1

It was said that in the Age of Myth, many enormous cities had prospered in this region, covering the land’s black skin. Perhaps that repression had spawned this backlash.

Although it was modeled after Japan, the plants in this world were lush and bursting with life. The undergrowth that covered the forest road seemed to spray up from the earth, and dense trees arched overhead, turning the road into a tunnel.

But black soil wasn’t the only thing visible through the gaps in the undergrowth at their feet.

The asphalt that showed in places marked this forest road as something created in the Age of Myth.

Sunlight filtered down through the leaves, twigs became inky black shadows, and the tunnel stretched on and on.

For that very reason, the instant the greenery came to an end, the sight that leapt out at them was magnificent.

“Woooow…”

Minori gave an involuntary cheer.

The thirty or so companions that surrounded her seemed to feel just as she did.

“Yahaaah! Whoa! Dude-dude-dude!!”

Her little brother, Touya, promptly took the lead, spurring his horse from a walk to a trot and heading down the hill.

A strong wind that carried the smell of the sea raced up that same slope to blow over Minori and the others. The deep green road through the hills led from the pass they’d just crossed to the coast.

What was the name of the wide river that cut across the view?

On a hill that overlooked the seashore beyond, there stood a line of windmills several dozen meters tall. They couldn’t tell whether the structures were ruined hulks or still in operation.

The coast was a brilliant white line.

They were still about ten kilometers away; from where they stood, it only sparkled and shone, and they couldn’t make out any details.

“’Kay, folks! Save the celebratin’ for when we’re there. If we don’t get there quick and find the campsite, no one’s gettin’ dinner!”

“You heard the lady. Skipping meals in the middle of a trip is brutal, guys~!” Naotsugu broke in, attaching his own joke to Marielle’s words.

The newbies had dismounted on the forest road, but with a cheerful shout, they remounted their horses, formed two lines, and began to descend the hill.

The Zantleaf region.

In the real world, it was an area that consisted of the Bousou Peninsula and its surroundings.

In the world condensed by the Half-Gaia Project, it was a bit under fifty kilometers from Akiba as the crow flies. In this ruined world, where monsters lurked, the journey had taken three days.

“Are mew all right, Minoricchi?”

“Y-yes sir.”

The slim, lanky figure that blocked the dappled light was Nyanta, a fellow member of Minori’s guild, Log Horizon. His gaze was kind, his eyes narrowed in a smile, and Minori hastily answered in the affirmative.

When she looked, the Guardian Naotsugu, up near the head of the line, had also turned back to look her way. Minori gave a little wave to reassure him. It was soothing to be surrounded by friends from the same guild.

Although it had also been a guild, Minori realized once again that Hamelin had been nothing like this.

This party wasn’t composed entirely of Log Horizon members, however. It was a large mixed group, made up of volunteers from many groups. There were about sixty members in all.

Akiba’s foremost megaguilds, such as the Marine Organization, the Knights of the Black Sword, and the West Wind Brigade, had sent delegates as well.

There were around thirty-five people in this group—the main group—but she’d heard that a team of outriders had gone on ahead and had already arrived. The groups ultimately planned to join up at their destination.

Minori’s group was on a camping trip which had, apparently, started with Marielle.

Minori hadn’t been there herself, but according to Isuzu, a close friend of hers who was a bit older, it had happened this way:

I wanna go to the beach. I wanna eat shaved ice and curry rice and ramen at the beach. I’m tellin’ you, I want ’em! I want ’em bad!! Can I? C’mon, please? I can, can’t I? I wanna to go the beach! Let’s go!!

…That proposal had come from Marielle, guild master of the Crescent Moon League.

I can sort of see it…

Minori was a member of Log Horizon, but for a short time before she’d joined, she’d stayed at the Crescent Moon League’s guild house. It had been a confused few days, just after she’d been released from the corrupt guild Hamelin, which no longer existed.

Everyone at the Crescent Moon League had been kind to Minori during her time there, and she’d been in the care of Marielle, Henrietta, and Shouryuu. Marielle making a spoiled suggestion like that, and Henrietta looking troubled: That had been an everyday sight at that guild. Minori found it easy to imagine.

I bet she threw a temper tantrum on the sofa.

The thought brought a visual of Marielle hugging a big cushion and kicking her legs to mind, and it made her smile.

She couldn’t blame her for feeling like that.

Even now, Minori knew that many players were doing everything they could to get back to their old world, but their efforts weren’t likely to be rewarded overnight. She hadn’t even heard rumors about the discovery of a clue to a solution.

In this world, it didn’t take much money just to survive, and if there were no clues as to what sort of efforts would get them home, it wasn’t hard to imagine that boredom would follow.

As a result, if someone had decided they wanted to take a summer vacation, there was nothing to stop them… Or there shouldn’t have been.

However, Marielle and the Crescent Moon League were currently in a special position. That June, on Shiroe’s suggestion, the Round Table Council—an organization designed to handle Akiba’s self-government issues—had been established. The Crescent Moon League was one of the eleven guilds on the council, and Marielle, its guild master, was one of the councilors.

Since its establishment, the Round Table Council had been at the heart of conversations in Akiba, and it had also been in a position to lead the reforms.

Marielle was one of those select members. Wouldn’t it look bad for her to leave on vacation for two or three days, let alone weeks at a time? After all, it had only been two months since the Round Table Council was created. Every day was a flurry of new information, and it was possible to feel the town of Akiba changing from moment to moment.

At the three big production guilds, particularly the Marine Organization, the steam engine experiment had reached its final stages. Changing the charcoal-fired engine they’d initially envisioned into a Salamander-fired engine operated by a Summoner had made the device compact at a stroke and led to a technological breakthrough.

In addition, ovens and waterworks had been designed for the new style of cooking, types of clothing (mostly underwear) that hadn’t been seen before had been developed, and a huge hot spring had appeared in town. In the past two months, new discoveries and plans for more had been launched almost every day.

It would have been scandalous for a councilor to take a long absence (for a vacation, at that) during such an important time. …Still, however true that was, Marielle hadn’t given up. She’d talked Henrietta and Shouryuu around to the idea, and they’d worked out a plan.

The pretext they’d come up with had been, “A summer camp to train the newbies who have been entrusted to us.”

“This area ap-purrs to be cultivated.”

Just as Nyanta said, the slope that descended from the foothills soon became a country road bordered by terraced fields. Pumpkins, eggplants, tomatoes, cucumbers… The trees over there might be fruit trees. There was a sweet scent on the wind.

“Minoriii! Hey, Minori! These are pears! Awesome!”

“Oh, honestly, Touya!!”

Touya shouted cheerfully; he’d gone off the road and clambered up onto a simple stone wall built on the terraces. How long had it been since they’d eaten pears? She couldn’t remember, but they really did look marvelously delicious.

“The People of the Earth are growing those! You mustn’t pick them!”

Yet even as she scolded Touya, Minori’s thoughts were otherwise occupied.

A summer camp to train the newbies.

Releasing the new players from Hamelin had been something Shiroe’s group had done on their own initiative; it hadn’t had anything to do with the Round Table Council. The official explanation had been that by the time the Round Table Council was established, Hamelin’s punishment had already been meted out.

However, it had been a rather delicate time, and support for the newbies had been one of the issues taken up by the Round Table Council.

For that reason, the Council had readily agreed to the Crescent Moon League’s proposal. The Crescent Moon League had accepted nineteen of the thirty-five newbies who’d left Hamelin, which made it a training guild for new players as well.

That said, there were newbies who’d left Hamelin and had not joined the Crescent Moon League. Most of them were players who’d been interested in the production classes and had entered highly specialized production guilds.

There were also newbies who were fortunate enough not to have been part of Hamelin in the first place. They belonged to all sorts of Akiba’s guilds.

If they were conducting a summer camp officially endorsed by the Round Table Council, it wouldn’t be fair not to invite these other beginners. Coming to that natural decision, letters asking whether they wanted to participate had been sent to the newbies whose whereabouts were known. In addition, a notice to the effect that a summer camp was being held as part of the support measures for new players under level 40 had been posted in Akiba’s plaza.

At that point, it became an issue of honor among the guilds.

