Darion was a town close to the royal capital.
Famous in recent years for thriving and expanding.
Compared to the city in House Walt’s territory it was small, but its busy, mixed energy — the kind a neatly arranged hometown didn’t have — felt fresh.
“Two days from the capital via the station town. The maintained roads really do help. Quick travel.”
I stretched at Darion’s gate. Novem was studying a signboard nearby.
“There’s a simple map. With the names of shops too.”
I joined her. It marked the location of the Adventurers’ Guild building.
“Lord Lyle — is that the building over there?”
The building visible from Darion’s entrance stood taller than the two- and three-story structures around it. The biggest in the area, probably.
The Darion Adventurers’ Guild was clearly making money.
“Bigger than the branch in our— I mean, in House Walt’s territory.”
Novem caught the correction. She looked like she wanted to say something. I forced a smile.
“Well — we have time. Let’s go register.”
“Yes, Lord Lyle.”
She smiled back. I carried her travel bag and walked ahead.
(Zel said it too, and Novem — money goes fast.)
The wallet was much lighter. We’d bought a lot of things on the way to Darion. The most expensive was my sword. A saber — and even a mass-produced one was pricey, probably because demand was low.
(I need to seriously economize. The ancestors all live by different standards though…)
Each generation thought differently — including about money. Each generation got richer, so the Seventh (Grandfather), Sixth, and Fifth were basically rich-person-brain.
The First thought a man’s weapon was an axe or a club — sabers were useless.
“What’s wrong with picking up a stick or a rock to bash with? If you don’t have one, what’s wrong with your bare hands?”
— A genuine wild-man mindset.
Walking toward the tall building, I noticed others in adventurer attire heading the same direction.
Clothing varied. Some of them looked like nothing but thugs.
Knives on their hips, walking like they were daring anyone to make eye contact.
Adventurers carried weapons on the daily. They were managed by the Guild, but the crime rate didn’t reflect any restraint.
A lot of adventurers were thugs or mercenaries. Wanted criminals sometimes blended in. The Guild tried to filter them out, but it wasn’t going great.
Roughly thirty to forty percent were honest adventurers, at best. Most were doing it as a side gig.
(…Knowledge from the ancestors.)
Not my own. I’d had only a vague picture of adventurers. Hearing the reality made my childhood admiration look stupid.
“Storybook adventurers” were less than ten percent of the actual population.
“Here we are, Lord Lyle.”
“Wait — why is the first floor a market?”
The building marked clearly as the Adventurers’ Guild had a first floor built like a pillared warehouse.
Wagons, adventurers, merchants — coming and going. Adventurers, merchants, and what looked like ordinary citizens were doing business there.
“That’s the trading area, Lord Lyle. They use the first floor for adventurers to sell their monster materials.”
“Eh? Don’t you turn things in to the Guild?”
Novem looked troubled.
“I’m not an expert, but — when adventurers come back from fighting monsters, they’re… very dirty. Walking straight into the indoor areas would be a mess. See the public bath next door? If you really need the Guild counter, you clean up there first.”
True. Bringing bloody monster parts to a counter where you fill out paperwork was obviously wrong.
“R-right. Hah, hah hah.”
I’d resolved to try harder, and was immediately showing off how little I knew the world. How many times had I done this now?
(Can I actually pull this off?)
Carrying anxiety, Novem and I went up to the second floor where the registration counter was.
The Guild’s second floor was a wide reception counter. Many staff handled queues of adventurers.
“Lots of people.”
“True. I’ve never registered before — I’m a little nervous.”
From the Jewel — not the First, the Second this time.
“The old man’s sulking. Let me handle this. Registration’s nothing — they’re used to new people.”
(Wish you’d been first.)
I tapped the Jewel as acknowledgement and listened to the Second’s voice while looking at the lines.
The queues were stratified.
The pretty staff member’s line was full of new and obviously young adventurers. A bright-smiling woman handling them with smiles.
Then a brisker older woman handling rushed adventurers in a different queue.
Mostly female staff. Few men.
I started toward the older woman’s line. The Second stopped me.
“Lyle, let’s go to the shortest line.”
(The shortest? Which one’s that…)
He pointed at a tan-skinned, jacked man — buzzcut, red hair — at a counter.
Looked intimidating.
I hesitated. The Second:
“It’s fine. He’s the most legit one here.”
(He doesn’t look legit.)
He’d taken his suit jacket off, but you could see steel-cable muscle through his shirt. The kind that suggested fists fly when he gets mad.
“Quick-ly! Don’t keep Novem-chan waiting!”
(Why is everyone First through Fourth so Novem-focused. I get that her family helped you guys, but…)
I reluctantly joined that line. Novem looked surprised.
“You picked that one? I assumed you’d go with the fast staff.”
“Yeah, that was my plan — but.”
I couldn’t say the truth. Novem looked relieved.
“I was going to suggest the same one. Good timing.”
“Oh, really?”
She had the same opinion as the Second.
“His work was careful, and for registration, careful is what you want.”
The Second was satisfied.
“Exactly. Better the friendly, careful, scary-looking one than the smiley-pretty one whose work is sloppy. And — that beauty’s no good.”
I looked at the pretty staff member’s line.
“Oh — meals are a bit difficult…”
“C’mon. Let’s get dinner when you finish.”
