The Upper-Grade Adventurer, Zenon
The Red Brazier was even more packed with people than it had been a few days earlier. Ian scanned the sweltering heat radiating from the burly crowd, and when he saw there were no seats, he settled onto a wooden bench near the entrance. He was tapping his legs—which had been screaming at him all day after wandering through the forest—when Roskal, who was bringing out more food, spotted him and approached with a grin so wide it looked like his mouth might split.
“Ian, you’re here!”
“Hello, Roskal. It’s been two days, hasn’t it?”
“You came at just the right time—perfect!”
Roskal gave Ian’s shoulder a rough but affectionate pat. Then, without warning, he strode into a corner of the tavern and began dragging out the drunken mercenaries one by one.
“Hey, you bunch of drunks! Stop drinking and get out!”
“Aww… damn innkeeper. Just one more bottle of Wolf’s Howl, c’mon!”
“Yeah… I’m not even drunk yet… hic.”
Roskal showed no mercy and shoved them out the door. Of course, he didn’t forget to thoroughly rifle through their pockets for the cost of their meals. The ejected patrons simply linked arms as if this were routine, singing loudly as they disappeared into the night streets.
The small table cluttered with empty bottles and plates was wiped clean in an instant under Roskal’s meticulous hands. He promptly sat Ian down there. In the man’s gruff kindness, Ian felt a warmth he hadn’t expected in this unfamiliar land.
“Here’s the menu. Everything’s good, so pick whatever you like.”
“Thank you, Roskal.”
Scanning the menu, Ian ordered the nine-silver Assorted Sausages with Pork. Roskal soon brought out a steaming plate and even threw in a cold glass of dark beer as a complimentary service.
The customers at the neighboring table, watching this, jokingly jeered, “Isn’t this discrimination?” But one booming roar from Roskal shut them right up.
“Shut it, you lot! Leave the precious civilian customer alone and drink your damn booze!”
Ian smiled awkwardly and stabbed one of the plump sausages with his fork. The savory flavor of the thickly sliced pork and the salt-kissed, pan-fried sausages was absolutely superb.
He was happily devouring the meat that filled the large plate and occasionally taking a sip of the heavy-bodied dark beer when a long shadow suddenly fell across the table.
Curious, Ian looked up, and his eyes widened slightly. The owner of the shadow was a face he already knew.
It was Zenon Glepian, the red-haired handsome adventurer who had left a strong impression at the Errand Boy Guild. Looking down at Ian, he flashed a friendly smile and asked in a deliberately gentle voice,
“Sorry, there aren’t any seats left in the place. If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind if I join you?”
Ian nodded before he could even think.
Zenon winked gratefully, took the seat across from him, and waved a hand while loudly ordering Beef Brazier Roast and dark beer. From behind the bar, standing before the massive brazier, Roskal shouted back heartily, “Order received!”
Once he’d finished ordering, Zenon turned his gaze to Ian and spoke.
“We’ve met before, haven’t we?”
“Pardon?”
“We saw each other at the Errand Boy Guild yesterday.”
Ian felt an awkward pang in his chest and gave a stiff smile as he nodded. He had indeed secretly observed Zenon and his group yesterday. But none of them had looked his way, so he’d never dreamed they would remember him.
Whew… adventurers really are a bit scary.
At that moment, Zenon let out a low chuckle and spoke with amusement in his voice.
“What’s with that scared, sullen look? Aren’t you a little too naive? Did you come up from some deep, secluded mountain village?”
“Ah, no. It’s just that I’m not very worldly.”
Zenon nodded, still smiling.
“Let me give you one piece of advice. Most people don’t openly stare at veteran adventurers or mercenaries like that. They know very well that those types have eyes in the back of their heads.”
“Ah. I see. I was very rude yesterday. If I offended you, I’m sorry.”
“Come on, there’s no need for an apology.”
Ian nodded with a rigid expression.
He’s smiling kindly and striking up conversation, but in truth, he’s carefully examining what kind of person I am.
The sharp gaze hidden behind the mask of goodwill—assessing whether Ian would be harmful or not. Perhaps because of his orphanage days, when he had been forced to become hypersensitive to other people’s stares and emotions, Ian could clearly sense the invisible aura Zenon was emitting.
But he was clearly innocent. He had simply found the sight of clients registering requests fascinating and watched for a moment.
Once he thought of it that way, he no longer felt the need to shrink back in fear. He knew absolutely nothing about Zenon or the guild he led, the Shield of Thorny Vines Guild. They were essentially meeting and talking for the first time today.
