Homesteading the Noosphere

by Mamare Touno

  “Yeah, break time. That’s fine; just lie there and catch your breath.”

  “Yes, sir. Hff, hff.”

  “You sure are weak.”

  “Yes…”

  As you’d expect, hearing it said straight-out like that made him sad. He was so tired he couldn’t even move, but the words he got out sounded disconsolate.

  “Well, uh, you know. Don’t let it get you down. You People of the Earth are all weak, so you’re not that different.”

  “Is that right.”

  His thoughtfulness made Iselus laugh a little. The wind felt soft, and the sunlight was warm. Pansies swayed in this courtyard, too. Feeling gentle, Iselus said, “Do the members of the chivalric order also seem weak to you, Isaac the Young?”

  “Yeah. They’re weak. They’ve still got a long ways to go.”

  “Hmm. How can I become stronger?”

  “I dunno if you really need to get all that strong, do you?”

  That’s irresponsible, Iselus protested. He might be the lord someday, and he had to polish both his sword skills and his horsemanship.

  “Having guts is more important. The strength’ll follow, bit by bit.”

  Isaac let the comment slide, ignoring it. Then he rummaged through the bag at his waist, pulled out a straight dagger that was about twenty-five centimeters long, and casually tossed it to Iselus.

  “There, use that.”

  “Huh…?”

  The dagger had spun through a half rotation to land neatly in the palm of his hand. Iselus stared at it, immediately realizing it had cost an incredible sum.

  As a noble, Iselus was more used to seeing different types of weapons and gear than the average native. He’d actually seen things referred to as “famous swords” and “demon swords”—even those had been handed down through his House.

  After the Catastrophe, a variety of Adventurer-made tools had flowed into Maihama, and weapons had been no exception. However, equip items came with their own levels and levels at which you could use them. As a result, items created by top-class Adventurer artisans went for sky-high prices, which only people of his rank could even think to afford.

  “You don’t weigh much, so that wooden sword puts your center of gravity too far out. If you learn to use that well, your sword skills will improve, too.”

  “But this is an Adventurer dagger. It’s really expensive.”

  It was true.

  To him, this dagger must have carried an unbelievable price.

  Isaac was an Adventurer, and an unmannered one with no common sense at that. So he probably didn’t know, but in Maihama, he could have bought a house with a single dagger like this. The knife had a gleam to it that looked obviously strong, and Iselus had very nearly been captivated by it already. Even so, he had managed to force that question out. Because of the economics, he’d had no choice.

  Iselus really liked Isaac. He loved this huge warrior, who was cheerful and rough and didn’t pay any attention to fiddly details. That was why, even though the training was as harsh as it was, he’d never once thought that he didn’t want to do it.

  “I’m not giving it to you just because. I hear it’s your birthday. Unless guys have that sort of thing, they go bad. Like a motorcycle, or armor. If stuff like that stops getting you all worked up, you’re done, y’know?”

  “There’s something wrong with your sense of money, Isaac the Young.”

  Iselus didn’t know what a motorcycle was, but his chest was so hot he thought it might burst. He’d said something blunt to hide his embarrassment, but his face kept trying to smile, and he couldn’t stop it. He was probably wearing a pretty pitiful smile for a boy.

  “What, you don’t want it? Well, fine. Give it back. C’mon.”

  The part about being so worn out from training that he couldn’t move a finger had been a lie.

  Hugging the knife and spinning around, Iselus thanked Isaac: “Waaaaah! No. I’m tremendously happy! It’s an Adventurer Dagger! Thank you very much!”

  What was this crest? When he examined it closely, he found the signature “Tatara” and a small Black Sword mark.

  What’s more, this dagger was custom-made, and it matched the ones Isaac and the others had!!

  The discovery made the boy’s heart overflow. He believed without question that the Knights of the Black Sword were the best chivalric order in Yamato, and their crest was more splendid than a knight’s rank.

  “You should’ve just been honest and said ‘thank you’ to start with. Sheesh.”

