Registration with the guild of fellow adventurers was a surprisingly mundane affair—no mysterious crystals, no machines that revealed your stats with a drop of blood, simply filling out some paperwork. I had a vague understanding of this already, but in this world, it seemed that the existence of skills and traits akin to humanity’s blueprint were a special kind of label that only the gods could observe.
Well, I can only see my own anyway. I had once briefly entertained the idea of uncovering others’ abilities entirely using skills like <Keen Eye>, but it quickly became evident that it was impossible. Considering how generous it already was to observe and touch objects before me, expecting more would be pure indulgence, wouldn’t it?
In any case, my self-declaration of being a Level 1 Fighter—albeit a metaphorical one—was accepted without question. Similarly, Margit submitted her paperwork as a scout, bolstered by her experience as a hunter, giving her credentials more weight compared to mine.
Alright, now with the registration done, let’s not rush into accepting a quest just yet.
The kind receptionists had quite a bit of useful information to share.
One point was that not all adventurers were fixed in permanent parties; rather, the groups were quite fluid in reality. The image of rigidly set adventuring parties is strong, yet evidently, the composition tends to change frequently.
This fluidity makes sense, given that magic users and wandering clerics capable of miracles are quite rare. While skilled adventurers may sometimes be locked into a fixed party, most tend to gather and disperse as needed, gradually building familiarity with recurring faces. Small groups of two or three would add members depending on the job’s requirements and proceed accordingly, somewhat similar to day labor dispatch work.
There are instances where like-minded individuals strongly bond and form a cohesive party, but sharing skilled talents across various parties is common. It’s clear that achieving the perfect party structure of three to five people right out of the gate, without divine guidance, is indeed rare, something that doesn’t require deep contemplation. If the world runs on a rational system and we can fit into it, then let’s adapt accordingly.
Still, it’s inevitable to feel a bit of disappointment when childhood fantasies fail to materialize.
Fortunately, our structure—comprising a light warrior who’s essentially a magic warrior and a scout—is nicely balanced, so we’ve agreed to press forward as a duo for the time being. Forcing new members into the group and figuring out compatibility doesn’t leave room for trial and error with the limited resources we currently have. Besides, it’s better to solidify our foundation before embarking on new endeavors.
When the time comes to expand, we can seek out potential companions through the helpful ladies at the reception, who can introduce us to others looking to join a group. Beyond this, posting recruitment notices on the guild’s bulletin board is also an option, an idea worth exploring casually at some point.
Our next piece of advice concerned the areas frequented by adventurers. It’s known that the guild takes private disputes within the premises or the adjacent square quite seriously and even a quarrel could result in demotion. Therefore, most adventurers tend to gather in favored taverns around the city.
By nature, adventurers are rootless wanderers rarely settling in one place, and accommodations are naturally provided in taverns with in-house lodging or cost-covered lodging houses. In Marshaime, many taverns cater specifically to adventurers, while other inns tend to reject them, seeing them as “base and unrefined.”
If one wishes to avoid unpleasant looks from innkeepers, it’s wise to select a place within budget after some consultation—thus we were given a few recommendations. It seems that being young earns many conveniences from elders—without touching upon mental age!
Corauly, the first receptionist we spoke with, recommended the Silver Snow Wolf Pub for newcomers, where the owner, a former adventurer, allegedly has a soft spot for beginners and offers many small favors.
Conversely, Tais advised that if saving money for the future was our goal, the Crowned Stag Inn was preferable. This establishment offers many common rooms at the lowest price range but maintains separate quarters for men and women—providing remarkably good security given the price. Additionally, once a week, their saunas are made available to boarders at no extra cost, making it a favorite among rookies.
Lastly, Eve, who’s well-connected in carpentry, proposed the Golden Mane Inn not as a mere recommendation but rather as a future aspiration. Renowned as the finest tavern in the area, it’s beloved by famous adventurers, though it does come with a hefty price tag of fifty ases for a basic room. However, they change the sheets every two days and provide cleaning services every three days—a remarkable level of service for lodging in a lower-class district. The quality of the tavern itself is also commendable, with such stringent standards that even priests of liquor deities frequent it. Some adventurers even set the goal of spending one night here as a life milestone.
