The Celebration Feast and the Winds of Intrigue (1)
The rumor of the black magician spread like wildfire. The colossal golem and the barrier had been witnessed by passing pedestrians, so there was no stopping the gossip. A rumor without legs can still travel a thousand miles—even in this other world. To prevent a drop in public morale, the lord of Sargadis immediately posted a formal proclamation. It presented evidence that he had detected the black magician early and formed a united front against him.
Let it be known that the black magician threat was identified in advance. Through the valor of our united adventurers and the wisdom of this city’s leadership, the evil has been purged. Rejoice, citizens of Sargadis.
“As expected of Lord Hennesis!”
“Long live the wise and merciful Lord Hennesis!”
When the black magician’s corpse (that giant skull) was put on display, the citizens of Sargadis erupted in praise for their lord. These people are so fucking simple. The rumor had only been circulating for a single day, yet the adventurers had already crushed the mastermind and returned in triumph. Of course the citizens could breathe easy.
I was too busy being impressed that the lord’s name was Joteru von Hennesis to feel any real sense of connection. What the hell kind of name is Hennesis? Sounds like some discount marketplace brand. Anyway, even though it wasn’t exactly good news, the British-style rural town of Sargadis had somehow slipped into a festive mood, full of cheerful laughter and chatter.
And the British hero who had saved Sargadis—the super-elite archaeology master’s degree holder, the scruffy Earth hero Nord—what exactly was he doing while all this was happening?
“Fuuuuck.”
In a cheap inn that charged three coppers a night, I stood there holding a sword snapped clean in half and cursing under my breath.
Have you ever heard that weapons are classified as consumable items? I have. Blades like swords, where edge condition is everything, get nicked and dull with use. That’s why maintaining your weapon is just as important as honing your own skills. It’s also why I bought a Real-stone for the partner I entrust my life to and oil her every single day.
─Crack.
‘But that partner of mine went and died on me.’
Staring at the cheap sword now riddled with holes and broken in two, I could only sigh.
“Ah! Sister Franc. If you twist it to the right there, it pops right out☆!”
“Like this? Ah, got it. Maintaining puppets takes a lot of work too, doesn’t it?”
“Right? Right? You get it, don’t you? Nothing’s worse than dirt getting into the joints, seriously~.”
On a morning where the sun was blazing like it had a personal grudge, we were maintaining our gear beside the inn’s well. Larilura, covered head to toe in dirt, was disassembling and cleaning Ringling No. 3 while Franc helped her. Meanwhile, I had finished tending to my armor and was now in mourning for my murdered sword.
“That should finish the disassembly☆! Now we just need to wash it with water and let it dry!”
Larilura, who somehow managed to get dirt even on her trademark makeup while working, said cheerfully. She took a breath, then turned her attention to me.
“So so~? What’s our senior doing over there~? Is that some kind of Kitai blessing ritual?”
“It’s not a blessing. It’s a funeral.”
I stabbed the sword into the ground and sprinkled a few flowers over it. The thing was so thoroughly trashed it wasn’t even worth selling for scrap metal—maintenance would have been pointless.
“Nord. Are you going to buy a new weapon today?”
Franc, who had been curiously watching the puppet’s internal structure, asked. She’d apparently loved touching and playing with things since she was little; right now she was thoroughly enjoying the disassembly process of Ringling No. 3.
“Hmm. I’ve got the money, so I’ll buy one eventually. But first I want to stop by the Mage Guild.”
I shoved the sword I had just given a funeral into its scabbard and answered. Swords and scabbards are custom-matched, so recycling was out of the question. I’d have to pay the blacksmith to dispose of it properly.
“The Mage Guild? Want me to come with you?”
“Hehe. I appreciate the thought. It’s probably going to be annoying conversation.”
There were two reasons I was heading to the guild this time. One was to say hello to Tirsi, who we had ended up parting ways with. The other was to retrieve the core of the giant golem.
─This is the golem’s core. Oh dear, it appears to be contaminated with black magic mana! Our Mage Guild will purify it for you free of charge. Please come collect it later!
─I don’t really sense any black magic mana, though.
─Hahaha. There are things only experts can detect. Ah, if you’re worried we might be up to something, we can measure the weight right here and even write up a receipt. Just in case.
