by Mamare Touno
When Shiroe had gotten that far, the crystal door to the terrace opened and Caille, the young man from the Marine Organization, returned. He seemed to have managed to find the information: When Michitaka nodded to him, he made his report.
“They say we’ll be officially contacted about it after noon, but apparently the lords’ conference for today has been cancelled.”
Hm, nodded Krusty. When Michitaka urged him to go on, Caille continued.
“From what I heard from the palace’s servants—and apparently the servants take care of this palace year-round—the lords’ conference is like this every year. It begins with a ball, and then there are lunches and tea parties, soirées and dinner parties each day. That’s why they bring so many attendants. Apparently our party is relatively small, and so is the amount of luggage we brought. That’s why we have all those rooms left over. Then, for a few days right before the final day, the lords’ conference is held, the matters everyone laid the groundwork for earlier are discussed, and they wind things up quickly with the majority in favor.”
Shiroe nodded.
Come to think of it, even though there were twenty-four participants, there were large differences in their power and the size of their territories. Rather than holding repeated lords’ conferences and fielding majority votes and objections, factional maneuvering built around individual interviews and separate deals would make for a much smarter discussion. In Japanese terms, this was known as “laying groundwork,” and it wasn’t at all unusual.
“Since that’s the case, beginning today, the schedule for the next few days is pretty clear. Of course, Akiba has high combat capabilities. Every lord knows that if they fought us one-on-one, they’re the ones who’d be destroyed. As that’s true, although they’ll be very careful about approaching us, anyone who manages to secure the Round Table Council as an ally will be able to reap a huge return in this world as it is today. As Krusty and Michitaka said earlier, we’ll probably get more invitations and requests for separate interviews. I’m sure we’ll see scores of attempts to attract or employ Akiba’s military power, financial strength, and people, as well as the products and items we’ve invented. For now, we’ll have to get through these negotiations.”
“And we’ll need a basic action plan for that… Hm.”
At Shiroe’s words, Michitaka scowled. This was quite a knotty problem in its own right.
“As the Round Table Council, we can kick every offer to the curb, turn down every last thing. However, there are probably combat and production guilds who will want to take advantage of those commissions, and some guilds will. Guilds aside, players could even undertake jobs as individuals. It won’t be possible for us to be vigilant down to the details. For example, buying something from Akiba’s Market and selling it off in another town isn’t the sort of thing we can stop by forbidding it. The same goes for combat-related requests. If they ask us to supply five thousand mercenaries, we can tell them it’s impossible and can probably refuse, but if someone asks to hire a few Adventurers, even if we veto it, if there are players who will undertake the job, that’s that.”
“I expect that’s true,” Krusty agreed.
Akiba’s new system was finally settling into place. Over this two-month maturation period, many Adventurers had begun to get used to combat in this other world. The backup systems, with a focus on food, were also falling into place.
The next wave would be the exploration of the world. Discussions of investigating the Fairy Rings would also begin to take shape. When that happened, the opportunities for every guild to accept quests and commissions would increase. That freedom should be guaranteed.
“If distribution seems likely to happen on too large a scale, we may have to consider tariffs… What do you think, Miss Henrietta?”
“…Well… Economics isn’t my specialty, so I can’t declare anything with confidence. I’m just an ordinary accountant, you know. However, at this point in time, what strikes me is that Akiba is not a town of primary industry. It isn’t a place where we can harvest abundant crops or marine products. If distribution is going to cause any sort of trouble, it will probably be in processed exports. If we limit ourselves to imports, there won’t be any trouble. On the contrary, we’ll be in trouble if we stop importing.
“Regarding exports though, considering the transportation in this world, I think we’ll need to be most careful with items that are relatively scarce but have great influence. Something that may cause larger issues than those is an outflow of techniques, or of people who know those techniques.”
As Henrietta commented, she adjusted her glasses.
After thinking about her words for a little while, Shiroe continued the conversation. “You’re right; for the moment, that’s also… Well, we should probably have the Round Table Council discuss it and decide how to handle it after the conference ends. However, I don’t think we should completely refuse to speak with the lords.
“To that end, tell them there are plans for the Round Table Council to establish a contact for discussions of dispatching military force, technology provision, and exports, and that it’s going to happen soon. If they deal with that dispatch contact, their requests will be considered and they’ll receive an answer. …That should be a safe response. Of course, after the conference ends, we’ll need to create the contact. If there’s no more than a certain amount of routine work, it should be possible to create a system to handle requests practically. For example, if it’s a request to exterminate one hundred goblins in the mountains, the job can be assigned to suitable combat guilds under the contact’s supervision. …That sort of workflow. With regard to commerce, an order for two hundred sets of dishes can be handled by the contact as well. If we get a request the small and midsized guilds can’t handle, then we can convene the Round Table Council and take it under consideration.”
The idea Shiroe had worked out was to coordinate the former quest system through the contact-point person.
“Sounds doable to me.”