In any case, this was useful information indeed. Trustworthy lodgings are invaluable. As outsiders, without a safe place to rest, we wouldn’t last long.
Since we’re not in dire straits, for now, the Silver Snow Wolf Pub felt like the best choice given its proximity to the guild.
With all that in mind—on taking a step toward seeking our new lodging…
For once, things worked out as expected after being continuously let down.
“Yo, rookie, we’ve been keeping an eye on you.”
“Look at you, signing up all buddy-buddy. That’s cute.”
Was it an initiation ritual of sorts? Just as we were leaving the guild, a pair of adventurers approached us. One was Human; the other, likely from the Noar lineage, was a male Dog Demon.
Now, they weren’t your typical low-quality thugs that flood fantasy novels by the gross. Despite their casual attire, they were not poorly dressed, and the quality of their short swords and daggers for self-defense—though not regulated in such border zones—was decent. They appeared neatly groomed, yet their stance, centered and poised, betrayed seasoned men accustomed to rough work.
Not bad. They likely equate to a moderate skill level within a household militia.
A glance at the dulled orange of the adventurer’s licenses protruding from their collars was enough to know they were out of reach for me at this moment. Assuming my internal skill hierarchy was accurate, I’d need to lick the boots they walked a hundred miles in to even reach them.
“Is there something you need, predecessors?”
Still, this is not a broken dystopia ruled by a crumbling authority. I gave a polite smile, respecting their seniority.
“Nah, just reminiscing about the old days.”
“Yeah, and figured we should teach you the ropes a bit.”
But the men paid no mind, intimidating us in a practiced show of bravado. I could feel Margit stiffen behind me, so I nudged her with my elbow, signaling “leave it to me.”
Causing trouble on day one wouldn’t do, and even if something unfortunate were to happen, I’d rather it not put me at any disadvantage.
“Hey! Ebb! Kevin! Leave the kids alone!”
“If you cause any trouble, we won’t be happy!”
Fortunately, the receptionists intervened. From the context, the Human was Ebb and the Dog Demon Kevin.
“Lighten up, will ya!”
“Not planning on eating you or anything, ladies. Come now, kid, since we’re enlightening you, how about you buy us dinner?”
Ebb, shouting in disapproval, and Kevin laughing with a toothy grin, his canine teeth bared as he leaned in with a mocking air.
The answer wasn’t something I needed to contemplate over for long… …
The pair led us to a tavern situated some distance from the guild, closer to the city walls.
Called the Black Giant Squid Inn, it was far from a refined establishment, judging by its doorway, and it was evident it catered to adventurers. Right off the bat, the entrance had a distinct dive-bar feel, where a couple of men lay drunk in broad daylight.
However, the journey there was unexpectedly smooth. The conversation was light—topics like where we hailed from and how much rough experience we had—nothing invasive. We weren’t even harassed or nudged, nor did any suggestive comments come Margit’s way.
Instead, there was a palpable scrutiny. Every movement seemed observed closely.
As if measuring our worth—assessing our value methodically.
Following them, once inside the Black Giant Squid Inn, the air was oppressive with the strong scent of poorly preserved alcohol. The place lived up to the title of ‘land’s end tavern.’
The floor stuck unpleasantly under my boots, as though it hadn’t seen a proper cleaning in ages. The chaotic arrangement of mismatched wine bottles on the shelves screamed neglect, and the tables and chairs were haphazardly stuffed together without regard for space optimization.
As for the patrons, well, most looked as if they hadn’t showered in days. For someone accustomed to the refined airs of the Imperial Capital, this would be the kind of place you quietly turned away from.
The stench of alcohol, dirt, and vomit was unbearable, leaving me certain I wouldn’t choose to stay here.
“Lady!”
“We’ve got some interesting ones this time!”
Yet, in this chaotic den, there was a presence akin to a crane among chickens.
“Ah?”
A voice weathered by booze but still striking lay somewhere between gravelly and husky. A compelling low timbre issued from lips displaying sharp elongated canines.
Her unkempt scarlet hair suggested little care, and the dull rust-colored eyes visible between strands carried an air of both lethargy and menace. Seated in an oversized chair at an elevated counter inside the tavern, cradling her sword, was a towering Ogress.
This was the third Ogresque warrior I’d seen.
