by Kumo Kagyu
The girl looked around, goggling at everything. It all looked so familiar, but she had only ever seen it through a window. And now she was there among all of it.
The thought made her strangely giddy, and her footsteps grew lighter.
She headed for the shop where she had always heard one went if one wished to become an adventurer.
The Golden Knight.
The name was legendary, among the oldest establishments in the capital, famous all over the city as the tavern of adventurers. She could hardly contain the buzzing of her heart from finding herself in a place even older than the organization known as the Guild.
She pushed the door open with a creak and went in, to discover the establishment still lively despite the late hour. She stiffened as the gazes of people who—she could tell at a glance—were of no account settled on her.
It only lasted an instant, though. A rookie adventurer come to the Knight was in no way unusual. She relaxed as the eyes left her. Then she straightened up and started forward with her best imitation of fearlessness.
A young man staring down at a table in the corner suddenly looked up, but she quietly ignored his uninvited gaze.
“Ahem, do you have any rooms for the night?” She thought she heard her voice scrape.
“Hrm?” The owner eyed her from behind the counter. He looked her up and down then gave a quiet sigh. “The royal suite, the regular suite, economy room, cot, or…”
“The stables!” She was surprised at how loud her voice suddenly was. Attention turned to her again, and the girl looked at the ground.
“…Around back. Hope you get some sleep.”
“Th-thank you very much.” She nodded in acknowledgment then left the tavern. Her face felt so hot.
Adventurers slept in the stables. That was what they did. So why shouldn’t she? She loved adventurers.
Best of all, the stables were free. If she went scattering gemstones all over the capital, it would be too easy for her brother to find her.
“If I can avoid him, just for tonight…”
Then there would be a chance. She could get outside the gates. She could do it. She could do it—she thought.
The girl went around back, glancing about as she undressed in the shadows.
She pulled off the overly tight vestments and mail and threw them aside then buried herself in a bale of hay with the sounding staff and her bag of jewels.
The stables stank something awful, and the straw scratched her all over; there was no chance she would find any sleep.
Then again, that might have been because of the priestess’s crying face, which she had never actually seen, but which haunted her mind’s eye the whole night through.
“So, do you have anything to report about the flaming stone from the heavens that supposedly fell at the holy mount?”
The throne was a tiring place to be. Then again, it was a symbol of the king’s power, not a place to relax.
Still, the next chair I get is going to have a softer seat.
The young ruler, however, let no trace of this thought show in his expression; his royal bearing was unmoved.
His traveling court had only just returned the night before, and now he had this council first thing in the morning.
The huge stone hall was decorated with tapestries, each with an august history, and shafts of autumn light came in through the windows. They brought with them the colors of the stained glass down upon the gorgeous, round stone table where his most important advisers were now gathered.
An elderly minister, a red-haired cardinal, a tan-skinned court mage, a royal guardsman in silver armor, and a Gold-ranked adventurer.
In addition to these, there were notable nobles, wizards, scholars, religionists, and merchants—people of every stripe.
If one was to be king of this nation, one had to know from the moment one became king.
From the founding of the nation—from the founding of history—disaster and chaos had come again and again: the Demon Lord.
And each time, the kings of the dwarves and the elves, and the chieftains of the rheas and the beast people had gathered for a council of war around this table.
There were adventurers and knights-errant present as well, along with mages and sages whose origins he didn’t really know.
The table had been carved centuries ago by the king of the dwarves, who had found it quite amusing that with the table round, there would be no distinction of status among those who sat at it.
And anyone who had ever been on an adventure understood immediately that no one type of person could dictate what his group did.
Well, some don’t. But they die off pretty fast.
He saw his royal guard grin slightly—perhaps his old friend had picked up on the hint of a smirk on the king’s face.
“Very well, each of you, please speak in turn,” the king said soberly, suppressing his smile. First, a towering royal mage got to his feet.
“The stargazers have seen an ill star fall unexpectedly upon the board.”
“Well, now—unexpectedly?”
“Yes, sire. The school is poring through the ancient texts, but they have yet to find any prophecies resembling what has happened.”
The king nodded deeply at the tan-skinned man’s words then made a broad gesture for him to be seated. “You think, then, that it might be the work of Chance and not Fate…?” He rested his elbows on the arms of his throne and put his chin in his hands, thinking carefully. It would be best to handle one thing at a time. “And what about the holy mount? I want to know what this flaming rock from heaven has done.”
“As ever, one does not climb the holy mount, Your Majesty.”
This answer came from a man who stood out even among the members of this council. He carried no weapon, but a horned helmet sat on the table in front of him, and he was wearing a well-used set of mail. He had bushy black hair in abundance, and from his neck hung a Gold-ranked tag; he was the only padfoot present.
His doglike face was contorted in displeasure, and he ate the snacks sitting on the round table with abandon.
