1

Huhn! I see. This place’s a den of wily old foxes.

Michitaka accepted a glass, all smiles, but internally, he was muttering to himself. This was the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice. However, it was the area in which Marquis Dalte was staying, not the section that had been loaned to Michitaka and the rest of the Round Table Council group.

As Shiroe had predicted, the Eastal lords’ conference was moving very slowly.

According to what they’d originally heard, the conferences were generally held in the afternoon and happened irregularly. That said, in the four days since Michitaka had arrived at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice, not a single conference had been held.

A certain noble had told him that, since the conference period was ten days, there was no need to be impatient, but in contrast to those words, furious negotiations seemed to be taking place below the surface.

As proof, day after day, invitations and requests were brought to the Round Table Council delegation. At first, Shiroe, Krusty, and Michitaka had gotten together and discussed each one, but since they’d never have managed them all in time that way, they had split up and were now acting separately.

Two things were coming in handy: The fact that they’d carefully gone over their basic policy beforehand, and the telechat function, a weapon the Adventurers had and the People of the Earth did not.

That night was just the same.

An invitation to a dinner party from Marquis Dalte of the fortified city of Mogami.

An invitation to a soirée held mainly for the young knights of Eastal, the League of Free Cities.

An invitation to a banquet from Tsukuba’s Marquis Kilivar and the academic guild.

These three had overlapped.

Wouldn’t attending just one of the functions be a bad move as far as the lords’ power relationships were concerned? They wanted to avoid looking as though they were supporting any particular lord, and so at first they’d considered turning them all down. However, they had decided that, in the current situation, they needed to prioritize information gathering and making acquaintances, and so the delegation had split up and was acting separately.

A “soirée meant for young knights” was bound to feature orchestral music and dancing. Due to that expectation, they’d originally singled out Shiroe, but if the academic guild would be appearing at Marquis Kilivar’s banquet, Michitaka and Krusty wouldn’t be equal to the task.

To that end, it had been decided that Krusty would attend the gathering for young knights and princesses, or in other words, “the ones on whose shoulders the future rested.” “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the dancing,” Shiroe had said, with a smile that seemed entertained. Unexpectedly, he appeared to be holding a grudge.

Henrietta of the Crescent Moon League seemed to have had the same worry, but Krusty had answered her calmly. “I’ve found a very durable defensive shield that won’t wear out with use. There’s a bit of a knack to putting it between myself and the enemy, but I’ll be able to turn down invitations easily, so I imagine it will be all right.”

Michitaka had absolutely no idea what Krusty had meant, but if that guy said it was all right, it probably was. He shrugged. Either way, the jobs Michitaka could do were limited.

Once Shiroe’s and Krusty’s destinations had been determined, the remainder fell to Michitaka. He ended up with the last one: Marquis Dalte’s dinner party.

“Here, I’ve had my domain’s most delicious beef brought for us. Feast to your heart’s content tonight.”

This welcome had come from Marquis Dalte. He was a middle-aged man whose expression was (in flattering terms) unaffected, or (if viewed spitefully) had something of the country bumpkin about it. His clothes were clean, of course, and of undeniably high quality, but they were simple, without any showy decoration. However, there was a supremely keen light in his eyes.

In real-world society, Michitaka was a mere office manager. However, in this other world, he was guild master of the Marine Organization, Akiba’s largest production guild and five thousand members strong. His guild members looked up to him as an understanding, older-brother type, but it took more than that to run an enormous guild. He wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t see through an aura like this one.

Even so, Michitaka returned the greeting affably, and Marquis Dalte showed him to his seat. The large table was meant for luxurious feasts, and seated around it was Marquis Dalte’s family.

His wife was still young; she was plump and quite a beauty. She might actually be a second wife. His oldest child was a willful-looking boy of upper elementary school age, and there was a young little sister as well.

“In these past two months, the food situation has changed, you see. We brought the foremost Chefs in our territory with us and went into this conference with enthusiasm.”

As they listened to Marquis Dalte, the dinner party began.

Marquis Dalte’s territory, the fortified city Mogami, seemed to be located in what would have been the Tohoku region in the old world. More accurately, in terms of the map Shiroe had drawn, it would have been in Yamagata.