My strangely persistent conversation with Cromwell floated through my mind. That whole thing had obviously been an excuse. The core purification was clearly a signal for “let’s meet again later.” So I had written the receipt, let them check the weight and mana levels, and left the core in their care. They didn’t seem to view me as a complete pushover, so they probably wouldn’t try to screw me over.
‘Besides, it wasn’t valuable enough for someone in Cromwell’s position to bother embezzling.’
The giant golem’s primary power source had been its soul reactor. The core was basically just an auxiliary engine. In terms of quality, it was worth about as much as a drop item from a Gold Class monster. Since I’d already split the loot half-and-half with Nefertiti, I didn’t need to worry about Cromwell—who was at minimum Gold Class—trying to skim anything off the top.
“I’ll grab my wallet and head out. If I’m late, go ahead and eat dinner without me.”
“Okay. Have a safe trip.”
“Yes~♡ Be careful, senior!”
After saying goodbye to the two of them, I made my way to the Mage Guild.
Arriving at the Mage Guild as Nord rather than Arthur Wayne, I first went to see Cromwell according to proper hierarchy. I could greet Tirsi afterward. When a fucking battalion operations officer calls you, you don’t go say hi to your private first.
“Welcome, Mr. Nord.”
I was shown into his office. Cromwell was conducting magical research at what looked like an extremely expensive table. The social status of the people I’d been meeting lately felt like it had suddenly leveled up. I felt a little intimidated but didn’t let it show as I returned his greeting.
“Yes, Mr. Cromwell. I’ve come to retrieve the purified core you mentioned last time.”
“You’ve arrived at just the right moment. Please, have a seat. I’ll have tea brought out.”
“Thank you for your consideration. Excuse me.”
─Tinkle, tinkle.
When Cromwell rang a small bell, a male secretary appeared, poured tea into our cups, and quietly left. A male secretary? The man clearly didn’t understand romance. Then again, I suppose that was just like an efficiency-obsessed mage.
“I must say again that your assistance was crucial in the recent subjugation of the black magician, Mr. Nord.”
“I merely brushed the mud off a bird’s wings so it could fly more easily. It was everyone’s combined strength that protected the city.”
Cromwell and I sat at the table exchanging introductory pleasantries and mutual compliments before finally getting to the main topic.
“The core from Golem Knumut has been successfully purified. I’ve already completed the necessary procedures so you can collect it on your way out. Feel free to look around the guild, then pick it up at the reception desk before you leave.”
“I’m grateful. Still, I’ve taken up the time of someone as busy as yourself. If there’s anything else you’d like to discuss, it would be polite of me to listen now, wouldn’t it?”
If you called me here separately, just spit out your actual business already.
At my words, Cromwell finally moved on to the real reason.
“Hahaha. As expected, you’re very perceptive. As for what I wanted to say… if I must be precise, there are two matters.”
“May I ask what they are?”
“Yes. The first concerns the celebratory banquet for our recent victory. I hear the lord is hosting a modest party to commend the adventurers who rendered great service in eliminating the black magician.”
A modest party? Knowing how nobles throw their elegant soirées, it definitely wouldn’t be modest. That phrase was just like those drama lines—“It’s a simple gathering, but it cost a hundred million won.” Think of it as a noble euphemism.
‘A celebration banquet, huh?’
Both brain cells, full throttle! I tried to figure out why a noble would throw a party to praise adventurers. If it was truly about celebrating the black magician’s defeat, wouldn’t the matching nobles just gather among themselves and throw a corrupt shareholders’ meeting to celebrate their company’s IPO? Why invite us?
Have you ever seen a CEO call in all the mid-level managers who actually do the work just because the company went public? Even though Sargadis was a rural town, something about this felt off.
‘Is it a loyalty thing?’
Adventurers are a profession with complete freedom of residence. Franc and I could move to Heisvent tomorrow and take requests from the Audumla Guild there. If we qualified, we could even leave for another country entirely. The lord of Sargadis had no way to forcibly keep us here.
‘The lord would be in trouble if all the adventurers left Sargadis.’
If another black magician type showed up, the city guards and the handful of knights wouldn’t be able to handle it. So normally they showed adventurers respect, and whenever something like this happened, they mixed rewards and praise to keep everyone happy and loyal.
