The Face on the Guild Sign
Just as the gatekeeper had told them, the stone-paved road from the village entrance ran straight to a broad square.
The cobbled street that had so amazed Dorothy widened as it reached the square and opened into a great circle. Several large buildings stood around it. Between them ran lanes that looked narrow, and beyond those lanes more buildings stretched away in long rows.
Of all the buildings enclosing the square, the largest bore a sign.
But that doesn't make any sense.
What was Santa doing in a world like this, red hat and red clothes and all? Painted so boldly on the sign of the Adventurer's Guild, no less. He couldn't begin to guess the reason. Surely Santa wasn't the guild's founding guildmaster. Surely not.
While Juhwan stared up at the sign, Lizzie eased the wagon closer. She drew the horse to a stop in front of the building, and a boy of about ten came running from somewhere.
"Welcome! Are you here for the guild? You must be new to this village."
He was carrying a square wooden box that looked far too big for him. Handles stuck out on either side, and he grunted as he held it in both hands. Before Juhwan could climb down, the boy hurriedly set the box beside the driver's seat.
"Sir, step on this to get down!"
He looked like a shoeshine boy out of an old film — the sort who snatched the shoes off a seated customer whether they wanted it or not. The boy went on, beaming.
"Shall I look after the wagon and the horse? It'd be awful if somebody stole something. And the horse needs a rest, too."
Juhwan said nothing. He only watched the boy. You're exactly why I'm on my guard.
The boy wiped a trickle of snot on his sleeve and grinned.
"If you stay more than three days, our place only charges half for the horse's feed. If you haven't picked a room yet, come to our house. We'll take good care of you."
He had barely finished when a gaunt man hurried over and yanked him by the scruff. The boy choked and gagged, but the man didn't let go.
"Heh heh. Sir, our inn is much better than a brat's place like this."
Juhwan's face tightened before he could stop it. A rival, clearly. Even so, there was no need to be rough with a child.
The boy thrashed, trying to twist free, but it did no good. The man kept a hard grip on his clothes and would not release him.
"That's enough."
Juhwan caught the man's wrist, and the boy dropped to the ground as if he'd been shaken loose.
The skinny man glanced around, tried a few more words, and when none of them landed, slunk off somewhere else. The boy sniffled, tears bright in his eyes.
"I'm sorry. Our house is a little poor... and the inn's a little small... My father's weak, so he can't work. He just loafs at home every day. Mother works alone, and she's always exhausted... but the food at our place is really delicious, sir."
A little pity stirred. He didn't yet know how things would go, but if the price was the same, staying at the boy's inn might be all right. He could ask about the cost later.
"I don't know yet. Whether we'll even stay here."
The boy's face lit up. He bobbed his head, thanking them over and over, then held out his hand.
"Sir, I'll watch the horse. If I'm standing guard, thieves won't be scary at all."
The offer was kind, but if they left the village without staying at the boy's inn, Juhwan would feel bad about it. And he still wasn't sure he could trust the child.
While he hesitated, the three adventurers he had seen at the gate earlier came out of the Adventurer's Guild. The boy flinched, then quickly bowed to Juhwan.
"Sir, I'll keep watch from a distance. So nothing gets stolen. Don't worry about the wagon."
He bolted and vanished down an alley.
What was that? Juhwan looked down. The boy hadn't even taken his wooden box. He hadn't seemed like a swindler or a thief. Then what had he been?
The three adventurers glanced at Juhwan and the wagon and came closer.
"Well, look. It's the man from earlier."
"An adventurer, was he?"
The men clicked their tongues and looked toward the alley where the boy had fled. One of them muttered.
"Running the moment he sees us... Guess he got a scolding and still goes around lying."
Juhwan looked at them, not following, and the one who had muttered gave a short laugh.
"That kid just now — he didn't tell you his father was hurt, or dead, or something like that?"
"He said his father stays home and loafs."
The men burst out laughing.
"So he changed the story after he got told off."
"That kid's father is perfectly fine."
"He's an adventurer, that father of his. Mostly quit now, but he still takes a job now and then."
"We got caught the same way when we first came to this village."
"If it'll pull in a customer, that brat will tell any lie you can think of."
"And he quietly sells beer to guests at a steep price, too."
One of the adventurers tapped the box beside the wagon with his foot. There was beer inside, apparently.
Juhwan was a little startled. The beer was one thing, but lying that someone was hurt, or dead? What was he going to do if the words came true?