Some had even felt that if the event had been approved by the Round Table Council, they couldn’t shove the whole burden onto the Crescent Moon League.

There were some councilors who stated their positions wouldn’t allow them to go with their newbies for training, and so refused the task of assisting the effort. Guilds with total memberships of ten were one thing, but if big guilds with one or two hundred members didn’t send a leader or two, they’d look bad.

So in addition to leadership, support was provided in the form of food and clothing, and contributions of the new equipment that would automatically become necessary at higher levels were made on a large scale.

As they stared in blank amazement, the matter grew bigger and bigger, until it had become a large summer camp attended by more than sixty people… This was the full story of the summer camp’s beginnings, as told by Isuzu to Minori.

Before they knew it, the slope became more gradual, and they entered the dense rubble of a ruined area said to have been a city in the Age of Myth. Back then, the hilly expanse had probably held many single-story houses. Compared to large concrete structures, wooden houses deteriorated rapidly, and there were no prominent remains of stone; only decayed timber homes here and there, many of them buried in weeds.

The city forgone, the peninsula of the Zantleaf region had become an area of forests, mountains, and gently rolling hills—an environment brimming with lush natural beauty.

The wide river they’d been able to see for a while now was apparently called the Great Zantleaf River. In the real world, the area where that river emptied into the blue ocean was called Choushi. It meant “the saké bottle,” because the peninsula made by the river curved in and then out like the neck of one. Yet even in this other world, the Pacific in August was a bottomless azure so pure, it seemed to melt into the blue of the sky.

When they reached the edge of the river, they found several huts.

A look around showed that many similar huts were scattered all along the riverbank. According to her brother and his friends—who’d energetically gone on ahead and scouted—the huts were used for mooring small fishing boats or raising them out of the water.

With this area so close to the ocean, the boats probably went down the river to fish there. Storing the boats here, a little ways upriver, might have been a clever way to keep them from being damaged when the ocean grew rough.

According to Marielle, the People of the Earth who worked as fishermen lived along the river; there was a fair-sized town a bit closer to the river’s mouth.

After leaving the bank of the great river and detouring around a dense forest of Japanese cedars, Minori and the others reached a reservoir that looked to be about five hundred meters across. Beside the reservoir stood a ruin made of reinforced concrete—unusual for the area—and it didn’t seem all that old.

“Whoa! Hey, it’s a school!”

As Touya said, it seemed to be a school building from the Age of Myth. Viewed in that light, the flat area that spread in front of the ruin had probably been the sports field. The chain-link fence and the school’s gymnasium were mere shadows of what they’d once been, but definite traces still remained.

“Okay! Hey, kids! Startin’ today, this is gonna be home for a while! Today, ya’ll split into the teams we put ya’ll in earlier and clean out three classrooms. That’s three from the east end on the first floor. We’ll be sleepin’ twenty to a room. …If we end up wantin’ a little more space, we’ll clean tomorrow, too, and make the place comfortable somehow!”

At her words, the members from the big guilds who’d gone on ahead to scout came out of the school building, mingled with the newbies, and got to work.

“We’ll be barbecuin’ on the field for dinner tonight, so make do with box lunches and rolls for lunch, ’kay? And then, let’s see, Team Three. You and anybody with Chef skills, come with me. We’re goin’ to the village to do some shoppin’! We’ll be greetin’ the village chief, too, so be polite. We’ll head out in thirty minutes. All right: Man your stations!”

Responding to Marielle’s voice, the group began busily preparing for the training camp.

2

Marielle and the rest of the provisions procurement unit walked down a country road in the midst of a raucous chorus of cicadas.

All the new players trailing after Marielle had summoning whistles hanging from their necks or waists, and they seemed very proud of them. These were items used to summon the horses they rode. That said, there were a variety of summoning whistles, and the items they had summoned rather low-performance mounts for just a few hours a day.

However, as far as the newbies were concerned, they were precious magic items. Each of them caressed the whistles with their fingertips, as if they were very important.

The whistles had been handed out to the newbies in advance, as support items for the summer camp.

Marielle and the others were making for the neighboring town on foot.

Along the way, they saw many People of the Earth working in the fields.

They hadn’t wanted to appear suddenly in a large group and make everyone wary, so they were traveling to the town rather slowly, as if they were out for a stroll.

Of course, everyone had a summoning whistle, so they’d probably make their return trip on horseback. No doubt they’d have a lot to carry by then. However, it was only about three kilometers to the town. Walking would take less than an hour, and they’d wanted to get a feel for the surrounding area while they had the chance.

“Mmmm. Somethin’ smells right good!”

The faint fragrance of pears hung in the air.

“It certainly does. If we find some good pears, I hope we can convince the growers to part with a few.”

“Yes, I’d love some pears!”

Nyanta had come along to lead the provisions procurement team, and Serara stuck close beside him. Minori also nodded quietly. Several of the newbies who’d chosen to be Chefs seemed to be eyeing the fields and evaluating the quality of the vegetables as well.

Under the summer sun, the tomatoes and eggplants shone like jewels. The tomatoes were like garnets, the eggplants onyx. All sparkled with water droplets and hung heavy on their vines.

In the old cooking method, no one had cared about the quality of the ingredients. It hadn’t mattered whether an ingredient was a bit small, or withered, or even—in extreme cases—nearly rotten. As long as a player could confirm the ingredient item on their menu, these things had had absolutely no effect on the finished dish.

Tomato salad made with fresh tomatoes had been exactly the same as tomato salad made with withered tomatoes (of course, both had tasted like soggy rice crackers), and there’d been no difference between the two.

However, in the new method, where Chefs used their own hands and real-life skills to cook, they couldn’t be careless about choosing ingredients. A dish made with tomatoes that were just this side of rotten could never be anything more than food made with spoiled ingredients. Of course, the Chef’s techniques were also important, but in order to make food that was really impressive, they had to use fresh, well-formed ingredients.

“I’d love to make pizza with those!”

“I bet tomato sauce would be good, too.”

For all these reasons, as they walked along, the newbie Chefs gazed at the fields with interest.

It was only a little past noon, and they saw People of the Earth farmers resting or napping in the shade under the trees after their lunches. Occasionally one of them would wave, and they’d return the greeting, asking what sort of vegetables they were harvesting, and perhaps promising to buy some on their way back.

Earlier, Calasin of Shopping District 8 had stopped by the town they were about to visit to formally pay his respects, and possibly rumors about this had spread: The farmers were universally friendly.

“This is shapin’ up to be one great vacation!” Marielle said in a singsong voice.

Her tone was cheerful. Nonchalant, Nyanta corrected her: “Summer camp, mew mean.” Rumors of Marielle’s reasons for taking this trip had spread through the group, and everyone knew, but it was probably his duty as an elder to at least attempt to reprimand her.

However, there was very little gravity to his warning, and it was more of a comedic jab than anything.

The town was near the mouth of the Great Zantleaf River.

Possibly due to concerns about flooding, it had been built a little distance away from the riverbank.

The surrounding country was level, and the gently rolling landscape was divided into square, tile-like patches, with this one used as a field, that one for flooded rice paddies, and that one for an orchard. As the mosaic gradually grew more detailed, storehouses and sheds for storing farming tools appeared, and it seemed to them that before they knew it, they were in the town itself.

It was nothing like the fortified villages surrounded with fences and walls that appeared in medieval tales of chivalry.

The town’s central avenue was a thick ribbon of asphalt that ran parallel to a canal. It had probably been modeled on a national highway from the old world. The road was lined on either side with many houses built of wood or stone. Unlike in Akiba, though, there were very few structures that used ruined buildings from the Age of Myth; as far as the eye could see, the only ones were the cluster of gigantic storehouses near the river.

Along the avenue, they saw five or six shops with signs hung out.

Shiroe had told Marielle that he hadn’t seen any shops in the villages they’d passed on their way to Susukino.

In farming villages that were designed to be self-sustaining, and in larger settlements that combined animal husbandry and agriculture, the general rule was that the villagers helped one another.

As long as they lived there, there was no real need for money. For that reason, specialized facilities such as shops probably weren’t necessary. At least, that was how Henrietta had explained it.

However, this place, the village of Choushi, was more of a small town than a village. In a town of this size, there might be some meaning in having shops.

