Mistra, the Great City (Part 2)
After leaving the magic shop, Lawrence sat down on a nearby bench.
Watching the passersby crossing and recrossing the street, he felt as if the knots in his head had loosened a little.
So that was it.
He understood now why there was no special qualification required to buy a grimoire.
This was a kind of sorting process.
To reach the mysteries of the world, one needed talent.
If you had no talent, then for magic, even standing at the starting line was impossible.
There was no need for the Magic Tower to go searching for gifted people.
A magic shop in a fairly sizable town.
The money to buy a grimoire that cost gold coins.
The knowledge to decipher the grimoire.
Whether by accident or design, if one could clear those minimum conditions, their steps would naturally lead them toward the Magic Tower.
Mages were always starving for magic.
A thirst for the truths of the world could only be slaked by greater mysteries.
That was why mages gathered at the Magic Tower.
As everyone knew, the Royal Academy was a place of learning for nobles.
Or perhaps, if one had noble patronage, one might be allowed inside.
But for ordinary people from neither one nor the other, the Magic Tower was, in truth, the only option they were given.
“Mister Mage?”
He cut off his train of thought.
Someone was speaking to Lawrence, who had been lost in thought.
When he looked up, he saw a man with his hood pulled low over his face.
He was one of the customers from the magic shop.
“What is it?”
“I’m sorry for speaking to you so suddenly. Could you spare me a moment? Ah, I’m not some suspicious fellow.”
“Get to the point.”
The man’s rambling made him seem even more suspicious.
Lawrence, with his bag covered by his robe, did not let his guard down.
“Could we move somewhere else? If we had something to drink, we could talk slowly—”
“Excuse me.”
“No, no. I’ll speak here.”
As Lawrence rose to his feet, the man hurriedly corrected himself.
“I’m sorry. The truth is, I have a favor to ask of you, Mister Mage.”
“A favor? Of someone you met for the first time today?”
“Well… yes.”
“……”
The more he heard, the more suspicious it sounded.
Lawrence was just starting to slide one foot back when the man spoke again.
“I’d like to ask for a ritual spell.”
“What kind of spell?”
“A ritual spell. You know… that sort of thing, don’t you?”
The important part was getting lost.
At the man’s muttered, indistinct voice, Lawrence frowned.
“Speak up. I can’t hear you.”
“A ritual spell to prove it…”
“If you don’t want to say it, I’m leaving.”
“I’d like to ask for a ritual spell to prove a lady’s chastity!”
At the man’s shout, the passersby turned to stare.
Feeling those sudden eyes on him, he yanked his hood lower still.
The attention quickly faded.
Once the people had gone on their way again, Lawrence spoke.
“You’re a man, aren’t you?”
“Not for me—for our young lady. I’d like to ask for the ritual spell for her.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t deal in that kind of magic.”
“I know that.”
The man nodded.
“In fact, I overheard the conversation you had with the clerk at the shop.”
“That’s remarkably rude for someone you’ve just met.”
“I’m sorry. I know it was rude, and still I’m asking. It’s shameless of me, but if possible, could you learn the ritual spell at the Magic Tower and bring it back?”
“……”
For a moment, Lawrence was at a loss for words.
It was shameless, yes, but more than that—it was absurd.
“I’m not asking you to do it for free. If you grant my request, I’ll sponsor you, Mister Mage.”
“I refuse.”
“Could you think about it just once more? The patronage of a house isn’t something just anyone can receive. If you seize this chance… that’s right! You might even be able to enter the Royal Academy.”
“There’s no room for reconsideration. And let me make one thing clear: magic isn’t something that can be learned so easily.”
He had only wasted his time for nothing.
Lawrence left without looking back.
“If you change your mind, please come to Anatacio Monastery! I’m usually going back and forth from the monastery!”
Only the man’s desperate cry echoed hollowly behind him.
* * *
Lawrence headed first for a restaurant.
It was a little late for lunch.
Even so, the place was still fairly full.
For a shop he had entered on short notice, it felt like he’d picked well.
“Welcome. What would you like to order?”
The waitress’s outfit did a thorough job of emphasizing her chest.
She handed him the menu she had brought on her tray.
