Welcome to Bolston
Bolston.
We moved a little closer, and the sprawling panorama of the city opened up before us in a single glance.
Perhaps because of mana—that mysterious resource—the city was far vaster than anything I had imagined in my head.
As expected, the title of largest city in the North suited it, at least in terms of sheer size.
"There it is! Bolston!"
"We finally made it!!"
"...Though it's not looking too great, is it?"
At first, the people rejoiced that the city appeared unharmed.
But the city's condition looked alarming even from a distance, and their faces soon soured.
"The northern wall is completely collapsed. The rest is half-destroyed, too. What on earth happened here?"
"Isn't it obvious? That monstrous thing must have come this way."
"That thing? Hmm... if it had, wouldn't the whole city have been wiped off the map? The beast looked like it was at least 2nd Rank. I've never seen something that enormous in my entire life."
The city walls, as if they'd been through an all-out war, had hardly a single intact section to be found.
Still, the city hadn't fallen—swarms of people clung to the walls like ants, busy repairing them.
In any case, the city itself looked to be in one piece despite the monster assault, and that was something to be grateful for.
***
"Here's your payment. Thank you for everything."
*Jingle.*
A dozen or so silver coins landed in my palm.
It was the reward for two weeks of escort duty, from the Pioneer Village all the way here.
"I feel embarrassed taking this when we hardly did anything..."
"Heh. That's just how these things go. Consider it insurance you never had to use."
We stood before the city gate, where those hoping to enter had formed a long line.
We had settled our contract with the merchant caravan in advance.
Guild members could pass through the gate after a separate screening, no waiting in line required.
The villagers who had suffered at the hands of the cult were, in a sense, living witnesses, so they moved together with us as well.
"Lovrick, sir, we don't have any identification... will the recommendation cards be enough?"
"Normally, yes, but the guards don't go around memorizing every little detail like that. Best not to make things complicated—just blend in with the villagers for now. Roughly passing is good enough."
"Understood."
We had borrowed clothes from the villagers.
Their lifelong homes had burned to the ground, so all that remained were worn, tattered garments.
...Combined with bodies that hadn't been properly washed in days, we looked every bit the part of refugees.
Receiving the curious glances of the bored people in line, we reached the gate, where a guard greeted Lovrick with a wave.
"Lovrick, sir! You're alive! I heard you took a job way off in the distance somewhere..."
"Visited a pioneer village out near the snowfields. Got lucky and managed to hold out."
"We had a hell of a time here too, with the monsters swarming the walls. And these people are...?"
"Well, you see..."
Lovrick exchanged hushed words with the young guard.
The guard listened with keen interest to the tale of the cultists, and when Lovrick showed him the inside of a blood-soaked sack, the man shuddered from head to toe.
Anyone would react that way, looking at a sack stuffed full of salt-preserved heads.
In the end, the guard flapped his hand and waved the villagers and all of us through at once.
"Ugh... that smell. Pass! You all pass!"
"Thanks. I'm exhausted and just want to rest."
"Either way, please report the refugees to the Guild or handle it quickly somehow. They'll have lost their IDs in all that chaos, and... I'd rather not take the blame for it later. I'm only letting this slide because it's you, Lovrick, sir."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll sort it out so it doesn't come back on you. And here—go have a drink on me later."
"Oh, come now. You didn't have to. Safe travels!"
Lovrick slipped him a few silver coins under the table, and the guard beamed.
We passed through the gate, complete with a farewell escort from the guard.
Smooth.
"...Their security doesn't seem all that strict, does it? Even with a monster battle just days ago."
"I'd feel awkward saying it myself, but I'm a local here. Fairly well known, too."
"Ah, I see."
"Anyone else would never have gotten through."
Beyond the gate, the true face of the city unfolded before us.
Roads of irregularly hewn stone, lined with charmingly built structures.
Given the era, I'd braced myself for excrement strewn across the ground, but the streets were fairly clean—proper sewage systems seemed to be in operation.
...At least, they would have been.
"The mood here is definitely tense, isn't it?"
"Can't be helped. A large-scale assault, and with the unusually heavy snow this year, trade with other cities would have been cut off entirely... They're probably rationing food by now."
Like the walls, the city interior was in the thick of repairs.
But repairs to the walls took priority, and even a casual glance showed the shortage of manpower and materials.
Buildings left broken and abandoned here and there, and discolored bloodstains soaking into the pavement, were just a few pieces of the evidence.
"...Outsiders. Where'd they come from?"
"Ptui! Unpleasant."
As if mirroring the anxious public mood, the residents' stares—a half-and-half blend of wariness and fear—stung.
Hordes of strange beggars wandering the city center—of course they'd react that way.
Still, they seemed to have at least their basic provisions, and there was no physical threat.
*Tap tap...*
"This is the Guild building."
Hurrying through the unwelcoming atmosphere, we arrived at our destination before we knew it.
A three-story building, its plaque carved in stately golden lettering hanging proudly at the entrance.
The Volston Guild Branch.
"Finally..."
The building was remarkably clean.
No—it was clean enough that you'd believe it had just been built.
Constructed entirely of pale white stone, it stood in contrast to the gloomy buildings around it, giving an even crisper impression.
And the grounds were quite spacious, weren't they?
"That's because of the warehouse. Items tied to completed requests often end up ownerless and get stored for years. Anyway, we've finally made it. I need to see to these people now, so..."
"Ah, we'll manage from here. We just head in through the entrance there, right?"
"That's right. Good work out there. Let's meet again sometime."
"Thank you for everything."
Lovrick shared a light handshake with each of us, then led his party off, guiding the refugees around the back of the building.