“Well, well. This is quite… It’s far finer than what I’d imagined,” Nyanta commented.

Of course it couldn’t compare to the town of Akiba, but it was large enough that it made them wonder if it wasn’t home to several thousand People of the Earth.

They stopped in the center of the wide avenue, and the rest of the group surrounded Marielle. People had always said that Marielle was good at looking after others. It made her feel a bit like everyone’s big sister, and she didn’t find it at all unpleasant.

“Let’s see, now. Hmm. What’ll we do…? All this shoppin’… I think I’ll leave that to you, Captain Nyanta. Then, you’re Lukisea, right? I’ll give you money, too, so split up into two groups. Talk among yourselves and settle on what to buy. You’ve got memos, right?”

“Of course,” Nyanta said, accepting the task.

Marielle nodded, then checked her own magic bag, just once. Having made sure the gifts she’d brought along were there, she looked around the group. As a formality, she planned to go call on the town’s mayor.

Since it was just a social visit, she wouldn’t need many people, but it was probably best to take at least one companion along for appearances’ sake.

As she thought about who to take, her eyes met Minori’s.

Why not? She looks like she’s got a good head on her shoulders.

As she thought this and began to open her mouth, Minori spoke first: “I’ll go with you.”

She’s sharp, too.

With that, the party split up to run their errands.

It sounded as though Nyanta’s group planned to head toward the harbor. Apparently coastal fish were sold from the cluster of storehouses on the riverbank. Come to think of it, fresh meat was a common food for Marielle and the other Adventurers, but they hadn’t had fresh fish lately. If there were delicacies around, it would be nice to try them.

“All right, then. You an’ me will…”

“Yes, let’s go pay our visit.”

Minori might be a practical person, but, as she’d heard, she was probably still in middle school. She was so nervous her back was stiff and ramrod straight, and she walked as if she was marching. Marielle ruffled her hair.

I lost her to Shiro’s place, but she really is a good kid, isn’t she. …Hmm, I may’ve let a bargain run off on me.

“U-um.”

“Hm? What, Minori?”

“Why are you patting my head?”

“Well, because I wanted to, obviously!” she sang out.

Minori was looking a little cross, but she won her over with a smile, and they walked down the avenue like a couple of sisters with only a large age difference between them.

On the way, they asked a Person of the Earth who had an armful of parcels and seemed to be a housewife, and were told that the mayor lived in a big, two-story mansion at the intersection just ahead. She said he was an old man over seventy, and that, although he governed the area, he was a sociable person, so there was no need to worry.

“All we need to do is pay our respects?”

“Yep, greet him, then give him what we brought for him…”

Marielle made a mental list of the things she’d talk about.

In her pack, she had a barrel of cherry liqueur she’d brought from Akiba. It weighed nearly one hundred kilos, and ordinarily, Marielle wouldn’t even have been able to lift it, but thanks to her incredibly convenient magic-laced rucksack, she was able to walk around as if she were carrying nothing at all.

Other than that… She’d say that they’d be using the ruin for about two weeks. That they were about five kilometers away from the town, so they shouldn’t cause too much trouble. That, however, they’d like to come into town to buy provisions once every few days.

“That’s right. We’ll pay our respects, exchange courtesies. We’ll have to sound him out about layin’ in provisions, too. If we buy too much from one farmer, people might start fightin’ here in town…”

“Oh, that’s right.”

“Well, I guess all we have to do is listen to the mayor. Then we’ll make some small talk… If there’s any info around here, I’d like to get that, too.”

“Information…?”

“Right.”

Marielle nodded.

After the Catastrophe, this world had changed. The non-player characters were People of the Earth now, and, strictly speaking, they weren’t sure whether they still performed the functions they’d had in the days of Elder Tales.

The People of the Earth who worked at the Market and the Bank seemed to be carrying out their duties as usual, but some, like the new clerks who had been hired by the Round Table Council, had begun to choose new lines of work.

Setting up a hypothesis based on that fact, they didn’t know whether the quest system, which had been an important part of Elder Tales, was still functioning normally.

Quests were a type of mission, and the story component of the Elder Tales game had depended heavily on the quest system. For example, a place like the village of Choushi should have had quests such as “A ghost appears in a field outside the village. Please exorcise it,” or “We’re going to an island off the coast to catch fish. Come along and guard us.”

Quests sometimes began with an item or place that seemed significant, but more commonly, the beginning took the form of a request from a non-player character.

This provoked doubts: Now that the non-player characters at the heart of the system had become People of the Earth, wasn’t that function gradually being lost? Even if a certain quest was operational at this very moment, if that Person of the Earth lost their life, from that point on, the quest might not begin.

…This had been Shiroe’s worry, anyway. However, Marielle could understand the sense of impending danger.

For example, in the days of the Elder Tales game, there had been “standard quests” that everyone completed. One of these quests had had a magic rucksack with a gravity-negating effect as its reward. Marielle and every other veteran player had this bag, and they used it all the time. It was just convenient. If, by some chance, it became impossible to undertake this quest, the new players wouldn’t be able to get this magic bag. The effect that would have was probably greater than they imagined.

“Shiro thinks about all sorts of stuff, and he wants me to bring home as much info as I can. About Choushi, and about the People of the Earth. We think we know ’bout them, but we don’t really understand.”

“I see… Yes, you’re right.”

Minori nodded meekly, as though she’d been convinced. “What do you suppose Shiroe is doing now?” she continued.

“Kiddo? He’s probably collectin’ information, too. Or… Well.” Marielle giggled, as if she’d just realized something. “He may not be gettin’ to do much of that, actually.”

3

The bright, elegant melody came from a string quartet.

The vast hall was decorated magnificently and filled with the laughter of ladies and the murmurs of gentlemen. Even then, it was likely that only 40 percent of the guests were here.

They chatted in small groups scattered around the room, gathering at the sofas set along the walls and at the round refreshment tables, leaving the center of the hall deserted.

The official start time hadn’t yet arrived.

Apparently, at parties like these, guests were expected to arrive a little late, and the tendency was even more pronounced among royals and nobles. Shiroe had heard as much from a waiter he’d flagged down a moment ago. He gave a small sigh.

We’ve made ourselves look like country bumpkins, I guess…

With the tragedy of being so inexperienced they’d had no way of knowing about that aspect of the situation, they’d arrived a bit early, knowing they couldn’t afford to be rude. Apparently it had backfired.

With no help for it, Shiroe’s group gathered at the wall, moistening their lips with their drinks.

This was the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice.

Located just two hours away from Akiba, it was a palace that had been built by the ancient alv race. That was the castle’s backstory, at any rate. In the world of Elder Tales, the ancient alvs were said to have been destroyed, and their race existed only in the past. They had had outstanding magical power and all sorts of techniques, but had been obliterated in the course of history. Faint traces of them remained in the half alvs, one of the eight playable races.

The Ancient Court of Eternal Ice—located on the southern side of Tokyo, in what would have been Minato-ku in the real world—was a giant, masterless structure. At present, it was collectively managed by the feudal lords of Eastal, the League of Free Cities.

—Eastal, the League of Free Cities.

It was an alliance that governed the area that was eastern Japan in the real world. In Elder Tales, the area under the jurisdiction of the Japanese server was roughly divided into five countries and cultural areas.

The area that would have been real-world Hokkaido was the Ezzo Empire.

Shikoku was the Duchy of Fourland.

Kyushu was the Nine-Tails Dominion.

The eastern half of Honshu was Eastal, the League of Free Cities.

The western region was the Holy Empire of Westlande.

In what might originally have been a ploy by the game operators to add plenty of variety to adventures, areas with their own unique races, customs, and artwork were gathered on the Japanese Archipelago, which had been condensed by the Half-Gaia Project.

Of these, Eastal, the League of Free Cities, whose territory was eastern Japan, was a league composed mostly of city-states. More than twenty forces known as “noble domains” or “noble cities” had formed an alliance that stood in opposition to the Holy Empire of Westlande in the west.

Compared to the real-world Japan Shiroe knew, the number of humans in this world was overwhelmingly small. This was true even if the People of the Earth, whose population had increased tenfold from what it had been in the game, were included in the reckoning.