“This is my first time visiting Mistra. If you have any recommendations, I’d like to hear them.”
“Oh my. It’s your first time in Mistra? You’re lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“Yes, sir. You came to Mistra, and the first restaurant you visited was ours. That really is lucky.”
Lawrence gave a faint laugh at the waitress’s quick wit.
“You’re even cuter when you smile. To be honest, whatever you order will be delicious. Still, if I had to pick the best of the lot… guyaš with lamb, bacon with a buttery aroma, and cheese and sausage with our special sauce are some of our signature dishes.”
“Then I’ll order all of those.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. And a cold milk to drink. I’d appreciate it if you brought whatever’s ready first.”
He placed one copper coin on the table.
She quickly slipped the tip away beneath her skirt.
“Thank you. We’ll have it ready as quickly as possible.”
Taking the menu with her, the waitress hurried off.
When the food came a little later, it was just as delicious as she had promised.
Even if the bacon and sausage had familiar flavors.
The stew, with lamb and all kinds of vegetables cut into neat little squares, was a dish with real substance to it.
It had been a while since he’d eaten something with that much chew.
Maybe it was because he had grown sick of fish in Franc.
Herring, whatever its taste, had almost no bite to it.
To put it bluntly, it was the sort of thing that didn’t even feel like it filled your stomach.
As expected, people needed meat.
“Thank you. Please come again.”
Leaving the waitress’s farewell behind him, Lawrence headed for the mercenary guild.
The Mistra branch of the mercenary guild was every bit as grand as the city itself.
The guild interior was clean and well kept.
The smoke from habitual pipes was nowhere to be seen.
Mercenaries waiting their turn sat on the benches, while others could be seen consulting ledgers in one corner of the guild.
It was nothing like the other branches, which had felt like marketplaces.
There was no sign of the shouting and curses that usually flew through a guild hall.
The quiet atmosphere was so unusual that Lawrence almost wondered whether this was really the mercenary guild he knew.
His turn came quickly.
There were as many as ten reception desks in view.
Even with so many mercenaries, the flow was fast enough that there was no need to wait long.
“Welcome to the Mistra branch of the mercenary guild.”
The receptionist greeted Lawrence in a bright voice.
“Thank you for your hard work. I’m looking for a request.”
“A request, is it? First, may I see your mercenary plate?”
“Here it is.”
“Thank you for your cooperation. Please wait a moment.”
She checked the plate Lawrence handed over.
As she examined it, the corners of the receptionist’s eyes rose.
“You’re from the Holy Cross Order?”
“May the Goddess’s blessing be with you.”
“May the Goddess’s blessing be with you. It can’t be easy balancing the work of a cleric and a mercenary. You must have your hands full.”
With a small smile, she returned the plate to Lawrence.
“Are you looking for any particular request?”
“I’m looking for an escort request to the Magic Tower.”
“An escort request to the Magic Tower, then. Is there a particular scale or number of people you want? If not, I can start with the best-paying escort requests.”
He thought for a moment before speaking.
“If possible, I’d like an escort with as few companions as possible. I’d rather take a job with just a merchant and me, even if the pay is a little lower, than a caravan escort with a lot of people.”
He had been taking on nothing but jobs crowded with people lately.
His body might have been fine, but the mental strain had been considerable.
For the road to the Magic Tower, he wanted something a little more comfortable.
“An escort for a merchant traveling to the Magic Tower. One person. Is that the kind of request you want?”
“It is.”
“Please wait a moment. I’ll find you a request that matches your conditions.”
The receptionist took a stack of documents from a drawer.
Judging by the way her hands and eyes moved busily, they all seemed to be escort requests.
“There are seven requests that match your conditions. They’re all escort requests for merchants heading to the Magic Tower. The rank is Bronze Plate. As long as the departure date matches, they should be fine. Is there a date you’d prefer?”
“I’d prefer one that leaves in a week.”
He had paid for the inn for exactly a week.
By then, he thought, the weariness of the road ought to have worn off too.
“One week. There is one request that fits. Please check it, and if you don’t like it, you can wait until other requests come in.”
Lawrence accepted the request form she handed him.
The date was one week from today.
The departure time was 7 a.m.
The mercenary required was Bronze Plate rank.
