Chapter 59

The north was mostly plains, with bulges of high ground here and there. Mount Ehren, or Ehrenberg, was one of them. Too low to be called a mountain, it was little more than a gentle hill. The town spread around it, encircled by sturdy walls.

The town was not particularly large, but a great river curled around its western side and flowed south. This was the Main, which passed through the imperial capital of Nibelungen and continued through Rheinfurt and beyond. Merchant ships came and went from the docks.

The hill had been carved into terraces, with buildings at intervals. Perhaps because the town was famous for its stonemasons' guild, every building looked solidly built. About halfway up the hill stood an unusual one, shaped as though two buildings had been joined at right angles.

Its ground floor was made not of rectangular bricks but of tightly fitted stones, while the second and third stories had exposed timbers and neatly applied plaster. The tiled roof formed a steep triangle in cross section, with two chimneys. On the ground floor were a back door, a side door, and a front entrance with an exterior porch. A well and a single apple tree stood in the backyard, and there was even a small stable beside the building.

A donkey stood in the stable, leisurely chewing fodder as it gazed at the people laboring under heavy loads. Work, then rest; rest, then work. It seemed the same rule applied to humans and animals alike. The things the people struggled to carry, alone or together, included beds, tables, chairs, and barrels.

"It's tilting too far left. No, now it's too high. Just a little. Yeah. That's it. I think?"

Ricard looked up as he spoke. Standing on a chair, Volka had his arms stretched out at an awkward angle to support a sign.

The sign bore a carving of an eagle holding a violet in its beak: the emblem of the Beringen Adventurers' Guild's Ehrenberg branch. The violet naturally represented its core clan, Viola.

"Fuuuck... I said we should just hang it from chains..."

"You said you didn't want it creaking in the wind."

Despite his swearing, Volka finished the job properly, hammering flat iron nails into the wall to secure the sign. Wishing for everything to go well from now on, he drove in far more nails than necessary to hold it firmly in place.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Once Ricard saw that the sign was secure, he went inside. The first thing he saw was Marie and Boribori climbing the stairs, each carrying a heavy bed on their back unaided. The porters stared in disbelief. Both knew how to wield mana, so using Mana Drive made them far stronger than ordinary people.

Delphi was relentlessly scrubbing the already-cleaned floor with a long-handled pig-bristle brush.

"Riki, all the beds are inside now. Could you arrange the tables?"

"Sure."

Ricard dragged the heavy tables across the floor. He positioned four of them roughly where they belonged in the open area and set a low table beside the fireplace. After arranging the chairs, he poured a little lamp oil into the fireplace and struck a flint to light it.

It was best to keep a fire burning to make the air inside cozy. The smell of burning wood brushed his nose, bringing an inexplicable sense of comfort. Looking around, Ricard found that the dusting and tidying seemed more or less complete, so he simply sat down by the fireplace.

Before long, Ice came down with his sleeves rolled up, followed by Marie and Boribori.

"Take a break, Delphi. You'll wear out the floor."

"I should do it properly while I can. Once people start coming in, we'll be too busy."

Delphi spoke with a smile. Now that this place was practically their home, she seemed oblivious to fatigue. She had attended to every corner of the building, every little detail. One day, all this would become a cherished memory.

Ice's hair had regained its sheen, and he had put on a little weight, recovering some of his health. He was tall and broad-shouldered, but had never been particularly bulky, so although he looked a little thin, he was all right.

Using mana evidently did not spare them all the strain. Boribori and Marie tilted their stiff necks from side to side, then massaged each other's shoulders. Last of all, Volka paid the workers and came inside. He dropped into a chair at a table, tipped his head back, and made a show of groaning.

"Ugh, I'm exhausted. Let's close up shop for today and rest."

"We're not running a shop, Volka."

This was not a place that sold food and drink or offered lodging to the general public. It took commissions, assigned missions, and provided adventurers with shelter and supplies.

"Whatever, whatever."

"Anyway, who's cooking? We'll have to make food when people come, won't we?"

"For now, can't we just throw whatever we have into some water and boil it?"

"I think we ought to hire some staff, too."

"Can we afford it? How much do we have left?"

Ricard, Boribori, and Marie fired off remarks so haphazardly that Volka could hardly tell who was saying what.

"Not a penny. We're beggars now."

He still had his head tilted back over the chair. They truly had no money left: the gift to the count, the building, beds, tables, provisions, and all the other purchases had used it up.

"Then how do we pay the bounty if someone brings in a wanted criminal's head?"

Boribori had a point. If someone brought in a wanted criminal alive or delivered their head, the branch was obliged to pay, even if that person did not belong to the Beringen Guild.

"Oh, right."