Human territories didn’t cover a large percentage of this monster-haunted world. When compared to all of eastern Japan, even the areas governed by the lords who belonged to the League of Free Cities were no more than bubbles of safe territory on the surface of the savage wilderness.

However, even if their numbers were small, there were probably about two million People of the Earth on the Japanese server.

And Eastal, the League of Free Cities, administered only eastern Japan; but even then, social rules and systems of government were necessary.

In Eastal, that system took the form of feudal rule by the nobility. In Elder Tales, whose basic worldview was based on medieval European fantasy, these lords all referred to themselves as nobles.

Each had their own castle or mansion, wore a crown and mantle or tiara and gown, and ruled over the People of the Earth as typical aristocrats.

The lords of Eastal gathered here, at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice, once or twice each year for a conference at which they discussed various political issues. They also renewed old friendships, formally presented their sons and daughters as nobles, jousted, and formed relationships.

Seen from certain angles, it was an elegant culture, but on the other hand, the shape of the allies of Eastal desperately helping one another in the face of the threat of monsters showed through.

The Ancient Court, with its supports of magical ice, had been built in what would have been southern Tokyo in the old world, on the site of Hamarikyu, and for these and other reasons, it was used by the aristocracy of the People of the Earth as a venue for conferences and social occasions.

Shiroe’s group was standing idly in the great hall of the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice.

“Huhn. That’s quite a spectacle. Nerve-wracking.”

It was Michitaka of the Marine Organization production guild who’d spoken, and he’d probably meant what he said. He was openly staring at the palace’s furnishings and decorations.

“Pretend they’re all monsters. That will calm you down.”

The response came from “Berserker” Krusty, the leader of the combat guild D.D.D. Contrary to the image his byname evoked, to all appearances, Krusty was a pale, thoughtful, handsome youth, and today he was making a tuxedo look good.

“That’s so very you,” Michitaka cackled.

He was also wearing a tuxedo, and the impact wasn’t at all inferior to Krusty’s. In the first place, tuxedos were Western formal wear, and they were better suited to individuals who were rather stoutly built than to slender ones. For the two warriors, they were the perfect dress attire.

On the one hand, the head of Akiba’s largest production guild. On the other, a man who was not only the representative of its largest fighting guild, D.D.D., but the representative of Akiba’s self-governing organization, the Round Table Council.

Considering their reasons for attending this conference, making an impact was one of the best things they could have done.

“He’s right. You’re the only one who’d feel more relaxed surrounded by monsters, milord.”

That said, Krusty’s comment had probably been too bold. The tall woman who stood beside him admonished him as she handed him a small glass of sparkling liquor. From what Shiroe had heard, she was a member of D.D.D., and her name was Misa Takayama.

He’d guessed as much on hearing the dress code, but this might as well have been a ball. Assuming that it might be necessary since they would be socializing, the three Round Table Council representatives had brought escorts as part of their entourages.

“…My liege.”

For that reason, the slight girl who stood at Shiroe’s side also wore a magnificent dress. As if she couldn’t even hear the guild masters—two of the eleven on the Round Table Council—she spoke to Shiroe in a voice that was thoroughly forlorn.

Shiroe looked down at Akatsuki.

There was a difference of nearly thirty centimeters between their heights, so if she came too close, instead of her expression, all he could see was the top of her head. It was pretty inconvenient.

That said, if he crouched down so that he could look her in the eye when he talked to her, she’d say, “Don’t treat me like a child, my liege!” so there was really nothing to be done.

“What’s wrong?”

“I, um… I look…w-weird.”

As she pleaded, Akatsuki’s voice was like a mosquito’s whine. It wouldn’t have been possible to imagine this voice from her usual attitude.

Shiroe was perplexed; he had no idea what she was talking about.

There was nothing strange about Akatsuki’s costume. On the contrary: It was arrestingly lovely.

Her beautiful black hair had been arranged, and her petite, slender body was sheathed in a gown. Its overall basic color was pearl, but the train of her light, flowing skirt was dyed turquoise to a point about halfway up, and as the color continued upward, it melted into the pearl white.

The clean color combination exquisitely complimented her black hair and eyes, lending her a dignified beauty. “Umm…”

“You don’t look weird. As a matter of fact, you look adorable. You’re lovely. A fluffy, sweet Lolita strawberry! You’re so cute I want to take you home. No, I will!”

That was a declaration just now.

Henrietta, shrewd accountant and the pride of the Crescent Moon League, had cut in as Shiroe hesitated, bewildered. Her honey-colored hair was put up, exposing her neck, and her costume was unmistakably that of a noblewoman.

Her beauty was neat to the point where it seemed hard, and, in contrast to her looks, she always wore clothes that were rather reserved. They gave her an air of tidiness and were quite popular with some of her fans. However, seeing her in the evening dress she wore now, he had to admit that aristocratic clothes like these suited her best.

“A-are you sure? I can’t relax. It makes it hard to hide weapons, too…”

“Honestly! Where did you pull that kunai from?!”

“My lieeeege.”

Akatsuki ducked around behind Shiroe’s back, as if she didn’t know what to do.

She wanted to hide from his eyes, but she didn’t seem prepared to put any distance between them.

Akatsuki’s too conscientious about the word guard.

Even as she meddled with Akatsuki, Henrietta carried herself as if she was used to this. Shiroe had asked about her previous experience with fancy-dress balls, and had been told that she had none. She had said that her composure was all bluff, but from what Shiroe saw, he guessed she was so taken with Akatsuki that she simply hadn’t noticed anything else.

Akatsuki was a small, lovely, black-haired girl with the air of a swallow about her.

Henrietta was an intellectual beauty with honey-colored hair.

This time, these were the two Shiroe had brought along as his staff.

Why were Shiroe and the others in the great hall of the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice in the first place? The circumstances made for a rather long story.

It had happened in July, about a month before, when the town of Akiba was nearly ready to burst like popcorn from the heat of the reforms.

The Round Table Council had received a letter jointly signed by the lords of Eastal, the League of Free Cities. Written in the name of Sergiad Cowen, the lord who headed the list, the letter was both a request for their participation in Eastal and an invitation to the conference and ball that would be held at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice.

Eastal, the League of Free Cities, was an alliance of lords that controlled the area that had been eastern Japan in the old world. Needless to say, Akiba was one of the towns in their area.

Logically, now that Akiba had established self-government, it was perfectly natural for Eastal to contact them, and it was one of the developments Shiroe had anticipated.

The Round Table Council convened immediately.

It was probably the first time Shiroe and the other players had received this sort of invitation from the non-player characters. Although it was a situation they’d seen coming, the tension that ran through the Council was no small thing.

Eastal, the League of Free Cities, a part of this world’s sociopolitical system, was actively acknowledging the Council as a member and attempting to clarify its position.

Even as the Round Table Council buzzed, its members carefully analyzed the situation.

What would happen if they agreed to this request?

No doubt the intent behind the request was to acknowledge the Round Table Council, Akiba’s governing body, as a member of Eastal’s council of lords. In that case, it was likely that the lord (in this case, probably Krusty, the Round Table Council’s representative) would be given some sort of noble title.

In addition, they could assume that their continued participation in future conferences would be required. The merits were that they could collect vast amounts of information about the People of the Earth, and would gain negotiation channels. The demerits were that they’d be pulled into the People of the Earth’s politics.

So what would happen if they refused the request?

In that event, they’d lose the merits they would have gained had they accepted. In other words, they’d lose a negotiation line with the People of the Earth, and they would be unable to participate in the lords’ alliance. On the other hand, they wouldn’t be dragged into the politics of the People of the Earth.

They also discussed specific demerits. For example, would they incur the lords’ anger and trigger a war?

At this point in time, Shiroe and the others guessed that that possibility was a small one.

Akiba, after all, was a player town.

It had proportionate commercial facilities, and with this many Adventurers in one place, its martial power left nothing to be desired. In the real world, the development of modern firearms meant that the fighting abilities of individual soldiers had ceased to be a major factor in whether wars were won or lost. However, in this other, fantasy world, magic existed, and the differences among individuals’ combat abilities could still have a marked influence on the outcomes of entire wars. It was a world in which victory in one-on-one battles and great victories in strategic sites would have a huge influence on a conflict.

