by Mamare Touno
It was sheer luck.
To keep her from registering that weakness, Nureha frantically opened her eyes wide. Indicus had described her accurately. She knew all that without being told. She was more aware of her dingy, disgusting self than anyone.
However, knowing herself was completely different from having someone else point it out to her.
“You’re a very convenient princess to gaze upon from a distance.”
Nureha glared at her, but Indicus’s fingers twisted her ear.
“So. Lady. Nureha. We can’t have you going to Akiba. A little self-awareness, please. This place, Plant Hwyaden, isn’t your salon anymore. You’ll gather lots of puppets and build your castle, and this time, I’ll obtain the whole Yamato server. Remember, Lady Nureha? That was the promise, wasn’t it?”
Nureha’s wish. Nureha’s request.
A dream on which she’d wagered everything, so that she’d never have to go back there.
No matter what she had to do—and she meant that literally—no matter what she had to do, Nureha never, ever wanted to repeat the experiences of her past. That was why she’d joined forces with Indicus. Plant Hwyaden was Nureha’s castle. It was a castle that never slept, filled with countless lights and soft compliments.
“You’re going to make a place for yourself to belong, aren’t you?”
Keeping up appearances so that Indicus wouldn’t see her weakness, Nureha nodded desperately.
“That’s right. It’s about to begin, you know. The Ten-Seat Council.”
Indicus seemed to have lost interest in Nureha. Nureha didn’t attend all Ten-Seat Councils; she wasn’t interested in guild administration in the first place.
“Because you’re the princess, yes. I’ll tell everyone for you, Nureha. After all, you are Plant Hwyaden’s precious, precious guild master.”
Leaving words of sympathy behind her as a parting gift, Indicus’s footsteps receded.
In the midst of the curse from her past and self-loathing that made her writhe, Nureha hugged her sides, folding in on herself, and shrank, becoming ever so small.
Her hands and feet were so cold they hurt, as though her metabolism had dropped. The blanket she’d wrapped around herself was heavy, and it didn’t bring her any warmth.
Her pulse fluctuated violently, and the world sank into darkness before her eyes, as if she were anemic.
All that rose up were terrible recollections and memories of humiliation, and their ghosts tried to drag Nureha back to Earth. The evil spirits attacked her whenever Indicus gave the order, and she had to keep fighting them all alone.
However, the corners of her lips held a very faint smile.
Don’t you see? I’m the only one who’d contract with a woman as filthy as you.
Not true.
That wasn’t true now.
It had been only a verbal promise; you couldn’t call it a contract. It might have been nothing more than an exchange, nearly a jest, said only in passing between the two, but right now, Nureha had one other promise in addition to her contract with Indicus.
Because it’s probably more in line with your wish to have me as an enemy than an ally.
The parting words spoken by the young man Indicus had given up on. They shielded Nureha, if only ever so slightly.
In the distance, a low, metallic sound rang out, announcing that it was nine o’clock.
The hands of the clock advanced slowly, as if they were sticky, and the night still seemed to stretch on forever. Even with very little sleep, Adventurer bodies could function without much trouble. That advantage was also the prison chain that trapped Nureha in the night. She went through repeated cycles of light dozing followed by sudden, terrified awakenings.
In this room, where her customary nocturnal battle would continue… Someday, for sure. Forming the shape of these words—words she’d never once spoken, words like a prayer—with silent lips, Nureha drifted into a shallow sleep.
2
The room, in which several men and women were assembled, had a curious design.
Pillars with carved drapes adorned the walls, finely patterned vases spilled over with fresh flowers, and even the tables and chairs were inlaid with gold. All of it was barely of note though, in comparison to the magnetic vitality of the people gathered in the room.
There were the eight council members, each of them exceptional, along with their attendants.
“Where’s Indicus?”
The question had come from a man with glasses and neat clothes that made him look like a bureaucrat.
“She’s with the princess. She’ll probably be back soon. Don’t worry about it, Zeldus,” a woman in a military uniform answered.
“The designated time was when the moon rose. It’s well past that,” the man named Zeldus huffed.
“The princess is the same as ever.”
“Those two should just get married already.”
A young voice that exuded arrogance and a musing voice chimed in as well, one after the other.
The room was shaped like a gradual staircase; the height of each step was about four centimeters. Though it was really more like a series of low landings than stairs. On each landing, an individual’s unique space had been set up.
Many had sofas or leather-upholstered chairs, and some of the landings were equipped with desks or small bookshelves. All together, there were ten seats and ten different levels. The arches that opened in each of the room’s four walls had also been built at different heights, and the structure seemed to promote coming and going, so it was likely that these levels indicated the rank of the person who occupied them. It was as if the room’s odd construction showed their relationships just as they were.
Kazuhiko sat in a low chair, hugging his favorite katana, while looking around the room. This gathering was the Ten-Seat Council. It was an assembly of the people in charge of Minami’s administration, and in practical terms, it was also the core council of Plant Hwyaden.
Participants in the Ten-Seat Council were called Ten-Seats, after the name of the council, or Seat Officers.