Clearly a man well accustomed to partings—he was endlessly cool about it.
"Well then, shall we go in? I'm nervous for no reason."
"One moment."
"What?"
"I think we should wash up first. Look at the state of us..."
"...Ah."
Only then did I take stock of our current condition.
It wasn't just our appearance—we hadn't properly washed in over two weeks, and the stench was foul.
...Noah, free of waste products as she was, was perfectly clean, of course.
Envious.
***
One hour later.
We stood before the Guild once more.
Condition check!
"Bodies washed, fresh clothes, full stomachs... we're fully prepared. Nothing out of place?"
"All clear."
We had stopped by a nearby inn and taken rooms.
The innkeeper had initially recoiled at our wretched state and tried to chase us out, but the moment we tossed him gold coins, he promptly prepared meals and bathwater.
The look on his face when he failed to recognize me after I'd scrubbed off layers of grime and changed into new clothes was a small source of amusement.
...The bill, however, was not amusing at all.
"One silver coin per night, and meals cost extra? The prices here have gone completely insane."
"We've effectively just come out of a war—it can't be helped. Time to earn some money, hard. Let's go in."
*Creeeak—*
I took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside.
The polished marble floor was the first thing to catch my eye.
The Guild's layout had much in common with a bank.
Multiple counters, each attended to by customers.
The soundproofing was excellent, because the moment the door opened, the mass of chattering conversations inside came flooding out all at once.
"So this latest request is..."
"Customer number five! Right this way, please!"
"They're hiring people to work on the walls, apparently? The pay's supposed to be decent."
"How's today looking? Once you're finished later..."
Whoa, it's chaos in here.
The interior was as spacious as it had looked from outside, accommodating several dozen people.
Even a single word from each person would have been deafening, but beyond the counters, people had gathered in clusters to talk, making the din nearly impossible to describe.
I've been inside for ten seconds and I already want to leave.
"Let's see... how do I check in here?"
"There's a machine that dispenses queue numbers."
"Really? What is this, a bank?"
I pulled a slip of paper from the machine beside the entrance.
Number 13, the slip read.
Apparently the queue had cycled all the way around.
We sat down on the hard wooden chairs set aside for waiting patrons and took in our surroundings.
"That machine too—it really is believable as a bank. This isn't at all what I pictured a Guild to look like..."
"What did you picture, then?"
"I dunno, request slips plastered all over a wooden wall, a pretty young lady greeting you from behind a desk? Gruff old men drinking at the bar, picking fights with the new guy."
"...I don't think I'd want to use a Guild like that."
There was one similarity, though.
Most of the counter staff were young women.
Men naturally turn docile when there's a woman in front of them, after all...
"Aw, come on, don't be like that. I booked us a table at a really nice restaurant."
"That would be a problem, sir."
"Ohh, my dear Amy. Such soft hands."
Hmm.
There are side effects, apparently.
To think he'd pull such tricks right at the counter.
"I'll call security!"
"Whoa, whoa. That won't be necessary. It was just small talk. Small talk, I say."
I watched the back of a middle-aged man at the counter directly ahead, endlessly flirting with the receptionist.
Though his back blocked my view, from his voice alone, the woman clearly wanted nothing to do with him—yet the man clung to his spot with an oily persistence.
The receptionist, flustered, couldn't seem to shake off the man, who kept slyly steering the conversation toward requests.
Unpleasant, sure—but it was none of my concern, so I stayed put.
Some time passed.
"Our number still hasn't come up."
"Tell me about it."
They'd called everyone up through number 12, the one right before ours, and here we were, thirty minutes into killing time on these hard chairs. Talk about bad luck.
As the minutes crawled by, the smooth operator in front of us kept grating on my nerves.
Everyone else was having serious conversations, but he was still dragging things out, tossing in nonsense every so often.
If that guy weren't there, our number would probably be up by now.
"Did you know? They say if a man has a big nose, he's big everywhere."
"No idea. And I don't want to know."
"Want to check for yourself? Heh heh..."
*Right. Time to clear him out.*
I finally resolved to remove the man in front of me who had sunk to sexual harassment.
Not that I had any grand designs of playing the apostle of justice.
As it happened, I had just the right skill for the job.
"How do you plan on doing that?"
"I'm going to use Sensory Impartation."
"Ahh. A perfect fit."
It had already been a full week since I'd acquired the new talent.
All three of its charges were fully stacked.
I'd run a few experiments on Noah, so I had a rough grasp of how to use it.
I fished a single silver coin from my pouch and rolled it across the floor.
*Ting-ting-ting.*
*Rollle, rollle...*
The coin traced a natural arc, rolling right to the man's feet.
Oops. Guess I'd better pick that up.
"What the—?"
"Sorry about that. Dropped my money."
"Tch. Grab it and get lost."
"... "
Not a shred of guilt in him.
As I bent to pick up the coin, I casually brushed against the man's ankle.
I activated Sensory Impartation.
Without a word, I bowed my head and darted back to my seat before the timer ran out.
The skill's duration was three seconds.
By applying the sensation only at the very end, I could bank nearly a full three seconds of delay.
Three... two... one—
*GAH!!*
The instant I sat back down, the impartation triggered, and the man's shoulders jolted violently.
He shifted and squirmed in his seat as if something were terribly wrong.
Naturally—after all, the sensation I'd granted him was none other than the relief of relieving oneself.
He won't be able to stand it without checking, will he?
"...I should be going."
Unable to contain his unease, the man finally rose from his seat.
From his waddling gait as he left, he'd be making a beeline for the privy to investigate.
The receptionist at the counter finally let out a sigh, then raised her voice to call our number.
"Customer number thirteen!"
"Yes, yes~!"