by Mamare Touno
Eighteen in Akiba… Did that mean the last member was in another zone? When Shiroe asked, it turned out that the last member had just happened to be away and was currently in another city.
“From what I hear, things look about the same in Shibuya, Minami, Susukino, and Nakasu.”
That meant all five major cities on the Japanese server had been affected. Marielle had probably checked in with her wide network of friends using the telechat function.
“Hey, don’t tell me the gates aren’t—”
“Afraid so,” Marielle answered Naotsugu. “The intercity transport gates aren’t workin’… We’re all cut off from each other.”
That was new information.
Akiba, Shibuya, Minami, Susukino, and Nakasu were the five main player cities on the Japanese server. There were several other towns—towns with shops inhabited by non-player characters—but the services in these five cities were the most complete by far.
The five cities had been added with various expansion packs and had been designed to act as starting points for beginning players. This meant that all the players on the Japanese server had chosen one of these five cities as their hometown and base of operations. Each of the cities held a transport gate that linked it to the others, allowing players to travel instantaneously from one city to another… But now these gates weren’t functioning.
“So we could maybe get to Shibuya, but it’ll be pretty tough to get to the other cities.”
“Well, and even Shibuya’s… How far is it again? I think you’d have to cross seven or eight zones to get there.”
“Four at best,” Shiroe said absently.
If the gates between the cities weren’t working, it was a big problem.
In Elder Tales, a game designed to look like a medieval fantasy, the main modes of transportation for Adventurers were walking or horseback. However, in this half-sized virtual Earth, home of the Half-Gaia Project, traveling that way would take far too long. For that reason, players had been provided with Fairy Rings and the transport gates that linked the cities.
The gates had been placed only in player cities. They were teleportation-style devices designed to allow travel between cities with almost no time spent in transit. If those gates were off-line, it would be much, much harder to reach distant cities.
For example, Susukino was located where Sapporo would be on a map of the real Japan. Anyone who wanted to go there from Akiba (Tokyo) would have to cross a vast number of zones. Even in the game, it would probably take more than a week. Of course, that would be a week in game time, but under the circumstances, game time was the only time there was.
“Say, kiddo. Any idea how things got this way?”
Shiroe and Naotsugu were silent. They had no answers, but at the sight of Marielle’s slightly discouraged face, Shiroe wished he’d been able to tell her something. As things stood, it was a question he simply didn’t have the strength to answer.
“…It’s all right, miss. Cheer up. Things are obviously pretty bad, but they’re not half as bad as they could be.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Marielle sounded dejected.
Naotsugu kept going, speaking firmly in an attempt to cheer her up.
“Maybe we’ve gotten pulled into some other world, but there must be several thousand Japanese in here, y’know? If people from the other servers are here, too, that’s several hundred thousand of us. With that many people in the same boat, it’s nowhere near as bad as it could be. We all speak the same language, and we’ve got some assets on hand. I mean, look, we’ve just gotten exiled, and we’re able to be here, with a roof over our heads, talking. We haven’t checked into this yet, but we think we might be as strong as our characters, and we can probably use magic and sword skills. In other words, we’ve already got the minimum of what it’s going to take to survive here. Compared to the fantasy standards like being marooned in another world or getting exiled to another dimension, we’ve got it pretty good. Talk about an easy win.”
“You know a lot about stories like that, Naotsugu?”
“Yeah, I’d say I do. I read all sorts of stuff when I was a kid.”
Even as he asked that pointless question, Shiroe felt his respect for Naotsugu grow. He was right. Shiroe seemed to have fallen into the habit of seeing the glass as half-empty, and it had left him unable to see the bright side of things.
“I see… Wow. You’re so right!”
Marielle seemed to feel the same way as Shiroe. She looked at Naotsugu, her face flooded with gratitude, and suddenly grabbed him and pulled him to her.
“Yes! Well said! That was impressive, hon! I’m real touched! You’re a lifesaver!”
“Whoa— Wha?! Wh-wh-what’s with this lady?!”
Pressed to Marielle’s ample bosom, Naotsugu struggled, flustered, but Marielle only hugged him harder, shaking him like a puppy with a toy.
“Mari? Do we have guests?”
A woman knocked and entered. She wore glasses, and when she saw Marielle and Naotsugu, she looked terribly embarrassed.
“Hello, Miss Henrietta. We’re intruding.”
“Not in the least, Master Shiroe. It’s good to see you. Shall I come back later?”
“I’d rather you stopped her, actually.”
“Yes, absolutely. —Mari, that’s enough! Would you think before you do things like that?!”
Henrietta, the woman who’d entered the room at Shiroe’s request, was in charge of the guild’s accounts. She grabbed Marielle’s shoulders and pulled her away, scolding loudly.
“Whoa! Henrietta? Listen, I just heard somethin’ fantastic. This sweetheart here said the most amazin’ thing! Absolutely wonderful!”
“That is not what we’re talking about now! I can’t believe you! At a time like this! Think about the situation!!”
Shiroe chuckled a little, both at the sight of Naotsugu—who was limp and red-faced—and at Marielle and Henrietta.
