Week 2.5 (8)
Week 2.5 (8)
There wasn't any special reason for coming back to the Guild branch building.
It was just that scavenging for a bit more info beat heading home empty-handed.
Today marked the end of our stay—we were planning to return to the Territory.
Originally, I'd thought about lingering a little longer, but in our current state, forget recruiting mercenaries; we'd only drag our already trashed Territory's reputation even lower.
The butler's warning that it wouldn't work? Yeah, there was definitely a reason behind that.
Of course, on a personal note, it wasn't a total bust, so at least we had that going for us.
Still keeping up a minimal act, I snagged a spot inside the Guild building and sipped some tea. Valerie stood by my side, faithfully playing the loyal retainer.
She must've been wiped from yesterday's antics, but even when I told her to sit, she flat-out refused, saying it broke character. So, I had no choice but to leave her standing.
Then again, I wasn't one to worry about a Superhuman like Valerie. Hell, even I was feeling a twinge in my lower back from overdoing it yesterday, but she'd only wobbled a bit this morning—now she looked totally recovered, like nothing happened.
"Tastes good. Want some, Valerie?"
"...If I may be so bold, Lord. I don't enjoy the taste of tea."
After what I'd seen yesterday, I dropped the whole 'stern lord' routine entirely.
Instead, I shifted the act's direction a bit.
The setup was a slightly soft and friendly lord, but one who still carried that aristocratic Cruelty.
Of course, it was Valerie who'd suggested—more like forced—this role on me, but for me, it beat standing there stone-faced without saying a word.
I had no plans to stick around here long anyway. I'd just scout for any mercenaries eyeing our commissions, maybe try poaching one directly, then smoothly fail and pack up.
Who knows, that might be enough depending on the circumstances. Like Valerie said yesterday, fixing our gutted Territory image overnight was impossible.
As long as we could slowly sell the idea that our Territory had at least some basic normal systems in place, that'd do it. Dropping by here periodically might not be a bad idea for that.
"...Well, today's a bust, huh."
"Shall we proceed to the next schedule?"
"Yeah, let's. Time's getting tight."
Total bullshit. The next schedule was heading home, and we had time to burn.
Still, looking busy couldn't hurt.
Better than sitting around idly waiting for clients like some bum—it was more 'noble-like.'
Before heading back, maybe grab a meal in Ark City.
I could leave the guiding to Valerie, and honestly, I was getting sick of the butler's quick slop for every meal.
Not that his food tasted bad.
Sure, some days a few dishes were disastrously undersalted, but with the cook perpetually hammered, what could you do?
Probably knocked over the salt while cooking or something.
Hey, three squares a day? That was plenty. I stood up and said,
"How about a quick bite before we go? We could even grab some for the mercenaries back in the Territory—"
"Hehe, shall we? I know a spot you Homo folks love."
"Sounds good. But since it's early, nothing too heavy—huh?"
What the—? I was so into the act that I responded naturally, but that voice wasn't Valerie's—and the moment I thought that, Valerie shoved my chest back and whipped a dagger from her holster.
"Step back, Lord."
The blade was already half-pressed against my throat. Even so, the intruder didn't flinch, just grinned and said,
"Sorry about that. I'm not great at approaching Non-Spirits. Didn't mean to startle you—forgive my rudeness."
"...You're that kid's buddy from yesterday."
Just like Valerie said, she looked vaguely familiar.
A stunning woman with long, pale golden blonde hair and blue eyes.
Her pale blue lips, matching her eyes, moved softly.
Confirming no attack intent, Valerie slowly pulled the dagger from her throat.
"...Demidius."
"Oh? You recognized me?"
Spirit race, Demidius.
Valerie looked a bit surprised at my words, but the woman in front of us seemed purely delighted.
She soon flashed a fresh smile, lightly placing a hand on her chest, and said,
"Better late than never—allow me to introduce myself. I'm Basiliki Theodora, ritual priestess of the Spirit Council Cyclic Order, affiliated with Guild Lefko."
A Demidius priestess. Now that's a tantalizing combo.
I lightly tapped Valerie's shoulder, still on high alert, signaling her. She got the hint and stepped aside a bit.
"Pleased to meet you, Priestess-nim."
I greeted her with a friendly expression.
Normally, you'd reciprocate by sharing your affiliation, status, and name like she did, but with them, this was just right.
Not too dismissive, not too grovelly.
Not sure if she liked it, but the priestess gave a slight bow.
From the mercenaries' lines in Tombstone, Demidius were basically born with a chosen-people superiority complex. Like a genetic species trait.
It reminded me of a serialized post I'd written back on Earth in the Tombstone community.
Around the time I was already being called a fossil-turned-oil-rig, I'd challenged myself to conquer from Week 1 to ending using only single-race mercenaries.
Without a trainer, you couldn't handpick hires in the game, so bad luck meant pushing through weeks without new blood—which no sane person would do.
Of course, I wasn't sane, and after Homo and Vesta beastkin, the third race I'd tackled was Demidius.
"—So, what business do you have with me?"
"You mentioned dinner next?"
Instead of answering straight, she pivoted the topic.
"Yeah, that was the plan."
