by Mamare Touno
When Elder Tales was a game, it had been studded with countless stories in the form of tales and legends, backgrounds for adventures, and quests. While there had been all kinds of stories, some of the plots had required heroes. One such plot might have been: “That hero is in dire straits! Go to his aid!”
Since this was a game, the players were the ones who did the rescuing, but if the level of the non-player character they were rescuing had been too low, it would have affected their motivation to play.
For example, if the story was that an Adventurer who could defeat level-90 dragons was going to save a hero who had gone to King of Evil Spirits Lich, and the hero was level 15, the story wouldn’t look right.
In that case, players were likely to think, A wuss like you shouldn’t have shown up in a place like this to begin with! Just stay out of battles. Man, I don’t even feel like saving you.
At the very least, if the hero wasn’t powerful enough to let players say, “I’ve come to back you up! Let’s combine our strength and defeat the enemy!” the story wouldn’t be exciting.
It was likely that the Ancients had been created in response to demands from the designers in charge of writing the stories.
Although it feels as though that idea is really being influenced by the situation on the game’s side…
In any event, the People of the Earth did have martial strength of their own.
One type was the lords’ armies. In terms of level, they might not be much of a threat, but they did have numbers. Another was special structures from the magic civilization that players couldn’t use, such as the mobile armor. Finally, there were the Ancients.
If they refused to participate in Eastal, the League of Free Cities, they had to consider the possibility that some sort of fighting might break out. However, as they’d thought earlier, the possibility wasn’t a large one.
The three forces of the People of the Earth all had their strengths and weaknesses. Each of these had points that warranted attention, but in terms of total combat power, Eastal couldn’t match the Adventurers of Akiba.
Even so, the Round Table Council wavered between participating in Eastal and refusing.
The main argument of those in favor of participating was that there were no particular merits to refusing. If they participated, at the very least, they’d have established a formal channel of exchange with the People of the Earth. If they weren’t worried about combat power, the possibility that they’d have unreasonable demands forced on them was low, and the demerits of participating seemed small.
The main argument of those who were against participating turned on the idea of being given a noble title. Emotionally, they couldn’t stomach the idea of themselves, the players, being decorated by non-player characters and acknowledged as their companions.
By the time both arguments had been clarified, the majority of the council was leaning toward participation.
This was because the claim made by those who were against participation was obviously an emotional one. Of course, the emotion was rather problematic, and it was true that most of the players could sympathize to some extent.
Taking this into consideration, the Round Table Council posted a simple report in the town plaza. The paper held a notice to the effect that they had decided to participate in Eastal, the League of Free Cities in order to facilitate the exchange of information with each of Eastal’s lords.
In this way, it had been decided that in August, selected members from the Round Table Council would go to the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice.
4
The group had arrived at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice that morning. The journey from the town of Akiba to the palace had been a quiet one, with no trouble to speak of. In terms of time, it was only about two hours away, which put it even closer than the Shinjuku Imperial Gardens.
There were ten people in their delegation. Appearing as a large group would have provoked wariness, so the members had been selected carefully.
The one who absolutely had to attend, no matter what, was “Berserker” Krusty, the representative of the Round Table Council.
The League seemed to have an aristocratic culture. It wasn’t clear how they would view the Round Table Council, a self-governing committee; and if they intended to talk on equal terms with the nobility, the Council would have to send a representative as well.
Next, they thought about the second member of the delegation.
Krusty was also the head of D.D.D., the largest combat guild, so it was decided that, for form’s sake, they should choose a vice delegate from one of the production guilds.
The candidates were “Iron-Arm” Michitaka, general manager of the Marine Organization, Roderick of the Roderick Trading Company, and Calasin of Shopping District 8, and each tried to push the assignment onto the others.
After some squabbling, Michitaka of the Marine Organization was chosen.
The three production guilds weren’t on bad terms with each other by any means. Each had its own distinguishing features, and all supported Akiba. However, for producers, this was a time when the town seethed with new discoveries. None of them wanted to leave it. This was what lay behind their reluctance.
Michitaka tried to get out of it by saying, “It’s more fun chasing after news about inventions right now,” but after losing eleven rounds of rock-paper-scissors, he couldn’t even complain. He’d tried to shove everything off onto Calasin, but that seemed to have failed as well.
Michitaka was, after all, good at looking out for others. Ultimately, he came off splendidly, displaying the caliber of the largest guild by declaring, “Well, there’s no help for it. Go ahead and leave it to me.” However, the fact that he’d stubbornly followed up with the comment, “If anything happens, I’ll sprint straight back here. It’s only a two-hour trip, anyway,” was a secret known only to the Round Table Council.
For the sake of balance, they decided it would be best to send a third delegate who could handle practical business and information analysis. When the Council had settled on that course, all eyes turned to Shiroe.
Of course the councilors who made up the Round Table Council were players in charge of the prominent guilds of Akiba. Each of their guilds held members who were particularly good at gathering and analyzing information.