Henrietta was one of the Crescent Moon League’s executive members, and she and Shiroe had met before. She was a Bard, in charge of the guild’s accounts, and a terribly competent individual. Since she wore glasses, too, Shiroe had always felt a secret kinship with her. Now, on seeing the other-world version of Henrietta, he realized that sense of kinship had been all in his head.
Henrietta’s wavy, honey-colored hair framed an oval face, and although both her features and her light brown eyes were sharp, she was quite beautiful. Not only that, but it was the beauty of a capable secretary. There was something a bit librarian-esque about her clothes; they accented her graceful, mature beauty and suited her very well.
It seemed a little like blasphemy for a game-crazy college student like Shiroe to even look her in the eye.
Since Henrietta had joined them, they reviewed their conversation up to the point where she’d come in and briefly reported their individual circumstances—that said, it had been only half a day since they’d found themselves in this world, and none of their reports revealed any new information.
* * *
“So… What should we do?”
“For now, I think we’d do best to stay in close contact with the rest of the group and concentrate on avoiding confusion,” Henrietta said.
It was a very levelheaded decision, and Shiroe agreed. Unless they avoided thinking about the distant future and concentrated on doing what they could right now, he felt as if they’d go under.
“They’re right, Mari. Both Master Shiroe and Master Naotsugu are entirely correct. Fortunately, we have the guildhall, and I think we should all… Yes, I know it will be a bit cramped, but it would be best if the whole group slept here.”
“True.”
Henrietta and Marielle’s discussion seemed to make Naotsugu break out in a cold sweat.
“What’s the matter, Naotsugu?” Shiroe murmured.
“Nothing!” Naotsugu said in hasty denial. “It’s just way too sudden, that’s all.” Although he was always tossing around risqué comment
s, apparently even he wasn’t good at handling direct attacks.
“What’s wrong, hon? Don’tcha like boobies? Wanna touch?”
At Marielle’s cheery words, Naotsugu quickly averted his eyes. Probably because he was indeed a guy, he did keep sneaking glances anyway.
Well, Mari’s gorgeous, and she has an excellent figure, Shiroe thought. I can sympathize.
Marielle had put Shiroe through this, too, back when they’d first met. Of course, Shiroe had held out obstinately—“…Yes? What are these fatty growths? They’re heavy. Get them out of my face”—all the way to the end. Ego, once again.
Back then, of course, Elder Tales was still just a game. Things like this had been limited to suggestive talk and getting two characters together on-screen, and by now—possibly because she’d grown tired of it—Marielle didn’t tease Shiroe much.
“Why is this lady so open about this stuff?! It’s freaking me out.”
“Mari went to an all-girls school. This is how native Osakans turn out if you don’t dilute them with something else… Mari?! Things like that were fine when this was a game, but right now, we’re in a state of emergency! Control yourself!!”
Marielle took Henrietta’s scolding with dejected meekness. The fact that she would let herself be scolded, even though she was the guild master, was one of her good points.
Shiroe wasn’t currently part of a guild, and even now he had a vague mistrust of the entire system, but he certainly didn’t see all players who belonged to guilds as enemies. He’d hated the guild system, yes, but that was several years ago, and although he still had some doubts about it, by now he’d accepted it for what it was. He’d been in several parties with Marielle and Henrietta, and Marielle had used her wide network of acquaintances to help him out on occasion. Shiroe had a hunch that cheerful busybody Marielle had noticed that he was a coward about relationships and tended to keep his distance from people and that she tried to make things easier for him.
Mari’s more of a grown-up than I am. Just like Naotsugu… Well, not exactly like Naotsugu.
Marielle wasn’t doing any of it to keep Shiroe in her circle of acquaintances so she could use him or profit by the relationship. She was doing it because that was the sort of person she was and because she couldn’t help looking out for people. Shiroe didn’t think it was something she did especially for him, either; she probably did similar things for everyone around her.
Although I do wish she wasn’t quite so…touchy-feely… Oh. Maybe that’s it. She acts a lot like Naotsugu. That could be why she took to him so easily…
It was probable that the members of the Crescent Moon League had gathered simply because they liked Marielle. Leading close to twenty members and being attentive to all of them was a truly monumental responsibility. Marielle was a good-natured, trustworthy player, and so Shiroe thought it was probably best to tell her what he could predict about the situation in as much detail as possible.
While Marielle listened to what Shiroe had to say, she paid extra attention to the things they’d need to keep in mind during battle and asked several astute questions. When he mentioned the number of people who were probably on the server and that there was a good chance that trouble would break out among the players, her face clouded.
“I see… You’re right. That’s a huge possibility, come to think of it. We might end up dealin’ with fraud and harassment, as well as straight-up violence…”
Unlike Shiroe, who only had to look out for himself, Marielle had friends she’d need to take care of. On top of that, she was a woman.
“—Hey, that’s right! Listen up, lady! Don’t go doing stuff like— Like that thing you just did, without thinking about it. Use your common sense, or go find some. There’s nothing good about being featherbrained.”
