Clutter and chaos. As for the vitality of the city I was stepping into for the first time, I couldn’t think of a way to describe it other than these two words.
The streets were teeming with people, the clamor of vendors beckoning customers and the dizzying array of goods on offer were no different from the Imperial Capital.
Still, there was a heat here that the Imperial Capital lacked.
Were they all desperate? The pace was incredibly fast, and there seemed to be no room to care for the people one passed. There were murmurs of conflict over shoulders bumping and the like. Many were disheveled, and some looked so unsanitary they might have been reprimanded by the Imperial guards.
On the other hand, the passion was fierce; the energy with which merchants threw themselves into their trade was like a storm, and the speed at which craftsmen, townsfolk, and others raced about the streets with a clear purpose was dizzying. It was a different kind of intensity than the balanced sophistication of a metropolis, and the rural-born pair of us could only stare in wonder. Perhaps cities thriving on mining were once filled with this kind of atmosphere before disappearing by the time I was born.
“Margit, don’t you dare leave my back, okay?”
“I understand perfectly. It’s frightening enough as it is, being crushed.”
The grip around my neck tightened. In this crowd, if Margit, who is shorter even than a dwarf, were to get swept away, I can’t imagine what might happen. Rat creatures, dwarfs, and children nimbly darted about like swimmers in a sea of people, but if you’re unaccustomed, it would be easy to end up unwittingly beaten to a pulp in an instant.
I see, it makes sense now why Herr Hensel warned us at the last minute to “stay together no matter what”.
“Uh… Shall we head to the stables first?”
“Yes. At this rate, we won’t be able to move.”
While entry into the city went smoothly, the difficulty of moving about proved to be a great challenge. Following Herr Hensel’s recommendation, I made my way to a highly recommended stable. Though every city has stables to take care of horses, the quality of care and the meticulousness of management can only truly be gauged by using them yourself. It’s wise to follow the recommendations of locals.
By the way, entering the city really was smooth. I had informed Lady Agrippina that we intended to go to Marsheim to become adventurers, and at that time, I received a note from her. Thanks to it, I paid only one libra as city entry tax and was able to pass through the gates without being asked much of anything.
Yeah, many people may dislike using their influence but I’m the type who uses it without hesitation when possible. It’d be a waste of time to line up and get bogged down in entry procedures. I wanted to strike while the iron is hot.
There are two kinds of stables, inside and outside the city walls, but the ones operating within the walls are definitely superior. To conduct business within the city walls requires approval in every industry, but when it comes to dealing with horses—a strategic resource—the evaluations are particularly strict.
After all, it’s not uncommon for battles to be won or lost based on the number of horses at one’s disposal.
Being permitted to operate a stable inside the city walls is itself proof of a little extra quality. True, there’s no endless competition these days offering top-tier services at bargain prices, so the prices do end up being rather steep.
The stable introduced to me, the Azure Fallow Horse Barn, was run by a couple of centaur-like creatures. All the horses tethered there were meticulously groomed and beautiful, with not a single one appearing to have been maltreated. If requested, they even offered services like hoof trimming and horseshoeing—a level of service reminiscent of inns favored by the nobility.
Still, huh… the price is more than double the cheapest rate. I couldn’t help but gape at the estimate stating that full-service care for a single horse would cost one libra per day. The service, which included cleaning the stable daily, replacing bedding before it became damp, and applying hoof moisturizer, was certainly not cheap.
Still, I entrusted both horses to this stable. Since they offered discounts for regular contracts, I tentatively signed one, gritting my teeth and handed over gold coins as my wallet visibly shrank.
At first, I planned to finance it myself as a personal preference, but Margit strongly argued, “Aren’t these our strengths? We should use the joint funds, shouldn’t we?”
Truly a blessing. How rare it is to have such an understanding childhood friend.
No, there are indeed sound reasons. Of course, it’s about keeping the twin horses healthy, but more importantly, I trusted the stable enough to leave them there. As I’ve said many times, a good horse is a fortune, and filching just one can yield great profits. Even more so for top-tier horses. Moreover, I’ve heard that some less scrupulous stables might attempt to switch the entrusted horses with inferior ones in a scam.
The fact that many fine horses are entrusted here despite these audacious prices is a clear sign that this stable enjoys considerable trust within the city. So isn’t it a worthy investment to leave these companions, who may serve well in future adventures, here?
After being cheerfully seen off by the stable couple, we returned to the bustling main street.