The town’s population was about eight thousand, and no doubt it was, to borrow Marquis Dalte’s words, “the safest, most comfortable city in the region.” According to the information they’d received in advance, about a dozen villages, with this city at their center, followed Marquis Dalte.

The dinner party consisted of very lavish medieval European fare.

Michitaka wasn’t all that clear on the details, but it seemed a bit like French cuisine, in which the courses were brought out in small portions, one after another. However, in the fashion of this other world’s nobility, large platters of food were brought out as well, as if it were quite natural.

Meat roasted with plenty of herbs was presented, and Marquis Dalte carved it himself.

“This meat is said to be the finest in my territory. What do you think?”

“Mm, yes, it’s very good!”

Michitaka smacked his lips over the dish.

Calling it top-class certainly wasn’t a lie. It was tougher and more sinewy than the beef he’d eaten back in Japan, but in equal measure there was a rich, distinct wildness to the flavor. It tasted the way meat really should taste.

Marquis Dalte eagerly called attention to that flavor.

I see…

By now, “delicious food” had become an important term, one that influenced this world’s politics. The changes of these two months had transformed the world.

Like Marquis Dalte, all the lords seemed to have brought the best Chefs and ingredients of their regions. To them, this conference was a providential new chance. The discovery of a delicious specialty might bring even a small, weak territory wealth of a kind it had never seen before. In order to protect their power—and their honor—the great nobles had to pursue food that was a cut above anything the other nobles had.

Of course, previous Eastal conferences had probably featured this sort of ostentatious social rivalry as well, but now gourmet food had become a key strategy that was linked to imports, exports, and economics.

“There are many mountains around our town, and the terrain is rather steep. As a result, in addition to forestry and mining, our stock-farming is flourishing. Later on at tonight’s dinner, our prize boar will be making an appearance.”

The Marquis’s son had begun to squirm with anticipation; his expression made it clear that this was quite a delicacy.

As Michitaka savored these dishes, he listened attentively to what Marquis Dalte was saying.

He spoke of the climate and geography of the northeastern area of the archipelago, and of its various customs. Sometimes his wife joined in. To Marquis Dalte, no doubt this was a preliminary to business negotiations as well as an opportunity to boast about his homeland, but to Michitaka, it was valuable information.

The northeastern area of the archipelago seemed to be a land of mountain ranges, embellished with mountains and forests. The mountains were green and lush; they held inexhaustible timber resources, and the rainfall was plentiful, which meant the land was blessed with many lakes and beautiful mountain streams.

There wasn’t much level ground, and most of what there was lay along the coast or in basins in the mountains.

In these cramped flatlands, they grew wheat and rice.

The spacious area that stretched from the northeastern region to the northern Kanto region was the heartland of Eastal, the League of Free Cities, and, as expected, one of its big problems was that monsters were rampant.

According to Shiroe and Roderick’s calculations, the total population of the “good” human races—the races Adventurers could choose to play as—was roughly one-hundredth the population of real-world Japan. However, this wasn’t necessarily synonymous with the number of intelligent beings. This world was also occupied by goblins, orcs, and other demihumans. They weren’t quite as intelligent as the human races, but they were sturdy and bred prolifically, and, most important, they were brutal and vicious.

These and other “bad” demihuman races also existed in this other world, and they had built many kingdoms and domains. On top of that, in their efforts to dominate the world, they warred and plundered endlessly, day and night.

The main force in the northeastern area of the archipelago was the goblins. Goblins were small demihumans; even when full-grown, they were only about 150 centimeters tall. They were skinny, short monsters whose roughly human shapes were stretched and twisted in ugly ways. They had a simplified tribal society, and they were divided among several roles.

The majority were Plunder Tribes who lived on the move, but some did establish main bases. This tendency was particularly common in the Tohoku region, and sometimes they built huge group meeting places which, at their largest, could have five-figure populations.

As with many demihumans, goblins’ chaotic breeding had resulted in deformed, subordinate tribes. Hobgoblins were one such variety. Fiercer than goblins, they were humanoid monsters with a fanatical sense of loyalty. They could use armor and weapons, and would fight to the death for their tribe.

