Investigation
Even after entrusting the creation of a fake identity to Mercenary Captain Jeban, I kept wandering the streets to familiarize myself with the layout of the city.
By now, I could pretty much navigate without a map.
“You pick things up quickly, sir!”
“Do I?”
And it wasn't just outings. I'd also been learning basic common knowledge from a tutor Rowell had hired from somewhere.
“Yes, I was worried you might have no background at all, but your comprehension is sharp and your memory excellent.”
“Thank you.”
“Haha!”
The tutor was a brown-haired man in his mid-twenties, the scholarly type who looked like he'd fit right in at a monastery. His name was Eric Brown. He'd told me to just call him Eric, but I stuck with "Tutor."
“So, Tutor, what kinds of monsters mainly inhabit the mountains?”
“Haha, feel free to call me Eric.”
“Yes, Tutor.”
Today's lesson covered the geography of the Adel Kingdom, focusing on the capital, Kaine, and the adjacent Kaine Mountain Range.
“The Kaine Mountain Range is broadly divided into three zones.”
Eric sketched a large mountain shape on the prepared blackboard and drew three lines across it.
“The lowest is the foothills, home to low-grade monsters like goblins and kobolds. That's where most ordinary mercenaries operate.”
Goblins and kobolds.
Names that made my skin crawl.
Just the number I'd smashed in the colosseum could fill a truck.
“The midlands host mid-grade monsters like mountain orcs and werewolves. They occasionally descend to hunt low-grade monsters or harass mercenaries.”
More familiar names kept coming up.
Of course—where else would the colosseum source its monsters from? Mostly airlifted from these mountains, no doubt.
“The higher you go, the more dangerous it gets, but rare herbs are often found there.”
“Must be a lot of fatalities.”
“Yes, the highland monsters can overwhelm even Gold-rank mercenaries.”
Highlands...
The first monster that came to mind was an ogre.
Even ten Gold-rankers like the Jeban I'd seen before wouldn't stand a chance.
And that one had been missing a wrist, pickled in drugs for years in the colosseum.
A pristine king of the mountains would be even more monstrous.
I couldn't fathom how the colosseum bastards had captured it.
“Oh, and orcs that lose territorial battles in the Lunaria Plains beyond the range often cross over and settle here.”
“And if they survive, they become mountain orcs?”
“Exactly. But if their numbers swell too much, they hold a hunting festival.”
“Ah, I know about that.”
The Orc Hunting Festival.
A event where mercenaries hunted orcs that migrated from the Lunaria Plains, then looted their settlements.
The Lunaria Plains were a dangerous grassland teeming with orcs, but the goods they brought were priceless rarities.
The kingdom used it to cull the mountain ecosystem periodically.
“Speaking of which, it's about time for the next one.”
“Oh, really? Any idea when?”
“Not sure, but lately there've been reports of mercenaries taking losses to orcs.”
Predicting the timing based on orc-related casualties.
Made sense—Silver-rankers shouldn't fall to orcs easily.
And mercenaries, who operated in groups by default, getting hunted in reverse? That was unusual.
“Probably this year or next.”
“Does the Boyd family participate often?”
“Yes, most nobles do. Even the royals send contingents.”
“Oh...”
A massive event, then.
It was basically raiding treasure troves, after all.
No risk too great when noble houses mobilized en masse.
And if it was that kind of festival, would they send me?
I probably wouldn't have gone before, but with all this training, it seemed they were easing me into real work.
They'd even announced they'd pay handsomely for jobs.
“In the last festival, a troll suddenly appeared from the mountainside...”
Anyway.
After that, I heard tales of mishaps from past festivals.
Eric, who kept veering off-topic mid-lesson, made for an excellent tutor in my book.
After the lesson,
“Did you enjoy the class?”
As I emerged from the reception room, Rowell was waiting outside.
“Yes, it was good.”
“Eric was praising how quickly you absorb things.”
“Well... nothing too difficult.”
I wasn't knowledgeable, but I wasn't stupid either.
Local geography, basic history, nobles—it felt like listening to fantasy world-building lore. Honestly fun.
“At this rate, I can assign you work ahead of schedule.”
“Wasn't it tomorrow anyway?”
Tomorrow marked exactly the week Rowell had mentioned.
Time had flown with walks and lessons.
“I planned to start with something simple, but you don't need that.”
“...As long as it's not too tough.”
“Do well, and the rewards will be substantial.”
No talk of it being easy.
Of course—if it were, why train me like this?
Jobs needing a compliant Aura user weren't exactly dime-a-dozen.
“By the way, any gains from your outings?”
With lessons done, we headed to the training grounds for my session. Rowell asked about my reconnaissance.
Gains? One in particular.
“Remember those mercenaries I mentioned?”
“Yes, quite famous in the capital region.”
“I commissioned their captain to make me a fake identity.”
Rowell halted mid-stride.
“...You can tell me that?”
“I don't make secrets too big to handle. Just don't tell anyone else.”
A guard dog secretly forging an identity? Crossed a line, no matter how you sliced it.
Better to come clean to Rowell upfront.
“What do you plan to use it for?”
“Not planning to run, but contingencies happen. Prepping one now boosts its credibility.”
A freshly forged ID screamed fake.
One with years of activity logged? Far more convincing.
“Will they even make it properly?”
“They'll try hard... Mind verifying it?”
“...You could've just asked us.”
“Would you have?”
“I'd have done it through complicated channels, keeping it from the young miss.”
“Verification's simpler.”
Outsource the hassle, inspect the results.
And honestly, my "contingency" assumed something going wrong with the Boyd family.
Better a free agent mercenary than deep ties.
Easier to pivot to adventurer later, too.
“Hmmm.”
Rowell seemed to grasp my thinking.
“Well, do as you like.”
He'd overlook it, given how he'd observed me.
“...Thank you.”
“Yes. Seeing you have bandwidth for that reassures me we can proceed quickly.”
...Overlooking it, right?
“Why keep scaring me about this job?”
“Just a simple investigation.”
Investigation.
Simple, he says—but if Rowell was sending me, it wasn't trivial.
“Details tomorrow. Prepare yourself.”
“Understood.”
Well, if he thought I could handle it...
“Training first.”
The rest of the day passed in Rowell's grueling session.
The next day.
“Go here and assist.”
Rowell handed me a map marked with a building.
“What's this place?”
“Astra Trading Company, a business run by the Boyd family.”
“Ah.”
Like a subcontractor, sort of?
“What do I investigate there?”
Trading company—tax audit? Seemed heavy for my newbie knowledge.
“Join the prepped agents for an underground probe.”
“...Underground? Isn't this a trading firm?”
“Front is trade. Reality: an intelligence network run by the second young master.”
...Just heard a massive secret.
Second young master—young miss's little brother, probably.
Never even seen his face, and now this.
“Won't they dismiss me at a place like that?”
“I sent word as my proxy. No worries.”
“Whoa.”
Thought I was a errand boy for a subcontractor.
Turns out, HQ parachute drop.
“Can I strut a bit?”
“As much as your skills allow.”
“I'll flip the place upside down.”
Rowell's backing? Time to flex.
“Don't cause too much trouble.”
“Got it.”
“A few key points before you go.”
And so,
After Rowell's quick briefing on precautions, I headed to Astra Trading Company.