A Sunday in Akiba

by Mamare Touno

  On this night, the night of the Libra Festival, the town of Akiba bustled until late.

  Akiba was an Adventurer hometown, and its urban functions were extremely sophisticated.

  In this case, urban functions meant gates, the bank, guild halls, the Temple, and a market that required registration. In the Elder Tales game, these five facilities had been all Adventurers needed to get by. Sophisticated meant there was nothing unnecessary. In other words, being sophisticated in terms of function meant that, other than the five indispensible types of facility, there had been nothing there.

  Before the Catastrophe, there had been no living facilities in the town of Akiba.

  Of course, taverns and inns had existed as town objects, but these had been put in as background, in order to express the medieval fantasy worldview, and although players had used them to role play—in other words, to pretend—the buildings hadn’t seen practical use in day-to-day life.

  However, since the Catastrophe, Adventurers had been compelled to use this town as their home base and to live there in the truest sense of the word. This meant that even if they stayed only in town, they needed certain facilities. The earliest change had been that the restaurants had prospered; after that, various types of stores, private shops and service businesses began to thrive.

  Some of these shops were run by Adventurers, but most were operated by Adventurers and People of the Earth working together, or simply by People of the Earth.

  There were several reasons for this, but one of the biggest was the wage differential. Adventurers were able to earn greater rewards in less time than the average Person of the Earth. If they got serious about it, even a midlevel Adventurer could put down field monsters and earn more in a day than a Person of the Earth farmer could earn in a month.

  The difference in production wasn’t as great as it was in combat abilities, but even so, it was clearly there. From the Adventurers’ point of view, even craftsmen considered experts by the People of the Earth only seemed to have subclass levels around 60.

  Of course, with Chefs or Tailors and the like, if their level was 20, they could make items whose quality was good enough for use in everyday life. For Chefs at that level, that meant fresh-baked bread and delicious soup, crispy fried potatoes and golden roast chicken. For Tailors, it meant comfortable shirts, loose slacks, vegetable-dyed tunics and leather vests.

  The People of the Earth could make these “items that were good enough for everyday use” as well. That meant the Adventurers naturally drifted into work territories only Adventurers could handle, while the People of the Earth took charge of creating the sort of items that were in common circulation.

  Through this change, Akiba lost its game-related efficiency and acquired rows of all sorts of shops and facilities. Naturally, the number of People of the Earth also doubled, and the speed at which their population increased was accelerating. As a result, shops run by People of the Earth opened in rapid succession.

  There was one more reason behind the growth of the People of the Earth population.

  From the Adventurers’ perspective, a player town was nothing more than their base camp. Almost all Adventurers thought of it simply as a place where adventures began, a convenient place to make preparations. However, for the People of the Earth, it meant something different.

  To the People of the Earth, Adventurers were beings that were completely unlike them: immortals with powerful combat abilities. To them, player towns were the frontline bases these Adventurers had built in their world.

  Most People of the Earth felt grateful to the Adventurers, and they respected them. Adventurers often protected them from the wastelands and monsters of Yamato, and in this world, they were beings that could be relied on. However, at the same time, they felt great dread. This was true with regard to the player towns, but also their Temples, the devices they used to resurrect. They might actually have felt a greater fear of the places—as forbidden lands—than they did of individual Adventurers.

  The People of the Earth who made their homes in the town of Akiba were special people who’d lived there for generations. In a way, their family lines might have been similar to those of mikos or Shinto priests who served dangerous, mercurial gods. Organizations such as the bank and consignment sales were maintained by this special People of the Earth demographic.

  However, that age of dread was past.

  The Adventurers had used their fearsome strength to save the People of the Earth from goblins, orcs, and powerful monsters such as dragons time and time again. Meanwhile, though, the Adventurers had always seemed to insist on transient relationships, those of “clients” and “solution providers.” The only relationships Adventurers would form with the People of the Earth were temporary ones. That was simply common sense.

  However, a short while ago, the first ever formal treaty had been concluded between Adventurers and the People of the Earth.

  The meaning of that signature between Eastal, the League of Free Cities, and the Round Table Council was certainly not trivial.

  The People of the Earth had taken it to mean that the Adventurers had turned to face them, not as well-intentioned helpers who were just passing through, but as participants in this world.

  One symbol of this had been Princess Raynesia’s transfer to Akiba.

  Raynesia had shown that she wasn’t just a representative of the nobles, but was living in the Adventurers’ town as a representative of the People of the Earth.

  With these circumstances in the background, Akiba’s People of the Earth population was growing by the day.

  Originally, many of the buildings in Akiba might as well have been ruins, but as the town took in more People of the Earth, the townscape itself gradually changed. Rubble was cleared away, and buildings that looked as if they might have been haunted were cleaned.

  Most of the Adventurers living in Akiba were Japanese.

  For better or for worse, they were good-natured, and when they saw People of the Earth industriously repairing the town, some of them thought, Well, I’m bored, anyway. I might as well go help out a little, and went. When they worked alongside each other, they talked to each other, and eventually they opened up to each other.

