by Iliev, Neven
The organizations themselves also greatly benefited from their close proximity in various ways, most notable of which were the regular cross-guild training exercises. It was important for rookie adventurers to be knowledgeable about the features and capabilities of other Jobs and learn how to best synergize others’ abilities with their own. This seemed only natural, but no other society placed as much importance on teamwork and cooperation as the elves.
This group-oriented mindset was something of a symptom of the collectivist culture that had reigned in the Ishigar Republic since the time of the ancient and defunct Elven Dominion. It was a stark contrast to the residents of the Empire, who put a much greater emphasis on individualism. Their nation was a meritocracy, where personal strength and achievements were far more important than lineage or association. A place where even a no-named commoner could one day be crowned Emperor if their contributions were great enough. Or at least that was what the ‘Imperial Dream’ promised.
The problem with this mindset, at least from the elves’ perspective, was that it promoted recklessness, greed, and corruption—all of which were rampant issues within the Empire. The major upside of that competitive environment, which was to weed out the weak and nurture the strong, was not something elven society would benefit from. Birth rates in the Republic were notably lower than those in the Empire, so the predominantly elven population could not afford to risk the lives of their youngsters. Putting things bluntly, they had to make the most of what they had.
As such, the training offered by Republic-based guilds was far more extensive and better supervised than that of other nations. This meant it was also significantly more expensive and time consuming. This was deemed an acceptable drawback since, when compared to other countries on the continent, a much larger proportion of the Republic’s rookie adventurers survived past Level 25. Outsiders would call this coddling, though the locals liked to think of it as giving everyone the ability to be useful to society.
This was also the reason why a group of ten men and women were lined up in a yard outside the Consortium building. The dirt beneath their feet was completely devoid of vegetation, as it had been walked on by so many pairs of legs that the dry ground had become akin to sand. All of them waited patiently for their Ranger instructor to arrive, and passed the time chatting idly.
Well, except for one cat-eared beastkin girl that sat on the ground and breathing heavily with sweat running down her forehead.
“You ran all the way here again, didn’t you?” Lia loomed over her with a stern tone. “You still would’ve been made to run a marathon again if Faehorn wasn’t running late himself.”
“Haah, haah, haah, please don’t, haah, tell him!” Keira pleaded between gasps for air.
“I won’t, but you seriously need to start waking up earlier!”
“I did! Haah, haah, I woke up right before dawn! It’s just that, haah, I had dropped one of my rings last night and, haah, spent way too long looking for it!”
The catgirl presented the back of her right hand to Lia, showing off the trio of plain-looking steel rings on her third, fourth and fifth finger.
“Those things? Come to think of it, you always have those on, don’t you? Are they enchanted or something?”
“Yeah, they have some weak magic on them, haah, but that’s not why I’m wearing them. Haah, haah, phew…” the catgirl stabilized her breathing. “They’re mementos from back home, so I’d never forgive myself if I lost them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. They’re very precious to me.”
Keira smiled softly, gently rubbing the sentimental jewelry with her other hand. Lia wanted to ask what the story behind them was, but changed her mind when she saw her friend’s happy expression. She’d probably ask eventually, but right now was neither the time nor the place for what she imagined would be a difficult subject.
“I can see why. They suit you quite well in my opinion.”
What the elf did instead was offer a pleasant compliment.
“Thanks. Rowie complained about them at first though,” Keira pouted slightly.
“Rowie? Oh, your girlf- partner, right?”
“Yeah. She said they felt weird at first, but she’s gotten used to them by now.”
“Felt weird? What’s that supposed to- No! Never mind! I don’t need to know!”
The slightly blushing elf shook her head rather wildly in an effort to disperse the naughty and inappropriate image in her mind.
“That’s not what I meant,” Keira protested. “I mean when we hold hands and interlink our fingers.”
“Right! I knew that! That was definitely the wholesome and not-at-all-lewd thought I had just now!”
“I mean, of course I’d take them off for that other thing,” the redhead continued. “The last thing I need is to have one slip off and get lost inside-”
“Keira!”
“TMI?”
“TMI.”
Lia sighed in the awkward silence that ensued. Keira was a bit slow to warm up to her at first, but now that she had she didn’t seem to know when to draw the line when talking about her personal life. She had only just immigrated here from the Empire, so she had yet to get used to the fact that the elves of the Republic were usually a lot more prudish. It was a simple case of culture shock. Lia realized this when the latter thoughtlessly revealed she was romantically involved with another woman during yesterday’s cart ride. She then offered to help the redhead adjust to her new home by letting Keira know whenever she was sharing ‘too much information,’ or TMI for short.
“Alright everyone, sorry for the delay!”
Faehorn’s clear voice rang out from behind them, prompting the entire Ranger class to stand at attention. He briskly walked up to the front of the group and stood there with his arms crossed while carefully looking over each and every student. This much was his normal routine, but something was clearly off today, and not just because he was late. Instead of his impressive-looking scale armor, he wore what could only be described as a parade uniform. It consisted of a long, dark-green overcoat, fresh-pressed black trousers and black boots that were polished to a mirror-like finish.
