The Veteran Adventurers' Early Vacation (1)
The vast majority of adventurers were day laborers, barely scraping by from one meal to the next.
Autumn was the season that decided how well those adventurers had lived through the past year.
Of course, that only applied to C-rank and higher adventurers who had managed not to squander everything. The ones commonly called veterans fell outside that rule entirely.
Take, for example, a reasonably well-known veteran party: Jurin and the Gang.
Thanks to their spectacular performance against the Akusare Golem Abominations (Catherine's name for them) in Fungusby the previous summer, they had walked away with a handsome bonus. After that they joined the Grizzly Beaver subjugation. When the scope of the hunt expanded, they found themselves sitting on far more coin than they had ever expected. So they simply declared the commission finished.
They would winter in Coldon—the most expensive city in all of Iceland—inside the inner castle walls, under the thin excuse of waiting out the cold.
"All right. Getting here was fine and all," muttered Clink, the gnome thief, awkwardly scratching his cheek as he eyed the people around them. Their clothes alone set them apart from the outer-city crowd. "But what exactly are we supposed to do inside the inner castle?"
Silence settled over the party.
Even if Jurin and the Gang were veterans, they were still adventurers. Their idea of wintering was no different from any other adventurer's: gambling as a baseline, liquor as a necessity, brawling and brothels as optional extras. Yet here they stood inside the inner walls.
Whether it was because the residents actually had money or simply lived differently, the scenery of the inner castle left most of the party stunned. Clean building façades free of soot and dust. Cloth that swayed and whispered with every movement. A faint, sweet scent hanging over the entire street as if it were the latest fashion. The only thing the outer city shared with this place was the complete absence of filth on the ground.
To put it bluntly, the men felt cowed.
Lumiere, who had visited inner castles of various cities as a priest long before becoming an adventurer, found their reaction hard to understand.
"What do you mean, 'what are we going to do'? You said we came to enjoy a vacation in the inner castle."
"Ah, the fanatic. This is just a bunch of mayflies who wandered into a place that doesn't match their station, fretting like cubs that lost their mother."
"Who's fretting?"
Aindelf scowled, glaring at the elf archer Erica, who had just flicked Lumiere—priestess of Yustitia—on the shoulder.
"What, are you saying you women are used to this place?"
"Obviously."
"Oh? Wait—what? Obviously?"
"…Dwarf. Get those eyes off me before I put an arrow through them."
"Look, I can accept the prayer-obsessed fanatic over there, but—"
"Who are you calling a fanatic!"
Lumiere bristled. No one in Jurin and the Gang so much as flinched. Completely ignored, she protested alone.
"This is called faith…!"
"As a society we agreed to call yours fanaticism."
"Lady Yustitia even granted me her blessing for a short while!"
"Yeah, yeah, your shit's the thickest. Anyway. You—pointy-ears. You've been to the inner castle a lot?"
"Obviously."
Erica shook her head, and her silky golden hair rippled like water.
"Unlike you dick-swinging mayflies who get roaring drunk, start brawls, and then go whoring, elegant me has spent many refined days inside these walls."
"Ha. You? Elegant?"
"And if I am?"
Erica bent her wrist and held it out. She rested her chin on the back of her hand, closed her mouth, and slowly—deliberately—blinked. Once. Twice.
Gone was every trace of the rough back-alley thug. In her place stood a slender, coldly beautiful elf who somehow called to mind a single dandelion blooming too early on a frozen northern plain.
Aindelf and Clink openly clicked their tongues. For all her mouth that could make a hag recoil, her looks were pure elf. They hated to admit it, but once she shut up there was nothing left to argue.
They hated to admit it.
Watching the scene, Jurin clapped his hands and drew the party's attention.
"Well now, isn't this perfect?"
"What fresh nonsense is this?"
"Nonsense? For the sake of us men who are visiting the inner castle for the first time, Erica, why don't you show us where one goes first upon arriving at a place like this?"
"What?"
Erica's refined expression collapsed into a scowl. She jabbed a thumb at herself, fully back to her usual delinquent air.
"Me?"
"That's right."
"You lot?"
"Why?"
"Because, Erica, in this particular field you are our senior, are you not?"
Aindelf stared at Jurin with the look of a man who had just witnessed something indescribable.
"Her? A senior? You lost your mind?"
"Well, it is true we've never been to the inner district before."
"Even so, pointy-ears as senior? Jurin, are you even listening to yourself?"
"Beanpole's not wrong, but the idea still pisses me off."
"Exactly!"
The men of the party raised such a racket that nearby passersby inevitably turned to stare. Lumiere took one, two, three deliberate steps away from the group. Erica casually drifted after her.
Erica frowned at the men. Why on earth should she drag a pack of hairy brutes around the inner castle?
"Erica."
"What is it, fanatic?"
"I keep telling you—it's faith."
"What's the difference?"
"…Never mind. Sigh. Honestly, this is basically my first time too."
"What, the inner castle?"
Erica looked genuinely surprised.
"Fanatic. Don't you come and go more often than I do?"
"Only for work, visiting the temple. Then I leave immediately."
"You're an adventurer too. Live a little more decadently."