  “Heh-heh-heh. Oh!”

  “What?”

  Iselus, who’d spun around several times, jumped and pointed upward.

  There was a shadow there, racing toward them across a sky of light spring clouds. He knew that shape; it was the same as the one Isaac had shown him, and Iselus raised his voice openly.

  “It’s a griffin!”

  “Ah. Somebody from the Round Table? Little Miss Riezé, huh? Maybe she brought the princess back for the reception.”

  “Isaac the Young, we must bathe forthwith.”

  “Maaan, pain in the butt.”

  Come to think of it, tonight was the presentation banquet.

  Iselus, who’d abruptly remembered this, nearly tackled Isaac, pushing his back from behind. The shadow of the griffin was rapidly coming closer. If his big sister was riding it, he might not have much time left to get ready.

  “We have to. Ladies who are looking for husbands are coming to the banquet, too!”

  “Okay. Okay already. Seriously, kid, that’s the only stuff you’re fussy about.”

  Isaac protested, and Iselus scolded him. However, again and again, his eyes went to the dagger he wore at his waist. This was an important treasure. It was also proof that he’d learned swordsmanship from Isaac.

  “You have to wash behind your ears, too.”

  Iselus went into the manor, clinging to his beloved Isaac.

  4

  “If we’re developing the type that uses radio waves, we’ll need an antenna of a suitable size.”

  “Size?”

  “The parabolic antenna. You know: the dish-shaped thing. Its size is important. Our technological level is low, so we’ll just have to cover for it with brute force, or size.”

  “What about the time and the budget?”

  “With Akiba’s current finances, the budget… It may take about three years’ worth. Adventurer inventions are suited to making one-off products, but we still don’t have enough power to mass-produce or build something enormous. The construction period depends on the manpower we invest, but there is technical development work to do… If we’re including lab time, I can’t give you a quick answer.”

  “…I see.”

  “I couldn’t call it realistic, not with Akiba’s current system.”

  That was how his conversation with Roderick had ended.

  It was springtime in Akiba, and Shiroe was on his way back to his guild.

  He hadn’t meant to let his emotions show, but Akatsuki’s senses had been unusually sharp lately. She tugged on his sleeve and said, “My liege, don’t be discouraged.”

  Although he replied with an “I’m fine,” he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d reached an impasse.

  “You have an old-man forehead again, my liege.”

  “Do I really? I don’t think I do…”

  Akatsuki’s gaze was stabbing his forehead. Shiroe put a hand up to it, trying to relax it by massaging it. It felt no different from normal. In this world, unless you applied some kind of external power, hair didn’t grow. That meant that, when his fingertips touched his bangs, they were the same length they always were.

  When they got back to the Log Horizon guild house, it was quiet and empty. On the blackboard, there was a note in Nyanta’s handwriting that said “I’m going shopping for dinner” and a cat mark. Naotsugu had gone along with Shouryuu and the others on their training, and Tetora had headed over to the Crescent Moon League. Lately, Minori’s group ha
d been deciding what to do on their own, without relying on Shiroe and the others.

  Even when it was deserted, the guild was a relaxing place. Breathing in its atmosphere, Shiroe and Akatsuki climbed the stairs. They crossed the landing that looked out over the living room, then opened the door of Shiroe’s usual office. When he shot a casual look down past his side to the rear, Akatsuki seemed to prompt him, using only her eyes: What are you doing? Hurry up and go in. She was apparently planning to follow him in, have tea, guard him, and hide.

  Chuckling a little, Shiroe beckoned her in.

  Secure a way to contact the moon.

  They had a goal now, but that didn’t mean their mundane worries had evaporated. The town of Akiba was bursting with energy, and there were new inventions and developments every day. However, that also meant that new trouble and problems were invented on a daily basis.

  To Shiroe, it seemed as though more than half of Akiba’s problems were based on a shortage of personnel. Even if there were resources that could be used to resolve issues, there were few people who could operate or direct them. That was the current, unvarnished state of the Round Table Council.