He uncrossed his arms, put them behind his back and walked up to Keira, who reflexively stiffened up.
“Miss Morgana. I’ve given your stamina situation a lot of thought, and I’ve come up with a good solution.”
Despair welled up in the catgirl’s eyes at those words.
“Relax, I’m not making you run forty kilometers a day. Not yet, at least.”
She almost let out a sigh of relief, but it got stuck in her throat upon hearing those last few words.
“What’s your Ranger Level?” he asked matter-of-factly.
“Fourteen, mister Faehorn,” she responded stiffly.
“Okay, when you get to Level 20, I urge you to get the Fleet Footed Skill. It will help increase your overall stamina and reduce its consumption when you run or sprint. You’ll need to train up its Proficiency Level quite a bit, which is where those forty kilometers a day come in.
“Uh… D-do I have a choice?”
“Of course. You can do whatever you want, or you can graduate from my class. That decision is all yours.”
“… Understood, mister Faehorn, sir,” she responded, her shoulders drooping with disappointment.
It wasn’t much of a choice when considering that passing this training course was a mandatory prerequisite if one hoped to become a full member of the Hidden Arrow guild.
“Hahaha,” Faehorn chuckled. “Don’t you worry, kiddo. I’ll make a proper Ranger out of you yet.”
He walked to the front of the class while they tried to stifle their giggling.
“Now then. Today we’ll be having a special field trip!” he announced in a loud voice. “We’ll be heading towards the amphitheater to watch a few fights! The guild has kindly sponsored the tickets, so be grateful!”
Everyone present gave the instructor a strange look. They had gue
ssed they wouldn’t have another hunting expedition given Faehorn’s uncharacteristic tardiness and formal attire, but none of them expected something like this. They clearly had questions, though it was the black-haired power-leveler that was the first to raise his hand.
“Yes, what is it Miller?” Faehorn asked in response.
“Sir, I fail to see how this will be beneficial to us.”
“‘Fail to see,’ huh? Interesting choice of words, Miller! The fighter we’ll be watching is someone who I believe to be the natural enemy of us Rangers, and a rather unique one at that! Your first assignment for the day will be to closely study her fighting style and think up of any and all countermeasures!”
It would seem to be an observational and mental exercise, rather than a physical one. A good scout needed to be able to quickly analyze a situation, so this sort of lesson had to come sooner or later. The format was a bit unorthodox, but none of the students were about to complain about getting free tickets to a fight.
“It’s not just us!” Faehorn continued. “A group of Warriors from the Knights of Elena and several Paladins from the Blessed of Nyrie will be joining us, so I expect each and every one of you to be on your best behavior!”
It suddenly made sense why the instructor was wearing that stiff-looking uniform. It was a well-known fact that he had something of a friendly rivalry with one of the Knights’ instructors, a dwarf called Hilda. The two of them were known to constantly compete and try to one-up each other through their students. ‘That old bat,’ as he called her, would definitely try to show off in some way during this outing, so he didn’t want to feel left behind. Well, that and marching an armed group of people through the city was probably a bad idea.
Faehorn organized his class and made them leave their weapons and armor behind at the Hidden Arrow’s guild offices. They set out in whatever casual clothes they had with them, but still wore the dark green tunic that bore the image of a downward-pointing arrowhead on each shoulder. They met up with a group of fourteen other rookie adventurers that were similarly dressed in their respective guild’s uniform.
Nine of them wore navy blue tunics with the image of a stone tower on their chests, which marked them as the Warriors they were told about. They were also the most diverse group present, with five dwarves and three humans among their ranks. The only elf in the group was a woman-shaped battering ram that was well over two meters tall.
The tunics of the remaining five were a dull yellow, their shoulder patches bearing the image of a dark brown sickle—one of the symbols commonly associated with the goddess Nyrie. These were, by process of elimination, the religious ones that Faehorn mentioned. All of them were elves, which was something they had in common with the Ranger troupe. Well, so long as one ignored the highly conspicuous crimson-haired, tan-skinned, cat-eared-and-tailed girl that smiled dumbly for no good reason.
Two people, likely their instructors, stood off to the side. One was a tall, well-built male elf that wore a uniform similar to Faehorn’s, only dyed in the colors of the Blessed of Nyrie. The other was a gray-haired and wrinkled dwarf woman in thick, full-plate armor with a blue sash draped across her shoulder. She was also holding a massive two-handed axe that, while certainly imposing and intimidating, seemed much too large for a woman of her stature to wield efficiently.
The two dozen trainees greeted each other and exchanged pleasantries. The students seemed to get along with each other for the most part, unlike their teachers. Faehorn and Hilda had already gotten into an argument regarding the dwarf being armed almost literally to the teeth. The Ranger argued that there was no need to gear up so much for a peaceful outing, while the dwarf remained adamant that she didn’t want to wear the ‘pansy-ass dress-coat’ she was supposed to. The Paladin instructor by the name of Lichter had to intervene and put an end to their squabble before the group could set out.