No matter what, the pressure of the crowd is intense. It’s like a huge clearance sale here! With the early summer climate, I was already breaking a sweat. It’s oddly refreshing to have Margit, who has a lower body temperature than humans, resting comfortably on my back.
“Uh, Erich?”
“What’s up?”
“Could I walk on the rooftops?”
I was startled by her sudden question, but she pointed upward. Behold, Winged Beings were casually flitting about on short flights across rooftops.
And it’s not just Winged Beings. Mousepeople and Rat Goblins, among the nimble demihumans, were taking shortcuts that would be frowned upon in the Imperial Capital.
Hmm… Is this allowed? …I wonder…
I stood there dumbfounded for a moment, but the guards at the crossroads didn’t even show any signs of stopping them. Apparently, as long as the roof tiles aren’t kicked off, walking on rooftops in this city doesn’t seem to be an issue. Whether it’s legal or not is unclear, but this level of freedom is surprising…
“But I’ll be glad if you stay with me.”
“Well then, I’ll stay with you too.”
With a chuckle of “Can’t be helped,” Margit decided to accompany me through the crowd. Though she’s an adult in spirit and wouldn’t say she’s lonely, if I were to get separated from her in this throng, I don’t think I’d have the confidence to reunite. I’ve allowed her to mark her earring for sending telepathic messages, but in a new city with no predetermined meeting place, recovery would be extremely complicated.
“I’m sorry for dragging you along.”
“Ho ho, it’s alright! It’s your request, after all.”
She smiled and forgave me as I gripped her hand in gratitude and started walking.
Passing through the grand boulevard, and over the three city walls—designed to delay in case of emergencies—we eventually arrived at the Adrian Patron Square mentioned.
It was quite a modest square. It had a fountain and neatly maintained flower beds, but it lacked what would make it a tourist attraction or a place of leisure. It was an understandable size for a roundabout meant to guide traffic between boulevards.
However, the flow of people was abundant enough to strike a chord within me.
The dull shine of sun-glazed armor, the numerous weapons carried in their sheaths despite being within urban areas, and the exchange of unfamiliar tongues. The Adrian Patron Square, facing the Adventurers’ Guild, seemed to be used as a meeting spot for adventurers.
The youthful, the seasoned, and all uniformly armed, they are both potential comrades in my field and rivals threatening my livelihood.
Nice, this atmosphere never fails to get me excited. Can’t wait to dive right in.
The view from the hilltop showed Marsheim just as invigorating; standing before the Adventurers’ Guild, my heart raced with anticipation.
It was quite a large building. Although its exterior was simple, its solid structure built from shaped stones had a grand and imposing presence. Being two stories tall but spread across a large area, it didn’t feel either low or small.
The frames and columns were crafted from calm-hued walnut wood, complementing the gray stones beautifully, creating a solemn atmosphere. Oh, it’s magnificent! Every windowpane boasts transparent, unclouded glass. I can only imagine how many gold coins were spent to have such quality and quantity.
What first caught my eye was the large signboard hanging. The guild’s elegant title, “Adventurers’ Guild,” engraved in flowing script suggested that it wasn’t made by patching together woods but was carved from a single plank of an ancient tree. As its design represented the organization’s face, it had undoubtedly cost a significant fortune.
It was a long and difficult journey to get here. At times, I even thought it might be impossible.
But here I stand now, to honor a promise. With my childhood friend who had kindly offered her own aspirations, to accomplish what we set out to do.
“Are you ready?”
I nodded silently to the whisper beside my ear. I can’t just block the entrance like a fool; let’s move in, sentimentalities aside.
Inside the heavy doors that matched the building’s grandeur was a space that contrasted sharply with the Adventurers’ Guild’s reputation, a calm and tranquil area.
A spacious hall stretched ahead, with a large one-piece counter set in the back. There were eight windows prepared, but only three were occupied at this time, with signs indicating they were closed outside of standard hours hung at the others.
Before the counter were various writing surfaces of different heights—clearly designed with consideration for different races. This must be where one completes forms to be submitted at the windows.
Thus, the group seated around folding chairs nearby must likely be scribes, catering to those who can’t write for themselves. After stealing a glance at me, one of them seemed ready to approach, confirming my suspicion.
On the right side of the hall were several low tables with long benches, but most parties there were simply resting quietly rather than celebrating with drinks.
Upon reflection, it makes sense. It would be disruptive to drink and revel next to administrative work, and introducing alcohol among hot-blooded types would only encourage unnecessary chaos.
That must mean this area is solely for consultations or waiting one’s turn. I, for one, had always imagined an adventurers’ guild as a tavern of sorts; somewhat deflating to realize that stereotype doesn’t entirely apply here.