More than that, the lie would fall apart the moment anyone actually went to the inn. Maybe that was childhood for you. He didn't seem to think about what came after.
"Hey. Listen. Go around behind this building and there's a place to leave wagons and horses. Guild people are there, so you don't have to worry about thieves. That kid definitely offered to watch the wagon, didn't he? After that, he asks for a copper as payment."
"...Thank you."
Back home there was a saying: shut your eyes in the capital and someone will cut off your nose. This was precisely that. He needed to keep his wits about him.
When the adventurers left and he turned, Lizzie sat on the driver's seat with her eyes round in surprise. Only Dorothy, knowing nothing, peacefully stared at the sign.
Watching her, he realized something. Maybe Dorothy had never seen a picture in color. The last village hadn't had shops, let alone signs. Only houses. There probably hadn't been books, either. She was exactly the age for picture books, and the thought made him ache a little.
Lizzie drove the wagon around behind the building, and there was a space for tying horses. It was fairly wide. They left the wagon in an empty spot and were tying the horse when the wagon-yard keeper came over.
"Need feed or water? One — and I can feed them until night."
The word was unfamiliar for a moment. Then he remembered. Lizzie had once taught him the currency of this world. What the man had just named — yes. A copper coin. A coin made of copper.
It was the lowest unit of money, and even that was hardly used in the village. When a peddler came through, most trade was closer to barter. So they had no money. Not a single coin.
He had meant to sell the furs and make money once they arrived, but he hadn't expected to need it this soon.
What now.
Maybe he had to make money first.
Would the guild buy rabbit fur? Or did he need to find somewhere else? Juhwan let out a small sigh and looked at the keeper.
"I don't have any money right now. Does the guild buy rabbit fur?"
"Of course."
The keeper smiled.
"Don't worry. Leaving a wagon here doesn't cost anything. Rabbit fur's gotten expensive lately. I'll watch the wagon from here, so go on in without a care. And later, once you've sold the fur and have money, buy a little feed for the horse here. This is my side income."
He was fairly sure that was the word — side income. Juhwan said he would, then turned toward the guild office.
The inside of the Adventurer's Guild was quite large. To the left of the front door, a wall was plastered with papers. To the right stood several tables and chairs.
Rough-looking men had claimed the tables. Weapons and packs lay scattered around them. Adventurers, all of them, by the look of it.
Straight ahead was a row of counters. Several guild staff sat there, and the place felt a little like a bank. Only the counter on the far right was shaped differently. The space around it was a bit wider.
Is that where they buy goods?
He hoped the keeper was right, and that rabbit fur was fetching a high price. Thinking of the peddler they had met in the last village, it ought to be quite high...
Juhwan looked around the hall once more, but there was no one dressed as Santa, and no Santa goods either. He still had no idea what that sign had been about.
The moment he stepped inside, every eye turned to him.
Lizzie was calm, as always, but Dorothy seemed a little frightened. Under the hard stares of the men she clung to Juhwan's leg and spoke in a small voice.
"Dad, everybody's looking."
"It's all right. We're strangers, that's all."
He scooped the child up. With Lizzie beside him, he walked steadily deeper into the hall and stopped in front of the clerk at the center counter.
"I'd like to sell rabbit fur. Do I have to join the guild first, or can I just sell it?"
The clerk's eyes seemed to brighten.
"The Adventurer's Guild doesn't deal with ordinary folk. We only trade with those who have joined. This place is for adventurers. If you have rabbit pelts, sell them after you register."
He smiled kindly and went on.
"Are you an adventurer? If you're joining, I'll start the registration at once."
He glanced at Juhwan's build and at the axe hanging at his waist, then nodded.
"Is your main weapon an axe? Axes are good. Easy to come by, cheap, and simple to use. Our guild divides adventurers into six ranks. Everyone who comes in starts at rank six."
There was no gap to get a word in. Still, he understood the gist. The man was talking about adventurer ranks.
The clerk didn't give him a chance to speak. He said "Ah," and continued.
"Have you paid the poll tax? If not, you can pay it any time before next winter, once you've joined. Some people join our guild because of the poll tax. Every year plenty of folks can't pay, fall into debt, and end up slaves. Haah. It really is a hard world to live in."
As he talked, he rummaged under the desk and pulled out several sheets of paper.
"Living is never easy. Plenty of people die the moment they join the guild, and plenty more never manage to pay the poll tax to the end and come to a bad finish. If your income isn't enough to cover it, well, there's nothing we can do. The guild isn't a charity."