"Was that a compliment?"
"Tsk."
Even so, Erica was one of only two women in a party soaked in blood, sweat, and grease. She couldn't treat Lumiere as harshly as she did the men. She wasn't that cold-hearted.
Wait a second. That actually changed things a little.
A mischievous smile flickered across Erica's face. She cleared her throat softly, then slammed the backs of Aindelf's and Clink's heads with full force while they were still arguing.
"Lowly mayflies. I've changed my mind. As your 'senior,' this body will introduce you to the shops I frequent in Coldon's inner castle."
"What? Who said senior!?"
"And why didn't you hit his head? Why only us!"
Clink pointed at Jurin in protest. Jurin merely blinked with an expression of pure innocence.
Erica's answer was simple.
"You worthless ground-crawlers dare lay a finger on the precious head of our mage? What if you make him stupid and he forgets his spells? You going to take responsibility?"
Aindelf and Clink shut their mouths at once.
"Besides, male mayflies, you have no right to object to anything."
"What garbage is this archer spouting n—"
"Our noble party healer personally requested the tour."
Jurin and the Gang operated on equality in principle, but the votes of a lowly warrior and thief were not equal to those of a noble mage and healer. Even if they took a majority vote it would be three to two. The party will would force them to follow Erica.
That didn't stop them from sulking. Aindelf and Clink sealed their lips in a petulant silence.
Yet when Erica led them to the shop where she supposedly spent her "vacations," their mouths opened of their own accord. Even Jurin and Lumiere looked blank, as if they had never imagined ending up somewhere like this. Clink was the first to recover enough to speak.
"Hey, Erica. Why'd you stop in front of this place?"
"You mayflies asked your 'senior' to show you how people enjoy the inner castle, didn't you? So as your 'senior' I simply brought you to a shop I've visited several times while passing through Coldon."
"Hey! There's still such a thing as common decency! You can't just drag us to a place like this!"
"Is there a problem?"
"Of course there is!"
Everyone except Erica was overwhelmed by the shop's appearance. Soft pastel tones everywhere. Not flashy, yet refined in its restraint. At a glance it radiated the air of a place that only people with real money and status would enter. And then there was the smell drifting from inside. The rich aroma of butter and sweetness seeping even through the glass windows told even men who had never set foot in such a place exactly what it was.
Aindelf shuddered and stammered.
"Y-you… you dragged us to a dessert café."
"It's just a dessert shop. Why are you so terrified?"
"You absurd elf, how can you even say that…!"
"Our party healer seems to like it just fine, though."
The dwarf and the gnome whipped their heads around.
Lumiere stood with both hands clasped to her chest, her flushed face full of open anticipation. Normally her expression was cold and stern; the moment religion came up she flared, and the sight of undead or heretics sent her into a frenzy. Right now she was completely different—soft, almost squishy with excitement. Everyone could see her silently mouthing the words "dessert café" over and over.
And yes, Lumiere was looking forward to it. Even while working as an adventurer she was still a priestess who served a goddess, and she was also a woman who loved desserts and small, cute animals.
"A female believer whose idea of indulgence is a single glass of wine was never going to resist this kind of temptation."
"…Hah! No! Wh-who said I was tempted by this extravagant smell?"
"A priest telling lies? Wipe that blush off your face first."
Oh no.
Lumiere quickly took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Of course the flush refused to leave her cheeks. Jurin watched and simply shrugged.
"So what if we indulge a little?"
"Don't try to seduce me with those wicked words."
"Seduce? Luxury is simply spending money beyond your station. Clink, let me ask you one thing."
Clink looked up at him sourly.
"What."
"How much did our party earn this time?"
"I'd have to count exactly, but even after setting aside the party fund we've got dozens of gold coins and several fat pouches of silver. Unless we blow it all gambling—"
"So visiting a high-class café in the inner castle wouldn't even leave a scratch, would it?"
"Well… yeah."
Clink nodded, looking thoroughly displeased.
"Still, this is waste…!"
"Waste? Proper spending like this is the very engine that keeps society running smoothly."
"What?"
"If we spend money at a place like this, that money reaches the staff. The staff will spend what they earn in their own ways, whatever those may be."
"Well, yeah, people work to eat."
"And where do you think all the utensils and ingredients this café uses come from?"
Spending beyond one's means was luxury. Appropriate spending, however, was the force that kept society moving.
"Artisans like blacksmiths… and farmers?"
Lumiere answered hesitantly, still sneaking glances at the café.
"Tools and raw ingredients would all come from them."
"Exactly. In other words, we didn't come here to waste money. We came to supply society with a proper amount of coin through consumption."
"Proper consumption…"
Hesitation still lingered, but Lumiere's heart had visibly tipped to one side.
"Well then, now that the brat's been persuaded, shall we head inside?"
"Who are you calling a brat!"
"Oh? I never named anyone. Feeling guilty, are we?"
Still bickering, the party quieted as they approached the pastel-colored entrance.
"…What is this?"
"Hmm?"
And then, faced with an interior that defied all imagination, even Erica—who had visited more than once—joined the rest of the party in pure, open-mouthed shock.