Rendezvous at the Gloomy Barley Beer
After the rather suspicious company employee incident (4), we kept heading east. Judging by the gradually changing scenery, we'd nearly reached the empire's border region. Jagged gray mountains, trees already turned sickly yellow even though autumn hadn't arrived, and the occasional corpses and bones scattered about. The single ray of sunset light at our backs mingled with the encroaching dusk from ahead, creating a bleak atmosphere over the Grangtest Empire's frontier.
Travelers passing by eyed us warily, and the border guards we encountered were downright rude. I was convinced all over again that moving to the Nant Duchy had been the right call.
"You okay?"
Celestine's face looked awful after riding nonstop from morning till sunset.
"I'm f-fine…!"
"Just a bit farther and we'll hit the border outpost. We'll rest there."
"Y-yes, Mr. Clerk…!"
An hour later, full darkness had fallen. Up ahead, twinkling lights suggested we'd almost reached the village with the empire's border outpost. We slowed our horses and entered the village.
"What do you want?"
A border guard at the village entrance barked at us gruffly.
"We're from the Nant Duchy. Here to escort clients relocating to the duchy."
"Duchy? Relocating? Clients? Escort?"
The guard reacted like every word out of my mouth was a blatant lie. Only after I showed him copies of our guild permit and the request letter did he let us pass into the village.
Celestine pulled her horse up close beside mine and whispered,
"They're so rude. Why are they so mad?"
"Can't be helped. The empire's border is nothing like the duchy—everyone here's on edge."
We rode on to the inn where we were supposed to meet the clients.
"Excuse me, where's the Gloomy Barley Beer inn?"
We asked a passerby, but he ignored us completely and kept walking. Yeah, it really hit home that we were in the empire now.
"Isn't that it over there?"
"Oh, yeah. Let's check it out."
Thankfully, Celestine spotted the sign from afar and found the place. The two-story wooden building looked rundown, with a few drunks slumped out front, soaked in booze. I wondered if this was really it, but the sign clearly read Gloomy Barley Beer.
I shoved open the creaking door, and a wave of foul alcohol stench hit us.
"Ugh…!"
Celestine, who always smelled faintly of perfume, pinched her nose and staggered back. The inn's first floor looked less like lodging and more like a dive bar. Dim, cheap candles flickered weakly; the tables and chairs were old, chipped, and faded. Smoke from what I guessed was the kitchen hung thick in the air, and the floor was sticky underfoot. And the moment we stepped in, suspicious, hostile glares poured our way—aggressive as hell.
Yeah, yeah. This is the dark fantasy Grangtest Empire, alright.
No one acted like they knew us, so the clients hadn't arrived yet. We grabbed a table in the corner, and a server approached, planting one foot on a chair with a sour expression.
"Staying the night? Or just eating?"
"Why the attitude?"
I shot back, and she looked me up and down before sighing heavily.
"You staying or just eating?"
"Just eating for now. Menu…?"
Before I could finish, she turned and walked off.
"What's her problem? Did we do something wrong?"
Celestine stared at the back of her head, genuinely puzzled.
"Aren't you gonna say something?"
"Like what?"
"Y'know… tell her to treat customers with a little respect?"
"You think I wanna let a jerk like that slide?"
The border guards and locals here were extremely hostile to outsiders. If a fight broke out, we'd be at a huge disadvantage. Plus, this job paid big bucks—I didn't want to screw it up over a moment's temper.
Celestine nodded along to my explanation and settled back into her chair. The server returned, slamming down massive bowls in front of us before leaving.
Celestine's eyes went wide at the sight.
"What, they give us dog food…?"
"Not dog food—stew."
"This?"
What the server brought was the inn's staple: eternal stew. They toss every scrap of leftover ingredients into a giant pot, boil it down, add water and more scraps, boil again. Some inns brag about keeping the fire going under theirs for a full decade without letting it go out. With a "recipe" like that, no wonder it looked like garbage to an outsider.
