Sponsorship (1)
At Harrington's declaration that he would move on to business, I gathered my slackening wits and gripped them tight once more.
Harrington was silent for a moment, choosing his words, before he spoke.
"But before that, I must offer you an apology."
"...An apology. Because you revealed your hidden identity, I take it? That could put us in a rather difficult position, after all."
"Oh."
At my answer, which was maybe ninety percent certainty, Harrington let out a genuine gasp of admiration. His face lit up with pleasant surprise, as if it had never even occurred to him that I might have reasoned this far on my own.
"Could you elaborate a little?"
"Well... I don't know exactly where you stand within this household, but seeing as the butler calls you 'Master,' I'd assume you're not exactly low on the ladder."
"Correct."
"So for a noble to go so far as to disguise himself and work at the Guild... I couldn't say precisely, but I'd wager it's for the purpose of digging up weaknesses or information about the Guild."
"Very close."
Harrington's eyes sparkled as he leaned his upper body toward me. A look that said: go on, tell me more.
From here on out it was pure conjecture, but... well, what the hell. I kept the words flowing.
"You're no ordinary spy. For someone like you to participate in an operation personally, chances are the situation demanded it. Say... every spy they planted got caught, for instance."
"..."
"Besides, on the way here by carriage, I noticed something odd — the family crest was nowhere on display at all. The gate inspection went smoothly too, as if it had been arranged in advance. Meaning you needed to avoid being seen. Ah, perhaps even the butler's face is a disguise."
Honestly, that last part had been quietly whispered to me by Noah over dinner. But I was the party leader, so I figured I was entitled to take the credit.
"Put all the clues together, and wouldn't you say there's some kind of friction between the Guild and the nobility right now? And simply by noticing these circumstances, we could get tangled up in the whole affair. Isn't that what your apology is about?"
"...Truly astonishing!"
Clap, clap, clap.
Having heard my long chain of speculation, Harrington clapped again and again, making no effort to hide his amazement. So I'd gotten most of it right.
"Such intellect... Henry told me about you, but you truly are no ordinary person. What I saw of you was merely the tip of the iceberg."
"So... you know Henry, then?"
"He's my younger brother. When he returned to the family, he brought you up in conversation. Apparently he knew you from before — you can imagine how stunned he was."
While I'd been talking, Harrington had cleared away my long-cold tea and poured a fresh cup, steam curling up from the rim.
"I hear you captured the Bishop? Henry has always had an excellent eye for people."
"...Honestly, under normal circumstances I never would have beaten him. It happened thanks to a pile of luck and coincidence stacked on top of each other."
"Ah, I know. Judged by danger alone, the Bishop rivals a Rank 5. But seizing fortune when it comes — that too is a skill."
Despite my honest confession, Harrington showered us with praise, talking up our party at every turn. Not that praise costs anything. I never let my guard down entirely.
By the time the newly poured tea was sloshing gently against the bottom of the cup, Harrington stretched lightly and said,
"Hmm... shall we take a short walk and talk? Just you and me, Hajun."
"Gladly."
...
We slipped out of the mansion and strolled through a beautifully kept garden. Small compared to the scale of the estate, but a garden all the same. Following the hedge-lined paths, which wound like a maze, I soon felt as though I'd wandered deep into a forest. Harrington moved here and there along the paths before finally guiding me to what looked like a small pavilion.
"I got ahead of myself earlier... but now let me tell you the true matter at hand."
"Surely it's not the kind of story that becomes dangerous just to hear?"
"In part, it might be. The movements of nobles always come tangled up with politics. And politics is a dangerous creature."
"..."
I hesitated for a moment. Unlike Henry, my relationship with Harrington amounted to little more than a thin acquaintance. I had no grounds to expect unconditional goodwill from him.
But... between Lena's debt situation and everything else, having connections with a well-disposed noble couldn't hurt.
As I'd seen with my own eyes on the way here, the wealth of the nobility exceeded imagination. If I wanted to swim in big waters, connections with these people were non-negotiable. I made my decision.
"I'll listen."
"Good. Well... I made it sound grand, but I'm not about to ask you anything strange, Hajun. Everything I'm about to tell you is a secret, though — so I only ask for your discretion."
Harrington nodded, satisfied with my answer, and at last brought up the real business.
"Now, where should I begin... ah. Have you heard anything about our family from Henry?"
"A little. Something about how the family originally lived in the Monew region?"
He'd also mentioned that wine under the Lawrence label was famous. He'd spoken of it with such brimming pride that the memory was still vivid.
Harrington nodded, his face darkening.
"Correct. I don't know if you're aware, but Monew lies even further north than Bolston."
"Don't tell me — beyond the Eternal Snowfield?"
"Yes. It was a region that flourished back when the Demonic Realm's influence wasn't so strong. At that time, Bolston was nothing more than a third-rate city on the verge of being born."
"Then why is it now in Bolston of all places..."
"That is exactly what this story is about."
Calmly, piece by piece, Harrington began to lay it out — the story of something that had happened nearly two hundred years in the past.
...
"Monew was where our family had put down roots for several hundred years — it was also the name of the city where our main house stood. Though what I know comes only from history books, of course."
"So this mansion is your main house now?"
"Yes. I can't say how it looks to your eyes, but compared to its former glory, what stands today is nothing but a wretched fragment of ruin. We once ruled a city even larger than Bolston, you see..."
"Huh."
All I could do was click my tongue at Harrington's heartfelt words. They owned a mansion that could rival the inner city, and even that was apparently nothing compared to the past.
