Coldon Adventurers' Guild First Branch
What kind of profession is an adventurer, really?
To put it bluntly, they are all-purpose problem solvers.
The work an adventurer takes on ranges from simple hunting, transport, and deliveries to pioneering, exploration, dungeon raids, intelligence gathering, subjugation, and countless other tasks.
Even if a specialist exists who focuses solely on subjugation, that adventurer never purely accepts only those commissions. So rather than defining adventurers as mercenaries, laborers, couriers, soldiers, or any single thing, it is better to lump them together as problem solvers and then classify them from there.
For that reason, the Adventurers' Guild never suffers from a shortage of commissions themselves. Wherever people gather, demand arises for one reason or another, and people always show up for the rewards, large or small.
Even if that place happens to be a backwater within Seophon Kingdom—itself already known across the Europa Continent as a remote frontier.
"This is... a little unexpected."
Karem muttered without thinking.
The season right now was winter, no matter who said otherwise. A time when both the wild and civilization took their rest. Yet the Coldon Adventurers' Guild First Branch was surprisingly lively.
"What do you mean, unexpected?"
"There are more people than I thought?"
Karem looked around. Adventurers checking the board, nobles filing commissions, people chatting in the lobby, servants and maids moving with trays, a bard plucking a lute—the place was full.
Of course, Karem had never experienced a normal winter in Coldon. Last winter? Winter-Ascend. It had been more intense than this, never less. Back then he could see the entire city burning with passion and excitement even from the tower; giant bonfires had blazed in the plazas.
"No, it's just that it was fairly quiet outside. I figured the guild would be the same. But there's way more people than I expected."
"Where people live, all kinds of problems arise, and those problems become commissions for adventurers."
Catherine glanced at Karem and handed her staff to Mary.
"Unless a mobilization order drops, the only adventurers active in winter are the ones who prepared poorly for overwintering."
"Ahh, so that's why."
The First Branch was not as lavish as a hotel from his previous life, but it was the most splendid building he had ever set foot in—aside from Winterhome. True to that, the first-floor lobby was spacious and ornate.
The people, however, were at opposite extremes. Aside from the clients who looked like they were filing commissions, every single person standing at the counter and board, broadcasting "I am an adventurer" with their entire body, had a face that looked rotten through. In contrast, the lobby itself was lively to a fault. Except for a few gloomy figures who seemed to have their own troubles, the tables were noisy in time with the bard's song, and servants and maids bustled about carrying trays.
"By the way, I can feel eyes on us."
"Eyes? Suddenly?"
Wondering what she meant, Karem tilted his head—then saw a receptionist suddenly leap up and sprint from the counter toward the stairs to the second floor.
"Ah. You meant that person."
"That one too, of course. But the people around us seem to have started noticing as well."
As proof, even to Karem's eyes some of the adventurers and nobles who had been minding their own business in the lobby began showing a peculiar interest.
"Being inside the Inner Castle means their skill has already been proven."
"You mean you recognized them by eye?"
"Yes."
Catherine glanced up at Karem, then pulled the hood of her robe a little deeper.
"If you want to live, you end up training that skill whether you like it or not."
She was right. Even to Karem, who knew nothing of fashion, Catherine's robe looked extraordinary. A deep brown robe with a subtle, luxurious sheen; when she shook off the snow that had piled on it, the flakes fell straight to the floor as if it were waterproofed. Mary's outfit was her usual black dress with a white apron covering her shoulders and front and a white cap—nothing more. In this freezing weather, that alone marked her as someone unusual regardless of race. And with that extravagantly ornate staff out in the open, of course even people who knew nothing would take interest.
"More than that, you're getting stares too."
"Huh? Who is? Me?"
"Yes. You, kid."
"Why?"
Catherine started to lift her head to look at Karem, then jerked it down again and shook it.
"A young man who looks ordinary, even if he's wearing decent clothes, walking as a companion beside two people who clearly look anything but ordinary."
Mary nodded along.
"Doesn't that look suspicious to anyone?"
Karem could not deny that part. In a park full of monsters, the most dangerous thing is the little girl calmly waving with a science book in her hand.
"So, Contractor. Shall we avoid the attention?"
"No. Someone will be here soon."
"Someone... ah."
Mary, who had been tilting her head, looked toward the stairs. The receptionist who had scrambled up moments earlier was now coming down as if nothing had happened and approaching them.
"I apologize for the delay in receiving our distinguished guest."
"It's fine. Guide us."
"I will take you straight to the Guild Master."
They went up to the second floor, marked off-limits to non-staff. If the first-floor lobby was a space for work and socializing, the second floor seemed designed for proper VIP hospitality and was even more lavish.
The Adventurers' Guild.
The position of Guild Master at a place commonly just called "the guild" was never a low one. Representing every adventurer in a typical town or city, managing them directly or indirectly, and arranging commissions—the status of the guild's representative could not be low. The prestige of Coldon Adventurers' Guild First Branch stood even higher than that of other branches in Iceland. Its location inside the Inner Castle of Coldon, Iceland's largest city, proved it. That the First Branch Guild Master's standing far outranked that of other branch masters across Iceland and Coldon was only natural.