At present, two of the Ten-Seats had yet to arrive: Nureha, guild master of Plant Hwyaden; and Indicus, who had gone to fetch her.
Indicus would probably appear soon, but there was no telling about Nureha. She was capricious and seemed uninterested in the trivialities of the day-to-day running of the guild, and she almost never attended councils like this one. Now that Plant Hwyaden was established and had become an enormous organization, the decisions of Nureha—its founder and leader—weren’t needed on a daily basis. The members were used to her absence.
This Ten-Seat Council meeting was a regular one. Kazuhiko hadn’t heard that there were any special topics for discussion.
However, that didn’t mean he could let his guard down.
The relationships among the Seat Officers were complex and delicate. Plant Hwyaden had been established by assimilating all the Adventurers in Western Yamato, which meant its foundation was unique to begin with. It had a completely different essence compared to the guilds of the former Elder Tales MMO, where players who got along with each other formed groups so that they could play together. The objective of this enormous organization, which had been formed by swallowing up many preexisting guilds, was mutual aid and cooperation in order to survive in this strange world that resembled Elder Tales. In other words, the goal of creating Plant Hwyaden had been the intersection of interests.
It was a single guild that espoused perfect equality, but its internal politics bristled with disparate factions. For people who knew a certain amount about Plant Hwyaden, this was common knowledge.
But this wasn’t all that was unique about its history.
In order to establish this enormous guild, the first thing Nureha had done was twist the guard organization around her little finger. The guards of Minami were a lower branch of the House of Saimiya. In other words, since its establishment, the organization of Plant Hwyaden had been deeply involved with
the People of the Earth.
As such, Nureha, as Hwyaden’s guild master and as the “State Councilor of the West,” had gained rank and power.
Meanwhile, the Senate, which had joined the House of Saimiya in controlling Western Yamato, had showed a great interest in Plant Hwyaden and was eager to assimilate it.
Currently, one could say that the town of Minami was in a state of balance in which many forces—each of Plant Hwyaden’s internal factions, alonside the People of the Earth’s House of Saimiya and Minami’s Senate—struggled with each other.
Kazuhiko was part of one of these forces.
The security organization Miburo—the original name of the famous historical Shinsengumi forces—was a department of Plant Hwyaden that protected the peace in Minami and cracked down on corruption and fraud.
However, in practice, it was Kazuhiko’s private army.
Kazuhiko and some of his like-minded colleagues had banded together to halt the corruption plauging Minami as much as possible, and had ended up becoming one of Plant Hwyaden’s internal factions. Their power wasn’t among the greatest in Minami, but because they had some influence, they were allowed a chair on the Ten-Seat Council.
Two guards in short, black, formal Japanese overcoats known as haori stood behind Kazuhiko. Many of the Ten-Seats attended the council with similar guards in tow.
Of course the guards meant nothing at the council, but this sort of posturing was necessary in order to maintain the faction equilibrium.
Squinting his eyes, Kazuhiko glanced at the highest position in the room—the First Seat.
On the top level was an elegant, feminine, elaborately worked throne that looked as if it might have been brought back from fairyland.
The seat’s mistress was currently absent. It was the place where Nureha, guild master of Plant Hwyaden, was meant to sit.
On the level below it were a tea server and silver trolley, and a brusque stool that showed no signs of use. It was currently unoccupied, but practically speaking, it was the second seat in charge of this council: the seat occupied by the maid Indicus.
Those two hadn’t yet appeared, but once Indicus arrived, no doubt the council would begin.
The third landing was wide, with a utilitarian chair and an enormous work desk that took up both sides. At that work desk, a stubborn, cruel-looking, bespectacled young man was silently drafting figures and written instructions. Sometimes he would look up and eject a trenchant comment from his sardonic mouth. It was the third seat, the Adventurer Zeldus, nicknamed “the Watchtower.”
He was the man in charge of Plant Hwyaden’s development and finances. The Iron Chancellor.
On the level just below his, a female soldier relaxed, leaning against her backrest, with a liquor bottle set directly on the floor. This was the Fourth Seat, “the General Who Dominated the East”—Mizufa Trude. She was the strongest general in the Senate, and the greatest commander within the Holy Empire of Westlande’s People of the Earth army.
“The days are boring without the scent of blood. I feel like I’m going to rot. We’ve got all the time there is. If it means I can go to war, I’ll wait as long as they like, even if the moon sets on us.”
The woman was past thirty and beautiful, but rather than the dauntlessness of a soldier, there was a marked sense of criminal cruelty about her. She was sitting in a dissipated way, with her arms spread wide, occupying the center of a sofa meant for two people.
“Didn’t you come here just to drink fine liquor, Lander?”
Lander: a slang word for a Person of the Earth.
The jab had come from a big Adventurer seated in a leather-upholstered chair on the next level down. The Fifth Seat: Nakalnad, “the General Who Conquered the South.” He was wearing rough armor reminiscent of construction equipment, as if to point out that he was a Guardian.
The words had been insulting, but Mizufa agreed with a generous “You’ve got that right.”
“Pretty nice life, hmm?” Nakalnad raised the cup he’d drained; his expression was bitter. A maid as unobtrusive as a stain on the wall approached like a ghost and poured him fresh liquor.