The client requesting an escort to the Magic Tower was a merchant.
But when the boy checked the merchant’s name, his eyes stopped moving.
“Is there some kind of problem?”
“No. I’ll take this request.”
“Understood. The guild will contact the client on your behalf. If, due to some sudden matter, you cannot take the request, please contact us in advance. Also, please note that any resulting responsibility rests with you personally.”
It was the standard warning given with every request.
Even hearing it again, nothing about it was particularly unusual.
Lawrence’s attention was fixed on the name he had just seen.
Lionel of the Mistra Merchant Group.
He had never expected to see that name here.
“That will be all. Is there anything else you’d like to ask?”
“I’d like to know what monsters appear on the road to the Magic Tower.”
The receptionist paused with a hand half-extended toward the drawer.
“On the road from Mistra to the Magic Tower, you’ll mainly encounter knolls and goblins. There were occasional orc sightings in the past, but they’re almost never seen now, so you can think of it as those two kinds of monsters only—knolls and goblins.”
“Knolls and goblins.”
“If you’d like information on those two monsters, I can provide it.”
“No. If it’s just those two, I don’t think I need it.”
Now he understood why she had hesitated earlier.
If you had been working as a mercenary for any length of time, they weren’t unfamiliar monsters.
“The orcs you mentioned earlier—were they a particular tribe?”
“They were in the past, apparently. But they were wiped out long ago. Any individuals encountered now are said to be stragglers, so there’s no need to worry too much. If you check the reports, they show up once every three months or so, if at all.”
That might actually be a shame.
After all, orcs’ noses could be turned in for a fixed reward.
Three silver per head.
He had no idea how much money he would end up spending at the Magic Tower, so if there were any extra scraps of income to be had beyond the escort fee, it would be best to gather as much as possible.
“Thank you. You’ve helped me finish my business quickly.”
“It’s what we’re here for. If we receive any contact from the client, where should we send the letter?”
After giving them the address of his inn, Lawrence left the mercenary guild behind.
* * *
By the time he returned to the inn, the sun had already set.
He had eaten lunch late, and between that and the hearty meal, he still wasn’t thinking about food.
After going up to his room and washing up, Lawrence came back down to the first-floor hall.
A small song was floating through the lively inn.
“…And so the great mage Leano cast her spell. Oh, behold. This magic, like the fury of nature itself, was to be the great spell that would end the war.”
A lovely bard was playing a lute.
Unlike the inns in Rombamel, there was no raised platform or stage.
She merely sat on a chair and sang.
With the place so noisy all around her, it was hard to hear clearly anyway.
Lawrence, seated not too far from the bard, ordered something simple to eat.
Just as a song seemed to end, the bard rose and bowed her head.
“Good song!”
“Thank you. If you enjoyed it, I’d be grateful if you could fill my hat a little.”
“Of course. That’s only right.”
“It’s not much, but it’s a token of appreciation for a good song.”
“I’m more interested in the song the lady might sing for me in bed.”
“Wahaha! Now that does interest me too.”
At the crude banter, the bard’s face flushed red.
But only for a moment.
As if she had not heard it, she moved on to the next song.
“This time, a song about the ill-fated young lady exiled to a monastery. It is the Song of Margaret.”
As Lawrence ate his skewer, he listened to the bard’s song.
“Margaret’s beauty was such that men came from far-off lands to see it. But beauty beyond one’s station only invites calamity. Oh, what is to be done? Poor, sorrowful Margaret. Her father, moved to pity, sent her to a monastery.”
It was a song about the life of the beautiful woman Margaret.
Forced into a monastery, she had lived as though she were not there at all.
In the end, she had gone on to marry a good nobleman, so the song said.
But the road that led her there was so painfully long that, paired with the bard’s mournful melody, it brought tears to his eyes.
“What a relief. What a relief indeed.”
“Honestly, being a noble doesn’t sound so easy on the heart either.”
“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about poison when we eat stew, do we?”
As if to chase away the melancholy, laughter rose around him.
Having listened to the song, Lawrence dropped five copper coins into the hat.
It was a performance worth the tip.
That was how a bard ought to be.
Once again, he was reminded of just how terrible Cedric’s singing was.