However, the ingenuity Shiroe had shown was still fresh in their memories. In addition, they probably felt that as the mastermind who’d gotten the Round Table Council established, he needed to get out there and work more.
Personally, Shiroe had also been very interested in the summer camp, which was, unfortunately, being held at the exact same time.
Since it had been advertised as training for newbies, Minori and Touya were attending from Log Horizon, and he couldn’t be negligent about gathering information from the farming villages in the Tokyo area. He’d taken every opportunity over the past two months to investigate, but he still felt that his contact with the People of the Earth was fundamentally lacking.
Shiroe didn’t want to neglect either event, and he felt torn. Michitaka pressed him enthusiastically—“No, you need to come, too. I won’t let you make me the only one to go with him”—and so, with no help for it, the tide was turned.
At the request of the Round Table Council, Shiroe joined the delegation as its third member. Akatsuki had declared from the beginning, “I will protect my liege,” and so she accompanied Shiroe by default, joining the party as an attendant.
Meanwhile, the role of acting as leaders for the summer camp fell to Naotsugu and Nyanta. Both were good at looking after younger members, and both had a wealth of fighting experience in this postgame world. They’d be reliable in practical combat training and could be counted on to deal with any trouble that broke out.
One of Shiroe’s miscalculations had been that, when Akatsuki’s participation was determined, before anyone knew what was happening, it had been decided that Henrietta would join the delegation as an observer from the Crescent Moon League.
This was fine, but she would be sharing an anteroom with the other “Shiroe’s attendant,” Akatsuki, and Henrietta practically danced for joy.
She’s clearly after Akatsuki.
Shiroe could do nothing but crease his brow.
It wasn’t that he disliked Henrietta. She was beautiful, intelligent, and dependable. On the contrary, she was a woman you couldn’t help but like. However, she seemed to have slightly eccentric passions, and they worried him.
Of course, to other members of the Round Table Council who didn’t know the circumstances, Shiroe seemed to have managed to put himself between a lovely girl and a beautiful woman, to have “a flower in each hand,” so to speak. Even if he told them that wasn’t the case, they’d never believe him.
The delegation to the lords’ conference of Eastal, the League of Free Cities, was determined through this selection process. The representative was Krusty, chairman of the Round Table Council. The first vice delegate was Michitaka of the Marine Organization. The second vice delegate was Shiroe of Log Horizon. Additional secretaries and attendants brought the total delegation to ten.
This is, what’s the word… Uncomfortable.
Even as he thought back over the selection process, Shiroe was muttering to himself. He was trying to be inconspicuous in a corner of the great hall.
Although the number of people in the hall was gradually increasing, Akatsuki clung to Shiroe, hiding behind his back, and Henrietta smiled an enchanting smile, also leaning close to Shiroe.
“I’d expect no less from Shiroe. Look at that composure.”
That was what Krusty said to Michitaka, but he had it wrong.
Shiroe wasn’t composed. He was at his wits’ end.
“Well, when you’re a hero like this guy. Snrk! Even at a big scene like this one, being surrounded by two women is… Erm. It comes real easy to him. Right?”
“I beg your pardon. A ball like this is no more than a hunting ground for pitch-black Shiroe.”
Even if he got back at Michitaka—who knew what was going on and was making fun of him—later, Henrietta’s misguided overestimation pained Shiroe.
…This was how it was.
Ever since the uproar over the Round Table Council’s establishment the other day, to Henrietta, Shiroe seemed to have become the owner of an incomparably black mind when it came to plotting intrigue.
If that had been all, he could have complained about it, but in addition, she expressed an overwhelming confidence in that blackness, and this made it impossible to frame a retort.
He didn’t get it, but to Henrietta, blackness seemed to equal “highly esteemed.” Shiroe was tormented, unable to flatly deny someone who was being kind enough to compliment him.
“I’m honored that you’ve joined us this evening.”
Just as Shiroe was about to open his mouth to at least attempt to say a couple of words to Henrietta, it happened: A man who wore a silver, fur-trimmed mantle and was unmistakably a noble came to greet Shiroe’s party.
Whoa, that’s amazing… He’s the real thing.
In line with Shiroe’s impression, the middle-aged man seemed like a genuine aristocrat no matter how you looked at him. He had closely trimmed whiskers, and the eyes under his silver hair were keen. Age had made him sinewy, but his muscles seemed to belong to someone who’d stood on battlefields when he was young.
His deep blue suit, trimmed with umber, was meant for summer wear and didn’t look that heavy. He wore a belt decorated with several medals, and a pair of tall, black leather boots polished to a high shine.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, and we thank you for your invitation. My name is Krusty. I represent the Round Table Council that governs the town of Akiba.”
Krusty is seriously brave. He acts like a noble.
Krusty’s response had been smooth, and he didn’t look noticeably daunted.
