Begging and Begging Again (3)
The time I spent alone savoring my freedom came to a day and a half. Then the ship meant for the Sea Dragon hunt arrived.
Defensive arrays, artillery mounts—plenty of gear, they said…
By then I had already decided that every melee fighter would have to sit this one out. I had expected as much from the planning stage, but one look at the cramped deck made it certain.
A normal raid gave you wide open ground so you could dodge the boss’s area attacks while carving it up. This vessel was nowhere near that size. Even if we tried, my game experience told me we would only shatter the masts and outer planks—or the Sea Dragon’s tail swipe would simply snap the hull in half. Either outcome was unacceptable. I would not risk sinking the ship just so a melee dealer could land a few hits.
But that was not the real problem.
“We can’t even find crew, let alone a captain. It’s like plucking stars from the sky…”
Whether we lured the beast to the coast or drowned it under sheer numbers at sea, we first had to enter the Dragon’s Gate. And we still had no one willing to take us through.
“In a city this big you can’t find a single person?”
“The ones who answer have no skill, and the ones with skill turn down even a mountain of gold. What am I supposed to do? It’s driving me insane too.”
Even Dev, who had leaned on the information guild, threw up both hands. This was serious. It meant that, at least in this city, we might find no allies at all.
“Why?”
“Most of them just ask how anyone can challenge the Sea Dragon. Even when I tell them the sea is dying, nothing has hit them yet, so it doesn’t feel real.”
Ironically, the only ones who volunteered were the weak ones—precisely because they were weak. Skill-less meant penniless, so they signed up just to eat, Sea Dragon or no Sea Dragon. We had no use for that sort. What we needed was a first-rate captain.
“I’m still digging and still trying to persuade people, but we’re not getting anyone in the next few days. Just so you know.”
“You’ve worked hard. Circumstances being what they are, what else can we do? The talent we want isn’t going to drop out of the sky. Still, keep at it a little longer.”
“Yes, sir…”
Around then I wondered why that Baramson fellow still had not turned up. Was he not even on the list?
“Baramson.”
“Yes?”
“You yourself said he was famous.”
I had left a few video letters yesterday and today; now the words were stretching out. I frowned, half-worried my speech had gone soft.
“…Judging by the moniker, he is a real possibility. Anyone regarded as a descendant of Soldini has to rank among the best navigators.”
“But he sails a privateer…”
“Exactly.”
“Then he is a criminal! Even if he is a tacitly accepted pirate, the law is clear—he is a criminal!”
The Inquisitor shouted as if the very idea were absurd. By now her reaction was almost comforting.
“I don’t care.”
When had I ever fretted over criminal records? I might personally believe the end does not justify the means, but that was only my private view. My role itself never hesitated to use any method for the result. And the real me was not exactly opposed either. Given our position, a judicial deal was possible. Fail this and the whole region would be finished. If the man turned out to be pure scum we could always toss him in a cell afterward. Most helper characters never go that far, but still—no need to spoil a player’s fun.
“B-but…”
The Inquisitor short-circuited again. The Archmage and Dev, however, looked distinctly interested.
“It might be better than I thought. A privateer means we have room to negotiate. Still… have you heard anything about his reputation?”
“Basic notoriety comes with the privateer life, sure. But nothing especially vicious. I’ve even heard people say that if you have to get robbed, better it be by Baramson…”
“What kind of opinion is that?”
“Lesser of two evils. Better to lose only your cargo to a man who still treats you humanely than to lose everything—including your life—to the usual privateers.”
Stealing cargo still made him a criminal, but far better than the worst sort. A man with a bottom line was easier to deal with—and easier to stomach.
“Then it sounds like a choice worth trying.”
“Even you, Archmage?!”
“The situation is urgent. I am not asking you to forgive him; I am asking you to think first of the damage this will cause. Leave the Sea Dragon alone and tens of thousands will die.”
“Th-that’s…”
“Shall I look into a way to contact him as well?”
“Please. I will put the word out on my side too.”
“Hah… I don’t know if it’ll work.”
Dev muttered about how you find someone across the sea, but the upward curl of his mouth said he did not really believe it was hopeless.
Ding-a-ling.
The guild-hall door opened right on cue. Conversation that had already stalled died completely.
“Yes, Adventurers’ Guild, Gryu Telz branch.”
“Hey there. Looking for a person.”
“A request?”
I happened to be drinking, but my throat was not dry, so I only flicked a glance at the newcomers. My role preferred not to care about surroundings, yet what entered my field of vision could not be helped.
Two figures in deep-pulled robes. Roughly 170 cm, solid builds. From under the hoods hung long dangling ornaments that reached about the collarbone.