“I think it’s reasonable as well. There shouldn’t be any issue with us advancing matters at our own discretion up to that point. I’ll report in via telechat.”
Michitaka and Krusty both agreed.
“However, I don’t think the nobles will be satisfied with something like that. If they can’t get the Round Table Council to move as a whole, they’ll probably try to conclude secret pacts during the period of the lords’ conference, even if it’s only for commissions directed at the Marine Organization or D.D.D. In order to deal with that… We’ll just have to handle things on a case-by-case basis. Just make sure not to give them any way to trip us up.”
Shiroe’s words ended there.
He couldn’t set up any specific countermeasures for this. Decisions would have to be made on the spot, so although he could propose guidelines, he couldn’t issue tactical instructions.
“I suppose that’s our job,” Krusty agreed generously.
His calm and sense of reassurance were everything you’d expect from the leader of a big guild. His natural charisma was showing through.
“You mean get information out of the other guy, but be careful not to make contracts by mistake when we do it?”
“Yes, I think that’s the best line to take.”
Henrietta also agreed with Michitaka.
After that, the staff who’d accompanied them joined them in brainstorming countermeasures for several foreseeable situations. After they confirmed with each other that they could anticipate bribes and backroom deals, and that information should be exchanged as secretly as possible, the delegation’s breakfast came to an end.
4
Raynesia’s mood was flying low.
“Flying low” was a figure of speech; in reality, her mood was very close to rock bottom. She couldn’t actually be at “rock bottom” in the usual way, because she was the granddaughter of Duke Sergiad, the greatest noble in the east.
In other words, her station didn’t allow her to hol
e up in her room by herself and be depressed.
The expression “rock-bottom depressed” evokes images of being in such low spirits that moving is impossible, but she had dedicated ladies-in-waiting who were with her constantly, and every morning they dressed her and sent her off to all sorts of functions. What she wanted didn’t come into it.
In that sense, rather than being “rock-bottom” depressed in a fixed location, she was “flying low”: depressed, but on the move. Privately, she thought this wasn’t very different from being dragged around.
Haaah…
She sighed.
She was in one of the many midair gardens of the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice. She’d forced her ladies-in-waiting to leave her alone there. It was just past noon.
…She didn’t think there were any tea parties during the day today, but after sunset, there’d be a dinner party. She would have to join her grandfather, Duke Sergiad; her father, Phenel; and her mother, Saraliya, as they greeted several nobles and showed them every courtesy. It wasn’t a very difficult thing, and it wouldn’t require much work, but it made her heart terribly heavy.
She drooped limply, resting her forehead on the summerhouse table.
It wasn’t that anything particularly painful had happened.
She’d been born with this temperament. She was timid and shy, she worried over silly little things, she was pessimistic and apathetic. That was how she thought of herself.
She was the sort of person who, if left alone, would stay in a corner of her room counting the stains on the wall and find it soothing. You might say she was gloomy, or that the cheerful aspect of her personality was tragically lacking. She knew it was strange to say it herself, but seen from a human perspective, she thought she was the sort of girl people really wouldn’t want to be around.
In terms of appearance, Raynesia had long, silver hair and a delicate neck. She was a slender, lovely girl. In particular, her eyes, which tilted down at the outer corners, were a deep blue-gray that seemed filled with a mysterious melancholy. Her bust and the other key areas of her figure were modest but substantial enough to assert her femininity. She was well within the preferred range, and not many men would have denied that she was beautiful.
Ahh…
That said, the shape that slumped over the table in the summerhouse looked for all the world like a dismal failure of a human being.
Even she had heard her beauty praised by those around her, and she was aware that it happened rather a lot.
However, she assumed that 50 percent of the praise was said out of consideration for her grandfather, Duke Sergiad, and that the other 40 percent would be possible for anyone who bathed every day, had her hair dressed, and wore makeup. …In other words, her appearance was maintained through aristocratic privilege, and the thought made her feel a bit guilty.
The remaining 10 percent or so did make her think she might be passably attractive. However, hearing things like “What a fragile princess she is!” and “Ladylike and filled with melancholy” disillusioned her at a stroke.
I’m not “filled with melancholy,” I’m just gloomy. I’m not ladylike, I just don’t feel like doing anything… That’s right…
As she thought these things, she slumped facedown on the table, feeling masochistic. She thought that fretting over things like this day in and day out made her a rather complicated, tiresome person, but since she couldn’t stop, there was no help for it.
“Any army with a commander like yourself is truly fortunate, milord. Such power is the equal of the Eastern Knights.”
“…No, our martial strength isn’t that great. We still have lots of issues, particularly where our system of immediate response is concerned.”
The approaching footsteps and voices seemed to belong to nobles.
One of the voices, the middle-aged one, sounded flustered. The other was younger, but it exuded a sense of calm strength.
The second she heard the voices, Raynesia sat up straight in the summerhouse.