“But…”
She was all smiles — then the next customer:
“Yes. Here’s your reward.”
“Um…”
“Next, please.”
Good-looking and well-equipped adventurer? One treatment. Well-equipped but plain-faced? Different treatment entirely.
The plain-faced one was visibly distressed.
“Hold on! The reward amount is wrong! The client’s evaluation—”
“You can complain all you want—”
The adventurer behind him cut in.
“Hey! We’re in a hurry. Stop whining about small money!”
I decided: never that line.
“Yeah, that one’s a no. She’s pretty, but she’s the kind of staff who shouldn’t be at a counter.”
The Second’s read was sharp.
The pretty staffer was popular with newbies and adventurers who wanted to flirt. Her actual service was poor.
(Glad I didn’t pick her.)
“Lord Lyle, you’re up.”
“Oop.”
My turn.
Up close, the man’s presence was even more imposing. Big build, but more — an air about him. Like a warrior.
“This guy was probably an adventurer himself. Retired into Guild work. If so, he was sharp and clean. Stick with him.”
While the Second made decisions for me, I asked to register.
“I’d like to register. There are two of us.”
He nodded and prepared the paperwork.
“Registration, then. Nice to meet you. I’m [Hawkins]. If you’ve got questions, please ask. Two of you — shall we also register you as a party?”
Party registration? Novem responded faster than the Second could.
“Please.”
Hawkins-san had a much politer tone than his looks suggested. He guided us through.
“After registration, your home Guild will be the Darion branch. To change your base of operations, file a transfer notice at the Guild. Then file the inbound notice at the new branch to set it as your new home. Otherwise you can still sell monster materials anywhere, but you can’t take quests.”
I wrote my name. He checked the forms. Both Novem and I were used to paperwork — we’d done plenty growing up.
“Looks good. Now, please put a drop of blood on each of these two plates. Use this needle. Disinfected. Miss, you too.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
The pinprick. A small bead of blood formed. I touched it to the silver plate.
“Good. Here’s medicine — wipe the blood off after applying. Now I’ll inscribe your names on these. We keep one at the Guild.”
The silver plate was the Adventurers’ Guild ID card.
Called a Guild Card.
When the owner died, the inscribed name vanished. The card also recorded your activity. The Guild could read the information at any time.
The Second:
”…With this many years passed, things have gotten convenient. We didn’t have anything like this. Bet it’s pricey.”
“The first-issue fee is five silver. If you can’t afford that now, we deduct ten to twenty percent from your future rewards. Acceptable?”
Novem laid down a gold coin.
“I’ll pay now.”
“Understood. I’ll prepare the cards. Please wait on the sofa.”
Hawkins-san went through the door behind the counter.
We sat together on the sofa. Faces turned toward us. Tongue-clicks, jealous looks. The reason was obvious: Novem was beautiful.
“He really was careful and kind, just as you said, Lord Lyle.”
“Y-yeah.”
She didn’t notice the stares. The First — silent for a while — erupted.
“You bunch of LOSERS! Don’t you put filthy eyes on Novem-chan!”
The Second joined in.
“Touch Novem-chan and Lyle will beat you flat!”
The Fourth finally piped up.
“We literally can’t lay hands on anyone… aren’t you two embarrassed, even hearing yourselves? And — easy, please. Lyle will pass out.”
With his perpetual long-suffering aura, the Fourth talked them down. Their elevated emotion drained my mana.
(I’m not doing anything and I’m getting tired. Makes me look anemic.)
I hadn’t thought my mana pool was small. By ancestor standards, it was.
“Here are your Guild Cards. Since you’re registered as a party, your partner’s name is engraved on each card.”
He handed them over. My name was big. Novem’s was small underneath.
“Also — the Guild rules booklet. Today’s orientation is over, but there’s a beginner’s session tomorrow morning on the third floor. Drop by if you can.”
Hawkins-san recommended it.
“Thank you for the careful explanation.”
Novem thanked him. He paused, looking at us.
“Something wrong?”
He gave a wry smile.
“It’s rare for new adventurers not to be intimidated by me. …This is my own opinion, but — if you have funds to spare — would you consider hiring an instructor?”
“Instructor?”
He explained. The Guild guaranteed a senior adventurer, hired for typically three months as your instructor. Payment options: from your rewards over time, or one lump payment.
The payment method affected the quality. From-rewards got you mid-tier, lower-end. Lump-sum got you mid-tier, upper-end.
Lump-sum: ten gold coins.
(That much we don’t have.)
I was about to suggest the deferred option to Novem —
“Lump sum, please.”
“Eh? Lump sum?”
She put down ten gold coins. Hawkins-san looked startled.
“W-wait, Novem?!”
She turned serious.
“Lord Lyle — a senior adventurer guaranteed by the Guild. This opportunity matters. We don’t actually understand adventurers.”
A solid point. But — I was just stunned she’d paid ten gold. Penniless me, who’d borrowed money from a servant — and her.
“So… lump sum, yes?”
“Yes please. A good instructor please.”
“Of course. If we mess up, we refund.”
Hawkins-san had confidence. I’d contributed nothing and the situation kept moving.
“From the outside… you look like a deadbeat right now, Lyle.”
The Second’s line landed hard.