Generally speaking, the combat abilities of the People of the Earth were much lower than those of the Adventurers. Even among settlers living in pioneer villages in remote, fairly dangerous regions, for regular farmers, a combat level of 20 would be considered quite high.

Most farmers and huntsmen had levels under 10, while the levels of merchants, women, and children ranged from 1 to 5.

Of course the People of the Earth also had martial power on their side.

No doubt the lords had soldiers, knights, and magic troops at their disposal. Their armies were fairly large, and from what Shiroe knew, their elite troops probably had levels ranging from 50 to 60.

There were also People of the Earth who had been given special abilities, like the town guards. Their levels weren’t actually higher than the Adventurers’. Instead, they used special “mobile armor” to guard specific town zones. This mobile armor conducted magical energy from arrays placed around the entire town and granted high-output magic-combat abilities. It was elite, magical tactical weaponry.

In addition, there were non-player characters whose combat abilities far surpassed even these. In the world of Elder Tales, they were known as “the Ancients.” Shiroe didn’t know the detailed folklore, but it seemed that while the People of the Earth considered the Ancients to be like them, they also saw them as special.

The Ancients. Indigenous folklore aside, in terms of the game, their significance was clear.

In this world, the People of the Earth were designed to be inferior to Adventurers in many ways.

By battling over and over, Adventurers grew. Their levels rose, and their combat ability expanded to dozens of times its initial values.

Even lethal wounds weren’t enough to destroy them: They returned to the temple and revived. They found, or retook, powerful items that had been left in ruins and with monsters all over the world, further developing their combat abilities.

To ordinary People of the Earth, Adventurers were a type of superhuman.

Of course, for a game, that was as it should have been. Under the RPG growth system, it would have been humiliating—and very stressful—if almost all the characters who appeared were stronger than the player.

There was significant meaning to the fact that the People of the Earth weren’t strong in the game. However, on the other hand, when creating story scenarios, it was necessary to have “superhuman People of the Earth” in the cast as well.

When Elder Tales was a game, it had been studded with countless stories in the form of tales and legends, backgrounds for adventures, and quests. While there had been all kinds of stories, some of the plots had required heroes. One such plot might have been: “That hero is in dire straits! Go to his aid!”

Since this was a game, the players were the ones who did the rescuing, but if the level of the non-player character they were rescuing had been too low, it would have affected their motivation to play.

For example, if the story was that an Adventurer who could defeat level-90 dragons was going to save a hero who had gone to King of Evil Spirits Lich, and the hero was level 15, the story wouldn’t look right.

In that case, players were likely to think, A wuss like you shouldn’t have shown up in a place like this to begin with! Just stay out of battles. Man, I don’t even feel like saving you.

At the very least, if the hero wasn’t powerful enough to let players say, “I’ve come to back you up! Let’s combine our strength and defeat the enemy!” the story wouldn’t be exciting.

It was likely that the Ancients had been created in response to demands from the designers in charge of writing the stories.

Although it feels as though that idea is really being influenced by the situation on the game’s side…

In any event, the People of the Earth did have martial strength of their own.

One type was the lords’ armies. In terms of level, they might not be much of a threat, but they did have numbers. Another was special structures from the magic civilization that players couldn’t use, such as the mobile armor. Finally, there were the Ancients.

If they refused to participate in Eastal, the League of Free Cities, they had to consider the possibility that some sort of fighting might break out. However, as they’d thought earlier, the possibility wasn’t a large one.

The three forces of the People of the Earth all had their strengths and weaknesses. Each of these had points that warranted attention, but in terms of total combat power, Eastal couldn’t match the Adventurers of Akiba.

Even so, the Round Table Council wavered between participating in Eastal and refusing.

The main argument of those in favor of participating was that there were no particular merits to refusing. If they participated, at the very least, they’d have established a formal channel of exchange with the People of the Earth. If they weren’t worried about combat power, the possibility that they’d have unreasonable demands forced on them was low, and the demerits of participating seemed small.

The main argument of those who were against participating turned on the idea of being given a noble title. Emotionally, they couldn’t stomach the idea of themselves, the players, being decorated by non-player characters and acknowledged as their companions.

By the time both arguments had been clarified, the majority of the council was leaning toward participation.

This was because the claim made by those who were against participation was obviously an emotional one. Of course, the emotion was rather problematic, and it was true that most of the players could sympathize to some extent.

Taking this into consideration, the Round Table Council posted a simple report in the town plaza. The paper held a notice to the effect that they had decided to participate in Eastal, the League of Free Cities in order to facilitate the exchange of information with each of Eastal’s lords.

In this way, it had been decided that in August, selected members from the Round Table Council would go to the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice.

4

The group had arrived at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice that morning. The journey from the town of Akiba to the palace had been a quiet one, with no trouble to speak of. In terms of time, it was only about two hours away, which put it even closer than the Shinjuku Imperial Gardens.

There were ten people in their delegation. Appearing as a large group would have provoked wariness, so the members had been selected carefully.

The one who absolutely had to attend, no matter what, was “Berserker” Krusty, the representative of the Round Table Council.

The League seemed to have an aristocratic culture. It wasn’t clear how they would view the Round Table Council, a self-governing committee; and if they intended to talk on equal terms with the nobility, the Council would have to send a representative as well.

Next, they thought about the second member of the delegation.

Krusty was also the head of D.D.D., the largest combat guild, so it was decided that, for form’s sake, they should choose a vice delegate from one of the production guilds.

The candidates were “Iron-Arm” Michitaka, general manager of the Marine Organization, Roderick of the Roderick Trading Company, and Calasin of Shopping District 8, and each tried to push the assignment onto the others.

After some squabbling, Michitaka of the Marine Organization was chosen.

The three production guilds weren’t on bad terms with each other by any means. Each had its own distinguishing features, and all supported Akiba. However, for producers, this was a time when the town seethed with new discoveries. None of them wanted to leave it. This was what lay behind their reluctance.

Michitaka tried to get out of it by saying, “It’s more fun chasing after news about inventions right now,” but after losing eleven rounds of rock-paper-scissors, he couldn’t even complain. He’d tried to shove everything off onto Calasin, but that seemed to have failed as well.

Michitaka was, after all, good at looking out for others. Ultimately, he came off splendidly, displaying the caliber of the largest guild by declaring, “Well, there’s no help for it. Go ahead and leave it to me.” However, the fact that he’d stubbornly followed up with the comment, “If anything happens, I’ll sprint straight back here. It’s only a two-hour trip, anyway,” was a secret known only to the Round Table Council.

For the sake of balance, they decided it would be best to send a third delegate who could handle practical business and information analysis. When the Council had settled on that course, all eyes turned to Shiroe.

Of course the councilors who made up the Round Table Council were players in charge of the prominent guilds of Akiba. Each of their guilds held members who were particularly good at gathering and analyzing information.

However, the ingenuity Shiroe had shown was still fresh in their memories. In addition, they probably felt that as the mastermind who’d gotten the Round Table Council established, he needed to get out there and work more.

Personally, Shiroe had also been very interested in the summer camp, which was, unfortunately, being held at the exact same time.

Since it had been advertised as training for newbies, Minori and Touya were attending from Log Horizon, and he couldn’t be negligent about gathering information from the farming villages in the Tokyo area. He’d taken every opportunity over the past two months to investigate, but he still felt that his contact with the People of the Earth was fundamentally lacking.

Shiroe didn’t want to neglect either event, and he felt torn. Michitaka pressed him enthusiastically—“No, you need to come, too. I won’t let you make me the only one to go with him”—and so, with no help for it, the tide was turned.

At the request of the Round Table Council, Shiroe joined the delegation as its third member. Akatsuki had declared from the beginning, “I will protect my liege,” and so she accompanied Shiroe by default, joining the party as an attendant.

Meanwhile, the role of acting as leaders for the summer camp fell to Naotsugu and Nyanta. Both were good at looking after younger members, and both had a wealth of fighting experience in this postgame world. They’d be reliable in practical combat training and could be counted on to deal with any trouble that broke out.

One of Shiroe’s miscalculations had been that, when Akatsuki’s participation was determined, before anyone knew what was happening, it had been decided that Henrietta would join the delegation as an observer from the Crescent Moon League.

