Each One's Circumstances
Each One's Circumstances
Adventurers caused a great many problems.
But they were also useful human resources who couldn't simply be cast aside, so all nations had come together and agreed to guarantee their rights and encourage their activities, and under various forms of support, the institution known as the Adventurer's Guild had been steadily maintained. This ultimately meant that the guild had been an organization with close ties to politics from its very roots, a relationship that had remained unchanged all the way up to Engrim, the Guild Master of Itisel's Capital Adventurer's Guild.
And so, Engrim was currently suffering from a severe headache. Looking over the documents spread across his desk, Engrim pressed at his temples and muttered a low complaint.
"I never imagined he’d become such a big deal..."
It wasn't a large volume by the standards of work, but it was far from small for a report that compiled and analyzed incidents caused by a single individual, their aftermath, and predicted future movements. The investigator who had steadily and diligently continued his work even after the Pabaera incident had written a report so detailed—save for the period when the target had flown off to the Empire—that nothing was lacking.
Right now, that was precisely the problem. Even though he had to meet the investigator soon to convey future policy, Engrim couldn't make a decision easily. He glanced over the report, which wasn't about to change, one more time, then let out a deep sigh and grumbled one last time.
"Just how did Ogatorf end up picking up a friend like this..."
In the span of mere months, Eldmia Ega had become something akin to a walking explosion spell. How bad was it? Bad enough that he found himself missing the days when Eldmia had been quietly staying with Ogatorf's daughter. Going solely by the reports, you could believe he was a purple-rank adventurer who had the foul luck to keep getting tangled up in one massive incident after another.
The most absurd part of it all was the information delivered directly from the royal family. According to the report, while in the Empire, he had thwarted an attempted assassination and kidnapping of the Imperial Princess, and in the process of earning that merit, he had been dropped via gate right into the middle of a Demonfolk special forces unit, killed its captain, and returned alive. Even with the royal seal stamped on it, Engrim could barely tell whether he was reading an official report or one of those fiction novels currently in vogue among nobles and adventurers alike.
He simply couldn't share his thoughts with anyone because the information couldn't be leaked carelessly, but if he'd been allowed to show it around, there were several parts he would've loved to pass among the receptionists while laughing in disbelief. What made the headache worse was that every piece of information he cross-checked against the investigator's report turned out to be truth that sounded like an absurd rumor.
This was exactly why he had insisted several times that adventurer ranks needed to be subdivided further, but it was utterly lamentable that they still hadn't changed, citing tradition. In what world was this blue-rank? After reading through even the miserable death of the Englem Guild Master, Engrim let out a deep sigh at the sound of a knock from outside.
"Hoo... Come in."
The man who opened the door and entered took one look at Engrim's face—the Guild Master was neatly organizing the documents and trying to organize his chaotic thoughts—and burst into a cackling laugh.
"Oh dear. The Guild Master's face is full of worry and concern. You've finished reading all of Eldmia's astounding adventure tales, I take it?"
Thanks to the man's naturally rough and fierce face, there was room for even that laugh to feel truly wicked and mean-spirited, but Engrim understood perfectly well that the investigator's laughter was genuinely just amusement. And even if it hadn't been, there was no angle from which Engrim could get angry at him. Because all of these meticulous reports had come from that man.
So Engrim brought out his precious chocolate to serve and offered a weak smile.
"Don't you think if we tossed this to a decent novelist, they could churn out a reasonably best-selling novel?"
"Seeing as you think the exact same thing as me, you've definitely read it properly. Just how did the Ogatorf family end up bringing in a friend like this?"
Even his sentiment was the same as mine. Engrim smiled wryly and offered a seat to the investigator he hadn't seen in a while.
"Sit down. No matter how fierce your face, aren't you our guild's excellent investigator?"
"Wow, is that something you say to an informant who doesn't even balk at being reported missing? I'm so hurt, I'll have to scavenge some chocolate."
Garun, the investigator Engrim trusted most, smiled an even more ferocious-looking smile and sat down demurely on the sofa. Then, helping Engrim, who was already setting out the chocolate and tea, he continued the conversation.
"He's seriously a ridiculous friend. The martial prowess he showed during the Pabaera affair nearly made me piss myself, and that was just the tip of the iceberg, you know?"
"If it weren't for the intelligence sent by the royal family, even you would have thought it was an exaggeration. Ridiculously enough, rather than being less than the reports, it was never less, only more."
"Seriously, don't even get me started. His senses are sharp, he's started keeping an elf by his side, and lately, even though I haven't seen her around, a Servant of the Dream showed up out of nowhere and I almost got caught."
Garun was a skilled adventurer. Once a tracker so famous among purple-rank adventurers that there was no one who didn't know the name 'Villain Garun,' he was a man whose skills alone earned him an assessment of being worth silver-rank. He would have been more than worthy too, if not for the critical injury to his right arm, but now, after retiring, he worked as a guild member and contributed greatly in many ways through his expert tracking and stealth skills.