“A cave or the like, maybe. But climbing the outer walls? A bit difficult.”
The man of the royal guard raised his hand in a smooth motion. His muscled body was protected on the battlefield by a suit of platinum armor. When the king nodded, the man—the captain charged with protection of the royal person—ran a hand through his hair and said, “Majesty, it would be a challenge to get the army onto the mount.”
“I might have guessed.”
“Indeed, sire. It doesn’t have room for much of a crowd. I’m not sure how many of you blue bloods could even make the trip.”
The captain, of common stock himself, spoke as if this were the most natural thing in the world. He viewed the physical strength of the royal family and the nobility rather lightly.
And he’s right to do so.
The king took strength from this old friend, who was now a staff officer at his side.
The holy mount was the tallest, most dangerous mountain to tower over his kingdom. No mountain really belonged to those who had words, but the holy mount even less than most. If he sent in the army, there was no telling how many casualties there might be.
“However, sire, it would be possible to surround the mount in case anything should come down from it,” the captain went on. The words were proud, with tested military experience behind them. “Not a freak or foe would get past us into the known world.”
That, he submitted, was the army’s duty.
If adventurers were arrows that could be loosed directly at a target, the army was a shield protecting the realm. The army would not get him to the Demon Lord’s stronghold, nor, being there, would it triumph against the enemy. Soldiers used only mass-produced weapons and armor that smiths turned out as quickly as they could. Their only experience was endless discipline, day by day. It gave them no hope of victory.
But meet the oncoming forces of the Demon Lord? That they could d
o. They could stand in the way of the encroaching enemy, forming a wall of spears to prevent their advance. And that—that was something adventurers certainly could not do.
“A small number of people acting alone might have a better chance.” The Gold-ranked adventurer, well aware of all this, crossed his arms and leaned his small frame back in his chair. “But it pays to be careful. I’ve been up to the foot of the mountain, just to check things out, but I sensed something there. Something I didn’t recognize.”
“What do you mean by that?” the red-haired cardinal asked with interest.
The Gold-ranked adventurer pulled an especially uncomfortable face. “I’m thinking, something that’s not even in the Monster Manual.”
“I see…” The king let out a breath. It had been nothing but trouble since the battle with the greater demons the year before.
Greater demons, heretic cults, giants, and so on and so forth. He couldn’t believe how far peace seemed from his world.
“Meaning, it looks like it’s going to be her turn now.”
No one objected to the whisper. They all looked at one another and nodded. They should play their wild card while the playing was good. If she accepted, at least.
I’m glad that girl was born with a good heart, the king thought gratefully.
He didn’t want to further burden the girl, who wasn’t so different in age from his own younger sister. But each thing and each person was given their own role to play. All one could do was go along with it. Just as he accepted his place as king. The only thing he really wanted was not to be one of those weaklings who threw a fit and rejected the place in life they’d been given.
“All right,” he said. “Make preparations so you can provide the best support possible if called upon.”
“Indeed, sire, as you wish,” said the minister, an old man, working hard to bow respectfully.
The king could leave the details to him. Yes, that would do nicely. What was needed from the king was decisiveness and direction; precise understanding and careful consideration could be provided by his ministers.
But I guess too much of that kind of thinking is what gets you turned into a puppet ruler.
“How has the city been during my absence?”
“The cults continue to run rampant, though that’s nothing new…” The answer came from the red-haired cardinal. He had been seconded to the city as an adviser, and his eloquence was unimpeachable. “While you were on the circuit, Majesty, a strange sect devoted to the God of Wisdom began to take hold to the south of the capital.”
“And I suppose those who don’t believe are visited by a terrible curse?”
“We know not what the truth of the matter is.”
“We’ll have to strike at them.” The young king’s eyes lit up, and his mouth curled into a smile.
The cardinal could see what was happening. “Majesty…,” he said tiredly.
The king answered only, “Yes, I know,” and looked at the papers he had in hand.
“Is this God of Wisdom different from the God who gives knowledge?” asked the court mage.
The cardinal nodded solemnly. “The God of Knowledge walks himself in the darkness, offering up the light of learning.”
“But this God of Wisdom doesn’t?”
“He does not lead and reveals no path. He simply, suddenly, flings the flame of insight into the dark.”
“…It seems a subtle distinction.” The mage let out a sigh. This description seemed not so different from that of the one called the Dark God.
The king considered this exchange carefully then asked a question of his own. “What, then, of what is beyond our sight…?”
“At the moment, the Order of the world shows no sign of being upset.”
The response to his question came from a woman so inordinately beautiful she hardly seemed to belong there. Her luscious body and soft chest were ensconced in white clothing; in her hand, she held the sword and scales, and her eyes were covered by a sash.
