The Knights of Camelot

by Mamare Touno

  But for even larger groups, the “big” guilds, even the halls at the guild center began to feel cramped.

  The largest guildhalls available for rent at the guild center had thirty-one rooms. Marielle of the Crescent Moon League had considered hers a castle, but although this might be true for guilds with thirty or forty members, guilds with memberships of over two hundred found that even that wasn’t enough space.

  For that reason, guilds as large as the Knights of the Black Sword and the West Wind Brigade often chose buildings that could be purchased in Akiba proper, bought the whole zone in which the building lay, and established their headquarters there.

  Production guilds like the Marine Organization, which now boasted five thousand members, divided their artisans into several departments by category and housed each department in its own ruined building. In cases like that, the entire guild overall had several headquarters.

  Headquarters like these were known as “guild houses,” “guild towers,” or “guild castles.”

  At 90, Log Horizon’s average member level was high, but it had very few members. Ordinarily, keeping a whole building like this one would have been inefficient; if they’d needed headquarters, they could have just borrowed a guildhall from the guild center. This expense was what was worrying Akatsuki.

  “…It’s all right. We’ll manage.”

  Even as he responded, Shiroe was scrubbing the walls with a deck brush. This ruin had been a warehouse and a large-scale store, and it had an enormous old tree growing up through its first six floors.

  There was a big hole in the center of each floor, and a mossy tree trunk, which must have been several centuries old, had threaded its way up through them. The great tree pierced every floor from the basement on up, heading for the sky, and at the roof, its great branches spread out into a green dome.

  The entire town of Akiba seemed to have been swallowed up by a sea of trees, but it was rare to see the growth of a tree overlap with a building so completely.

  “This building’s cheap because it’s like this. There aren’t any stairs, you know, and it’s hard to use.”

  “Hm… Is that right?”

  Shiroe was clearing rubble while they talked. The general cleanup had been done over the course of a few days with the help of the younger Crescent Moon League members, but the ruin was still far from livable.

  Originally, it was likely that the place had been a big home electronics store or something similar: This first floor was almost unbroken by walls, and the ceiling must have been four or five meters high.

  Of course it was hard to imagine that this building had been stairless ever since the old era, when it had been built. The well that had held stairs, and the elevator shaft that had doubtless been next to it, had probably been where the trunk stood now.

  After this building had been abandoned and damaged, the old tree that had grown in the stairwell (or elevator shaft) had most likely pierced through the floors and eroded them.

  The fact that this building had been ignored when it was being sold for such a low price was probably due to its distance from the center of town and its sheer inconvenience.

  “Still. Akiba’s not a big town, and this is prime real estate. I mean, heck, stairs can be built.”

  As Naotsugu, who’d come down from the second floor, pointed out, the first and second floors were now connected by a steel stairway. The stairs looked rough and bleak, but they were sturdy enough and large enough to be used without a problem.

  “But listen, when this was a game, there was no option to ‘Repair Facility with Hole in Floor,’ was there?”

  Shiroe’s words seemed to satisfy Naotsugu: “Oh yeah. Guess not.”

  The impact of the new cooking method Nyanta had discovered hadn’t stayed in the culinary world. By now, all the production guilds had begun to develop new items. It wasn’t limited to the production subclasses, either; even the role-playing subclasses had begun experimenting to see what changes their skills could bring to this world.

  The stairway had been the result of one such experiment.

  Interfering with basic objects such as the walls and floor would have been an unimaginable act in the Elder Tales game, but in the past week, it had been demonstrated that even that was possible.

  At this point, the stairway only linked the first and second floors; if they wanted to go to the third floor or higher, they had to shimmy up a rope. If they wanted to expand, though, all they had to do was call on the artisans again.

  Compared to the rest of the market, the cost of this zone had been cheap, but even so, it had been a pretty sizable amount. That had been something they’d planned on, but they’d also had to pay the artisans a reasonable sum to build the stairway. Tiny Log Horizon didn’t have the funds for a complete overhaul of the building.