"What I said earlier wasn't a lie. I know a restaurant Homo folks particularly love."
"Huh, a Demidius gracing us with a meal?"
I wasn't acting there—I was genuinely a little surprised, adding that to the priestess who still wore a soft smile.
When I wrote the challenge recap, the headline wasn't about racial performance or endgame specs—it was a serious thinkpiece on 'Why the fuck do these bastards talk like this all the time?'
Tombstone wasn't some visual novel, so all you got with player-controlled mercenaries was passively staring at their snippet dialogues.
And that alone scraped a lot of players raw—that was the Demidius race's majesty.
The wild part? They didn't outright sneer at other races they called 'Non-Spirits' or deliberately belittle them.
It was just... how to put it? Reading their lines, you feel this ineffable ickiness.
Like they treat everyone else as pet dogs?
And they never say it outright, so snapping at them makes you look like the weirdo. That kind of speech pattern.
"Yes, it'd be nice to chat there."
With a dazzling smile, she chuckled and said that.
Even this short exchange showed how considerate she was—for a Demidius.
If it were the ones I knew, it'd be something like 'No, I'm not interested in that food^^.'
I mulled her name inwardly. Basiliki Theodora, huh.
"Very well, then."
I had no clue why she approached me, but this could be a valuable connection.
I snuck a glance at Valerie—she didn't hate it, but she seemed a tad uncomfortable.
Being from Ark City herself, she'd probably dealt with Demidius before.
Most Non-Spirits who'd met them probably reacted the same.
But whatever. For me, it didn't matter. The key was grabbing any chance to build ties with her.
"Shall we go?"
The Demidius priestess who'd introduced herself as Basiliki said that and started walking ahead.
As Valerie walked beside me, she secretly poked my side and whispered,
"Master, those fuckers suck."
Sure enough, as soon as Valerie glanced her way, she scowled like it was interpersonal beef.
Racial karma, I guess—hard to cover for.
All I could say was lame shit like 'Not all Demidius are like that.'
"Could be something to gain here."
So I brushed it off like that and hurried after Basiliki.
Valerie, looking super reluctant, had no choice but to follow.
—Shortly after.
"D-Delicious... right?"
Valerie was impressed.
Worth forcibly dragging her ass—who'd tried pulling the tired 'I'm just a merc, eat without me' line—to the table.
Basiliki watched her with a fond, benevolent gaze before speaking up.
"Lord of Ruelier, did you come here needing mercenaries?"
"Yeah, the Territory's always short on manpower."
I gave a safe answer to her direct question. Then, without changing expression, Basiliki fired back,
"If I wanted to take your commission, Lord, what would you say?"
What.
This might wrap up easier than expected.
Careful not to show excitement, I deliberately paused, then answered with a light smile.
"With us desperate for hands, no reason to turn away a priestess-nim."
"I see."
She listened with a hehe smile, tilting the teacup on the table.
Nothing but tea in front of Basiliki.
Naturally, the noble Demidius had zero interest in human food.
But she'd definitely help in the Territory.
Certain of that, even her pickiness looked endearing.
"One thing."
She quietly set down the teacup and murmured.
"One thing I'd like to ask you, Lord."
Pausing to choose words? In the calm atmosphere, she stared at me steadily before speaking.
I tensed a bit unconsciously but stayed cool, ear cocked for her words.
"Does your Territory have something falsely claiming to be a god?"
Falsely claiming to be a god.
Daring to overstep and challenge divine authority.
I stayed silent for a beat, meeting her eyes.
Those Demidius blue eyes—clear as sky, yet somehow murky. I read nothing in them.
"—Yes."
So I spat the plain truth as I knew it.
Yes, the Labyrinth clearly has a 'false god.'
Hearing my answer, she stared as if gauging truth, then flashed a blindingly beautiful smile.
"In that case, Lord. I grant you the right to hire me."
—Now that's a refreshingly bold decision.
*
[Guild Lefko Cyclic Order Ritual Priestess, Basiliki Theodora]
"Priestess and ritualist of the Cyclic Order among the Spirit Council's seven branches, Basiliki Theodora is one of those who lost everything to the flood of madness. Madness descended, and in the small church she served, a festival of blood unfolded. Bizarre auditory hallucinations and visions, human sacrifice rituals, group suicides by those claiming to hear the voice of god. When the last believers slit their throats on the altar with final words of returning to 'Ruoe,' she realized. God is not served—but made."
Equipment:
[Folding Silver Dagger and Mace]: Mid-row placement, Speed Dice 2, Power Dice 1
[Cyclic Order Priestess Robes]: Life Token 24, Defense Dice 1
Skills:
[Petitioner]: (Persistent effect) Gain unique keyword Prestige 1 when ally Desire increases
[False Blessing]: (Ally buff) Recovery 2, Superhuman Strength 2 (2 times)
[Grand Atonement Rite]: (Ally buff) Dispel 2, +1d10 Desire to self, Prestige 1 to self
[Call of Atonement]: (Rear-line attack) Taunt (2 times), add 1 Defense Dice to self (2 times)
[Mercy Song]: (All allies buff) Recovery X, where X is Prestige; after use, remove all Prestige and inflict Stun on self