The palace was brimming with conspiracies, and as a daughter of the House of Cowen, she mustn’t show weakness. Raynesia was contrary and apathetic, but she wasn’t the sort of girl who couldn’t protect her family’s honor.
“Please do pay a visit to my domain. Oh, and will you join me? There’s some liquor from my hometown. The sun will be down before too long; let’s have a drink.”
“Hm. Liquor isn’t really… My apologies, but…”
With a rustle, several figures appeared on the path, rounding the corner of the rosebushes.
Of the two figures in the lead, the one on the left was Marquis Kilivar of Tsukuba. He was in charge of the town of Tsukuba, where the academic guild was powerful, and he was reputed to be a man who’d seen much of life. From their clothes, the people who came after Marquis Kilivar were probably his steward and ladies-in-waiting.
The other, the one who walked beside Marquis Kilivar, was a young knight—no, he looked like a knight.
His close-cropped hair and glasses made him seem intelligent, but he was big and solidly built, and he carried himself with the alertness peculiar to those who live on battlefields. He was only strolling, but the overwhelming presence he exuded made him seem like a young general.
That man… I saw him yesterday.
Raynesia’s memories flickered.
He was one of the Adventurers her father had told her about. She hadn’t been able to greet him personally, but she remembered that her grandfather had talked to him at great length. According to her father, “For better or worse, that man will be the eye of the League’s storm.”
There was a good distance between the passing group and Raynesia.
To them, she probably looked like a princess from somewhere or other who was enjoying tea in a cottage on the edge of the garden. The idea relieved Raynesia slightly. As long as she bowed, she probably wouldn’t get pulled into any bothersome conversations.
However, just then, although it was probably a coincidence, her eyes met those of the man who looked like a young knight. Raynesia bowed on reflex. She wore the smile her castle’s young knights said was “As lovely as a flower in the rain.” The expression always went over well, and Raynesia used it as a handy way to gloss over all sorts of things.
At that, the young knight stopped for a moment and smiled. …Or she thought he had. The light had reflected off his glasses, making it hard to tell what the expression really was.
“As a matter of fact, I have a previous engagement. Marquis Kilivar. My apologies.”
“An engagement? What sort of… W-well, Princess Raynesia!”
The man was heading straight toward the summerhouse where Raynesia sat. In all honesty, she wasn’t happy about it. In fact, she froze up.
There was no hesitation in the knight’s stride, and it seemed to make Marquis Kilivar believe his story about the promise. For a few moments, he looked from the knight to Princess Raynesia and back. Then he said, “I mustn’t be boorish. We can’t have that. I’ll excuse myself, then, Lord Krusty. Let us continue deepening our friendship on another occasion,” and left hastily.
The knight he’d called “Krusty” turned back to Marquis Kilivar in the door of the cottage and bowed politely in response. When the other man was out of sight, he entered the veranda where Raynesia sat, frozen and bewildered.
…Wow. He’s really tall…
His height had to be over 190 centimeters. She’d seen well-built knights at the castle as well, but even with that physique, there was nothing coarse about this young knight, and his logical profile actually seemed refined.
“I, um. I am Raynesia, daughter of the House of Cowen of Maihama. Might I ask… What promise?”
“Ah, yes. My name is Krusty. I’m an Adventurer.”
As he spoke, the knight sat down just around the corner of the table from Raynesia.
The summerhouse had several built-in marble benches that were topped with leather upholstery and down-filled cushions. The rather low table, made
of the same marble, was a splendid thing meant to facilitate the elegant enjoyment of tea.
“The ‘promise’ was a convenient fiction. If I’ve made a nuisance of myself, I apologize.”
The young knight spoke as if he didn’t feel sorry at all.
In other words…he used me? This man really doesn’t seem like a bad person, but…
Raynesia couldn’t guess the man’s real intentions. However, if her father’s words had been correct, this young knight was “the eye of the storm.” She mustn’t be rude to him. Obediently, like the aristocratic daughter she was, she waited for Krusty to speak.
“You just thought What a pain, didn’t you?”
“What—?!”
At Krusty’s words, Raynesia froze up.
“Not only that, but when our eyes first met, you thought, This is turning into a nuisance. Am I right?”
“—!”
This time, Raynesia was completely petrified. Krusty smiled at her. His smile was intelligent and mild, but to Raynesia, there seemed to be something demonic about it.
“Wh-wh…”
“‘Why’? Instinct. I have a little sister back home, you see. Her attitude is similar, so I understand,” he murmured.
There wasn’t anything bullying about his manner. He spoke indifferently, simply stating the facts, as if reporting research results.
…Th…Th-th-this person is bad?!
“No, that isn’t true. Fu, fu-fu-fu.” Raynesia smiled her most ladylike smile, but her movements were stilted, as though she were a machine that needed oiling.
“Don’t be nervous. I’m not going to eat you.”
“So you say…but…”
“The lords have been hounding me all morning. If I’m with the granddaughter of the venerable Duke Sergiad, they should hold back a bit. Would you talk with me for a while?”
