by Mamare Touno
Adventurers had advanced physical abilities. In addition, since the foundation was a game, there was no difference in physical strength between men and women. On the contrary, as a weapon attack class, Henrietta the Bard was stronger than Shiroe, who was an Enchanter and magic attack class. She might even have twice his strength.
However, when he looked at Henrietta in her tight, secretary-style skirt and her bolero jacket with its corsage, he felt ashamed to make her carry a bulky box of files.
Shiroe set the box of documents on his work desk, then turned back.
“You didn’t have to bring them all the way over. If you’d sent me a telechat, I would have come to pick them up.”
“Yes, I’m sure you would have, Master Shiroe, but…I heard you’d been concentrating and pushing yourself for ages. I came to show my support for all your hard work, and…well…”
“If you’re looking for Akatsuki, she should be back soon.”
“Oh, my. Fu-fu-fu-fu… That wasn’t what I meant at all, but…”
Henrietta was blushing. Shiroe gave a little sigh.
Henrietta, the Crescent Moon League’s brilliant accountant and holder of the purse strings, often came to visit Shiroe this way. Marielle, “Akiba’s Sunflower,” was the Crescent Moon League’s guild leader, but Henrietta was the one in charge of its practical business. Her paperwork ability was particularly noteworthy. She was curious and inquisitive, and her contribution to the Round Table Council was probably greater than Shiroe’s, who squandered the greater part of his administrative capacity.
“Let’s see, these are—”
“—the Libra Festival,” Henrietta pointed out, peeking in from the side at the documents Shiroe had picked up.
October. The air was chilly, and the season grew colder each time it rained, but Akiba’s enthusiasm hadn’t yet cooled. On the contrary, with the normalization of relations with Eastal, commercial trade had increased, and for many of the production guilds, business was better than it had ever been.
Foodstuffs, clothes and accessories, machinery, medicines, organic materials: All sorts of items were imported and exported at terrific speed. At present, Akiba was a processing and export town. Naturally, Adventurers were able to collect ingredients, ores, and other primary products, but it was easier to obtain them in greater quantity by purchasing them from the People of the Earth.
The People of the Earth, particularly the aristocrats and merchants, badly wanted the high-quality items the Adventurers made, and because they were keeping their eyes peeled in an attempt to somehow get their hands on their secrets, all sorts of lively business transactions were in progress.
As the production guilds grew more active, the ripple effect influenced the combat guilds. In particular, a huge number of quest requests had been issued by the Fairy Ring Investigation Project, which had begun the month before, and the number of parties heading out had visibly increased.
In the midst of this situation, the Libra Festival project had been brought up, seemingly out of nowhere. It was a festival event that had been demanded by the Adventurers living in Akiba, and the whole town was involved.
Even when this had been Elder Tales, users had held many unofficial events that the official side had had no hand in planning.
There had been lots of them, from small, banquet-like gatherings of a few people to enormous events that had pulled in whole towns or the server, but naturally no one had heard of such events being held since the Catastrophe. They hadn’t had the spare energy for it. However, now that five months had passed and a fairly stable local infrastructure was settling into place, there was demand for an event where everyone could make noise and forget their worries for a while. …That was Shiroe’s understanding, anyway.
Of course, Shiroe had been swamped with business over a range that extended far beyond event planning for a while, so he didn’t know much about the Libra Festival. All he knew was what he’d picked up from briefly skimming the notices that were circulated among guild masters.
It was the town of Akiba’s large commercial event, which would be held a few days from now. That was all he knew about it.
“How is the Liaison Committee?”
“Calasin is full of enthusiasm. My opinion of him has improved: He’s running the event perfectly.”
Henrietta’s response came after she’d turned her back to Shiroe and begun organizing the files.
“I’d expect no less from an advertising agent.”
The production guilds, and the Production Guild Liaison Committee, had taken charge of this festival project.
Ever since the establishment of the Round Table Council, a series of new discoveries and items had appeared, and these had brought great prosperity to the town of Akiba. At first, many topics related to the new items had been discussed by the Round Table Council, but this reached its limit before long. The Round Table Council was a place where decisions affecting the entire town of Akiba were made, and it couldn’t spend all its time resolving commercial issues and balancing interests.
In addition, if the problems were practical issues involving items or distribution, they predicted that they would be able to resolve them without tying up the time of eleven guild masters, and had created a dedicated organization to do so.
This was the Production Guild Liaison Committee (PGLC).
The Liaison Committee had its offices in the guild center, two floors down from the Round Table Council on the very top floor, and it operated around the clock. That said, it seemed to be full of Adventurers who had nothing better to do, and the organization was frank and candid, rather than straitlaced. The atmosphere at the PGLC headquarters was that of a combined meeting room and workshop that was open to anyone.
In accordance with their policy of energizing the small and midsized guilds, the Liaison Committee office had become a sort of gathering spot for guilds that didn’t have large guild halls. Michitaka of the Marine Organization and Roderick of the Roderick Trading Company were positioned as advisers.