“Not quite a request. Just wondering if any adventurer around here matches this description.”
“Looking for a named hire, then.”
“If the one I’m after is an adventurer.”
“Describe the appearance.”
Their looks and their conversation both drifted into my ears. Evening had left the hall quiet—our only real company, even though a tavern was attached.
“Well… huge sword on the back, eye-patch… I think. Black clothes maybe… Oh, right—the decisive thing: left and right hair different colors! Know anyone like that?”
No matter how I looked at it, that was me.
“…Like that gentleman over there?”
“Hm? Where—oh. Yeah! Exactly like that guy…”
I looked at the suspicious pair who had just named me; they looked right back. The trailing voice cut off, then exploded.
“Found him!”
What now?
“Demon Knight, do you know them?”
“A lot of people in this city seem to know you, milord.”
“Did you operate here in the past?”
The party each tossed a line; I knew nothing about it. Even if I had known them, those robes would have made recognition hard.
“Shut up.”
One word crushed the chatter. I locked eyes with the man approaching. Beneath the hood his mouth was grinning.
“Whoa, never thought I’d find you this fast.”
“Who are you?”
I kept my usual lack of manners while I tried to place him. Honestly, no one came to mind. The few people I remembered clearly did not have that voice, and everyone else I had never bothered to store.
“Someone who wants to hire you?”
A husky voice trying for breezy charm; it failed completely, but I set that aside.
“Not interested.”
I might have to go dragon-hunting any day now. What request?
Short-term maybe, but he did not look the type to rattle off conditions and backstory. So the answer was simply no.
“Come on, at least hear me out.”
“Get lost.”
My hard refusal made the lead robed man scratch the back of his head. The one behind took an angry step forward; the front man blocked him smoothly and the moment died. Wise and welcome. My role never dodged a fight that walked up to me, and I preferred not to brawl with civilians.
“Well then, I’ll be—”
“Please. Lives are on the line.”
Dev, who had been sidling toward the exit, froze at the next words.
Lives. That made even me narrow my eyes. Depending on whose lives, my role might have to be ignored.
“Quite a few of them.”
Numbers made it worse. My brow furrowed; the Inquisitor wore the face of a puppy that desperately needed to go outside.
“Just listen once.”
When the Archmage scratched the itch, I finally gave the affirmative.
“I’ll listen. Nothing more.”
“Great, great. But it’s a delicate matter—mind if we move somewhere less open? This place is too exposed.”
The client muttered, then stepped out to borrow one of the guild’s private rooms. Tap-tap. Dev drummed the table and spoke.
“Those two are from the Yabad region. Long dangling earrings, braided hair, brown skin—common there.”
…How did he know so much? Were all thieves like this?
“Also… salt stains on the boots, stiff trousers, the smell of liquor soaked into the clothes—sailors, I’d bet. And one of them reeks of blood, so not ordinary sailors.”
Just a descendant of Sherlock Holmes, then?
“That’s everything I’ve got. Still no idea, Sir Knight?”
Even with the tips I still came up empty. I had only recently learned the Yabad region even existed, let alone its sailors.
“Perhaps they simply heard of your fame and came looking.”
Probably that… yet a client who tracked me down in person rarely brought a small matter. And those earlier words still bothered me.
“Well, while we’re at it we can ask about Baramson. He operates in their waters; they’ll know more than the locals here.”
We had already decided to hear them out. I rose and walked toward the men waving us into the private room.
“Ah—just in case, these three with you?”
“Temporarily, yes. We are traveling together.”
The Archmage answered before I could. If I denied the party the situation would only grow messier, so he handled it himself. Fine by me.
“If secrecy is required, you need not worry.”
“…Hmm. All right. We’ll trust you. Not like we have many options.”
The companion urgently grabbed the client’s arm, but the client was firm. The door shut.
“Good. Let’s talk.”
Seated across from us, the client lightened the air with a casual tone, then pulled off the robe in one motion.
Long pointed ears unique to the Slend, a faded headscarf, and the dangling ornaments beneath. Only a coat covered the upper body, leaving chest and stomach bare.
“Ugh, I was dying under that thing.”
“…! Cap—tain!”
“…Wait. That man is…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Trust is everything in this business, right?”
Dev’s mouth fell open without sound. The client grinned and soothed his companion, then flashed me a thumbs-up and a broad smile.
“Suriya of Zakrati. Most people just call me Baramson. Pleasure.”
…What?
“Just so we’re clear, I’m not here as a privateer captain. I came on the Lord of Zakrati’s orders, so don’t even think about reporting me. We have reasons to keep a low profile, but I do carry a temporary pardon. I can show it if you want.”
The real Baramson?