His entanglement with Eldmia had been pure coincidence. Originally, he'd been sent to confirm and monitor Pabaera's movements, after all. The smile slowly faded from the fierce face that had earned him the alias 'Villain'—a man whose worst sin in life had been stealing his younger sibling's candy as a child—and Garun got to the point.
"As I've kept watching and observing, this is dangerous to continue any further. We need to act quickly and build a friendly relationship, or at the very least, we need to stop even this kind of background investigation."
"...Is it that serious?"
"As incidents and accidents erupt around him, more and more major figures keep getting tangled up with him. Once the internal heresy purge of the Holy Light Cross Order is finished, the Ogwen diocesan bishop will become a bishop. The Golden Mage seems to have begun cooperating with him for some reason, and his connection with the master craftsman Balkun, who has ties to Shadow Foot, is far from fading away. It seems that young friend has somehow found his way right into their hearts, as if he's a master of social life."
Even though he had received reports, hearing it directly from the man involved felt completely different. As usual, Garun was trying to assess the situation coolly, without a shred of exaggeration, distinguishing the possible from the impossible. Yet Engrim couldn't even recall the last time he had heard Garun make such pained groans.
"Even just those factors alone are enough for Shadow Foot to grab us by the scruff of the neck if we're unlucky enough to get caught, and now he's got that dog that used to be a Demon Sword with him, right? Judging by how it sometimes tries to talk, it seems to have enough intelligence to hold a conversation, and honestly, I can't guarantee I'd be able to evade pursuit from a dog whose abilities have far surpassed normal levels."
"The possibility it's just him talking to himself?"
"I'd prefer it if that were the case, but no, not a chance. And speaking of which, another incident just broke out earlier."
"What?"
"That private guild that caused trouble with the Gaendal Party recently. They went and messed with Eldmia."
Engrim desperately fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, picking up a piece of chocolate and putting it in his mouth. Normally, he wouldn't have touched it, mindful of the price, but today his hand moved on its own.
"No matter how crazy those bastards are, they wouldn't try to kill someone inside the capital, so wouldn't he just end it after breaking a few bones here and there? He's the type to check where he's lying down before he does it, anyway..."
"I wonder. I would've thought the same if there hadn't been some familiar faces among the guys who joined that private guild."
"...Familiar faces?"
The reason Garun could afford to be leisurely was because the situation warranted leisure. The problem was, that could either mean it was already too late to act, or that there was still a chance left.
Engrim didn't want to seem impatient, but the implications of his words were so ominous that he had no choice but to press him.
"What exactly are you talking about?"
"Dantel and his gang joined up."
Smack. Unable to hold back, Engrim ended up smacking his own forehead. The sound produced by his forehead, which was gradually beginning to widen with age, was far too crisp, but his own mind and the current situation weren't crisp in the slightest. Though, well, perhaps the situation alone could be called crisp in a number of ways.
That day, after finishing his request, Eldmia had beaten Dantel and his gang like dogs and then made a clear declaration. If they did any stupid shit like forming a gang, he'd send them straight to the afterlife.
And given the circumstances, he was more than capable of killing every last one of them.
It was light.
And refreshing.
A headache crashed over him in an instant.
"I thought he'd been keeping quiet for a while..."
While looking at the increasingly miserable Engrim as if he felt sorry for him, Garun continued speaking. Of course, his expression seemed closer to sneering than sympathy, but Engrim didn't misunderstand.
"The red-rank adventurers started moving, so they latched on, thinking this was their chance. Truth be told, they might fall short of the Gaendal Party, but among the guys who got kicked out and now hold a grudge, there are a few whose skills aren't half bad. But from what I see, if things keep going this way, more than half of those friends are going to die today."
Adventurers caused a great many problems.
But it was also true that they were useful human resources. And unless someone's character was genuinely worse than useless, red-rank was the starting point of such useful adventurers. No matter how much more peaceful the capital was compared to other regions, the gap left by nearly a dozen red-rank adventurers and the twenty or so adventurers who had gathered under them seeking protection and teaching couldn't be taken lightly.
Above all, real winter, the kind where snow began to fall, was about to begin. The restriction on their activities, imposed out of concern that they might be tempted by requests, travel recklessly, and die, also meant that the kinds of requests likely to tempt them had a high probability of occurring in winter. And the capital was no exception to this.
A season when not just supplies, but people too, had to be stockpiled. That was winter for the Adventurer's Guild.
And so, normally, Engrim would have mobilized people and stepped in to mediate without any hesitation, but...
"Of all people... Dantel..."
This time, because the scales of balance had tilted far too capriciously, he could only groan, unable to make a prompt decision.
Watching Engrim, Garun shook his head and popped one more piece of chocolate into his mouth. Vowing to himself that no matter what happened, he'd never end up like the Guild Master.