  They’d commissioned the installation of the stairway and reflooring of the second story—where they’d be sleeping for now—from the Marine Organization. Michitaka, the guild master, had accepted cheerfully. “Yeah, if you use work-arounds like that, I guess you could find new ways to use ruins that weren’t good for living in before. Building a stairway’s an interesting idea.”

  Michitaka himself had stopped by the site of the remodel several times, and when Naotsugu had called, “Hey! If the idea’s so interesting, cut us a deal, wouldja?!” he’d actually seemed to worry about it, which had tickled Shiroe.

  Even when they knew it was likely to lead to new sales, in this other world the processing of various materials was so different from what it had been in the real world that it was hard to calculate prices that would bring in a decent profit.

  Henrietta had explained this using jargon like “optimization of supply and demand” and “full employment” and “minimum wage.” Shiroe understood the broad theory—the structure—but he really couldn’t slot in figures and run actual simulations.

  In any case, the economic system in this other world was full of holes, and it was tough to say just how far real-world common sense could be applied.

  For now, as Michitaka put it, “Well, we’ll just bill what looks good. Good market prices should work themselves out with time, once things settle down,” and there seemed to be nothing for it but to make do with slapdash accounting.

  On that day, too, Shiroe and the other three had been cleaning since early in the morning.

  However, there was no way four people could completely clean a building with six aboveground floors and a basement. In any case, this was a ruin: The window glass was broken, and the farther up one went, the bigger the hole in the ceiling grew.

  The four of them had soon abandoned the idea of overall repairs, and they were concentrating on making the second floor—their temporary living quarters—comfortable. At present, the second floor only held two large halls that had been made with flooring material, but they planned to make about eight private rooms there as well.

  With that many, they wouldn’t be troubled for rooms for a while.

  They weren’t sure whether they’d be able to finish during the summer or if it would take until autumn. Mainly due to concerns about temperature and sleeping outside, Shiroe hoped they’d be done by winter.

  However, even as Shiroe and the others worked to create their home, they had a variety of visitors. Shiroe had set the zone’s entry restrictions to “unrestricted,” so nearly every acquaintance they had came to the first floor of the ruined building and yelled their names.

  Henrietta, who was in the middle of a move herself that day, conscientiously brought by an assortment of fruit to congratulate them on the establishment of Log Horizon’s headquarters. Upon nervously accepting the gift, Akatsuki was captured in the blink of an eye and very nearly forced to wear a “special present” or some such thing, but it’s probably best not to discuss that.

  Soujirou of the West Wind Brigade stopped by for a visit, accompanied by Nazuna, a beautiful healer and fellow former member of the Debauchery Tea Party. It wasn’t clear which of them
had liked cherry liqueur enough to bring it, but its limpid fragrance went perfectly with the early summer weather. Apparently it had been made by the West Wind Brigade’s Brewer.

  Calasin of Shopping District 8 paid a call to discuss something with Shiroe.

  The “something” was the idea of hiring People of the Earth to handle clerical work for the Round Table Council—mostly light work, such as delivering documents and taking notes.

  True, it would be hard to bind Adventurer players to work as light as that, and it would probably be quite expensive. They’d determined that, if possible, this way could work.

  Calasin went home with a smile, saying that he’d start checking with the People of the Earth he happened to know right away.

  Among the combat guilds, Isaac of the Knights of the Black Sword had stuck around for a surprisingly long time. Stopping by with a few of his Summoner subordinates, he began making arbitrary demands. “Hey, Machiavelli-with-glasses. Your place is huge and handy; let us do combat training here.”

  Before Naotsugu even had time to complain, the Summoners summoned Undine of the Pure Currents and rinsed the cavernous first and second floors clean with a massive bead of water. Since there was no plumbing in this other world, this was incredibly helpful.