"Supreme Magical Advisor of Atanitas! Welcome to Coldon Adventurers' Guild First Branch!"
But there is always a sky above the sky. In accordance with the iron laws of power, First Branch Guild Master Ulfred personally welcomed the guest of honor and her party outside the reception room. Welcoming them was only proper.
Former S-rank adventurer, the Great Spirit of the Cold Wave. Sage-level Archmage. Supreme Magical Advisor to the Duke of Iceland. Any one of those three alone would make someone a guest of honor; Catherine Marigold Atanitas, who held all three, deserved VVIP treatment wherever she went in Coldon. Most ambitious people would try to use a meeting with a VVIP as a chance to leap even higher.
Ulfred's feelings as he received such a guest, however...
Dear gods. Why does this have to happen to me of all people!
...clearly belonged to a tiny minority of exceptions.
Of course Ulfred himself had once been a hot-blooded young man who dreamed of higher status, wealth, and fame as an adventurer. But time had taught him. Higher status, wealth, and fame were directly proportional to the amount of work. An inevitable phenomenon. An absolute, unchanging law.
You scammed me! Freeman, you traitor!
Brawls between drunks swinging desks and chairs at each other. A mug of Eisenwald beer after a hard commission. The freedom to sprawl in bed all day on a day off. He missed every bit of that daily life. But it was already too late. The previous First Branch Guild Master had abandoned the post and vanished, and the workload that came with the title overflowed exactly as one would expect of the Inner Castle of Iceland's largest city. Decades had passed since then, and adapting to the Guild Master seat? People don't change. Ulfred still regretted the decision of his youth. If he could go back, he would reverse it somehow.
Of course, over those long years as First Branch Guild Master he had met high personages without rest. He had even had a private audience with the Duke of Iceland himself. But every time he met someone high up (and he himself was high up enough), work always came crawling up from under his feet like sewer slime, hand in hand with incidents.
So Ulfred swallowed dryly, keeping his face carefully blank, and received Catherine.
"...Welc'me?"
His voice cracked.
"No, you heard correctly."
"Ahem. So, you mean only the stems, leaves, and roots of the Alraune—not the fruit or the head."
While the representatives talked, Karem quietly extended the hand that had been tapping his thigh toward the table. The receptionist who had guided them had brought out a fairly large basket of snacks that immediately piqued his curiosity. Flat square, triangle, and circle-shaped pieces looked like cookies at a glance, yet they were far too neat and clean to be cookies. Smooth beige surfaces. Not a single rough or uneven feel.
"Certainly, unlike the Alraune fruit and head, which are always in high demand, the other by-products have limited uses..."
"I can't go around visiting every alchemist and mage in Coldon one by one."
Karem picked up a beige snack. The hard-yet-soft texture under his fingers only deepened the mystery. Almost no moisture at all. No—more oiliness than moisture? A strange greasiness.
Normally, one would hesitate to reach for something unfamiliar, especially if it was food. But the smell is pretty decent.
The beige snack carried a sweet-and-salty aroma that finished with the savory scent of cheese. Honestly, if it hadn't looked like a child's toy, he would have eaten it without a second thought.
"In that case, I will draft the commission form at once."
"I'd like to receive it today if possible. Can you manage that?"
"The form is mere formality; circulating the word won't take long."
Gulp. No—thinking about it, they were guests. And a host would never bring something harmful to a guest. Karem took a round beige snack from the basket and bit into it.
Snap!
A clean, crisp little sound. With every chew the snack left a crunchy yet peculiar texture. The feeling of the crisp layers scattering piece by piece as his teeth moved? A sweet-and-salty taste, and as he chewed the mild savory cheese flavor—mozzarella—grew stronger and stronger. Karem was certain. It was definitely not a cookie. But it was just as clearly not cheese. Otherwise Mary, guardian deity of flour, butter, and dairy, would have unceremoniously cleaned out the entire basket. Even so, she seemed to like it well enough; she kept eating slowly while tilting her head a little, still unable to decide what it was.
"Hmm? About the quantity, though... If it is not too bold, may I ask how you intend to use the commissioned goods?"
"Hm? Is something bothering you?"
"Well, the quantity seems rather large for simple experimental use."
"That's because it isn't something for experiments."
When Catherine stated it cleanly, Ulfred broke into a cold sweat. If it wasn't experimental material, the usual purpose was obvious. Then her next words brought relief—
"I'm going to brew it into a drink."
—and then pure horror.
"I-if you'll pardon me, every part of the Alraune except the fruit and head is deadly poi—"
"As if I wouldn't know that. Proper processing removes the poison."
"...I believe I will need to confirm this matter with my own two eyes."
Catherine understood Ulfred's reaction. Alraune poison had limited effects, and killing a person with it was far too easy. Suspicion was only natural. How much had she herself doubted it the first time, before tasting it at Afterglow Fortress?
And resolving that suspicion was simple.
"Then we can just drink it together."
What.