  By now, the number of Adventurers in Akiba who employed People of the Earth had grown markedly, and the number of People of the Earth who did business with Adventurers had increased more than tenfold.

  This place, Linguine, was one of the taverns run by People of the Earth.

  It was a pub and eatery that was geared toward professionals, but on the first night of the Libra Festival, even it was crowded with people.

  “This tomato stew is a mewr de force.”

  “It is delicious, isn’t it!”

  Near the back of the shop, which was noisy with voices, Log Horizon’s adviser (or rather its leader) Captain Nyanta and Serara (the Crescent Moon League’s newbie caretaker, who was a newbie herself) faced each other across a table.

  The shop wasn’t that big, and it was jam-packed with customers. It was already October and the night wind was cold, but even though the heater wasn’t on, it was hot inside the restaurant.

  For the past few days, many People of the Earth had come to the town in preparation for the festival. Naturally, all the lodging facilities in town were full, and the zones the Round Table Council had readied as temporary lodging facilities were being used as well.

  The restaurants were no different: Everywhere, business was booming. This backstreet eatery prided itself on the flavor of its food, and even it was bursting with Adventurers and People of the Earth who were having a drink to fire themselves up for the next day, when the festival would begin in earnest.

  The new cooking method the Round Table Council had announced had traveled like the wind and spread to all corners of Yamato. However, that didn’t mean there were many Adventurers or People of the Earth who could use it well. On the contrary, since it was limited by skills, only a small percentage of the population could. These
people used limited ingredients to turn out new dishes, day after day.

  In comparison to the Adventurers—who tended to try to re-create the dishes they’d eaten in Japan—the inexperienced People of the Earth rifled through the recipes in their libraries and created dishes in their own styles. Their cooking methods were still simple, but this resulted in unaffected flavors, and some establishments grew quite famous.

  Linguine was one such eatery.

  It was known for a stewed dish that was a bit like tomato-flavored oden, and this, together with the fact that it was around the time when liquor was served, meant the place was filled with a low-class din. The eatery was a bit too rough-edged for a girl, but Serara was content to be able to have a late dinner with her beloved Nyanta. It was a small restaurant, too, and the thought that they were close enough for their knees to bump under the table made her feel bubbly and happy.

  “Are you tired, Nyanta?”

  “Not at all.”

  Although Nyanta had said that, he’d been hugely busy doing all sorts of things that day. The Crescent Moon League would be running several shops during the Libra Festival. Snack Shop Crescent Moon was being revived, the sewing department would be giving a demonstration and conducting sales, and the Blacksmiths were selling weapons with names engraved on them.

  The Crescent Moon League was a small guild, and each of its departments had five people at most. Nyanta had been helping out by acting as an assistant and teacher for the cooking department.

  “They came out well…didn’t they?”

  “They’re right as rain, Seraracchi.”

  “I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

  “So am I.”

  The thought of the busy day she’d spent with Nyanta, and of how, when dawn broke, she’d be working as a salesgirl all the next day, made Serara happy and excited. In this case, the happy excitement was due more to the bit about spending a whole day with Nyanta than the part about being a salesgirl all day.

  To be honest, when Isuzu had left the Crescent Moon League and switched to Log Horizon, Serara’s heart had wavered a bit. Serara had loved Nyanta since the day he’d saved her in Susukino. Saying she didn’t want to transfer to be with him would have been a lie.

  However, Serara was in charge of looking after the Crescent Moon League’s newbies. Unlike Isuzu, who’d just come from Hamelin, Serara had people who were counting on her.

  She’d apologized to Nyanta once. I can’t go to Log Horizon, she’d said. She hadn’t wanted him to think her affection was a lie.

  Nyanta had smiled and said, “Mew’re an admirable girl, Seraracchi.” Nyanta, who was mature and a gentleman, had always been kind, but since then, she felt as if he’d grown even kinder… As if he really listened to what she said. As a result, Serara was quite content with her current position.

  The tomato-stewed seafood and vegetables were delicious, simultaneously refreshing and substantial. The iced orange water was good, too. Serara was having fun talking with Nyanta about nothing in particular, and was happily working her way through her meal.

  Just then a sharp smash rang out, and the commotion in the eatery died in an instant. Apparently a server had dropped a dish. The shop’s famous tomato stew had splashed all over the place, sketching geometric patterns like bright red flowers on the stone floor.

  The white porcelain plate had shattered and was scattered across the floor, but this was a restaurant, and these things happened. It was a very commonplace sort of trouble. However, just as the commotion began to return, it was cut off again by the sound of a blow.

  Serara, who had been on the point of lowering her eyes to the table, saw a falling waitress and a man looming over her.

  “Don’t give me that! Just look at this stain! What are you going to do about it?!” the man shouted.

  Quickly, Serara checked their statuses. It was likely that both were People of the Earth. Their main classes weren’t the Adventurer kinds. The man was still young, and he looked like an aristocrat; the clothes he wore were expensive. He berated the waitress for her clumsiness in irritated tones, then spat out that it wasn’t an amount a lowly serving girl could pay for.