“Ack?! You’re so right! I’m heavy boobed but featherbrained! —But I don’t see what gives you the right to tell me that, seein’ as we just met. Mean ol’ Naotsugu! Dummy! Dummy!”
“No, Master Naotsugu has an excellent point. I insist you fix that girls’-school habit of hugging people indiscriminately, Mari.”
“Aw, who cares?! Nobody, that’s who! And anyway, what’s this fancy-schmancy Henrietta business, Umeko-in-real-life?!”
“Yeeeeeeeghk! You promised you’d never tell!!”
…Apparently Henrietta and Marielle knew each other outside Elder Tales as well. Shiroe had been telling them some pretty serious stuff, and wondering how much of it had actually gotten through was giving him a headache.
“Honestly! That’s enough time wasted on that foolish girl,” Henrietta said pragmatically. “Now, I suppose a prompt resolution is…”
“Probably not in the cards,” Shiroe answered. “I don’t think we should hold our breath.”
“Isn’t there anythin’ we can do?”
Marielle frowned, knitting her brow. She didn’t seem able to accept the idea. Shiroe knew exactly how she felt, and he’d already thought about that particular question. As a result, he’d decided to split up the responsibility of gathering information with Naotsugu, the way they were doing now.
At the moment, they knew very little. However, although gathering information was high on the list of things he and Naotsugu could and should do, it wouldn’t necessarily be top priority for everyone. Unlike Shiroe, Marielle was a guild master. Naturally, that meant there were more people she had to protect, but it also meant there was more she could do.
Although guilds were common in general, there were all sorts of different styles. Differences in activities, goals, and scale resulted in a huge variety of orientations. In terms of activities, the most common type of guild was the fighting guild. These were guilds formed to provide backup in battles—one of the highlights of Elder Tales—and the focus of member activities was battling in open-air and dungeon zones. The guild’s role was to make it easy to find people to fight alongside you that day, otherwise known as party members. It was easier to recruit people you already knew, and it often made team plays go more smoothly.
As the biggest player city on the Japanese server, Akiba boasted a large population. Its most famous fighting guilds were the Knights of the Black Sword, Honesty, D.D.D., and the West Wind Brigade.
Another type of guild was the production guild. In addition to the main classes, which determined players’ fighting styles, Elder Tales offered various subclasses. Players who belonged to production-type subclasses and used their skills to create items were known as “artisans.” The levels for main classes and subclasses were independent of each other, and although it was possible to level up both at the same time, some players preferred to spend their time quietly in town, using their subclass skills to play at being merchants. Players like these joined production guilds. Such guilds tended to be large, since the things players expected of them—bulk purchase of materials and warehouse storage—could be performed to better advantage if there were lots of people involved. The most famous production guilds in Akiba were probably the Marine Organization and the Roderick Trading Company.
Marielle’s Crescent Moon League was a small adventure support guild. Adventure support guilds provided assistance for battles, production, or whatever their members wanted to do. Since they didn’t specialize either way, their members didn’t benefit quite as much. However, they compensated for this shortcoming with a relaxed, homey atmosphere, and in fact, most small and midsized guilds tended to be adventure support guilds.
The Crescent Moon League was a relatively well-known example. It lacked the name recognition and clout of the big fighting guilds, and it couldn’t match the revenue or scale of the big production guilds, but it had an established reputation for support for midlevel Adventurers and for being light on its feet.
“For now, I think protecting yourselves should be your first priority.”
“What he said. From what I saw, there are a lot of girls in this guild, right?”
Henrietta nodded in response to Shiroe’s and Naotsugu’s comments. Altho
ugh the town was a noncombat zone, under the circumstances, there was no telling what might happen… And that was assuming the noncombat settings were still in place. Until they managed to check, they had no guarantee that that was the case.
We’ll have to find some way to look into that later.
Shiroe made a mental note.
“Next, I think you should temporarily pull your items from the market.”
“Huh? The market? And why’s that?”
“Ah… Yes, you’re right.”
Markets were a service provided in all major cities by specific non-player characters. Players were able to sell off their items at will by giving them to these non-player characters and setting a price. Although there were many ways for players to do business with other players, the market was an extremely simple, handy way to sell off surplus items and items players had made.
“The Crescent Moon guild has quite a lot of raw material, doesn’t it? I’d assume many of your members have put items on the market privately, too. In a situation like this, prices can change drastically, even for old items. They may have acquired new effects, or someone may find a brand-new way to use them. If you have some money on hand, I’d pull back for a while and keep an eye on market conditions.”
“Okay. Roger that. You’re right.”
“Then, too, we won’t be able to check the Internet anymore.”
Marielle and Henrietta nodded meekly.
When Elder Tales was just a game, Shiroe and the others had played it while seated in front of monitors. That meant they’d been able to casually surf the Internet while they played, and most players had. Elder Tales was an enormous, unbelievably complex game. Because no one player could ever know everything there was to know about that world, solution sites had been players’ constant salvation.
Maps and characteristics of all sorts of zones. The routes that connected them. The monsters and items that appeared there. Where players had to go to find non-player characters and what types of non-player characters they’d be. Having all this information in front of them as they played the game had been the most common way to play Elder Tales.