The first two hadn’t left an impression quite like this one. Compared to my first encounter with Lorans, this individual fell short in appearance and skill. While she could be considered beautiful, and certainly not lacking in prowess, the instinctive gut-punch reaction of “this is someone dangerous” was glaringly absent.
That person had maintained her appearance meticulously—oiled hair, and an aromatic scent that spoke of readiness for any confrontation. There’s a cultural tradition among Ogres that respects grooming, where they’ll prepare themselves beautifully even on the eve of battle out of respect toward their opponent. Such elegance was lacking here.
“Nah… it’s just a human… but okay, do whatever.”
With an irritated itch of her head, copper flakes scattered. Hmm, she was a beauty whose potential could perhaps be more fully realized with some care. Quite the pity.
As if picking up on my wandering thoughts, my childhood friend nudged me from behind with her foot, then I inquired of Kevin and Ebb on the nature of this arrangement.
“Anyway, it’s a house rule—we bring in any promising rookies we come across.”
“Per Lady’s request.”
Then an old, roughly used practice sword was casually tossed toward me. A sword core was visible—a weapon intended for training but robust and capable of breaking bones if used seriously.
“And that’s it, welcome to the Lorans group.”
“So, the courtyard’s this way, rookies.”
With a hand on my waist, I was steered with a boisterous grin from the two adventurers.
Yes, as expected.
The kind receptionists had also warned us about these self-organized groups among adventurers—called Clans in these parts, likely derived from Northern immigrants.
Small clusters banding together into Clans allow for better cooperation in jobs or more seamless coordination when large-scale tasks require more hands than available. They also enhance the reliability of temporary groups by assembling known faces efficiently, so a fair number of adventurers join Clans despite also having fixed parties.
It’s much like joining a club. Much like the TRPG circles I used to frequent—some were large and open, hosting conventions, while others were small and intimate among familiar folks. Each organization carried its own flavor and charm, making them fascinating entities to mix with.
However, not all human organizations are pure-hearted. The risk of being exploited by some clans wasn’t something to overlook. Extracting small fees for membership, skimming profits, or demanding something personal from the leader was common knowledge. Refusal to join could lead to covert punishment, threatening one’s ability to continue adventuring. Such inefficiencies borne of human vice are present everywhere, no matter how optimally structured a guild might aim to be.
Yes, people are people, no matter the world. I had let my guard down. I’d grown too accustomed to the clean and orderly, forgetting the dangers that came with the job. A long stay in the Imperial Capital leads to forgetfulness.
Too late now. It is said that reflections come too late to be of help. I’ll reflect on that, bearing in mind our resources for the future.
Now, as a flame of fire is inevitable, so it is with the law. A business as this cannot afford to be underestimated.
I signaled Margit to step aside, testing the feel of the wooden sword.
I was fully aware that in this field, taking this kind of attitude wasn’t an option right from the start.
【Tip】In Marshaime, private duels within the city are punishable by fines of up to ten Libras or one month of community service. By comparison to other cities, this is a harsh punishment, clearly illustrating how municipal authorities struggle with raucous adventurers.
Alternatively, accepting the penalty allows for a fight.
We learned about these groups, “Clans,” that some adventurers form. Such organizations stem from Western frontier areas of the Threefold Empire but exist in varying forms everywhere. Their existence in Marshaime began when Northern immigrant adventurers formed a mutual aid society, which over time adopted the cultural name “Clan.”
Now many imitations of this structure exist, forming and dissolving daily.
Efficient organization doesn’t preclude internal factions, and the allure to attract new members remains ever present.
As a kind reminder, Volume 2 is already available!
Fans of fairy tale illustrations might catch a grown-up version of Eliza in the artwork for the “Henderson Scale 1.0.”
And two weeks after Volume 2’s release, I’m delighted to see it maintaining the top spot on Overlap’s Kindle rankings, and consistently within the top 30 for light novels overall—a position I find hard to believe for Volume 1 as well, ranked third on Overlap. All this success is thanks to your support, and I’m endlessly grateful. Reviews are gradually increasing, bringing immense joy. I sneak peeks at them for inspiration, but for further thoughts, I kindly request your continued support.
Looking forward to seeing if a third volume becomes possible…