As though only just remembering, Volka got up and went to his room on the ground floor. He rummaged through his bag and emerged with a sheaf of papers, which he plastered all over the wall. The wanted criminals' faces, each unsettling in a different way, now adorned it. Their bounties ranged from fifty gold at the highest to five silver at the lowest.

When he finished, he turned to his friends.

"Now we start earning."

"Can't we just catch those people ourselves?"

"We can't go far."

Boribori made the suggestion, but Ricard shook his head. Killing them might be easy enough, but tracking them down would take time.

"I'll try it alone."

Ice, who had been listening quietly all this time, spoke up. He seemed to feel that he ought to help somehow.

"No need. We need a big job. We've graduated from chasing small fry like these."

Ricard shook his head again. It might have sounded like swaggering, but he did not mean it that way. They had little time and could not travel far, so it made sense to earn a large sum nearby.

"A big job?"

"Yeah. Private commissions from rich people. Killing the Ehrenberg Five paid enough to buy clothes for everyone at the academy and still have some left over."

Those clothes were being made from fabric dyed with actual lapis lazuli. They were not all finished yet, but there was enough money to outfit some two hundred children and still have some to spare.

"The Ehrenberg Five are a bit..."

Unexpectedly, Boribori looked daunted.

He had acquired a fair amount of combat experience by now. Looking back in light of that experience, killing the Ehrenberg Five had been nothing short of a miracle. Luck had split them into a pair and a group of three, allowing the pair to be killed first and the enemy defeated in detail. Then the Nameless had charged ahead, killed another, and shaken the remaining two. That was what had made the outcome possible.

What if the situation had been reversed? If they were defending this place and the Ehrenberg Five attacked at full strength, could they survive? The Five had clear weaknesses, but their strengths were monstrous. It was impossible even to guess how powerful they would have been with all five together, fighting properly as a team.

A toadlike woman impervious to blades, a giant of a man, a necromancer, and even a Sword Master. Boribori had not seen the Phantom Sword himself, but that one had clearly been no pushover either. He would still fight them if he could turn back time, but in their current situation, the mere thought of those foes was enough to make him shudder.

"It doesn't have to be on that scale. There are plenty of rich people. Let's visit the other guilds and introduce ourselves while we're at it. Who says we have to wait for work to drop into our laps? We can go looking for it ourselves. And as I see it, we need to take control of the docks. Or at least find out how they operate."

Ricard had gone straight to the heart of the matter. Anyone could see that Ehrenberg lived on trade. Listening to him was like watching a hazy view come into focus. Volka thought they could hardly starve to death. Something would work out.

Ricard and his friends freely discussed all sorts of plans for the future. In the midst of their conversation, someone entered the building.

"Excuse me."

Everyone in the Viola clan stopped talking and turned to look.

The visitor was a young man with a hawk's tail feather in his hat. He wore a tunic with a bit of embroidery and something like a loose shawl, and his boots were spotless. Clearing his throat, he spoke in a resonant voice.

"Ahem, ahem. Greetings, brave adventurers. My name is Harrison, and I am a resident guest of the Ehrenberg Trading Company. A lover of literature and poetry, I seek out the world's many tales and weave them into song. At times I wander with the sky for my roof and the bare earth for my bed, but does not romance spring from hardship? While gazing at the stars by night and the clouds by day in search of poetic inspiration, I heard that the boy hero of the red cloak had arrived here, and so I have ventured to intrude upon you. If you would grant our company the honor of inviting this hero to a banquet, I would be deeply moved indeed."

For a while, Ricard and his friends simply stared at him. An awkward silence settled over them. What had he said his name was? Oh, right. Harrison. How could anyone spend so long saying so little? That was a talent in itself. It took them a moment to sort out his name and the purpose of his visit.

In any case, Ricard accepted at once. He had been planning to make the rounds anyway.

"All right. I'll come."

"How refreshingly decisive. Might you be...?"

"That's right. I'm Riki. Red Cloak. Riki of the Beringen Adventurers' Guild's Viola clan."

At his introduction, the self-proclaimed bard Harrison studied Ricard intently, visibly taking care not to make his gaze seem rude. Once satisfied, he approached with measured, courteous steps and took something from inside his clothes. Even as he offered it, he bowed and slid one foot back. It all seemed excessively formal.

He was holding out an envelope. Ricard broke the red wax seal and inspected the contents. It was only an invitation. To the esteemed so-and-so, and so forth. The banquet was not being held especially for Ricard. Apparently these gatherings happened all the time, and now that someone reasonably famous had arrived, curiosity had prompted an invitation.

"Thank you. You can be on your way, Harrison."

"It has been an honor to meet you. It would be a still greater honor if you would allow our other distinguished guests to behold the hero's countenance as well."

After exchanging their final farewells, Harrison turned and left.