Henrietta was accompanying them as “Shiroe’s attendant.”

This was fine, but she would be sharing an anteroom with the other “Shiroe’s attendant,” Akatsuki, and Henrietta practically danced for joy.

She’s clearly after Akatsuki.

Shiroe could do nothing but crease his brow.

It wasn’t that he disliked Henrietta. She was beautiful, intelligent, and dependable. On the contrary, she was a woman you couldn’t help but like. However, she seemed to have slightly eccentric passions, and they worried him.

Of course, to other members of the Round Table Council who didn’t know the circumstances, Shiroe seemed to have managed to put himself between a lovely girl and a beautiful woman, to have “a flower in each hand,” so to speak. Even if he told them that wasn’t the case, they’d never believe him.

The delegation to the lords’ conference of Eastal, the League of Free Cities, was determined through this selection process. The representative was Krusty, chairman of the Round Table Council. The first vice delegate was Michitaka of the Marine Organization. The second vice delegate was Shiroe of Log Horizon. Additional secretaries and attendants brought the total delegation to ten.

This is, what’s the word… Uncomfortable.

Even as he thought back over the selection process, Shiroe was muttering to himself. He was trying to be inconspicuous in a corner of the great hall.

Although the number of people in the hall was gradually increasing, Akatsuki clung to Shiroe, hiding behind his back, and Henrietta smiled an enchanting smile, also leaning close to Shiroe.

“I’d expect no less from Shiroe. Look at that composure.”

That was what Krusty said to Michitaka, but he had it wrong.

Shiroe wasn’t composed. He was at his wits’ end.

“Well, when you’re a hero like this guy. Snrk! Even at a big scene like this one, being surrounded by two women is… Erm. It comes real easy to him. Right?”

“I beg your pardon. A ball like this is no more than a hunting ground for pitch-black Shiroe.”

Even if he got back at Michitaka—who knew what was going on and was making fun of him—later, Henrietta’s misguided overestimation pained Shiroe.

…This was how it was.

Ever since the uproar over the Round Table Council’s establishment the other day, to Henrietta, Shiroe seemed to have become the owner of an incomparably black mind when it came to plotting intrigue.

If that had been all, he could have complained about it, but in addition, she expressed an overwhelming confidence in that blackness, and this made it impossible to frame a retort.

He didn’t get it, but to Henrietta, blackness seemed to equal “highly esteemed.” Shiroe was tormented, unable to flatly deny someone who was being kind enough to compliment him.

“I’m honored that you’ve joined us this evening.”

Just as Shiroe was about to open his mouth to at least attempt to say a couple of words to Henrietta, it happened: A man who wore a silver, fur-trimmed mantle and was unmistakably a noble came to greet Shiroe’s party.

Whoa, that’s amazing… He’s the real thing.

In line with Shiroe’s impression, the middle-aged man seemed like a genuine aristocrat no matter how you looked at him. He had closely trimmed whiskers, and the eyes under his silver hair were keen. Age had made him sinewy, but his muscles seemed to belong to someone who’d stood on battlefields when he was young.

His deep blue suit, trimmed with umber, was meant for summer wear and didn’t look that heavy. He wore a belt decorated with several medals, and a pair of tall, black leather boots polished to a high shine.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, and we thank you for your invitation. My name is Krusty. I represent the Round Table Council that governs the town of Akiba.”

Krusty is seriously brave. He acts like a noble.

Krusty’s response had been smooth, and he didn’t look noticeably daunted.

Michitaka made his greeting next. He also didn’t seem particularly tense. In terms of audacity, these two were outstanding even among the members of the Round Table Council. Shiroe was convinced that they’d chosen the right people for this job.

“My name is Shiroe. I look forward to our continued acquaintance.”

Still deep in thought, Shiroe also gave a brief greeting. To a bystander, his simple attitude seemed to have no hint of tension about it, so they looked like an audacious trio, not an audacious duo. But Shiroe wasn’t aware of this, preoccupied with other things:

We’ll save the detailed introductions for later. I’m curious about this man’s identity.

“My name is Sergiad Cowen. I act as facilitator for Eastal, the League of Free Cities.”

Although there was no way of knowing whether he’d picked up on Shiroe’s feelings, the middle-aged noble introduced himself. “Sergiad Cowen” had been the first name on the letter that had been sent to the Round Table Council.

So this is him… That means he’s the most influential person in the east.

Akiba was the largest player town on the Japanese server. However, that didn’t mean it was the largest town on the server, period.

The largest city on the Japanese server was the city of Maihama, which was built around Castle Cinderella.

In this other world, Tokyo no longer functioned as a single city.

This was because the world population was less than one-hundredth of real-world Japan’s population, which was over one hundred million.

People created and lived in small settlements and havens here and there, surrounded by castle walls. This was true of the old Tokyo area as well. The region held relics of the advanced scientific and magic civilizations, such as the town of Akiba and this palace, and these had been put to use by several cities, but there were no longer enough people to manage and control the entire region.

In this world, the “good” human races—the eight available to play—had fallen so far from the protagonist’s seat that they could no longer maintain the sphere of influence they’d held in the Age of Myth.

As a result, the old metropolitan area had split into several small cities with self-defense capabilities. Of these, the largest was the city of Maihama.

The next largest is Akiba. Then Shibuya, another player town. Ikebukuro is big thanks to the Tower of Sunlight. What would have been Shinjuku in the real world was completely destroyed by the Behemoth outbreak, so… After that, a little ways away, there’s Yokohama, Asakusa… And that’s about it.

That was the outline of the environment in which humans lived in the current Kanto region.

The middle-aged lord who stood before them was the ruler of Maihama, the largest city in the Kanto area. Unlike Akiba, Maihama had no temple, so it wasn’t considered a player town. That aside, it had good commercial facilities and an abundant range of quests. It was a place that any player of average level or higher had probably visited at least once during the days of Elder Tales.

The city was known for its striking midair gardens and its elevated walkways made of intricately worked metal, and the white Castle Cinderella, the city’s symbol, was said to be the most beautiful palace on the Japanese server.

Here in front of him, Krusty had promptly struck up a conversation.

He was saying, in brief, that the Round Table Council was a self-governing committee made up of citizen representatives. That he served as its chairman. That they had been delighted to receive the invitation and had taken them up on it.

“Hm. Hm… Yes, I see. In other words, these ‘guild’ groups are like landless nobles, and the influential guilds converse with each other and govern themselves? In form, you could say it resembles Eastal’s method of convening lords and holding conferences to determine rules of conduct, only on a smaller scale.”

“That’s right.”

Krusty nodded in response to Sergiad Cowen’s words.

“But in that case… Hm.”

Accepting a drink from an elf serving woman who’d appeared in the hall, Sergiad brooded.

“Even if you are its representative, will it cause needless friction for only one member to receive a noble title?”

“We believe it may. If possible, we would prefer to decline that particular offer.”

“Hmmm. That would leave us with a bit of a problem.”

“Could you maybe give the Round Table Council itself a quasi-noble title, then, or give it the right to attend by considering it a noble? That way we could join you at the same table.”

It was Michitaka who’d spoken. With the easygoing attitude of a great man, he joined Krusty in persuading the old lord.

I don’t think they’re much older than I am, but… It doesn’t look as if we’ll have any trouble here.

Standing a short distance away, Shiroe watched the three discuss the matter.

It was likely that Krusty, and even Michitaka, hadn’t yet turned thirty in the real world, but here they were, conversing with one of this world’s nobles without giving an inch. Even watching from beside them, he couldn’t sense any unease, and even if the two of them failed in their negotiations, it wasn’t likely that a few words from Shiroe would be enough to turn the tide.

“As expected, we seem to be drawing quite a lot of attention.”

Henrietta whispered in Shiroe’s ear. When he looked up, the great hall was already filled with guests. According to his advance research, twenty-four cities and territories participated in Eastal, the League of Free Cities. Each had one representative, two counselors, and four or five attendants. If they’d also brought children or grandchildren to present, there would be a total of several hundred people here. Even a quick look around showed him that the vast hall was packed with more than a hundred guests.