The teachers then led the students through the elven capital’s street. The procession attracted quite a bit of attention, though that was mostly because of the dwarf in the noisy, clanging armor at the front and the exotic sight of a cat-eared beastkin towards the rear. Keira spotted a rather drastic change in her surroundings at one point, as the wooden buildings with red-tiled roofs suddenly gave way to ones made out of stone or clay bricks. The people around the street were also considerably shorter.
This neighborhood was unofficially known as Azurvale’s Stone District. Keira had never been there before, so she looked around curiously at the dwarves and gnomes milling about the place. There were also a fair bit more humans here than in her own neighborhood, and she even saw a short, dog-eared beastkin lugging a heavy barrel strapped to his back. It was a much noisier part of the city than the ones she had been to before, and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
The group of adventurers arrived at the amphitheater. It was a large, unroofed, oval-shaped stone building managed by the local community. Faehorn, Hilda and Lichter spoke briefly with some fancily-dressed dwarven officials, after which they and the students were escorted inside. They were seated at a VIP box that provided an excellent, front-row view of the circular, dirt-covered arena below. The tiered stone seats surrounding it gave off the strange impression of a gigantic staircase, and already had people filling them.
“Wow, so many people!” exclaimed Keira after taking her seat.
“This place was built to house up to ten thousand spectators, you know,” Lia explained as she sat next to her. “Although I don’t think they usually fill up this much…”
In fact, judging from the amount of people that kept pouring in, the venue might actually be slightly over capacity.
“Probably because of the fighter we’re here to see,” a voice from behind chimed in.
Keira jumped slightly in her seat due to the unexpected third party. She turned around to see that the only elven Warrior in the group, the giantess that had introduced herself as Lola, was sitting directly behind her. She didn’t look particularly well-muscled or sturdily built, though. She had the same overall slender proportions that elf women were known for aside from her hips, thighs and shoulders, which were noticeably wider than usual. Both her hair and her eyes were pitch-black, much like that guy called Miller in Keira’s class.
“You know something about this mystery fighter, Lola?” the redhead asked after a brief moment.
“Oh, yeah. Truth be told, I’ve already seen her fight before. She’s unpredictable, vicious, and not alright in the head.”
“Ugh,” Lia groaned. “She’s not one of those violent convicts you hear about, right?”
“Nah, she’s not. I hear she’s actually really nice outside the arena, and a skilled artisan besides.”
“What? You sure this is the same person?”
“You’ll see for yourself soon enough. It’s already starting.”
The girls turned their attention towards the arena. A clean-shaven dwarf in an eye-catching purple suit and top hat had walked out of one of the side passages and stood in the middle of the dirt pit.
“Ladies and gentlemen!”
His magically amplified voice boomed throughout the arena, allowing even the people in the far back rows to hear him clearly.
“Welcome to today’s performance! We have another trio of blood-curling and hair-raising fights for your enjoyment!”
The crowd let out a huge cheer. Even those who had no idea what was going on, like Lia and Keira, were excited.
“So, without further ado, let me present the first match! Innn this corner, we have a quartet of hardened criminals! These men have been caught and found guilty of many crimes in the wake of the mysterious Sandman dismantling their underground operation!”
Four grim-faced dwarves in prisoner’s rags entered the ring under armed guard while the crowd booed and jeered at them.
“Hey Lia,” half-shouted Keira, trying to make herself heard over the noisy audience. “What’s with the Sandman thing?! Why do they call him that?!”
She’d been curio
us about it for a while now, but hadn’t really gotten a good chance to ask.
“It’s from an old elven myth!” the elf replied in a similarly loud tone. “It says the Sandman roams the night, punishing the wicked by kidnapping them and burying them alive in a pit of sand!”
“Is he real?!”
“Nah! Just a silly story parents use to scare their unruly children!”
It would appear that the mysterious individual or group that had been making criminals disappear was given the name of a bogeyman from elven folklore. Not that the residents genuinely believed the actual Sandman was responsible, it was just that many of them found it oddly fitting.
“Their crimes have been weighed and judged in a fair and just trial,” the announcer continued, “and their lives have been declared forfeit in recognition of their numerous sins! However! These four have demanded to fight for their right to live within the arena, as begets ancient dwarven custom! And Azurvale’s wise judges have seen it fit to honor our people’s heritage and allow them this chance! If they best their opponent in honorable combat, then their sentences will be lessened! If not, then justice will have been served!”
The crowd, which seemed half-divided between elves and non-elves, gave a noisy, uncertain murmur. It would appear they had mixed feelings about this situation. Some of them wondered if the ring of honor was really a place for such people, while others questioned whether these scumbags were deserving of another chance in the first place. There were also those who applauded the judges for respecting one of the major subcultures that made up Azurvale and the Republic as a whole.
“But!” shouted the announcer. “Do they stand a chance against… her?!”
The crowd suddenly went silent with anticipation. The Consortium students were also on edge, as only a few of them had had the privilege of seeing this individual in person before.
“You know her! And I know her! She crashed onto the scene like a storm of swearing, smashing and smiling! Barely a week since her first appearance and already eleven consecutive victories! Please welcome back the executioner who volunteered to undertake this grim and righteous task! The one! The only! The Rust! Blood! Juggernaaaaaaaaut!”