“The battle has resulted in more refugees, orphans, and homeless people, but they don’t want for employment in these days.” The woman was the archbishop serving the Supreme God, Sword Maiden. Her words sounded like music, and she smiled. “We never have enough hands, after all, no matter how many there are.
She seems very different these days.
The thought came to the king suddenly. He had known her for close to ten years now. Today as ever, she was so full of beautiful curves that any man would have gone flying to her. Before, though, her beauty had been like a peony that might fall from the branch at any moment. Now—now it was different. Her form and expression were as luminous as a flower holding itself forth in bloom. Her friend the king thought surely this was good.
“Oh, but…” The lovely expression clouded over slightly. The eyebrows drooped under the weight of trouble, and her body slouched just a bit.
“What is it? Speak.”
With much trembling, then. Sword Maiden’s smile was like a secret.
“A precious friend of mine was a victim of a theft at the bathhouse, of her priestess’s garments and a set of mail she cherished. Just yesterday.”
“I’m sorry…?”
“The thief, it seems, was dressed as a soldier…”
The king raised a dubious eyebrow. It seemed a minor matter, but perhaps it warranted his attention after all. A thief in the guise of a soldier could not be overlooked.
Sword Maiden, however, changed the subject before he could voice any other questions. “Furthermore,” she continued, “I consider that the goblins must be destroyed.”
Her declaration was bracing, her smile gentle, and both seemed to declare this the end of the matter.
“Again with the goblins,” the other councilmembers murmured, looking at one another. She always said that.
The king forced his face into a neutral expression and coughed.
Damn it all, I guess I can’t let it go.
“Very well, I’ll have the matter investigated… Next, what’s the status of the adventurer training centers?”
“……”
A female merchant, the person charged with overseeing matters related to the training centers, blinked. She was the youngest of those gathered there, and now she found every eye in the chamber focused on her. She glanced quickly at Sword Maiden then gave a deep bow and began to speak. “…A report has been prepared, sire. May it please you to look at it.”
This woman was young, but she comported herself with an unusual composure and little of the idealism that so often accompanied youth. Neither was she a benighted pessimist, though; she took a realistic, pragmatic view of things.
Maybe it was the toneless quality of her voice, the way her expression rarely changed, that made her seem so adult. Her punctilious personality was reflected in the careful, precise characters on the sheet before him.
She was the daughter of a certain noble household; it was said that after a period of convalescence from illness, she had entered into business on the strength of her family’s assets… But what, he wondered, had been her experiences, the life that had led her to walk onto the political stage in these past months?
Where indeed do such talented women come from?
The king rested against the arms of his throne, a small smile coming over his mouth, hidden by the paper in front of him. Rulers and nobles were not supposed to show their feelings to others so easily. He would have to work on that.
“…The facilities as such are approaching completion at the Guilds in several towns. However…” The woman trailed off, searching the thin air in front of her for the rest of the words. “…as we expected, the notion that one might become an adventurer and then immediately have to embark upon a course of study has had some trouble gaining acceptance.”
“I’m hardly surprised,” the king said, nodding seriously. “Back when I was an adventurer, many of us considered it a nuisance that we even had to write our names to register.”
Then ag
ain, most of those people made a beeline for the tavern, got drunk, ran their mouths, and were shortly adventurers no longer. Then they would complain: if only they had skill; if only they’d had the luck to be born into some better situation…and on and on.
The ironic thing was that other novice adventurers were all around them, people who might not be experienced but who were going through the evaluation process, earning their daily bread by carrying bags, and working themselves to the bone finding ways to become more skilled. Yet, the drunkards (the king remembered with disgust) derided them as doing all that work for nothing.
“People don’t change their minds overnight,” he said. “We must take the long view when it comes to education.”
“…Yes, Majesty. For that reason, I suggest we provide meals to those in training, so that we might attract hungry adventurers.”
“Provide meals? You’re suggesting the state offer catering?”
The ranks of adventurers were frequently filled with the young, disenfranchised sons of farmers with nowhere else to go, or runaway tenant farmers. Even those who came with nothing but their dreams of glory could not escape the need for food, clothing, and shelter. If it was possible to address even one of those needs… Well, it could only encourage the acceptance of their educational system.
“I like the idea, but do we have the budget for it?”
The real problem wasn’t the methodology. It was the money it would take to bring it to life.
The woman’s eyebrows drooped unhappily at the king’s pointed question “…That, sire, is the crux of the matter.” She summarized things briefly. “…As a matter of fact, I expect it to put us in the red. We can’t expect to charge class fees, after all.”
“You understand the national treasury does not exist simply to pour out money like water to put food in the mouths of vagrant good-for-nothings?” the king said then shrugged. Maybe they would discover a land where grain and gold welled up from the ground—then it would be a different story.
Maybe if I went and slayed just one little dragon.
“Majesty,” a voice intoned sharply. The red-haired cardinal was giving him a grim look. Bah.