On the left side of the hall were several large screens erected en masse. Or rather, upon closer inspection, they were not simply screens but tall boards, edged and color-coded. The majority, marked by black borders, were followed by red, orange, indicating a kind of Quest Board.
Ah, hence the presence of these boards instead of just walls—it must be because there’s a limit to how many postings a wall can handle. And since nothing higher than yellow was visible, more challenging jobs must only be obtainable at the windows.
Predictably, after declining the services of the pesky scribe with “I can read and write well enough,” I moved to the counter. It’s not as if my service to nobility was a mere whim or vanity; my skills were genuine enough.
Now, at this point in such tales, the protagonist tends to develop an unspoken attraction to a beautiful receptionist, but…
“Hey? Customers?”
The available counters were all occupied by older women of stout build.
Of course. Beautiful receptionists wouldn’t last in such a rough environment. Without the gumption to rebuff rude demands, one couldn’t possibly manage this role.
“I’m here to become an adventurer.”
“Whaaa?”
One of the receptionists preparing paperwork looked at me strangely, perhaps misunderstanding me for a shop errand boy come to hire a guard. My travel gear was still on, so I supposed I didn’t have an aristocratic appearance.
“The boy and his back-riding miss?”
“Yeah, well…”
“Well, I thought you two were just here for the caravan’s guard. But if you chased the scribe away, you must know how to read and write. So why go into such a dangerous job? There’s plenty of other work out there.”
“Wanna go somewhere calmer? I know a shop on Charcoal Street that’s looking for waiters.”
“That’s no good! Boys might get rejected outright. But if you’re handy with your hands, I can put in a word with the woodcrafts workshop.”
Upon stating our real purpose, we were almost immediately inundated with suggestions—don’t go for such a perilous job, handsome guys like you are better suited to easier tasks—from the other receptionists who had previously seemed idle. Is it just me, or do aunts everywhere have this instinct to fuss over youth?
Declining all offers alongside Margit—today must be a day of many invitations—we finally obtained registration forms for the guild.
Not vellum but coarse fibrous paper. Its color was unbleached, reminding me of rice straw paper.
The form fields were relatively standard: name, birthplace, contact in case of emergency, special skills, and preferred weapon.
“Um… is this really all I need?”
“Huh? Yeah, don’t you worry, until you reach Black Coal or Red Ruby ranks, no serious jobs will come your way anyway. The Guild doesn’t have the capacity to manage all the newcomers.”
“Sure, once you get to Amber rank or higher, more responsibilities and tasks from the Guild will follow too.”
“That’s right! But if you’re looking for teammates, we sometimes alert those who are searching as well.”
The supportiveness of the receptionist squad when asked one question was heartening. It was also a great source of information, without needing to ask, about various aspects of working as an adventurer.
Upon registration, adventurer’s licenses at the Black Coal and Red Ruby ranks served no purpose outside of the city of issuance and did not function as identification. These tokens, given as thin pieces of paper, did little more than distinguish the bearer within the Guild.
Reversely, higher ranks could serve similar functions to the citizenship certificates I held from the Imperial Capital and would be immediately recognized upon presenting them at other Guilds.
Also, although they would still pay city entry fees for normal comings and goings, adventurers could reportedly enjoy discounted or even waived fees once they reached Amber rank and above, depending on their missions. Even without ordinary passes, this certainly was a grand entitlement.
I see. The ranking of adventurers isn’t about capability alone, but also about trustworthiness. Thus, careful thought is required when accepting jobs. The success rate and customer feedback would surely influence these evaluations, not just the quantity of missions executed.
For the low ranks, it’s fine for now. Given what I just learned, there’s no point tracking every single entry-level job in detail. At best, they might only track if an assignment was failed. However, the scrutiny would undoubtedly intensify as one ascended the ranks.
“Let’s work hard to rank up.”
“Yeah, let’s do our best.”
“It would be unfortunate to remain at the lowest ranks.”
“Wait, Margit, aren’t you more particular about such things?”
With my new, thin and numbered metal piece of an adventurer’s license in hand, reflecting upon its significance brought me pause, and Margit chose that moment to make her point. As I turned to her, surprised by her comment, she smirked playfully and returned my gaze with a predatory grin, her sharp canines glinting.
“Did you really not know? I’ve always, always wanted to hunt big game, you see?”
That familiar yet unexpected forceful grin. But it sent a chill down my spine, erasing the heat of early summer entirely.
……