Recruitment ads, requests for business deals, and calls for information purchasing were posted on a big bulletin board, and there were business negotiations that dealt with finding partners in the sale of new items. It felt like a lively and noisy town assembly hall; since the Liaison Committee was only there to liaise, it didn’t have the solemn atmosphere of the Round Table Council.
As it happened, the Production Guild Liaison Committee was acting as the host of the Libra Festival.
The Crescent Moon League—which had become one of the eleven guilds on the Round Table Council due to its importance, even though it was a smaller guild—probably had its own work to attend to. Lately, Henrietta seemed to have been doing more work for the PGLC than for the Round Table Council.
“Will the Crescent Moon League be appearing somewhere as well?”
“Yes, of course. Our young Blacksmiths will be selling short swords at the flea market. Then we’re also bringing back Snack Shop Crescent Moon. Serara’s working very enthusiastically on it, and besides, the new players never got to eat anything from it. Still, I suppose our grandest effort is probably the fashion show.”
“Fashion show?”
“Yes. Didn’t you know?”
“Well, I’d heard it mentioned, but…”
Apparently, the Libra Festival had had its roots in an idea that had been brought up to the PGLC: “Couldn’t we just hold a product fair?”
The first thing the Adventurers had wanted after their arrival in this other world had been decent food, but now that that had been settled, clothing and improvements for living environments were in high demand.
Back when this had been a game, residences had been no more than places to log out from. Furniture had been mere toys, used to decorate your personal space, and although there had been lots of variety as far as form was concerned, none of them had given the least thought to function.
Clothing had been the same. Among the companies that had participated in Elder Tales,
Fushimi Online Entertainment (FOE) had been a developer with an established reputation for developing new (otaku-type, Japanese-style) graphics. Still, even if there had been an abundant variety of clothing and accessories, none of it had been everyday wear that emphasized function. At the time of the Catastrophe, the “underwear” category hadn’t even existed on Adventurers’ item creation menus.
Lately, these inconveniences were also being gradually resolved. The items Adventurers created on a daily basis were richly imaginative and original, and their numbers increased by the day.
However, even the residents of Akiba tended to miss information on minor items. At present, the only way to learn information about products was to accidentally stumble onto them, or to rely on word-of-mouth or on the scant number of flyers that were handed out.
The proposal that had been made as a result had been to hold a product fair, but as debate followed debate, although the original plan had included a fashion show, an underwear exhibition and sale, a street stall village that exhibited food products, and model rooms with the latest facilities, the demand to exhibit various other products had grown.
Most guilds had at least one item that they could advertise as being their best offering, and they wanted all sorts of people to see them.
In that case, why not just hold a festival with such an exhibition as its center?! That idea had first been proposed two weeks ago.
This discussion had been conducted internally by the Production Guild Liaison Committee, but because roughly half of Akiba’s residents belonged to production guilds, the information raced through the town at terrific speed.
Since being affiliated with a production guild meant you were an exhibitor, simple visitors were in the minority at this festival. As a matter of fact, guests who came from outside might have been the only ones who fit the description.
In that sense, at this festival, the exhibitors doubled as guests, which meant it bore a marked resemblance to a school cultural festival.
Shiroe had been absorbed in collecting external information lately, using the eyes and ears of the Round Table Council. As a result, he didn’t know much about what was happening in Akiba itself. Of course, this “not knowing much” was measured by Shiroe’s own standards, and in fact, he knew more news than the majority of Akiba’s residents. In other words, Shiroe didn’t have enough information according to standards based in his strategist nature.
He knew what had triggered the proposal for this festival, and he understood that the festival was being held with the goals of economic promotion and the introduction of new products (or from the simple desire to have fun, using these things as an excuse).
He was aware that the festival was being hosted not by the Round Table Council itself, but by the Liaison Committee, a subordinate organization, and that Calasin of Shopping District 8—who was quite reliable when placed in charge of this sort of event—was organizing it.
He’d thought there would be no need for him to meddle, and he had let the information pass without notice.
“Master Shiroe.”
“Yes?”
As Henrietta spoke to Shiroe, she was tidily stacking the documents and filing them.
“How is dear Isuzu doing?”
“Oh. Right. …I thought I should go speak to you about it formally, but things got busy, and it slipped my mind. I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need for that. You’re too close to the Crescent Moon League for such things, Master Shiroe. It’s only that Serara was worrying about whether she was getting along well.”
“Yes, she’s doing just fine. She goes out hunting every day. She got sunburned this summer. With all the unused space we’ve got here, there’s room to spare.”
They were talking about the young Bard Isuzu, who had transferred from the Crescent Moon League to Log Horizon. Isuzu, a girl with lots of freckles, had followed Rundelhaus to Log Horizon and had joined up herself.
Rundelhaus the Sorcerer and Isuzu the Bard. These two were Log Horizon’s newest members, after Minori and Touya. Both guild masters had discussed the transfer, and it had gone smoothly. Like Minori, Isuzu was a newbie who’d been kept virtually imprisoned by the vicious guild Hamelin. She hadn’t been a member of the Crescent Moon League for very long, and as a result, there hadn’t been any particular issue with her transferring out.
