One of the things that mattered for an adventurer was the rest day.
Obvious — but you didn’t go out every day to fight monsters.
By the same token, no adventurer took manual-labor jobs every day either.
Resting the body mattered, sure, but gear maintenance had to happen on a schedule.
Expensive gear had upkeep costs. And maintenance took time.
Useless gear in a crisis was worse than no gear.
So Zelphy had ordered us to take rest days at reasonable intervals. Her teaching policy was: if we tried to overdo it, she stopped us.
If we weren’t doing something we should be, she pointed it out. And she’d explain necessary things in advance.
Painfully ordinary stuff, but apparently some instructors went real-adventurer style and made their charges sharpen their skills in actual combat.
Glad someone like that wasn’t my instructor — and on rest days I’d taken to reading at the Guild reference room.
Just, today I wasn’t alone.
”…What?”
I was facing Aria across the single desk in the cramped reference room.
After that incident, she’d been keeping distance from me.
But here we were, sharing the room.
I’d thought — couldn’t she just shift her timing? — but we lived on the same cycle, so my convenient time and her convenient time inevitably collided.
“Nothing. …Anyway, are you actually reading those?”
Aria, pointing at the pile of books stacked beside me. She’d opened a book Zelphy had told her to read.
Mostly about party roles.
I, by contrast, didn’t have anything I needed to look into, so I just hauled books over and read whatever, on rotation.
“I’m reading. I like books.”
The part where you sink into a story — that was the part I liked.
You didn’t have to think about extra stuff. Since the age of ten, reading had been my time away from reality.
“And why are you reading a book about agriculture? That doesn’t look like Guild-shelf material.”
The Second answered Aria’s question, not me.
But unlike with Novem, the handling was rough.
“Sometimes you go to a nearby village and help with farm work. Darion’s grown big, so jobs like that probably don’t come in anymore. Wait — you don’t even know that?!”
Probably the scale had outgrown those kinds of farm-work jobs going through the Guild. But the books were still on the reference-room shelves.
I softened the Second’s words and passed them along to Aria.
“Used to be needed, I guess. The Darion Guild probably handled jobs like that at some point.”
The agriculture book I had in hand was a little old. The Second, and the book-loving Third, were apparently looking through my eyes with interest.
The breezy Third asked me, watching the page:
“Looking at this kind of technical progress — really makes you jealous. If a method like this had existed, our era would’ve been a little better off. Technology matters… Lyle, turn the page?”
For me, reading was a hobby.
The ancestors were different.
They could see how much their era and the present day differed, and they were interested in new technology.
Other than the First, they were all hungry for it.
That part of them — the former territorial lord in them — really showed.
”…Going into farming next?”
Aria, eyes back on her own book, was asking me. Now that her body was working again, this was the first time she’d actually spoken to me.
“No, just curious.”
What I was really reading about: the use of magic in agriculture.
The technology of using magic to enrich daily life was being refined every day, you could say. But it had an unspoken rule.
Magic must never finish a job by itself.
It seemed like a wasteful rule, and I’d taken it as a hedge against mana consumption.
For a sorcerer… especially for someone whose only weapon was magic, running dry on mana was a life-and-death issue.
Specialized magic like that was generally used by people who were good at magic.
So I’d thought that was the reason for the rule. Apparently there was a different reason too.
(You can’t learn everything from books.)
Out actually living the life, I really felt it. But — reading still didn’t feel like a waste.
By contrast, Aria looked bad at reading books.
She had a difficult expression aimed at hers.
Not that she couldn’t read, maybe — it just didn’t suit her.
Her clothing, too — for a noble girl, she was an active type.
“You don’t like reading?”
“I don’t dislike it. I’m just bad at it. I was made to read a lot when I was small, but lately I haven’t had time for it.”
Father and daughter — and the father living a non-working, drink-soaked life, apparently.
In a home environment like that, Aria must have had a rough time.
She still wouldn’t talk about the past directly, but you could piece some of it together from conversations like this.
The First was the one sympathizing with Aria. As a rule, the First was the only one who sympathized with her.
“You had it tough, Aria-chan.”
The Second, cold:
“I can sympathize with the part where her father gave her trouble. …Or — empathize, rather.”
The First-and-Second relationship really only ever ran cold.
If I asked anything carelessly about it, the Second’s emotions would blow and burn massive mana, so I couldn’t ask.
After that, a stretch of quiet.
When the conversation died, I’d finished a book; I laid it on the stack beside me.
I’d gone through every book I’d brought over.
Looking at the height of the sun, the timing was about right for heading home.
“I’m heading home. What about you, Aria?”
I stood up to put the books back where they belonged.
She hadn’t finished hers — she glanced at me and shook her head.
“I’m not done yet, so go on without me. Tell Novem… that I’ll be late.”
I took the message, finished tidying the books, and left the reference room.
The Guild was busy every day.