  The eatery was hushed; everyone was holding their breath. The atmosphere seemed to please the man. He grew even more high-handed and began insulting the restaurant: It was small. Dirty. Noisy, without a shred of class. He’d come because he’d been informed it was famous, and he’d been sorely disappointed. Well, he said, at least it was quiet now.

  Serara’s mood began to sour.

  They’d been enjoying their meal.

  The food was delicious, and yes, it was a bit noisy, but there was nothing wrong with that sort of atmosphere. As a matter of fact, everyone had seemed to be having fun. This was that sort of restaurant, and people who liked that sort of restaurant should come here. It wasn’t polite to disturb other people’s dinners. Those were her honest thoughts.

  “Is that guy an idiot?” someone in the eatery muttered.

  The man had the wrong idea. The eatery wasn’t the sort of dedicated palace dining hall that the man—probably a noble—was accustomed to eating at, nor was it a ristorante patronized by fashionable society. It was a backstreet eatery that served good tomato stew.

  He’d gotten one other thing wrong as well: The place hadn’t gone quiet because people were cowed by his authority. They were just disgusted by the depth of his stupidity.

  “Who was that?! Who mocked me?!!”

  At the man’s enraged voice, three Adventurers stood up. Possibly sensing a threat from them, People of the Earth warriors who looked like bodyguards and had been eating at a separate table from the man rose as well. The situation was strained to the breaking point, and the atmosphere in the eatery began to grow tense.

  “Nyanta…”

  As she spoke, Serara huddled down.

  It wasn’t fear. Serara was a full-fledged Adventurer herself, and she’d played a part in the battle for Choushi, the worst part of the Zantleaf Defense. She even had experience fighting the undead and magical beasts. In combat, tension on this level wouldn’t come close to qualifying as a scene of carnage. However, being right there when humans were hurling emotions at each other was different from the tension of combat. The wish that everyone would just get along was being trampled underfoot, and this turned into an indescribable pressure that threatened to swallow her.

  “There’s no need to worry.”

  As Nyanta stood and turned around, he casually reached out and grabbed the young nobleman by the scruff of the neck, just the way you’d pick up a cat. Caught off-guard and dumbfounded, the young man’s eyes darted this way and that.

  “Mew mustn’t cause mischief, mew know. This is a place where everyone comes to eat and enjoy themselves.”

  “Silence, peasant!”

  “I’m an Adventurer.”

  At Nyanta’s response, the man was momentarily at a loss for words, and a look of confusion raced across his face. Right: This was Akiba. The People of the Earth population might have grown, but even now, over half the people who moved through the town were Adventurers.

  Possibly he’d forgotten that fact. The man’s face twisted in frustration.

  “Then it’s really nothing to do with you!”

  “Ermmm…”

  “This is People of the Earth business. There are differences in rank among us. Stay out of this! It’s nothing to do with you Adventurers. I don’t intend to interfere with you!”

  “Oh yeah? It sure didn’t look like that.”

  “You were talkin’ quite a lot of smack about our favorite restaurant.”

  The three who’d stood up at the back of the eatery really were Adventurers. One of them was casting a recovery spell on the young waitress.

  The man’s warrior bodyguards were licking their lips frequently and glancing uneasily from side to side.

  The difference in skill levels was clear from a glance at their equipment. The Knights of Izumo would have been one thing, but
the knights kept by the various lords were no match for a high-level Adventurer. The bodyguards assigned to a noble’s profligate son were probably no more than level 10 or so.

  Even to Serara, the bodyguards looked as if they could be taken down instantly.

  “Young master, if you’d, uh, please just—”

  “This is the town of Akiba. Akiba has its own order that Akiba must protect. Mew mustn’t cause trouble.”

  As Nyanta interrupted the bodyguard’s words, he began walking toward the door. The young aristocrat tried to yell and struggle, but he was boggled by the fact that Nyanta—who was thin, and didn’t look young—was easily dragging him along with one arm, and his mouth only flapped uselessly. When Nyanta reached the doorway, he held the young man up in front of his eyes without seeming to put out much effort.

  “Mew don’t need to pay. We’ll say this was on the house. There’s a festival today, so enjoy mewrself, and stay out of trouble.”

  When Nyanta tossed the man out the door, the man’s bodyguards followed him hastily, crying, “Young master, young master!”

  That wasn’t enough to trigger a response from Akiba’s guard system. It was common knowledge among the town’s residents that unless you drew a sword or inflicted direct damage, the guards were surprisingly lax.

  “Nyanta.”

  “It’s fine, it’s fine. Let’s go back to our meal.”

  At Nyanta’s calm words, Serara relaxed.

  In the same way, the tension went out of the eatery’s atmosphere, and the noisy mood returned. The serving girl went around apologizing to everybody, but the only responses she got were voices telling her not to worry about it, that it was only natural. The girl turned bright red and thanked them.

  “Still, that was unusual, wasn’t it…”

  “Well, there are more People of the Earth now. Besides, there’s a festival on today, and lots of folks who aren’t mewsed to the town are visiting.”