In any case, the Crescent Moon League and Log Horizon were on very friendly terms with each other. They routinely interacted through newbie training and invitations to go hunting. Serara had been worried, but even Serara saw Henrietta every three days at least.
“You didn’t go outside at all this summer, Master Shiroe.”
Henrietta spoke reprovingly. This was perfectly true, and Shiroe had no way to respond. Henrietta was a Crescent Moon League executive. Like Shiroe, she filled the position of “brain” within her guild. Since she also handled the Crescent Moon League’s books as its treasurer, she couldn’t possibly have much free time, and yet, from what Minori said, she sometimes looked in on the newbies’ training, and she seemed to be working energetically. As a result, Henrietta’s words made his ears burn a bit.
“…I know. I regret it.”
“Good. Here.”
The object she held out to him seemed to be a venue pamphlet. Scribes, Shiroe’s subclass, could create copies of this sort of printed material from their item menus. The original had to be drawn by hand, but once it had been drawn, it wasn’t at all difficult to make more of it.
He glanced over it. It looked as if all sorts of exhibits and events were being held in venues specially set up all around the town.
The majority had to do with clothing and accessories or food and drink, but there were more than a few that dealt with equipment, other iron products or wooden furniture. The festival began with an evening kick-off party the day after tomorrow and ran all through the first and second days until the finale.
A great dinner party and a wrap party, hm…?
Shiroe checked the dates. As scheduled, they overlapped with the day he was supposed to receive a report from a messenger. The strategy was to have the messenger blend in with the festival, which would be full of milling visitors from elsewhere, and that would probably go quite well, but getting the report would require a bit of ingenuity.
That means we won’t be able to move during the festival after all. We’ll have to put things on hold…
Even when it came to gathering information, there would be a lot of static during the festival, and he probably wouldn’t be able to use any of it.
“What is that face supposed to mean? Honestly… If you feel remorse, don’t you think you should show it?”
“Huh?”
“By, for example, deepening your friendships with your guild companions at the festival.”
At her words, Shiroe looked blank, but now that he thought about it, she was perfectly right. It was an excellent idea. It probably wouldn’t do him any harm to do something like that every once in a while.
“I’ll try it.”
“And—”
Henrietta wagged a slender finger. In combination with her slim-framed glasses, it added an irresistible charm to her sophisticated beauty.
“Log Horizon is also one of the guilds on the Round Table Council. You will stir yourself and make things more exciting, I trust?”
“Uh… I’ll see what I can do.”
“You promise, then,” Henrietta informed him, smiling brightly.
“Both Akatsuki and Minori are adorable, you see. I’m looking forward to it already; I really can’t wait. No, really… As long as I have these fantasies, I could live without food. They say man cannot live by bread alone, but bread and fantasies are enough to get you through most hardships, aren’t they. Dear lord…”
Henrietta put her hands to her cheeks and wriggled. She was terrifying, but Shiroe couldn’t send his precious guild members into the jaws of death without putting up any resistance. He’d have to ask just what that “promise” en
tailed.
“What sort of help will this be?”
“It’s quite simple. I only want you to assist with the exhibition and sale of our winter clothes.”
Just being a salesclerk had nothing to do with being adorable, did it?
Shiroe, who’d picked up on Henrietta’s vision of the future, mentally bowed to his guild members in apology and began to worry about what he could do to make up for this.
3
Raynesia, sinking into a sofa in comfortable loungewear, was eating a small, beautifully decorated bento. Bentos like this one were a type of take-out lunch that was relatively common in Akiba.
It’s delicious…
It was her first day off in a while.
Even as she basked in its sweetness, when Raynesia remembered her recent spell of hard work, her lithe, feminine body shivered. She heaved a terribly heavy sigh, and her shoulders slumped. Yes: She’d been deceived. By Krusty.
She’d fallen for the honeyed words “three meals and naps,” and she regretted her carelessness.
If she’d given it a little thought, she would have seen it.
At present, it was safe to say that Adventurers held the key to the situation in this world. All the lords of Eastal, the League of Free Cities—which had been organized by Raynesia’s grandfather—knew this, and they’d tried to take them in and use them, militarily and politically. Her disgust at this selfishness had been one of the reasons Raynesia herself had spoken sharply to the Lords’ Council.
At the time, she’d been desperate: She’d wanted to protect her home, but she hadn’t wanted to force a rude, selfish wish onto the Adventurers.
In a way, you could say that Raynesia had been rewarded. She’d been supported by the goodwill of Krusty and the rest of the Round Table Council, and by the chivalry of the Adventurers, both her hometown of Maihama and the whole of Eastal had been saved.
However, now that the Zantleaf Peninsula sweep had been settled, the situation had reverted to its former state. Or rather, since the Adventurers had displayed their true strength to the lords, you could say the development had become even clearer.