  There were many causes. The disappearance of Krusty, who had acted as the Council’s representative, was one of them. His charisma, leadership, and command abilities had been splendid beyond complaint, and Shiroe thought his disappearance was a heavy blow.

  Stirring up enthusiasm in the people around you, or giving them a feeling of confidence in any situation—these abilities were completely different from actual business skills. In terms of Shiroe’s acquaintances, she—Kanami, who’d retired from Elder Tales and moved to Europe—had been like that. The Debauchery Tea Party had been her, without a doubt. She’d brought gamers together under the banner of her unlimited optimism and a reckless smile.

  She’d simply been an enthusiasm engine, but Shiroe thought making that enthusiasm contagious to the people around you was a special ability only chosen people had. Krusty was one of the people with that rare charisma.

  That said, in Krusty’s case, he was also able to govern, field paperwork, command, and be athletic and artistic, to the point where complimenting him on purpose was just a pain. At the Lords’ Council, Krusty had been slippery and evasive, and when asked later, it turned out he had more than a decade of experience with social dancing. When he’d heard that, Shiroe felt as if he’d been completely had.

  Even if beings like Krusty and Kanami were outliers, there was a strong tendency among Akiba’s Adventurers to concede to one another and avoid responsibility. This was probably less about Adventurers than it was about the Japanese character. Everyone thought the role of “leader” was a demanding, nearly thankless one in which everybody took potshots at you whenever there was trouble.

  Shiroe thought the Round Table Council organization had come into being and managed to exist for the past year because, initially, he’d established it by going straight to the leaders of the major guilds. If he’d addressed everyone equally and suggested they decide the matter with a vote, he probably wouldn’t even have been able to organize an operating body to run that vote.

  In addition, there were technical problems as well. There was no e-mail in Theldesia, no spreadsheet or document creation software, no recording equipment, and the postal service was underdeveloped. In this other world, just holding a meeting like the ones on Earth was difficult. They didn’t even have copy machines. Simply making outlines of what that day’s meeting would cover for each person turned into a full day’s work if you did it by hand.

  In that sense, Shiroe was immensely popular.

  The Scribe subclass granted abilities related to overall copy creation, including craft skills used to make paper and ink, support skills that helped the user draw charts and title lettering, and the ability to copy the document or map in front of you. Naturally, he couldn’t copy magic items, and he needed a certain amount of material, but for conference documents, he could use low-ranking materials without any trouble.

  People leaned on those abilities, and the Round Table Council guild masters and guilds brought him documents they wanted copied. They treated him like a human copy machine.

  Abruptly coming back to himself, he noticed that the shadow of the pen in his hand was more than ten centimeters long.

  Apparently, he’d been absorbed in work for several hours.

  When he stretched, his back made cracking, popping noises. His seminar had involved a lot of desk work, so he was completely used to it, but when he looked up, thinking about cleaning his glasses, he saw Akatsuki and Li Gan having tea at the reception set.

  “Hello there.”

  The Lore Master waved at him with a droll smile. He looked exactly the same as he had when they’d parted in Susukino.

  “Li Gan. When did you get here?”

  “Just a moment ago, Master Shiroe.”

  “Ahem. I entertained him for you.”

  Akatsuki, who was kneeling formally on the sofa, puffed out her chest and glanced pointedly at the low table in front of her. Bean-based snacks and Japanese-style teacups filled with roasted green tea: Everything was tailored to Akatsuki’s own tastes, but as far as showing hospitality to guests went, it wasn’t wrong.

  In that case, I still wish you’d called me, Shiroe thought, but he didn’t say it. He knew that, whether they’d spoken to him or not, he hadn’t even noticed he had a visitor, which meant the fault was his.

  “My investigations in Susukino have finally reached a stopping point, you see. I’m very sorry to have taken so long, Master Shiroe.”

  “Is everyone well?”