Even when we were resting, plenty of adventurers were working. Out of the reference room, passing through the second-floor counter area, the adventurers were lined up as usual today.
As usual, only Hawkins’s line was short.
(He’s a careful worker, and a kind man, though.)
Dark-skinned, red hair shaved to a crew cut. Below the shirt, you could tell, was a wall of muscle.
He was big — way stronger-looking than your average adventurer.
In fact, most veteran adventurers called Hawkins boss and looked up to him. Or — failing that — didn’t cross him.
In that atmosphere, rookies were probably too scared to approach.
He smiled and dealt with people carefully on the daily, and rookies still wouldn’t go near him.
By contrast, the counter with the pretty receptionist had a hell of a line.
Most of the adventurers in it were young men.
Hooked by the pretty receptionist, probably — but for adventurers doing dangerous work, that pull seemed to function as a moisturizer for the soul.
The Second was already at jeez, give it up.
“Why do they do something so pointless. Look at her personality and you can already tell she’s got some guy.”
I was clueless on romance myself, but — yeah, with a beauty like that, she probably did.
She looked late teens?
Given the marriageable age, she could already be married.
(No wait — common-folk marriageable age is different.)
Noble marriageable age was said to be early; for commoner women it was later, I remembered.
Healing magic had improved and human lifespans had stretched, I’d heard. So marriageable age had stretched too, I’d read in a book.
Which meant—
“Then, going unmarried at her age — is she on the shelf? Sounds like a fairly problematic property.”
A harsh assessment. The Seventh fielded it.
“At that age it’s normal now, isn’t it? Different from the old days.”
The relatively recent Seventh was saying that being unmarried at her age was no problem.
The Seventh and the Second were separated by over a hundred years.
Their values would naturally be quite different.
Bored of watching the line, I headed for the stairs to get off the second floor.
Then a three-person party came up the stairs.
Young men and women — two front-line guys with sword and spear.
And a robe-wearing, staff-carrying sorcerer. Well-balanced party.
For a three-person team — with that caveat.
They were coming up shoulder-to-shoulder, so I stepped aside.
“Whoops, sorry. Got too into talking, didn’t notice you.”
The swordsman-style guy with the sword at his hip looked a bit older than me.
The grip showed real use — he was probably skilled. His posture and walking carried the air of one.
The tall guy with the spear looked strong too.
“Watch it. If you flirt around, you bump into people and cause trouble. Sorry about that… huh?”
The spear guy looked at my face and stopped.
Then the staff-wielding woman shouted.
“You’re Lyle, aren’t you?! Blue hair, blue eyes — no mistaking it. Deadbeat Lyle, right?!”
Hearing that, my expression went a touch strained.
A laugh from the Jewel.
The First.
“BWAHAHA, sounds like it worked out!! Time to be glad, Lyle!”
You have no idea what this is like, I thought, and nodded.
The swordsman-style guy clapped a hand over the woman’s mouth and apologized.
“What are you saying?! S-sorry. She’s not a bad person — she’s just loose-lipped, or — anyway, sorry.”
I told him I didn’t mind and accepted the apology.
“You — think before you open your mouth.”
Beside him, the spear guy was exasperated with the woman.
“B-but… I’m sorry.”
A party two or three years older than me, by the look of it.
They’d put in some experience — they carried more of a presence than the other young adventurers.
“I’m Rondo. The one with the staff is Rachel, and the spear is Larf. Good to meet you.”
The greeting prompted me to give my name.
“Lyle. Likewise.”
At that, Larf brought a hand to his chin and looked me over. Toes to crown of the head. Then a small laugh.
“Completely different impression from the rumors. Looks like he can handle himself.”
Rondo crossed his arms and nodded the same way.
“Right. Maybe the rumors are off, then? Oh — we’ve got a job. Sorry, we should get going. Let’s talk properly some time.”
The three headed for the counter. At the end, Rachel waved a small wave.
“See you.”
Not bad people, by the look of it. The standard adventurer image was ruffians, but serious ones like them existed too.
The Third, listening, gave them his evaluation.
“Nice not to just swallow the rumors. Well — some people decide on Lyle with their own eyes. Good for you, Lyle.”
(No — I’m only called Deadbeat Lyle because I acted on your lot’s instructions, but… whatever.)
There were adventurers who looked at me with open contempt, sure. But there were people like Hawkins and the Rondo group too.
Thinking of it that way, my mood felt a little lighter.
“I’m back.”
Novem came out from the kitchen to greet me.
“Welcome home, Lord Lyle. Oh — were you on your own from Aria-san?”
Novem in an apron — preparing lunch, evidently.
I told her Aria would be late. The smell from the kitchen got me hungry.
“She said it’d take more time and she’d be late. — Anyway, smells good.”
I glanced toward the kitchen; Novem giggled, said I’ll have lunch ready right away, and went back in.