The enormous hall had been decorated for the ball. It was awash in scarlet and gold, and even with this many people assembled in it, it didn’t feel at all cramped. The groups that chatted here and there were sending furtive glances their way; Shiroe felt them, too.

Even then, no one’s coming to speak with us, which means… Are they deferring to Duke Sergiad? Or has some sort of secret agreement already been made? If not those, is there some wild rumor we can’t even begin to imagine going around?

Shiroe considered this.

It was likely that just as he and the other members of the Round Table Council didn’t know everything there was to know about Eastal, the League of Free Cities, Eastal didn’t know everything about the Round Table Council, either.

The invitation had been a good example.

Neither was sure whether it was all right to incorporate the other into their organization through what would amount to an order from above, or whether they would be met with severe retaliation if they failed to entertain them with the greatest care and courtesy.

Each wanted information on the other, but the conversations needed to acquire that information would be careful ones, as they took care not to let themselves be tripped up.

Inevitably, their exchanges would require a lot of time.

We may be heading into some tough negotiations.

Shiroe squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. Krusty and Michitaka were currently conducting the biggest of the negotiations with everything they had. In that case, it was probably Shiroe’s job to find a way through this while he had the chance, but at this stage, he had no ideas.

Of course, he’d gathered as much information on Eastal as possible beforehand, but it was only knowledge from documents and the town’s taverns. Undiluted information from aristocratic society didn’t often find its way directly to the general public.

While Shiroe worried, the music abruptly stopped.

As the murmur of the guests receded like the tide, the throng near the arch of the great hall parted to reveal a shining procession. In the midst of a stir of goodwill and anticipation, three young girls and their partners had appeared.

5

“That’s my granddaughter, Raynesia. She’s fifteen this year.”

Duke Sergiad smiled.

As he did so, his aristocratic dignity softened, and he wore the gentle expression of a grandfather.

“I expect you aren’t familiar with it, but this is a tradition of ours. Once they have reached a suitable age, ladies make their society debuts at this ball. The ten-day conference that begins tomorrow is a place to work out Eastal’s various problems, but it’s also a place for us to interact with each other. In order to protect our territories, we nobles use martial and financial power that we accumulate constantly, but in this harsh world, it isn’t enough. Well, and there’s no guarantee we’ll ever be able to prepare sufficiently, but even so. Sometimes friends and relations are better protection for us and our subjects than swords or money or castle walls.”

Possibly having opened up to them a little, Sergiad thus explained the importance of their social circles to Krusty and Michitaka.

“I understand. We form groups known as guilds, too, and we work with our friends to support each other. It’s a bit like being family. Sometimes we help each other across guild boundaries. That’s also the mission of the Round Table Council,” Michitaka answered.

“There are limits to individual strength.” Krusty’s answer built on Michitaka’s.

It was lip service, but lip service was appropriate to the situation.

“I believe you’re right.”

Sergiad smiled back at them, as if their words had matched his own thoughts exactly.

Even as Michitaka and Sergiad talked, their eyes followed the three girls, who had just reached the center of the hall. The escorts—who supported their hands as if they were something very fragile—were probably knights who belonged to their territories. Each was very much a dandy.

“They’re all beauties,” Michitaka commented.

It was a merchant’s patent compliment, but Michitaka was probably glad to be spared the trouble of lying. This time, there was no need for empty flattery.

The girl who’d advanced one step beyond the group looked a bit younger than fifteen, but she was lovely, with a slender neck and an air of fragility.

“The one in the center is Raynesia, my granddaughter. The one on the right with spring-green hair is Apretta, the daughter of Marquis Lester of Ouu. The fiery redhead is the granddaughter of Sugana, the lord of Iwafune. They’re all making their first appearance in society this year.”

I see… They’re quite beautiful young ladies. They’re currently being “presented,” and this will act as their society debut.

As they looked on, the music began.

Considering the circumstances, this had to be their first time dancing in public, but they must have practiced and practiced: None of the three betrayed any inexperience in their motions. That said, their expressions were tense.

Woodwinds joined the stringed instruments, adding greater depth to the gentle waltz, and Shiroe realized that the music sounded familiar. It was the opening theme he’d heard every time the game loaded, back when Elder Tales was a game.

In this great hall, only the ten people in Shiroe’s group shared that shock and nostalgia. They looked at each other sharply, as if they’d been stung, and soon felt flooded with the urge to smile wryly.

When their eyes met, they shared the bitter thought that they really had come to another world and had no idea how to get home. However, that didn’t mean they were in any position to lose their composure, and they carried too much responsibility to do so.

Soon the sequence of phrases came to an end, and the princesses curtseyed in dainty expressions of thanks.

“Here comes the second piece. …You should go dance as well.”

“Huh?”

Michitaka answered old Sergiad with a question and an incredibly dull-witted expression.

“As I told you earlier, this ball is a social occasion that precedes the conference. Look around. Everyone’s quite interested in you. I’m speaking to you in their place simply because no one knows how to interact with Adventurers, and they’re wary. If things keep on this way, I shouldn’t think you’ll have an easy time exchanging information, let alone be able to trust one another.”

As he spoke, a hint of mischief showed in the dignified profile of the old lord and representative of Eastal.

“They all want to see our guests dance. You there, the raven-haired young lady. What about you?”

Finding the conversation abruptly focused on her, Akatsuki gave a small jump as if she’d received an electric shock and hastily fled into Shiroe’s shadow.

“I am my liege’s ninja. Ninja are shadows and guards. I-I-I could never draw attention to myself in a public place like this.”

His eyes then went to Michitaka, who shook his head from side to side, a rather strained expression plastered across his face. “No, no,” he said, “I’m clumsy. I really couldn’t!”

Although he might specialize in production, he did have the physical abilities of an Adventurer: He shook his head so fast it left a blurry afterimage. It was funny.

Well, of all of us, Krusty’s the one with the best presence, Shiroe thought, chuckling to himself.

Krusty might have the fearsome “Berserker” as his subclass and byname, but to all appearances, he was a handsome, intellectual man.

He would have looked right at home on an American football team, and the phrase “a solidly built, brilliant, elite, handsome type with glasses” suited him perfectly. In terms of position, he’d be the quarterback, and he’d probably be the sort of leader who could execute a frontal breakthrough.

His powerful build meant he looked good in a tuxedo, and, conveniently, a lady from his guild was in attendance as his companion.

“This sounds like a job for Shiroe.”

However, before Shiroe could speak to him, Krusty himself gravely opened his mouth. Shiroe was about to tell him to stop kidding around, but he was checked by Krusty’s extremely serious expression.

“I’d like to speak with Lord Sergiad a little while longer. If you go, Shiroe… What was it? That’s right. ‘This ball is your hunting ground,’ isn’t it? I’d like you to use some of those brilliant techniques for the Round Table Council.”

K-Krusty… You’re saying that on purpose, aren’t you?! D-dammit…

Shiroe felt the blood draining from his face.

He could face down high-level monsters and take a firm stand at major conferences, but Shiroe was a counselor type, a person who made meticulous plans and built battle lines with measures that were sure to succeed. If he’d had ten days’ advance notice, no matter how tough the issue, he would probably have found a way to get through it, but when it was shoved at him abruptly like this, he could only stand there blinking.

However, Krusty, the representative of the Round Table Council, was asking him to take his place because he had matters to discuss with Duke Sergiad, the foremost lord of Eastal. Even Shiroe would have a hard time objecting.

All else aside, because Krusty and Michitaka had been dexterously handling the negotiations up until a moment ago, Shiroe had been standing around doing nothing. Of course, he’d been thinking about future plans, but since he hadn’t been able to find any hint regarding those, once a task had been given to him, his feelings of guilt drove him to take it.

Haaah… I guess I’ll just have to go embarrass myself.

Shiroe’s shoulders were on the verge of drooping dejectedly when he felt someone watching him. He looked up and met Henrietta’s beautiful smile.

“Master Shiroe. Sagging shoulders don’t suit you.”

“That’s easy to say, but… I really can’t help it.”

More than half desperate, Shiroe sighed, but Henrietta had put up her index finger and was wagging it from side to side like a professor.