  As Shiroe spoke, he took his own teacup and sat down next to Akatsuki. Li Gan was smiling cheerfully, his eyes half-closed.

  The man seemed a bit young for the title of “sage.” For example, from previous interactions, Shiroe was well aware that, although he could have a sharp tongue, he was funny and interesting. But he also knew that the man’s academic interest in magic, magical devices, and the history of ancient civilization as it related to those fields was the real thing.

  “Yes. I was told to give you their regards.”

  “Did you learn anything about the transport gate?” Shiroe asked.

  Li Gan had stayed in Susukino in order to investigate the intercity transport gate, which had fallen silent. Of course, his investigation would be beneficial to Shiroe and the other Adventurers as well, but Shiroe’s question had been meant casually, as small talk.

  “The transport gate is silent because it isn’t being supplied with sufficient mana.”

  However, the answer was exceedingly straightforward.

  Shiroe was startled, and Li Gan cocked his head, smiling bashfully. “…I learned that much on the first day of my investigation, to be honest.” However, he said, he’d continued to study it because he hadn’t known how mana was supplied or what the energy source was. The more he investigated, the more its function and mechanism as a large-scale magic item had intrigued him, and he’d ended up examining it thoroughly, down to the details.

  “While investigating this and that, I learned that the Fairy Rings really do have some connection to the lunar phases. According to legend, there are ancient alv ruins on the moon as well. The intercity transport gates seem to make use of similar functions. I’ve pulled it all together here, in these documents.”

  Drawn in by the unexpected keyword moon, Shiroe picked up the report Li Gan had put together. It might have been a summary; there weren’t many pages.

  If you cut out the magical technology details, the remaining information was about the positional guide functions for teleportation that were managed by the moon. The Fairy Rings, the intercity transport gates, the Temple—this element affected all teleportation.

  So there really is some sort of facility on the moon…? If we can believe Roe2’s letter, there’s a community of Fools up there. They’re probably using Adventurer bodies from the test server. Are they doing some sort of work in the alv ruins
?

  Or were they waiting for something?

  Shiroe gave it a moment of thought. Taking into consideration the report from Minori, although “Fools” did have great power, they seemed to be bound by the rules of Elder Tales and the world of Theldesia. The fact that she had fought using the abilities of a Summoner, one of the twelve classes, probably proved that.

  “…Then we really will need to send a transmission, hmm?”

  “A transmission?”

  That feeling came through in his voice, and it seemed to pique Li Gan’s curiosity. Shiroe decided to explain, without holding anything back:

  “Yes. The Adventurers are searching for a way to return to our old world. In order to do that, we need to communicate with the moon. We’re trying to find a way to do it.”

  “Oho! An Adventurer transmission device? I wonder what that’s like. How exciting!”

  “No, it won’t be that easy. We can’t get the funds or the technology anytime soon…”

  He remembered Roderick’s bland expression. If it had been just barely impossible, he probably would have looked more frustrated, so that meant there really was no hope for the time being.

  “Well, developing technology does take time. It’s the work of a lifetime. There’s really no help for that, no indeed. Still, in that case, couldn’t you use the transmission equipment in Shibuya?”

  “Huh?” Shiroe said.

  Contact the moon. Go to the moon. Investigate the moon. In the days of the game, quests like that hadn’t existed. Shiroe had practically lived on strategy sites, so he could vouch for that. However, it wasn’t as if the moon had made no appearances within in-game tradition. On the contrary, there had been speculation that the moon where the test server was located might, at some unknown point, become the stage of an adventure. As evidence, people had cited the moon-related ruins found in a variety of areas.

  “In Shibuya. The one in the ruins,” Li Gan repeated.

  “Wasn’t that broken?”

  Because of all that speculation, he had given a little thought to the ruins of the broadcasting station in Shibuya. Yet, he’d discarded that possibility almost immediately. According to the background information, those ruins had been completely picked over, destroyed, and abandoned. Even in the days of the game, nothing had lived there except low-level, nonaggressive animals.