  Isaac himself only chewed holes in the congratulatory fruit assortment Henrietta had brought by and left, but memorably, Captain Nyanta murmured, “The Knights of the Black Sword aren’t such a bad lot.” It was possible that Isaac had intended the visit to patch things up with Shiroe.

  This was at least half of the reason that Shiroe had decided to purchase this abandoned building as their guild tower.

  As one of the guilds participating in the Round Table Council, they were bound to have quite a few visitors. Shiroe’s friend list had acquired more names over the past few days. They might not be friends he’d played closely with, but he had more opportunities to contact them now, and if he didn’t register them, they couldn’t telechat.

  They’d probably have visitors in the future, and some of those visitors might have business that would need to be discussed for a long time. There was no telling whether a great uproar like the establishment of the Round Table Council would occur again, but if something of the sort did happen, they might end up needing a kitchen, a workroom, or a storehouse.

  Due to these considerations, they’d chosen this building. It was on the outskirts of town, but it had more than enough space.

  “Plus, it’s like they say: Better too big than too small.”

  “That’s what she said, right, Naotsugu? You would think like that.”

  “Shiro! Dude. Hey. Akatsuki keeps calling me an idiot because you say stuff like that. My-stock’s-in-the-toilet city.”

  Naotsugu was one of Shiroe’s oldest friends, and the one he found it easiest to relax with. Having completely useless conversations like this was incredibly restful.

  “Here, now. Shiroechi and Naotsugucchi. If mew don’t hurry and clean up, mew won’t get dinner.”

  “Is it curry? Are we having curry?! I love curry!”

  “…Dang it, Naotsugu. Yes. We’re having curry today.”

  “What, for real?! Whoo-hoo!”

  And thus, Nyanta and Akatsuki joined them.

  In his long history with Elder Tales, even Shiroe had joined a guild before. Now, though, he knew he hadn’t been part of that guild in the truest sense of the word; he’d only been a guest.

  It wasn’t the structure known as a guild; it was companions and a place to belong.

  It meant holding these things important and protecting them.

  That was something he ought to have learned from the Debauchery Tea Party: The will of the companions who gathered there was much more important than whether it was a true “guild” or not.

  When the town began to turn red, it always gave Shiroe a special feeling. Back when Elder Tales was a game, sunset had been nothing more than an on-screen effect, but in this other world, it was different.

  With sweet, sad cries, blackbirds flew low on their way home to the forest.

  Adventurers returning from the hunt filtered into the plaza, having a look at the stalls that lined the central avenue as they passed. Groups that had bagged lots of prey discussed their plans for the next outing in high spirits, and those that hadn’t had much luck swore to vindicate themselves next time. The vine-tangled ruins glowed red madder, and the shadows of the warriors and the town’s artisans grew longer and longer, regardless of whether they were Adventurers or People of the Earth.

  In the space of a week, the sunset had acquired a fragrance.

  Numerous stalls sold evening meals, sought out by weary Adventurers and production-class artisans alike who’d finished the day’s work. Even the taverns run by People of the Earth now had the smell of sweet-tasting alcohol and simple food wafting from their doors.

  The sky gradually darkened. Copper slowly changed to smoky rose, then deep blue, then indigo. In the midst of a sunset that felt slower than it had in the old world, the townspeople wound up their day and made preparations for tomorrow.

  “There’s the evening star, my liege.”

  “Forget that, I’m hungry. I’m so hungry I can’t move. Starvation city.”

  Akatsuki and Naotsugu, who seemed to have finished carrying their cargo, were cooling themselves by the window.

  In the sunset, too early yet for lamps to be lit, Shiroe’s two friends turned back to him.

  Their peaceful, inquisitive expressions convinced Shiroe that this was indeed his place.

  Inside him, the Debauchery Tea Party was growing distant. It had taken a very long time. Shiroe thought, with regret, that he might unwittingly have hurt many people and places by comparing them to his old home.

