that felt both menacing yet kind. His voice resonated in my gut—it was impressive. He looked like a frontline commander with his alert posture, battle-worn armor case, and large weapon covered in cloth which seemed to be a mace or spear based on its silhouette. He gave off an impression of being a seasoned fighter.
Honestly, I think he’s quite strong. To what extent? Without him entering combat stance, it’s difficult for my observation skills to accurately gauge him, but I’d say comparable to the ogre from the mansion where I rescued Rolott.
Is it true that places outside major cities harbor many powerful warriors? While cities attract the elite, provincial locales may naturally cultivate seasoned fighters through practical experience.
“Well, after your registration, there’s this inn called the Cat’s Tumbling Sleep. It’s on the ribcage street, so come by.”
“The Cat’s Tumbling Sleep? What an endearing name!”
“Yeah, but what defines an inn isn’t the name, it’s the food, drink, and quality of the beds. Ribcage Street is the first north street from the guild square; go straight west, and you’ll find it. It might be a bit tangled with the city walls, but you should find it quickly.”
This isn’t merely a recommendation of a good tavern. I sense some calculation beneath his friendly demeanor. His rough speech masks a sharp mind.
“When the sun sets, look for a man named Fidelio. If you ask around, you’ll find him quickly.”
“Fidelio, you say. Is he someone important?”
Upon asking, he grinned and replied.
“If you’re thinking of being an adventurer in this area, it’s wise to pay your respects.”
Ah, I see, that’s what this is about…
Sensing another warning from behind, we heard a hostile shout. The line was moving forward, and someone loudly demanded the big backside to clear and move quickly.
“Hey, Henzel! Don’t get caught up in nonsense! Quickly, move forward!”
“Oops, sorry Necker! Didn’t notice you with your tiny presence!”
“Shut up, you’re the one who’s huge! Which of your parents was a giant?”
An impolite exchange devoid of refinement, yet without any malice. It’s clear they are old acquaintances. What would usually escalate into bloodshed—especially in the Threefold Empire where insulting someone’s mother could lead to duals—here remains within the realm of communication.
In my former life, it was said that when entering a village, you should follow its customs, and in this life, to blend in, you must drink the local water. Perhaps it’s time I fine-tuned my skills to better acclimate.
Speaking of that, I can smell the unmistakable scent of a new adventurer initiation ritual, yet I don’t feel particularly repelled by it. Why might that be? Is it due to his persuasive words, or is there another purpose?
Also, Henzel is quite a charming name, completely contrasting his appearance.
As the line moved forward, I casually asked Henzel for recommendations for a good stable.
[Note: Adventurer guilds were established by the deliberation of different gods in the Age of God, though today their loose alliance is more formalities than substance.]
Our detailed descriptions of new settings create a slow start to entering the city, but I wish to depict this new stage thoroughly.
On August 25th, my humble work was released successfully.
This edition features three stunning color illustrations and ten black-and-white drawings, resulting in a highly satisfying work that exceeds six ten-thousand words in original content and elevates the climactic scenes.
As usual, the Henderson Scale Version 0.2 has been supplemented with an additional ten thousand words to connect the story to the next volume.
I sincerely hope you’ll pick up a copy to continue enjoying this tale.
Slow first-week sales may affect the continuation of the series.