“Business.”
Honestly I wanted to gape and demand confirmation… but my role was not a man who flustered at such things. I forced my feelings down and kept the voice cold. Behind me I heard Dev frantically clamping a hand over the Inquisitor’s mouth; I simply ignored it.
“You believe me that fast?”
“If you’re lying I only need to take your head. Why should I care beyond that?”
“Spicy, spicy. That’s the spirit a swordsman needs. So, spicy adventurer, mind telling me your name too?”
“If you called me here just to make friends, I’m leaving.”
“Hot-tempered, aren’t you! Fine, fine.”
My attitude was burning what little goodwill existed. The Archmage, who must have been just as shocked, suddenly recovered and started jabbing my back in frantic signals.
Crunch.
But this sort of hinting was something my role would never allow…
“…?”
Hand on sword hilt, I slowly turned a chilling look behind me.
“Want to die?”
The mage was wise. The hand withdrew.
“Then shall we get to the point?”
Baramson, reading the room, opened the topic carefully.
“You know the situation in Zakrati?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll start from the beginning.”
He twisted one of his drop earrings between his fingers and calmly built the next sentences.
“Zakrati is in civil war right now. An old one, really.”
He named the incident and the people I had already heard of.
“The previous lord, Bipurit, went too far. His brother Piuon rose against him, seized the castle, and the fighting has continued ever since.”
The same story Dev had told during the pirate hunt.
“We call it civil war, but it’s more like a pirate headache. Exiled Bipurit turned to open piracy, and every castle declared him a common enemy.”
“The point.”
“Bipurit’s forces have grown too strong lately. They’ve occupied whole cities and are now marching right up to Zakrati Castle itself.”
I saw the outline. The banished tyrant had returned with power; they had come looking for military strength to stop him—and had singled me out as one piece of it.
“We tried other cities, but they’re in the same boat. Everyone’s too busy holding their own castles and sea lanes to spare help.”
“…I heard pirates were thick along the southern coast, but that bad?”
“Yeah. Bad enough that we had to come all the way inland for aid.”
Baramson finished and looked straight at me. Dark eyes reflected me clearly.
“I saw you fight. Nearly one against a hundred. I’ll pay whatever you want—lend us your strength?”
How to answer? Their crisis was real, yet we were sitting on a problem that could erase an entire region. The situation was delicate.
“…Before that, one question. For a matter like this, shouldn’t you be asking the lord of this city for help?”
“You think I don’t know that? But… because of privateering, Yabad has bad blood with a lot of port cities. Not that I’m one to talk.”
Indeed—he was a privateer captain.
“Faster to hire adventurers than hope those places help. Pay them and they move.”
“Can adventurers really reverse a war?”
“I’ve got a plan. And you’re not the only skilled person I mean to recruit.”
He added a quiet “however.”
“I came to you first only because I can’t take many people. The ship isn’t that big.”
Limited berths meant quality over quantity. That he had chosen me so precisely… he must have judged me that strong. I still wondered what he had actually seen.
“So? Changed your mind?”
The problem was our present circumstances. The Sea Dragon was more urgent. To handle it we needed a skilled captain. Until that was settled I could not go elsewhere.
“Do you know the Dragon’s Gate?”
Then what? Find a bargain. My role was not so thick-headed it could never compromise.
“Dragon’s Gate? Of course I know it.”
“Can you pass it?”
“Hmm. Out-of-the-blue question… Answer first: probably. Never tried myself, but I’m confident.”
“Then do this. Pay the advance. I’ll take your request.”
“Huh? Advance? That’s a bit… Wait, goods are fine too? How much?”
“I don’t need wealth.”
“Then?”
“Your seamanship.”
“…?”
I had said I was not thick-headed; I never claimed to be kind.
“Guide me to the Dragon’s Throat.”
Baramson’s expression turned peculiar.
“…That’s… unexpected. Why there?”
“We have to hunt the Sea Dragon.”
“…What?”
Right behind it came the face of a man doubting his own ears.
“Wait—what? Sea Dragon?”
“Is your ability to understand language deficient?”
“No, seriously? Why?!”
I knew that was the normal reaction, yet I diligently loaded my eyes with irritation. Baramson began to stammer.
“Ahem. Allow me to explain in detail.”
“Good gods. You’re serious enough to explain? Why hunt the Sea Dragon?!”
“Because it has fallen to corruption.”
“…What?”
From here it was the Archmage’s turn. He seized the opening I had left with perfect timing and laid out the entire situation in rapid, ordered language.
After the crash course, Baramson and his companion both sat with mouths hanging open. Unavoidable.