The clerk looked at the pack on Juhwan's back with shining eyes and dipped his pen in the ink.
"First, tell me your weapon. Shall I write axe?"
At last there was room to speak.
"I'm a mage."
The clerk tilted his head, then asked again.
"An axe?"
"I'm a mage."
"Whaaat?!"
A noisy man. The clerk craned his neck over the desk, stared at Juhwan, and muttered that he was shocked.
"I really am surprised. A mage, looking like that. Truly surprised."
Juhwan said nothing.
"Of course, not every mage has to be thin and sickly. Hmm. I see. A mage. Rare. But are you really joining the guild? A mage would make more money going to a noble."
The clerk frowned slightly.
"It's a bit of a loss for our guild, but if you have even a little ability, going to a noble is far more profitable. Ah — but if your ability is only enough that joining the guild is your only choice — no, that isn't what I meant. Ahem. Ahem. Now and then there is a mage who turns down the nobles and becomes an adventurer."
He seemed to think he had made a mistake. Flustered, he waved his hands this way and that, worried Juhwan might be angry. His eyes kept flicking to Juhwan's hands and to the axe.
Juhwan wasn't angry enough for that. Before he could say it was fine, Dorothy spoke first.
"My dad is an amazing mage! A little fire appears, and he goes wham-wham with his axe and kills goblins! It's amazing!"
The clerk looked at the axe once more, then nodded as if that explained everything.
"Right. With an axe. Little one, your father must be very strong."
"Yeah! Dorothy's dad is super strong! The flame dies all of a sudden, but he's super strong!"
The clerk made a troubled sound, then smiled.
"Children really can't lie. It's all right. I've seen a few mages while working at this guild, and their main weapons were something else, too. Not every mage fights with magic. It's fine. I'll write mage for now. Truly fine. I can add that you also use an axe."
Because of Dorothy, the clerk had gotten it completely wrong. It didn't matter much.
Lizzie seemed to find the misunderstanding funny. She giggled beside him. Dorothy, convinced she had bragged properly, puffed out her chest in Juhwan's arms. Oz, asleep in the pocket of her clothes, seemed to wake at the noise. The pocket squirmed.
Then the clerk from the far-right counter came over.
"While you register, I'll help you sell the rabbit fur. I have to see the condition of the hides before I can set a price."
So the counter at the right end was for buying goods, just as he had thought. Juhwan set the pack of rabbit fur on the desk. The buying clerk looked inside and let out a soft oh.
"It wasn't just one."
He spread the inside of a pelt and studied it carefully.
"The quality's quite good. Whoever processed this leather has real skill, whoever they are. These days it's rare to find someone who treats hides this carefully."
"...Thank you."
Lizzie smiled wide, shy and proud at once. The buying clerk looked a little surprised.
"A woman did this? The method is exactly how the old hunters used to work leather."
"I learned it from an old hunter."
"That was a fine chance. Treated like this, the price goes up considerably. People don't do it this way anymore. It takes too much time, and it's hard work."
The clerk handling the registration spoke up.
"You really are lucky. The war has cut off fur imports. Even the nobles are having trouble getting fine pelts, so quite a few of them are using rabbit fur now. That's why the price has shot right up. And it's well processed on top of that? You can name your price."
Noisy, but Juhwan was grateful for the information he hadn't had to ask for. The clerk picked up his pen again.
"Then I'll register you as a mage for now."
"Ah. Please wait a moment."
Juhwan brought out the words he had been turning over on the way here.
"I'd like to register with other people, not just myself. Is that possible?"
"Ah, a party? Of course."
So that was what they called an adventuring party here. Juhwan nodded.
"Yes. I'd like us to register together as a party."
"Very well. Who will you be registering with?"
"These two. Right here."
The clerk tilted his head and looked at Lizzie and Dorothy.
"I'm sorry, but anyone forming a party has to have some kind of ability. Most are adventurers who fight together, but if not that, then at the very least they manage the party, or do the cooking — they have to do something."
He went on, looking troubled.
"We can't register someone who does nothing as a party member. It's a rule."
Juhwan looked at Lizzie. Her eyes had gone round with surprise.
"She handles the leatherwork and manages the party, and this child..."
He closed his mouth, looking at Dorothy. What was he supposed to say? Then Oz's ears popped out of her clothes. Juhwan hesitated, then spoke.
"This child can give orders to a magical beast."
"Whaaat?!"
Almost at the same instant, Dorothy shouted.
"Dad, Dorothy had a magical beast? Where is it?"
Well. In your pocket?