  He hadn’t even understood the easy things. He’d taken the long way around. As Shiroe castigated himself for having nothing but faults, the other two looked at him blankly. “What’s the matter, my liege?” “You’re hungry, too, huh? Empty stomachs are no joke.”

  “Hm? Where’s the captain? Isn’t he back yet?” Pulling himself together, Shiroe realized that Nyanta wasn’t there. He’d gone out to buy some more spices.

  “Yeah, now that you mention it, the captain’s late. He’d better not be shopping and snacking. If he is, I’ll have to mete out his punishment.”

  “That wasn’t terribly clever.”

  Even as he listened to their banter, Shiroe began to feel a bit concerned. Just then, from the floor below, an easygoing voice called, “Shiroechi~. Naotsugucchi~. Akatsuki~.”

  Nyanta seemed to have returned.

  As they went downstairs, talking among themselves (did he need help carrying things? No, nothing would be that heavy in this other world), on the bare moonlit floor, they saw a figure so slim it might have been made of wire. It was Nyanta.

  “What’s up, Captain? I’m starving. Let’s get that curry eaten, stat.”

  “Yes, venerable sage. I’m hungry as well.”

  Sounding childlike, Naotsugu and Akatsuki leaned out partway down the stairs. Nyanta laughed—“Mya-ha-ha-ha”—and pushed forward two shapes that had been clinging to his back.

  “……Uu.”

  “Um, ummm…”

  “If it isn’t Touya and Minori!”

  It was the Kannagi girl, who was blushing so fiercely that it showed even in the dark, and her Samurai twin brother. Over the past week, the newbies’ hair had been trimmed and their equipment tidied. Nyanta urged them on.

  “I found them on my way back from buying spices. They were circling this building, round and round and round. If it were me, I would’ve turned into butter candy.”

  “What’s the matter, you two?” Shiroe asked. “Wasn’t the Crescent Moon League moving today, too?”

  The Crescent Moon League had been scheduled to move into a guildhall two ranks higher that day. Once they’d finished moving, there’d probably be another banquet. Marielle loved it when things were lively, and he couldn’t imagine that s
he’d send two of her precious newbies out into the night all by themselves.

  “No, uh, mister. Listen, we…”

  “Hm?”

  From where he stood on the first floor, Touya looked up at Shiroe, standing halfway up the stairs, and spoke in a young, ringing voice.

  “—We’re here to join your guild, mister.”

  “Huh…?”

  “We came because we hoped you would teach us, Shiroe. …We’ve imposed on the Crescent Moon League for the past week, but we haven’t joined it. …We didn’t join. Touya and I are the only players who left Hamelin who haven’t joined a guild yet.” Minori conscientiously supplemented her brother’s frank, straightforward words.

  “We were able to do our best because of all the stuff you taught us, mister. If you’ve started a guild, we want to join it. Maybe I’m weak, but I’m gonna get stronger.”

  “I may just be in the way as well, but… I’ve decided not to use that as an excuse anymore. Please let us stay with you.”

  “Ah…… Um.”

  He might turn them down.

  What would they do if he did?

  The young twins spoke as eloquently as they possibly could. They were so stiff that their tension was obvious at a glance.

  He’d heard vague rumors of the sort of treatment they’d been subjected to in Hamelin. For players who were new to Elder Tales and had no acquaintances or people to rely on, the experience must have been incredibly painful.

  At the Crescent Moon League, they would have had lots of friends who’d been in the same situation and whose skills were at about the same level. He was positive that they wouldn’t have been treated badly. What must they have felt when they turned down the chance to join the Crescent Moon League and came to Shiroe, knowing that, if he refused them, they’d have nowhere left to go? Shiroe could only guess, but he could sense the desperation in their resolution.

  They’d played together for one week, the last week that Elder Tales was a game. Shiroe didn’t know what he’d said to them that could have attracted them to him in that short time.