What’s this about, I was wondering — and got a stern read from the Fourth.
”…Lyle.”
Novem wasn’t close, so I answered low.
“What is it?”
“No good at all. I was going to stay quiet, but it’s gone past no good. Why did you leave Aria-chan behind? And — thanks to Novem-chan for making lunch? Pay a little more attention! It’s stressful to watch!”
Lately I’d come to feel this one had really been put through it by his wife.
He probably had to operate like this or things went badly for him.
“He says that. Fifth, your take?”
The Fifth snorted back at me.
“Don’t worry about it. The Fourth — Pops — is a little sick. He treasured Ma too much, treated her too much like a princess… I had it tough because of that, by the way.”
Every generation had its issues.
I went to wash my hands. On the way, Novem called.
“Lord Lyle, were you able to make up with Aria-san?”
A question aimed at my and Aria’s relationship. At the same time, I felt I understood why Aria had come along to the reference room today.
“No. But — we did talk a little. Sorry to make you go to the trouble, Novem.”
She smiled a wry smile.
“You figured it out?”
“When she suddenly started talking to me today, I could tell. Something was up.”
Novem took off her apron, folded it, and laid it on a nearby piece of furniture.
“Aria-san has had it rough in various ways. Please — care about her a little.”
I looked away from Novem, nodded, and went straight to wash up.
◇
At the Guild counter, today’s work wrapping up, Hawkins stretched.
“Another safe end to the day.”
The middle-aged woman working beside him patted her shoulder and answered.
“Truly. Everything funnels onto my side. — Though your counter’s been getting more traffic lately.”
“I wouldn’t mind a little more, but it doesn’t go the way I want it to.”
She praised Hawkins, smiled, then stood and started preparing to leave.
The pretty receptionist at the far end had taken an early finish and was already gone.
Wondering which adventurer was treating her to dinner tonight, Hawkins, exasperated, started clearing up his papers and tools.
When the work was done, cleaning his counter was Hawkins’s rule.
The clerk who’d swapped in after the pretty receptionist had found unprocessed paperwork during handover and was at a loss.
Hawkins called out.
“What’s the matter?”
“Ah, Hawkins-san… I’ve turned up paperwork I wasn’t told about during handover and I’m not sure what to do.”
“Again, is it?”
You could call her the counter’s poster girl — pretty face, good figure — but the truth was that this kind of work behavior was the problem.
For adventurers requesting her counter on purpose, the little issues were actually welcomed as more time to talk with her.
But for the other staff, she was a problem.
Put in the back office, and she made too many mistakes — that was also a problem.
Above all, her father was a Guild executive.
Hawkins, told by his boss to please take care of the daughter, had been quietly covering when problems came up.
But that kind of environment hadn’t been good for her, apparently.
“I keep telling her to handle handovers properly.”
“It’s not your fault, Hawkins-san. The other staff put on a show — that’s fine, no problem — and indulge her. She takes that as the standard.”
Recently she’d disliked Hawkins giving detailed work instructions and had stopped talking to him.
The middle-aged clerk seemed to dislike her from the start and had no inclination to look after her.
“It’s the adventurers who suffer for it. …So, what kind of paperwork is it?”
Hawkins took the document. His look went hard.
“Sorry — I’m just here on temp, I don’t follow what this paper means.”
A back-office clerk doing counter work. Most jobs they could handle, but there was a lot they didn’t know.
In those cases, the Hawkins-types covered.
This one I can process myself — Hawkins thought. But something was off.
”…Where was this paper?”
“In the drawer, mixed in with the others.”
He opened the drawer. A pile of binder-clipped documents shoved in roughly.
(Like someone forced them in there… handle paperwork with care, is what I taught.)
Exasperated, but — right now, check whether there were other problem papers.
“I’ll go through everything in here. And — could you check whether any of the executives are still in?”
“Y-yes!”
Sensing the change in Hawkins, the clerk took off at a run.
Sitting back in his chair, Hawkins pulled the document pile out and started sorting.
”…Come to think of it, I haven’t received word that they’re back.”
He thought of the male instructor who’d called out to Zelphy before.
The instructor had been processed by someone else, so Hawkins hadn’t been told the duration. But by feel, they should already be back.
He wasn’t at the counter every day.
In his absence, the staff who’d taken handover handled it.
A bad feeling running through him, Hawkins kept checking—.
”…Bad feelings really do pay out, hm.”
There, a paper past its expected return date.
Meaning: not yet back, or unable to return. Hawkins immediately went into the back to find the paired Guild cards held in storage.
The instructor and the five young adventurers under him — six Guild cards to find.
Guild cards, kept for emergency confirmation, were stored where the public didn’t see them.
It was exactly as Hawkins had thought.
Six Guild cards in hand, he checked the names.
“No mistake.”
His expression hard, Hawkins held up the Guild cards — each with a horizontal line scored across the name.