A New Commission
My grim prediction that the money might all be gone turned out to be dead accurate.
"Couldn't buy my sword after all... and I was just about to upgrade it, too."
"I never dreamed we'd blow through nearly all of it."
I sighed as I looked at my guild card, its balance hovering perilously close to zero. Just a few hours ago, I'd been carrying enough money to buy myself a house — now all that remained was pocket change for living expenses. When you actually tallied it up, we'd poured the equivalent of several properties straight into equipment.
And yet, I had no regrets.
"Happy with it?"
"Of course! This armor barely even feels like I'm wearing anything!"
"Then it was worth it..."
The person we'd invested the most money in, out of the three of us, was Lena. Aside from my sword, I only needed a few pieces of lightweight gear, and Noah, handling the long-range role, wore practically nothing at all in the name of keeping her body light — but Lena had been fitted out with what was essentially a full set.
"Seven platinum for the full plate set. That's genuinely absurd."
Seven hundred gold — a price bordering on madness. But the performance matched it, every bit. It came engraved with every spell a tank could possibly need.
Convenience magics like easy-clean, size-adjustment, and auto-disassembly-and-assembly, all the way up to combat enchantments like shock reversal, Fixation, and reflex enhancement. It was a masterpiece so complete that you could slap it on some clueless farmhand and he'd probably pull his weight — half a fighter's worth, at least.
"The design's lovely too. The artisans clearly put a lot of care into it."
"Well, sure — no matter how good the stats are, nobody buys a suit of armor that looks like a garbage can."
Just as Noah said, the armor boasted a beautiful design. There were no ornaments or flourishes to speak of, but from the helmet down to the greaves, it maintained flawless seams and traced a distinctly feminine silhouette — a work of art in its own right.
...Though the fact that the wearer was a shrimp did somewhat diminish that beauty, I had to admit. And since we'd needed to have the armor resized to fit Lena's dimensions, the extra cost had been the cherry on top.
"Mister, is it really okay to spend this much? I feel like we're throwing money around way too freely... And why are you gearing me up first, anyway?"
"Because from now on, you're the one who has to step up. Every attack Noah's been blocking? That's your job now."
"With Provocation?"
"That's right. If all you can do is hold the line properly, you might actually make a better tank than Noah."
Provocation was such an absurdly broken skill that it had even worked on the Bishop. But its actual owner, Lena, was still far too green to match the skill's true caliber. As things stood, she'd struggle to make proper use of it.
But the gaps in skill could be filled with money.
"They say a craftsman never blames his tools... which is nonsense. Besides, we're not even close to being craftsmen yet."
"Exactly. Survival comes first."
That was precisely why we'd stretched ourselves this thin to assemble a high-end loadout. Anything better than this barely existed outside of artifacts and relics.
"Honestly, though, the best option is improving your own skill."
Originally, the plan had been to use our ample funds to throw ourselves into training — but there were several problems with that.
"What kind of problems?"
"For starters, my skill isn't improving."
That's right. This was one of the things weighing on me lately. Strangely enough, ever since I created Sawtooth Sword Aura, my skill just hadn't been budging.
Granted, the only real leap in my combat power since leaving Pioneer Village had been Sensory Impartation, purchased with points. If I were some once-in-a-century prodigy, things might be different — I wasn't — so the plain truth was that I'd hit the ceiling of solo training without anyone to teach me.
"Well, you've got plenty of money now. Couldn't you just go to a dojo or something? There was a swordsmanship school around here, wasn't there?"
"Those places are only good for civilians and rookies. Not really suited to someone like me."
"Oh, confident much?"
"It's just the truth."
I shrugged off Lena's teasing with a roll of my shoulders. Well, it wasn't an inaccurate statement. Having been drilled mercilessly by Alta, a former 5th Rank guild member, guidance from anyone else left me cold.
"I did ask Amy if she knew anyone decent, though..."
"And?"
"There is someone — but apparently they signed a year-long contract with some noble house. So we're looking for someone else for now."
Ultimately, my judgment was that lingering in Bolston and burning through money for one reason or another was a waste. Better, I concluded, to take guild commissions — gaining real combat experience while earning points to unlock new talents.
I need to get stronger fast and find the key to solving the issue with Noah's body.
If I dawdled and Noah ever became incapacitated, the party's fighting power would plummet in a single stroke.
"So even if things feel a little risky, stick close. If I had my way, I'd sit you down and train you properly — but the situation just won't allow it."
"With gear this fancy, I think I can live with that?"
Despite the apology in my words, Lena just thumped the breastplate of her armor confidently. It was a dependable sight — though the way she immediately ducked her head to check whether the thumping had scratched it was pretty funny.
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The relationship between a typical receptionist and a guild member was about as dreary as relationships came. Employees and customers, basically. The receptionist mechanically sorted the commissions that came down from the guild and doled them out to lower-ranked members; there was simply no reason to offer advice on top of that.
Of course, Amy had been chatting me up with this and that from the very start — but that was because she was simply a kind person. Her warm nature had played its part in my decision to make her my dedicated clerk.
'So what makes a dedicated receptionist different?'
The relationship between a party and its dedicated receptionist was, simply put, like that between a manager and a footballer. Since they took a cut of the party's earnings as commission, their loyalty lay less with the guild and more with the party they served. Commissions, too, were a matter of leveraging your connections to claim the best, most comfortable jobs first.
In other words, guild members at Rank 8 and below were receiving nothing but the dregs that had been filtered and filtered again from the top.
"So I'll be able to take on different kinds of commissions now, then?"
"Looks that way. No more of those brainless 'go hunt a few monsters near the city' jobs. You'll be getting the more profitable ones — quests that require byproducts from specific monsters."