These two were the center of the military, and they were in charge of Plant Hwyaden’s foreign campaigns.
They led, respectively, the People of the Earth military corps and the Adventurer army.
The common opinion among the Adventurers who attended this council was that Mizufa’s seat order was higher out of consideration for the Senate, since the military might Nakalnad actually commanded was several times greater. In the days of the old Yamato server, Nakalnad had been the guild master of Howling, the strongest guild in the Kansai area. Glimpses of Plant Hwyaden’s internal politics showed through here as well.
“I’m sleepy. Why do we meet at night? Seriously.”
The Sixth Seat stretched ostentatiously. Quon, the “Singer of Prophecies.”
“Night’s not the only time you’re sleepy.”
Zeldus’s voice came down from the higher level; he hadn’t looked up from his documents. Quon wore casual clothes—a shirt and jeans—that would have been right at home on a street corner on Earth. The only fantasy-style item was the warm-looking cloak he’d wrapped himself up in.
“I’m keeping an ear out for a GM Call,” he protested.
At his words, several of the participants gave small, wry smiles.
This young man, Quon, didn’t technically have the ability or the desire to hold a seat on the council. It was just that during the Elder Tales era, he had been a game master on the administrative side. Game masters were administrative employees who had avatars just like Adventurers, participated in the game world, and dealt with any trouble that came up there. In simple terms, they were a type of troubleshooter.
Having been a Fushimi Online Entertainment employee, he had detailed knowledge of the circumstances and information on the administrative side. Since he’d gotten pulled into the Catastrophe when he was logged in from his own home computer instead of the dedicated mainframe at the FOE offices, most of his game master abilities had been sealed, but even so, it was possible that he’d be able to help clear up situations. That was why he held one of the ten seats.
GM Call, or “Call from Beyond,” was one of the game master abilities Quon still held. It enabled him to receive pop-up notices with information regarding administrative events that occurred on the Yamato server. He could also receive a summons from FOE, but if they believed what he said, there had been no contact since the Catastrophe, and the only events that had occurred were timed or triggered types.
“So you’re saying your connection to the higher world is fading, eh?”
The old man in the Eighth Seat, one down from Kazuhiko, teased with a chuckle.
“Man, shut up. It was the Council’s decision to monitor calls, remember?”
At Quon’s sulky attitude, the old man cackled. He seemed jolly, but his eyes were blunt with cruelty. The Eighth Seat, Jared Gan, “the Great Wizard of Miral Lake.” He was an authority on magic and history who represented the People of the Earth. Along with Zeldus, his knowledge and magic abilities were being focused into the development of new technologies.
“The princess…won’t be joining us tonight either, hmm?”
As Loreil Dawn, Ninth Seat and leader of the imperial guards, muttered this, Indicus entered. She was a beautiful, intelligent woman dressed in a maid’s uniform. Her footsteps sounded like someone striking rock, and with that sound as its opening bell, the Ten-Seat Council commenced.
“Let me begin tonight’s Ten-Seat Council. For the first topic of the day, we will hear a report on urban welfare.”
Indicus began the council abruptly, without prelude. This topic was always the first one she chose. Holding his breath as if he were diving underwater, Kazuhiko tried to keep his heart cool and collected.
The town of Minami was peaceful and wealthy.
However, it was built on the invisible exploitation of the People of the Earth. At present
, there were approximately ten thousand Adventurers living in Minami, and three times that many People of the Earth. There were many restaurants and inns run by People of the Earth, but the majority of them were Servants.
Servants were People of the Earth hired to look after Adventurers. There was demand from Adventurers, since this freed them from having to do odd jobs, and People of the Earth welcomed the positions as lucrative employment. On the other hand, it was true that it was a hotbed for a variety of trouble. Minami’s prosperity was built on all sorts of hidden warps and stains.
Quite apart from Kazuhiko’s thoughts, the council went on.
Currently, the government of Minami’s biggest program involved issuing guild passes.
Adventurers affiliated with Plant Hwyaden and People of the Earth living in Minami were able to receive guild passes issued by the Plant Hwyaden staff office. Passes came in several different ranks, and those who held them could use restaurants and inns that corresponded to that rank completely free of charge. This meant there would no longer be any need for Plant Hwyaden members to walk around with cash. In addition, since the passes would not be purchased, but loaned for free—although they would need to be renewed every three months—it was believed that they would make great contributions to Minami’s development.
As he listened to the splendid report, Kazuhiko renewed his determination.
It was likely that there would be even bigger trouble, and lots of it, from this point on.
He could understand the advantages of the guild pass system. There was great significance in the fact that they guaranteed lifestyles on a certain level for Adventurers who avoided fighting monsters. In addition, Plant Hwyaden would probably be able to implement more meaningful policies, such as purchase management for materials. However, it was the People of the Earth who’d be sacrificed in the process. Miburo existed to preserve justice in the city. That meant protecting the weak. Kazuhiko and the others were fighting to relieve the wretchedness of the People of the Earth, which many Adventurers pretended not to see.