Michitaka made his greeting next. He also didn’t seem particularly tense. In terms of audacity, these two were outstanding even among the members of the Round Table Council. Shiroe was convinced that they’d chosen the right people for this job.
“My name is Shiroe. I look forward to our continued acquaintance.”
Still deep in thought, Shiroe also gave a brief greeting. To a bystander, his simple attitude seemed to have no hint of tension about it, so they looked like an audacious trio, not an audacious duo. But Shiroe wasn’t aware of this, preoccupied with other things:
We’ll save the detailed introductions for later. I’m curious about this man’s identity.
“My name is Sergiad Cowen. I act as facilitator for Eastal, the League of Free Cities.”
Although there was no way of knowing whether he’d picked up on Shiroe’s feelings, the middle-aged noble introduced himself. “Sergiad Cowen” had been the first name on the letter that had been sent to the Round Table Council.
So this is him… That means he’s the most influential person in the east.
Akiba was the largest player town on the Japanese server. However, that didn’t mean it was the largest town on the server, period.
The largest city on the Japanese server was the city of Maihama, which was built around Castle Cinderella.
In this other world, Tokyo no longer functioned as a single city.
This was because the world population was less than one-hundredth of real-world Japan’s population, which was over one hundred million.
People created and lived in small settlements and havens here and there, surrounded by castle walls. This was true of the old Tokyo area as well. The region held relics of the advanced scientific and magic civilizations, such as the town of Akiba and this palace, and these had been put to use by several cities, but there were no longer enough people to manage and control the entire region.
In this world, the “good” human races—the eight available to play—had fallen so far from the protagonist’s seat that they could no longer maintain the sphere of influence they’d held in the Age of Myth.
As a result, the old metropolitan area had split into several small cities with self-defense capabilities. Of these, the largest was the city of Maihama.
The next largest is Akiba. Then Shibuya, another player town. Ikebukuro is big thanks to the Tower of Sunlight. What would have been Shinjuku in the real world was completely destroyed by the Behemoth outbreak, so… After that, a little ways away, there’s Yokohama, Asakusa… And that’s about it.
That was the outline of the environment in which humans lived in the current Kanto region.
The middle-aged lord who stood before them was the ruler of Maihama, the largest city in the Kanto area. Unlike Akiba, Maihama had no temple, so it wasn’t considered a player town. That aside, it had good commercial facilities and an abundant range of quests. It was a place that any player of average level or higher had probably visited at least once during the days of Elder Tales.
The city was known for its striking midair gardens and its elevated walkways made of intricately worked metal, and the white Castle Cinderella, the city’s symbol, was said to be the most beautiful palace on the Japanese server.
Here in front of him, Krusty had promptly struck up a conversation.
He was saying, in brief, that the Round Table Council was a self-governing committee made up of citizen representatives. That he served as its chairman. That they had been delighted to receive the invitation and had taken them up on it.
“Hm. Hm… Yes, I see. In other words, these ‘guild’ groups are like landless nobles, and the influential guilds converse with each other and govern themselves? In form, you could say it resembles Eastal’s method of convening lords and holding conferences to determine rules of conduct, only on a smaller scale.”
“That’s right.”
Krusty nodded in response to Sergiad Cowen’s words.
“But in that case… Hm.”
Accepting a drink from an elf serving woman who�
��d appeared in the hall, Sergiad brooded.
“Even if you are its representative, will it cause needless friction for only one member to receive a noble title?”
“We believe it may. If possible, we would prefer to decline that particular offer.”
“Hmmm. That would leave us with a bit of a problem.”
“Could you maybe give the Round Table Council itself a quasi-noble title, then, or give it the right to attend by considering it a noble? That way we could join you at the same table.”
It was Michitaka who’d spoken. With the easygoing attitude of a great man, he joined Krusty in persuading the old lord.
I don’t think they’re much older than I am, but… It doesn’t look as if we’ll have any trouble here.
Standing a short distance away, Shiroe watched the three discuss the matter.
It was likely that Krusty, and even Michitaka, hadn’t yet turned thirty in the real world, but here they were, conversing with one of this world’s nobles without giving an inch. Even watching from beside them, he couldn’t sense any unease, and even if the two of them failed in their negotiations, it wasn’t likely that a few words from Shiroe would be enough to turn the tide.
“As expected, we seem to be drawing quite a lot of attention.”
Henrietta whispered in Shiroe’s ear. When he looked up, the great hall was already filled with guests. According to his advance research, twenty-four cities and territories participated in Eastal, the League of Free Cities. Each had one representative, two counselors, and four or five attendants. If they’d also brought children or grandchildren to present, there would be a total of several hundred people here. Even a quick look around showed him that the vast hall was packed with more than a hundred guests.
The enormous hall had been decorated for the ball. It was awash in scarlet and gold, and even with this many people assembled in it, it didn’t feel at all cramped. The groups that chatted here and there were sending furtive glances their way; Shiroe felt them, too.