Beep beep—
We'd just finished shopping for sundries and were on our way back to the inn when the indigo card in my pocket started emitting its designated signal.
'This is... a summons?'
For reference, the cards issued to guild members of Rank 7 and above came with several new special functions. One of them: if your dedicated receptionist found a suitable commission, she could notify you remotely. All it really amounted to was the card making a paging-device noise and flashing a little light — but even that was a genuinely excellent feature.
Anyway, if the signal was ringing, Amy had apparently found a good commission.
"Good timing. I'll be back."
"Just take whatever it is! Money's razor-thin at this point anyway."
"Got it."
We'd bought plenty of things beyond the equipment, so I left the haul with Noah and Lena and headed to the guild alone.
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Half-jogging the whole way, I reached the guild in no time. Past the always-boiling first floor and up to the second.
"Wow. It's so quiet up here."
"Right? I couldn't be happier since they moved me up here."
Fewer than ten people milled about the second floor at most. And instead of the bank-counter setup downstairs, there was a dedicated reception parlor. Something like classical music drifted from somewhere, steadying the nerves.
Brew~ There was even coffee.
Rank really is a beautiful thing.
Having savored the sweet taste of privilege for a moment, I turned to Amy.
"So. Has a good commission come in?"
"One that fits you perfectly!"
Amy pulled out a single document and showed it to me. The commission was — of all things — a Dungeon. According to it, the guild's investigation team had discovered a dungeon on the outskirts of Bolston's safe zone. Even with the Suppression Device, its repelling power weakened the farther out you went, so it couldn't prevent every monster emergence or dungeon manifestation. Hence this happening.
"A week by carriage — two weeks round trip. That's pretty far."
"It's actually on the closer side. If a dungeon spawns at the very edge of the frontier, it takes twice that."
"Hmm..."
"It's an initial-stage dungeon, estimated at Rank 8."
"Not bad. Sounds about the right difficulty for a first dungeon."
"Hehe. That's why I snapped it up so fast."
Initial-stage and early-type dungeons had one critical quirk: once you entered, there was no way out until the core was destroyed. That made the guild's advance risk assessment more important than anything — and a risk rating of Rank 8 meant the dungeon's average monsters were Rank 8, which wasn't especially dangerous.
Of course, that was only the average, so something far stronger could well be lurking inside. That was why the standard practice was to enter dungeons one to two ranks below your own rating.
Should I take it? It's my first dungeon, so it's a little unnerving... but I'd have to do one eventually. And dungeons pay well.
We'd just fitted out our entire camping kit with premium gear, so at the very least, there'd be no problems on the equipment front. On top of that, a Rank 8 risk rating was effectively the lowest danger category there was. Dungeons at Rank 9 or 10 were said to be rarer than the highest-threat dungeons, even.
"We'll take this commission."
"Good thinking. This one comes directly from the guild, so the promotion points are solid. The pay's handsome too, of course. And this as well..."
At my answer, Amy smiled and gathered the paperwork back up. Then she pulled a thick book from behind the counter and handed it over.
"What's this?"
"The Dungeon Compendium. It catalogs every byproduct you can harvest from dungeons. I thought it might come in handy, so I borrowed it from the guild warehouse."
Flip.
When I opened the impossibly thick book, dense lines of text and small illustrations filled the pages. The contents were arranged neatly by category, and even on its own, it made for fascinating reading.
"The broadest classification is by dungeon type."
"Ah, right — you did say dungeons come in different kinds."
Since dungeons were wholly separate spaces, they often unfolded into entirely different environments regardless of where they materialized. Desert-type, jungle-type, snowfield-type... their sizes and varieties ran the full gamut. Naturally, the materials you could harvest from them varied enormously as well.
"The book's a doorstop, but it'll help a lot. It lists old market prices too, so you can harvest efficiently, and it's a fairly recent revised edition, so nothing in it should be off."
"How long's the loan period?"
"I set it generously at a month, so you can take it along on this commission."
Well, leave it to Noah and it'd be handled in no time. I couldn't imagine how anyone else managed, though. Did people really lug a book this heavy around with them?
Once I'd tucked the book away, Amy threw out one last question.
"So when will you be departing? You'll need to leave within the week."
"We'll head out right away."
"Then come back to the guild in an hour. I'll have the carriage ready."
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Clank clank!
Just as I was exchanging farewells with Amy and turning to leave, I spotted several figures in sturdy-looking plate armor descending from the upper floor — knights. Unlike the cult's false paladins, these were the real article, forged through brutal training. I didn't know what had happened, but their flushed faces suggested they were thoroughly furious.
Approaching with studied casualness, I caught their conversation.
"Damn it all! That bumbling fool!"
"Watch your mouth — we're still inside the guild."
"Ha! You think that sluggish oaf has good ears? No — honestly, why on earth is the branch head refusing the cult extermination commission? Isn't this exactly the kind of matter the guild should be leading the charge on?"
"...He says he needs time. Unlike us, adventurers aren't exactly standing by around the clock."
So it was about the cult. But why were knights here at the guild? Was the castellan trying to coordinate an operation with the guild?
"Time! Do you have any idea how slippery those vermin are? Give them even a week to stall and they'll all have scattered to the winds! If it's come to this, then we should—"
"You're underestimating the cult, friend. When it comes to dealing with wielders of anomalous powers, adventurers are the specialists."
"Ghh. Fine, I know that, but... the ones who kidnapped the young lady will pay for it, whatever it takes!"
"But the branch head is so wishy-washy about it... ah."
The knights, chattering away in high spirits, noticed my presence and shut their mouths. I walked past them wearing the expression of a man who had heard absolutely nothing, and descended to the first floor.
The cult, huh... I'd rather never cross paths with them again.
For now, I'd do best to focus on the dungeon.