"I can't eat this."
Celestine shoved her bowl away.
"Aren't you hungry?"
"I'd rather stay hungry."
Honestly, even I wasn't thrilled with the stew in front of me. I'd eaten eternal stew at plenty of inns during Great Demon raids, but nothing this visually repulsive. If it bugged me, I could only imagine how Celestine—who'd risen to chief saintess of her order—felt.
Still, maybe I should at least taste it.
"Fuck…."
It was goddamn awful and salty as hell.
"Any leftovers from Leana's lunchbox?"
"I've got some sandwiches we didn't finish earlier. Let's eat those."
We ended up pulling sandwiches from our bags and splitting them. Leana wasn't the world's best cook, but compared to this stew, she was an angel. You might expect the server to complain about us eating outside food, but she just glanced our way. As long as we paid for the stew, no big deal, I guess.
As we quietly munched our sandwiches, snippets of conversation from nearby tables drifted over.
"Heard the rumor? About the 4th Princess."
Ah, the empire's 4th Princess. This oughta be good. Wonder what story's circulating this time.
"4th Princess? What'd that psycho bitch do now? Another crazy stunt?"
"She built herself a harem in her annex."
"Huh…."
"That fucking…."
"Men and women, no distinction."
"She's lost it completely. Totally insane."
Tsks, sighs, curses. Pretty much everyone who heard about the 4th Princess reacted like that. Makes sense—if you're a devout imperial citizen, it's hard to look kindly on a princess whose antics are all for kicks.
She's the only legitimate child among the emperor's grandchildren, which is why she's still breathing. Otherwise, she'd have been exiled ages ago. I'd seen her face a few times myself, and she didn't seem all there. In a dark fantasy game, isn't one batshit crazy royal princess basically a given?
"Still, it's a good thing she's nuts."
Someone spoke up.
"Her loose morals knocked her clean out of the succession race. Imagine if that lunatic had a sound mind and actually became emperor."
"True. She's crazy, but at least her damage stays inside the palace."
"Exactly. Let her blow the royal fortune on her own and die old."
"Gonna be a lot of wailing wherever she's snatching up harem members from."
"Good thing she's ugly, too."
The men chuckled and clinked their beer mugs.
A harem without regard for gender. Tastes as broad as they come.
"Um, Mr. Clerk."
I'd been eavesdropping when Celestine called to me. She'd heard it too, apparently.
"What's a harem?"
"One guy living with multiple women. Or vice versa."
"Gasp?! That's a thing? Like polygamy?"
"Could be marriage, could not."
"Huh? So they live with multiple opposite sexes without marrying? I don't get it."
"It happens. Not that hard to understand."
Celestine gave me a look like she'd witnessed something utterly filthy.
"You get that? I don't. That's beastly behavior."
"Humans are beasts, in the end."
At that, Celestine yanked her bag from beside the chair, rummaged inside, pulled out the small pouch Leana had given her earlier, checked the contents, and shoved it deep back in. What the hell was that about?
Right then, the door opened, and a man walked in. Tall, blond with a neat part. Built like he worked out.
He scanned the room briefly, then headed straight for us.
"Lucas Guild from the Nant Duchy?"
"That's us. Clerk Leonar of Lucas Guild. You're from Dremong Company?"
"Pleased to meet you. Name's Patrick."
This must be the client we'd be escorting. As I shook his outstretched hand, I got a weird vibe. His palm was callused all over. A quick glance down showed knuckles like rocks. Not your average company man.
Patrick and I sat across from each other at the table, with Celestine beside me.
"The clerk himself, huh?"
"Yeah, guild's short-staffed. But I'm a Demon Hunter, so no need to worry."
"Haha, nothing like that. Just curious—usually, regular guild members handle requests like this."
Demon Hunters tend to make people nervous on principle, but Patrick showed zero sign of it.