“No, no, what the—”
Yes. Coming to solve a civil war only to find a larger ticking bomb waiting—anyone would be rattled. That was just how the world worked.
“…All right. I understand your position. I get that you can’t just move freely.”
Fortunately—or not—Baramson was quick on the uptake.
“I withdraw the request.”
And just as quick to cut ties.
“I came to find people to save the castle, not to risk my own neck.”
“Wait—reconsider a little longer. This is not one city’s problem. The entire Western Sea could be ruined.”
“I know that too. But the Western Sea isn’t doomed this very second, is it? Unlike Zakrati! Right now Zakrati is a candle in the wind.”
“You said you would accept the request. All you need do is take us through the Dragon’s Gate.”
At the Archmage’s plea Baramson let out a sharp laugh. The unspoken “don’t talk nonsense” carried clearly.
“Just through the Gate? Bold! Unless you can walk on water, you’ll still need a ship the moment you fight the Sea Dragon!”
He rattled the next lines before the Archmage could insert a word.
“My life is not mine alone. Zakrati trusted me enough to send me; I cannot throw it away for nothing.”
A perfectly clear refusal. The Archmage, however, did not simply step back.
“If you help us, I will personally see that the Magic Tower and the Temple send aid to Zakrati at once.”
“Hey, who are you to guarantee that? You think I don’t know how heavy their asses are? Or do you have connections?”
“No connections, but as a Great Sage I do hold one of the Tower’s pillars. It is no empty boast—please believe me.”
That, at least, Baramson had not expected. His face softened a fraction.
“…Fine. I’ll take your word for now, true or not. But my answer stays the same. I don’t believe the self-serving Tower will help Zakrati for free.”
Softened, but still not accepting.
“And the Temple… you know Yabad doesn’t like the Temple, right? You should’ve stuck to the Tower. Dumb.”
What was that about? I frowned at the news that the Yabad region hated the Temple.
“….”
When I glanced back, the Inquisitor wore a complicated expression. Earlier Dev had muffled her, yet she had stayed silent afterward—perhaps for this reason.
“Enough. Talking further is a waste of time. I’m leaving. Plenty of other adventurers and mercenaries out there.”
“…Until this matter is settled, you will find it hard to get what you want in this city. Anyone with real skill is likely to be pulled into the dragon hunt.”
“What?”
“The lord will be in a similar position. Gryu Telz is the closest city to the Dragon’s Gate… and the first to suffer if this is ignored.”
“…Are you threatening me?”
“Hardly. I merely wished to spare you wasted time. A bit of advice.”
Most people would call that a threat…
I quietly chewed and swallowed the snide remark. Whatever anyone said, I needed the Archmage to win this.
“Damn it…”
Baramson chewed his lip as if he wanted to punch the Archmage’s face. For someone representing a whole group, he was not gifted at managing expressions—or else he was simply that desperate.
“…How about this instead. You help Zakrati first, solve our problem, and then I’ll help you.”
In roughly a minute Baramson flipped the proposal around. Other cities were an option, yet he clearly preferred to settle things here.
“Then the Western Sea will only rot further. Zakrati’s troubles will not be solved in a day or two.”
As the Archmage said, that was the issue—it might wrap up in days, or it might drag on. And in that time…
“Even if we stay like this… only death awaits us…”
“Then why couldn’t you save our mother?”
A small village might not hold out. We had already delayed long enough.
“And the dragon? You think you’ll kill a dragon in a day or two?”
“That is…”
Then it was my turn to step in.
Order was the only real problem; trading help seemed acceptable to them as well. So I only needed to give them confidence that being second in line was still fine. If the worry was time, I would show that the time would not be long.
“Wait—can you even kill it? Is killing a dragon even possible?!”
And for that, I was better suited than the Archmage. More precisely, my role was.
“Why would it not be?”
“What?”
“Answer me. How long to the Dragon’s Gate?”
“Hah, I already told you. Until you help us first, there’s no—”
“I asked how long.”
I dropped my voice and spaced every word. Something in it made Baramson cut himself off and look straight at me.
“If we leave from here, less than a day.”
“Certain?”
“You know the distance? I have the whole Western Sea memorized. Absolutely certain. Never more than a day. Round trip alone would take half a day at most.”
“Then half a day is enough for me as well.”
“What?”
This was the crucial moment.
I declared it as if hypnotizing myself.
“From this city, kill the dragon, and return to this city.”
The raid environment would leave melee dealers useless, a head-on party would face wipe angles, the dragon-hunting setup was not even ready yet—I ignored every such problem.
“Half a day. Or a full day for the round trip. Provided the sailing time you gave is not a lie.”
Because a roleplayer does not care about those things!
So I’m counting on you, future me!