Ian mentally shouted at himself to stand tall and slowly relaxed his tensed shoulders. He picked up the fork he had set down, casually ate another piece of well-cooked pork, and resumed the meal he had briefly paused. Zenon simply watched with quiet interest. Soon, the food Zenon had ordered arrived, and the two continued eating in silence for a while.
Then, at some point, the noisy clamor inside the tavern ebbed like a receding wave, creating a strange lull. Thanks to that, the loud voice from the next table rang clearly in Ian’s ears.
“—Tsk, because of that damned Mage War six hundred years ago, we’re always suffering like this. My arms and legs ache so much I could die.”
“Hey, quit complaining. Thanks to the skeletons and bone beasts left behind by the dark mages, guys like us can still make a living, can’t we?”
“Still, they’ve been popping up way too much lately. I’m sick of them.”
“That’s true. Especially up north in Gelian, around the Ephel Mountains—they say it’s absolute chaos there.”
The hand Ian was using to bring food to his mouth noticeably slowed.
The Mage War? And skeletons? Wow… the world outside the walls is far more dangerous than I thought.
It was the moment the vague threats of the outside world became viscerally real. He was worrying whether such monsters might appear in the forests around Gelian when Zenon suddenly spoke.
“By the way… you smell strongly of flowers.”
“…Pardon? Ah, yes.”
Ian pulled his attention away from the neighboring table and looked at Zenon.
“I went to the western Arsilene Forest to gather a stalk of the low-grade herb Whitefoot Flower.”
“Ah, that rare medicinal herb.”
When Ian nodded, Zenon asked with a slightly disapproving look,
“But do you actually know what effect that herb has?”
“Um… no. I only heard it was valuable.”
“I figured. If you inhale that flower’s scent carelessly, you’ll sleep for three whole days on the spot.”
“What…?! It has such a powerful sleeping effect?”
“Yeah. The potency is no joke. If you ingest the equivalent of three whole flowers at once, you might never wake up.”
For a moment, Ian’s face turned deathly pale. He had thought it was simply a hard-to-find flower; he had never imagined it possessed such poisonous properties.
“I really had no idea.”
“Yeah. It shows.”
Zenon briefly dropped the gentle mask he had been wearing. With a gaze that now carried a hint of coldness, he stared straight through Ian.
“Even a novice errand boy is still a professional. You should have at least looked up the basic information about the job you took on beforehand.”
A rush of embarrassment and shame made Ian’s face burn hot. It was a valid criticism he couldn’t refute. But the emotion that followed was genuine gratitude toward the man who had given him such sharp advice.
“Thank you so much for the advice. My thinking was too shallow. I’ll be more careful from now on. And I’m truly grateful you told me about the herb.”
At Ian’s sincere thanks, the coldness in Zenon’s eyes melted away like snow under spring sunlight.
“Well, I just like doing things properly.” He cleared his throat a few times, then added, “I was a bit harsh for someone you just met. Sorry about that.”
Only then did Ian realize that while Zenon was highly cautious, he was actually quite warm-hearted.
“By the way, I haven’t properly introduced myself. My name is Ian River.”
At the sudden exchange of names, Zenon’s expression twisted slightly.
“Huh. I don’t usually introduce myself to people I’ve only seen a few times. But… as you probably heard yesterday, I’m Zenon Glepian. I lead a small adventurer guild.”
“Yes. The Shield of Thorny Vines Guild, right?”
“That’s right. We have few members, but our skills are solid. Including me, everyone’s an upper-grade adventurer.”
“Wow, that’s impressive.”
Thus, until the meal was over, light conversation flowed steadily between them. Through it, Ian learned that Zenon was an experienced upper-grade adventurer who had been exploring labyrinths since childhood as part of his father’s guild. He also found it interesting that the higher the rank, the more respected adventurers were compared to mercenaries. Apparently, the monsters deep inside labyrinths were dozens of times more ferocious and powerful than the skeletons in the mountains.
Of course, Zenon was also subtly probing Ian’s background. Thanks to that, Ian had to break into a cold sweat and quickly spin elaborate lies.
“I’m from an orphanage in a nameless mountain village east of the capital, Bellua. As soon as I was old enough to be independent, I gathered what little money I had and came down to Gelian. I wanted to try working as an errand boy here.”
However, he couldn’t be sure how much of that story the seasoned Zenon actually bought. Every time Ian spoke, those light purple eyes would flicker with a subtle gleam. Still, the conversation continued smoothly until the end of the meal, and before he knew it, Ian had gained a reliable adventurer acquaintance.