"Is it normal to be that formal?"

Volka asked Ricard casually. Knowing he was a noble, he was really asking whether Ricard behaved that way too.

"I've heard of it, but I've never seen it before. What about you, Marie?"

"Me? W-why me?"

"Have you seen that sort of formality before?"

"How would I know...?"

Marie did her best to feign ignorance, but everyone except Delphi and Ice had caught on to some extent.

"Want to come with me tonight?"

"Where?"

"To the banquet."

"I don't have a dress."

"So what? You're pretty."

"A-am I?"

"Yeah. Let's go. Volka and Delphi can watch the place, and Ice and Bori can look around the docks. We've got just the right number."

Boribori looked at Ice beside him with round eyes, and Ice looked back. The difference in their heights was considerable even sitting down, so Boribori had to look up. When he grinned, Ice gave a little smile too.

Watching Ice, Marie felt like testing herself against him. He had ranked first at the academy before Ricard, after all, and Ricard had compared the two of them. But they could not fight now. She decided to bring it up later, when an opportunity arose.

In any event, Boribori and Ice left first. Delphi took Marie out and stretched their meager funds to buy a dress. It was a plain blue dress of the sort a country girl might wear, but after alterations on the spot to fit her, it looked reasonably neat and flattering.

Ricard simply put on the cleanest spare clothes he had, strapped a single dagger to his waist for protection, and headed out.

"We're off."

"All right, have a good time. You don't have to grovel, you know?"

"I couldn't if I tried."

Ricard smiled as he answered, then walked out into the night with Marie.

Apart from the faint light leaking through windows, the town at evening was dark. Ricard was walking a little ahead when Marie came up and took his hand. He was slightly startled, but her faintly trembling hand conveyed the fragile courage behind the gesture.

A pang of guilt brushed his heart. He squeezed her hand once, then eased his grip. That was how he expressed himself instead of speaking: there was no need to be embarrassed, no need to tremble.

They walked hand in hand, sometimes swinging their joined hands back and forth. The gesture seemed to revive a childlike innocence, drawing smiles from them without effort. They looked like nothing more than a happy boy and girl, enchanted by the nighttime streets.

Ricard and Marie walked downhill toward the river. There stood a mansion well away from the docks, its brightly lit windows visible even at a distance. When they reached it, they found several carriages parked in a courtyard lit by fires. These were passenger carriages, not carts for hauling goods. They were extraordinarily expensive, because making their axles required more advanced expertise than one might expect.

"Do you drink?" Ricard asked Marie.

"No."

"Me neither. But wouldn't it be awkward to talk about nothing but business?"

"Maybe. Who's hosting?"

"No idea. It's a merchants' association, so probably a merchant noble? Won't we find out once we're inside?"

Was he doing it on purpose? All he had to do was take out the invitation and look. Marie smiled at his utter lack of preparation.

"Idiot."

Ricard only smiled too.

In truth, neither had much reason to worry. They were both members of the true, traditional nobility, their very bloodlines different from those of merchant nobles. One could trace his ancestry to a royal house and was descended from a hero. The other was the current emperor's own flesh and blood. An acknowledged bastard she might be, but a daughter was still a daughter.

A man was checking invitations at the mansion. When Ricard showed his, the man tilted his head and looked back and forth between the invitation and Ricard.

"Younger than you expected, right?"

"Pardon?"

"May we go in?"

"Oh... yes."

For some reason, the doorkeeper sounded rather reluctant.

Ricard entered the mansion with Marie. Hundreds of candles illuminated everything from the central hall to the corridors. Beeswax candles were not cheap; the sheer wealth of the place was apparent already.

Following the sounds of lute and flute, laughter and conversation, they walked down a corridor into another enormous, hall-like room. Some people sat while others stood, enjoying the banquet as they pleased. Surprisingly, however, there were no grown adults in sight. Everyone was around Ricard's age.

Ricard was growing by the day and now stood in the high one-hundred-sixties in centimeters, tall and sturdy for his age. Marie was about the same height, so the boy and girl's entrance naturally drew attention. There were some thirty guests. Though not as noisy as a marketplace, the room was fairly lively.

Yet at the sight of the two newcomers, everyone fell silent as though on cue. Their eyes lingered on Ricard and Marie. It did not take long to grasp instinctively why they were staring. Their clothes were too different.

Gold and silver thread, elaborate embroidery displaying every flourish of a craftsman's skill, and jewelry glittering with gems. Beside such finery, Ricard and Marie looked not merely plain but shabby. With no ornaments on their necks, ears, or fingers, they were utterly unadorned.

Soon, openly contemptuous looks were accompanied by whispers from all sides. They could make out a few of them.

"What are these lowborn beggars doing here...?"