‘The desire for honor is one of the few things adventurers can’t easily satisfy on their own.’
A party inviting the noble lord, the slightly lower-tier merchants, and the city guild leaders! Then the adventurers are brought in—“Everyone, allow me to introduce you! The Avengers!”—followed by a round of applause. The adventurers would puff out their chests and feel proud as hell. People who had lived however they wanted for twenty-four hours a day had only worked for money, yet now they were being called heroes who saved the city. Who wouldn’t want to act cool in a situation like that?
It was basically a slightly lower-class victory parade for war heroes. After thinking that far, I asked a question.
“The fact that you’re telling me this… does that mean you believe an invitation will be sent to me as well?”
“Indeed. The story that spread through the alliance would have reached the lord through the guard captain. An invitation should arrive at your door within a few days.”
“I don’t even have any clothes suitable for a party.”
“The celebration is scheduled with roughly a week’s notice. Clothing can be sponsored by the Tailors Guild, or the lord’s residence may provide appropriate attire. There should be more than enough time for fittings, don’t you think?”
“I see. Would there be any issue if my companions attended together?”
“Permission should be granted for family members or fellow party members.”
“That’s a relief.”
This was something I’d need to discuss with the rest of the party. I should probably thank him for giving me advance notice. If an invitation had simply arrived out of nowhere with no one to ask for advice, I would have wasted several days running around in a panic.
So why was Cromwell being this considerate?
‘──He’s trying to mark his territory.’
Why else, you idiot? It was because I had drawn way too much aggro with my lying detective show. That’s why.
“Hahaha.”
“Hehehehe.”
I returned Cromwell’s maintained smile with a grin of my own. He really was quite skilled. He had realized I wouldn’t be easily recruited, so he was trying to secure the position of “the trustworthy person” first. There really is no such thing as free goodwill in this world.
‘Now that I think about it, the guild membership permit he gave me was the same.’
What had looked like excessive kindness at first glance was, upon closer inspection, filled with masterful political maneuvering. He risked almost nothing while feeding promising talents bribes that weren’t quite bribes.
‘Well, it doesn’t hurt me any.’
I’d take what I could get. It was give and take. Cromwell probably didn’t expect me to fall for it completely and trust him with my whole heart. We understood each other’s value, but we hadn’t exactly bared our souls to one another.
Of course, there were also psychotic bitches who built up enough affection that rational thinking became impossible and then stabbed you in the back anyway. Just thinking about it suddenly pissed me off. Calm down. Calm down.
I spoke to Cromwell.
“Thank you for informing me. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Of course. Ah, and the second matter I wished to discuss was a warning to be wary of Edlyn. Mr. Nord, you are still unmarried, correct?”
“Cough—urk.”
Fuck, that came out of nowhere. I have zero interest in becoming a forty-year-old auntie’s personal semen dispenser.
“Hehe. That’s correct. I’m already being cautious. I’ve received your help several times before, haven’t I, Mr. Cromwell?”
“Aah, I’m glad to see you were already aware. It wouldn’t do for a promising young man like yourself to fall into that woman’s clutches, would it?”
“Hehehehe. You think so?”
This guy was way too direct. That auntie was a power player in her own right—what kind of answer did he expect me to give?
“Absolutely. Let me tell you exactly how many talented individuals Edlyn has already lured away from the Mage Guild—”
“Oh my. Is that so?”
“And that’s not all. The way she obsesses over cosmetics as she ages—whenever a monster ingredient good for the skin appears—”
“Hehe. I wasn’t aware it went that far.”
In the end, I returned after spending the entire conversation only giving exclamations and questions in perfect public-servant speak. This was an acrobatic evasion tactic that would let me say “I didn’t say anything, though?” and play innocent no matter what rumors came out later. In other words, verbal Taekwondo. The trick is to react smoothly while never stating your own opinion. Everyone should use this technique liberally when caught up in badmouthing the boss.
‘This is fucking exhausting.’
I knew the two of them didn’t get along, but I hadn’t realized they were scheming against each other this fiercely behind the scenes. I stepped out of Cromwell’s office and rolled my shoulders. Time to go greet Tirsi.