“Gentlemen must never betray a lack of confidence, even if all they can manage is a show of courage. That’s doubly true for a guild master, you know. Mari’s silly and foolish and thoughtless—and, while I’m at it, buxom—but that’s one thing she knows perfectly well.”

She couldn’t have been more right. Marielle’s smile encouraged her guild members most at the times when smiling should have been impossible. Shiroe felt remorse.

He was well aware that although he was clever, his weakness was a tendency to borrow trouble and brood over futures that hadn’t yet arrived.

“All right. I’m sorry.”

“Very good. Now, then… Since you’re such a good boy, Master Shiroe, I’ll give you a spell.”

“Huh?”

Turning elegantly on her toes, Henrietta came to stand in front of Shiroe. She held out a hand sheathed in a silk glove.

“Akatsuki, my dear? Watch carefully.”

When, overawed, Shiroe took her fingertips, Henrietta twined his arm around hers in a natural gesture and walked him out to the center of the hall.

Wait… Miss Henrietta!

As far as Shiroe was concerned, this was overdoing it.

Even if they had to dance, there were lots of places where they could blend into the crowd and get through a number relatively unnoticed. A corner at the back of the hall, say, or near the southern exit. The center of the hall was meant for the banquet’s guests of honor, and for people who were really good at dancing.

“Master Shiroe. Smile, and stick out your chest.”

“……”

He felt himself gulp. True, he’d been nervous at the conference that had launched the Round Table Council, and he’d had several heart-pounding experiences during PK battles and the earlier large-scale battles, but this was a unique sort of terror.

He couldn’t shake the idea that the guests who filled the hall were watching him and snickering, evaluating him.

“That’s good. Hold that posture, and put your hand on my waist… No, a little higher. …That’s right, as if your hand is resting on the small of my back.”

“I’ve got a confession to make. I have absolutely no dance skills whatsoever.”

“My. Don’t say ‘confession’ when we’re standing like this. You’ll make me blush.”

Henrietta looked up at Shiroe and smiled.

She’d changed from her usual career woman’s rimless glasses, possibly to match her ball gown, and her eyes looked larger than he’d expected. Being smiled at like that made Shiroe feel flustered.

“That’s not what I meant. Seriously, please don’t duck the issue.”

“Master Shiroe? You do know what my class is, don’t you?”

“You’re an Accountant—Oh.”

Henrietta lowered her eyes. Gazing at Shiroe’s chest, she listened closely and began murmuring in a soft voice. She was singing, faintly, like a songbird’s twitter, so quietly that it would have been easy to miss.

Even though she probably hadn’t heard this waltz before, Henrietta predicted it in advance, marking time.

“All right, Master Shiroe. Let’s begin.”

The music filled the entire hall, like bubbles that rose from champagne and burst. The third song began. Henrietta stepped toward Shiroe, as if drawing closer to the elegant, classical melody.

Shiroe kept his chest out, continuing to support Henrietta’s waist. Henrietta turned and twirled like a fluttering petal, guiding Shiroe, murmuring all the while.

That’s right. Miss Henrietta…is a Bard.

“Bard” was one of the twelve classes in Elder Tales.

Although it was one of the three “weapon attack” classes—in contrast to Assassins and Swashbucklers, who used their own methods to inflict high damage—“Bard” was a support class.

“Support class” was the general term for classes that made battles unfold to their advantage by amplifying their companions’ combat strength and lowering the enemy’s. In Elder Tales, the only two support classes were Shiroe’s Enchanter and Henrietta’s Bard.

Bards’ defining characteristic was that they controlled music. As stated in their name, Bards had music-related abilities, and they acquired many special skills with long effect times. In the world of Elder Tales, where most special skills had effect times that ranged from a mere instant to ten seconds, Bards were unique: Many of their special skills had effects that lasted minutes, or even permanently.

Henrietta said that she herself had never participated in one, but it was safe to say that these powers displayed their true worth in large-scale battles, where players had to withstand pressure for much longer than they did in normal battles.

In addition, although they were less skilled than Assassins and Swashbucklers, they also trained in hand-to-hand combat, and they were particularly good with lightweight weapons such as slender swords and bows.

Since weapon attacks didn’t use MP, in long-term battles, they combined weapon attacks that didn’t drain MP with long-term special skills that had good MP efficiency. Their energy-cost performance was outstanding, and they could maintain their combat abilities long-term.

On the other hand, precisely because the class was so specialized to long-term combat, they had extremely low instantaneous force in all elements of attack, recovery, and support. Their ability to find a way out of a situation with a sudden reflexive action was poor, and the fact that the class required deep insight and an eye for future developments made it difficult to break into.

And now here was Henrietta, in Shiroe’s arms, twirling and turning at the center of the great hall.

Henrietta took the initiative and led, without forcing Shiroe into the steps. Before long, Shiroe grew used to the motions.

To begin with, their bodies in this other world were dozens of times more capable than their real-world bodies. Compared to his real, Internet-addict’s body, even magic user Shiroe had agility and strength on par with an athlete.

About the time Shiroe was beginning to have a vague grasp of the way his own body was moving, a tiny eighth note sprang from the base of Henrietta’s throat.

“Are you starting to understand, Master Shiroe?”

“Starting to.”

Even as Henrietta whispered in a small voice, she didn’t stop releasing the tiny eighth notes.

C was a sweet orange.

D was lemon yellow.

E was spring green, and F was a bright blue.

The G note was a blue as deep as the sea, and A was a magnificent purple.

B was a red that was halfway between raspberry and the middle of a sunset.

Shiroe didn’t know how she was showing them to him, or how she was managing to do it even as they talked, but the multicolored notes that spilled from Henrietta’s chest drifted around them like tiny fairies, then dissolved into the air.

It was probably a visual effect from one of the Bard’s special skills, but wouldn’t it require extraordinary instincts to match the music this closely? Or was it something anyone with a Bard’s musical skills could do?

In other words… It’s like a music game.

Shiroe hadn’t been terribly good at them, but he’d had some experience with that game genre in the old world. In the real world, there had been games where you beat a drum or cut a rug while dancing on the foot panel of the large main unit.

Compared to those, the tempo of the music was slower, and the steps were far simpler. Shiroe focused his concentration, linking the melody he heard with the rainbow-colored notes that skimmed past Henrietta’s smooth cheek.

“That’s right. Right step. Right forward. …Half turn.”

“Yes, maestra.”

As Shiroe answered with a small chuckle, Henrietta looked taken aback for a moment. Then he saw her expression change to one of dissatisfaction, but, for some reason, even that was intensely fun.

Ahh, it’s been so long since I heard music and enjoyed it. Since my body began to move on its own, Shiroe thought.

Web TV, Web radio, MP3s. Before, music had been everywhere. It had been free and so ubiquitous he’d forgotten just how special it actually was.

Music was special.

Something that didn’t exist in nature. Something humans had created.

Like food, it was the sort of experience whose richness they’d only noticed once it was gone. He was grateful to the beautiful Bard before him who’d never stopped playing melodies in her heart, even during the time when they’d completely forgotten music.

“If you’re able to relax now, straighten your spine. We’re being watched by a crowd, you know. Your steps must be light as a feather. —After all, Master Shiroe, you’re our pitch-black counselor.”

However, Henrietta herself lectured him like a schoolmistress. There was no telling how she’d interpreted his smile.

Shiroe concentrated on keeping his back ramrod straight. Solicitous toward Henrietta in his arms, he raised his left hand, being careful not to hamper her movements, leading her fingertips.

Shiroe and Henrietta danced, turning round and round.

The music sounded much clearer than it had just moments before. He heard the melody, rode it, and his body moved naturally. His toes and Henrietta’s crossed the hall, stepping enchantingly, keeping perfect time.

It must have been true that he’d relaxed a bit. Up until now, the great hall had been no more than a background, but now he could really see it.

Dancers spun around them like fluttering petals. The musicians performed their chamber song in perfect harmony, as if intoxicated.

Countless eyes watched the two of them. At this point, he could hear their quiet conversations clearly, even the spiteful whispers: Apparently we can’t write them off as mere backwater bumpkins.

“Now then, one more dance. Let’s leave every last one of those gossipmongers speechless.”

“Understood. …Milady.”

As the next piece began, Shiroe and Henrietta took their first step into another dance.