"Monew was a truly blessed land. Though it sat in the cold north, the soil brimmed with life, and it produced a masterpiece called the frost grape. Wine made from those grapes, once aged, crossed halfway into the realm of elixirs — legend says the price was whatever the seller dared to name."
"Oh..."
"Thanks to that, the family prospered, and with the Demonic Realm serving as a natural barrier sealing off nearly three sides, we had no need to fear invasion. But then... one night, two hundred years ago, something went terribly wrong. A dungeon spontaneously appeared in the very heart of the city."
"A dungeon?"
"Yes. A dungeon. One appearing in the city center, where the Suppression Device's power is at its strongest, is an extremely abnormal thing. They say elites were dispatched from the very start, but... the dungeon shifted its inner spaces constantly, like a living creature, devouring everyone who challenged it."
Harrington murmured the last part bitterly. It was a tale from long before his birth, but perhaps nobles have some special sensibility for these things. I kept listening.
"Did you know this? Left alone, a dungeon only grows stronger, until at last it erodes into reality itself. That's why dungeons can never simply be abandoned. Ah, and the more people die inside them, the stronger they grow, too."
"First I'm hearing of it."
"In any case, the dungeon eventually swallowed the family head of the time and the entire knight order under his command. That was very likely the decisive blow that sent our house into decline."
"So no ordinary dungeon, then?"
"No. Judged by today's classification standards, it would approach a 3rd Rank dungeon."
"Er... don't tell me. You're not about to ask us to get rid of that dungeon, are you?"
"Something like that."
"!"
...
He's insane. Clear a 3rd Rank dungeon?
I stared at Harrington in horror, his conscience clearly away on leave. Seeing my expression, Harrington hurried to smooth things over.
"Don't misunderstand. We are not so desperate as to throw a party that's never even entered a dungeon into a place like that."
"Phew... thank goodness."
"Still, that is the ultimate goal."
"That's not— oh. Ah... so you mean to sponsor us in order to cultivate a party capable of breaking through the dungeon?"
"Quick on the uptake, I see."
Harrington confirmed my question with a nod.
A sponsorship... isn't that huge?
Word was that the consumables and artifacts needed at higher ranks cost astronomical sums, so receiving the patronage of a noble house was considered highly desirable. And now that golden opportunity was sitting right in front of me. Anyone else would have snapped it up on the spot, but I exercised caution one more time.
"Understood. But what does any of this have to do with politics? I suppose breaking through the dungeon and restoring Monew would upset the balance of power, but..."
Was that really worth hiding to this degree? Harrington was surely sponsoring other parties besides ours — he couldn't keep all of them secret forever. He shook his head.
"As you say, the operation to restore Monew is indeed a political matter, but we've long since reached agreement with the other nobles over the years. The problem is the Guild."
"The Guild?"
"Do you know Zeres, the Branch Master of the Bolston Guild?"
"Ah, yes. More or less."
I remembered the warning the Village Chief had given us when we left the Pioneer Village. Something about how Zeres was in contact with one of the imperial princes. The rumor had been that getting close to him brought nothing good.
"Correct. Zeres keeps repeating the same trick — draining Bolston's strongest adventurers off to the Imperial Capital."
"Is he allowed to do that? I thought the Guild maintained absolute neutrality."
"Well, no rule requires guild members to stay in one region, so it isn't impossible. And on paper, it takes the form of him merely connecting guild members with noble families in other regions, so..."
"So there's no evidence?"
"Exactly. But it's also strange that high-ranked powerhouses so obediently follow Zeres's suggestions. S linking oneself to a noble house embroiled in the succession struggle is an exceedingly dangerous move — yet they accept his offers far too easily. Some suspect Zeres is using a psychic-type artifact."
So that's it. Was this why Harrington had infiltrated the Guild himself? Being from an old, storied noble house, he was probably swaddled head to toe in protective artifacts and relics.
Harrington heaved a long sigh and continued.
"As a result, we're having a hard time securing parties for the Monew restoration. Talented people keep bleeding off toward the Capital, you see..."
"Is Zeres deliberately interfering?"
"Hard to say. If he truly wanted to interfere, there are plenty of other methods... Ah — anyway, the reason we invited your party here in secret isn't only the sponsorship. There is one more request."
"Investigation isn't my specialty."
I moved first to cut him off. Sponsorship was one thing; investigating the Guild's Branch Master was quite another. If I touched a man even nobles handled with care and got caught... Fortunately, Harrington waved his hands back and forth in denial.
"Goodness, no. That's my responsibility. It's just... given the pace of your growth, it's highly likely Zeres will approach you before long. According to my inside information, your promotion to Rank 6 has already been decided."
"Oh, really?"
"The corpse you brought has been confirmed as the Bishop. Congratulations — you're now the youngest Rank 6 in the branch's history."
"Haha. You flatter me."
"Your consultation with Zeres could come as early as tomorrow. If that happens, please take this with you."
Harrington drew a walnut-sized metal sphere from his pocket and handed it over. A perfect sphere, seamless without a single joint, it radiated a faint, gentle warmth — it looked as though it would make an excellent hand warmer. Not that it could possibly be something so simple.
"And this is?"
"A kind of recording device. If its bearer is subjected to mental interference, it records the event. Since it devotes itself solely to recording, it has no defensive capabilities whatsoever — but precisely because of that, its recording function is absolute. It took me quite a while to finally acquire one."