Then there were high-level goblin Shamans who summoned ancestral spirits, used the undead, and controlled spirits. Goblin Tamers sometimes kept Owlbears, Hippogriffs, Dire Wolves, and other animals.

Individual goblins had lower combat power than a midlevel Adventurer, but as a force with diverse abilities, it wasn’t safe to take them lightly.

Naturally, these demihumans lived in slightly different areas from the human-controlled regions. Rather, in this case, it would be better to say that humans were desperately defending their territory from them. In the Tohoku region, it sounded as though they lived in the deep forests and mountains.

“But then, at that point, this— Yes, this great revolution occurred,” Marquis Dalte continued.

“First, the revolution brought huge changes to the food situation. As you know, the people of my territory have been completely captivated by the charms of this new food. There’s nothing to do about that.”

The marquis’s wife interjected, smiling wryly at her husband’s solemn words.

“Even you’re mad for pecorino salad and smoked boar meat, my dear. It’s not fair to talk as if only the people chasing after delicacies are idlers.”

As the marquis’s wife gave a charming giggle, Michitaka agreed amiably. “Yes, and besides, delicious meals add richness to the day. It’s a wonderful thing.”

“Ahem! Well, that may be true, yes. …In fact, even in my domain, since the revolution occurred, my people have been more energetic, and the pace of all sorts of production has picked up. The effect hasn’t shown in the rice yet. That particular grain takes a long time to cultivate, you know. However, the effect is already visible in livestock and vegetables. In specific terms, we’ve begun to raise and harvest them very carefully, to make them taste as good as we can. We also take more care not to damage them during transport.

Michitaka nodded. It made perfect sense.

“In order to purchase delicious ingredients, many of my people have developed a nose for profit. By raising something that tastes just a little bit better, then selling it at a high price, they can get various other ingredients… You see what I mean.”

As a production guild member, this was something Michitaka could understand readily.

“And so: Now the problem of transportation has come up.”

Michitaka considered this.

No doubt it had come up. In a region as mountainous as theirs, there were probably crops they couldn’t grow even if they wanted to. In any case, there were lots of crops that grew only in the southern regions. One such crop was sugar, which Michitaka and the others also had a difficult time getting.

Sugar was a specialty of the Nine-Tails Dominion, and since the Catastrophe, its rarity had made its price skyrocket.

Things had been different before.

No matter what ingredients were used, the resulting food had been of uniform quality and taste, so differences in ingredients had influenced nothing but the food item’s effect. …In other words, sugar had been treated a bit like medicine.

Well, food isn’t the word. That stuff was like energy bars.

But now it was different. There was growing demand for delicious ingredients, fresh ingredients, ingredients with variety.

In this simple other world, as a rule, people ate what they grew on their own land.

Transportation cost money and time. Transporting perishable foods was even harder. Still, seasonings and indulgence items would have to be imported from distant places. Exporting was the fastest way to get the money needed for importing.

In that situation, the monsters would cause the bottleneck.

When he thought of that, he understood why this noble would want to ask the Round Table Council to send military aid.

“Well, and I don’t think those of us in Mogami are the only ones hoping for this.”

Marquis Dalte shrugged his shoulders.

“Still, I hear that exploring just one mountain requires the investment of a unit of more than several hundred men. The military force needed to rid the northeastern islands of goblins would be astronomical. Akiba’s Round Table Council isn’t powerful enough to do anything about it. Unfortunately, if it had to be constant, I’m afraid we wouldn’t even have the manpower to guard the main roads,” Michitaka countered.

The idea of security activities for the whole region was utter nonsense. Given the population of this world, it wouldn’t be possible to secure that much territory. It was precisely because it wasn’t possible that humans lived in safe zones built around cities, areas like bubbles floating on the surface of an ocean filled with danger.

On the other hand, Michitaka’s words were a check as well.

He’d warned him off in advance, before the request to prioritize sending soldiers to his territory as quickly as possible, leaving the other lords’ territories for later, was actually made. He’d demonstrated that their position was that, if they were going to save someone, they’d save all the areas together. Since they couldn’t, they mustn’t meddle pointlessly.

The dinner party had already progressed to the dessert stage.

It wasn’t clear whether it was a local specialty or something they’d managed to achieve in the last two months, but the dish that was brought out to them was a type of sweet made with baked eggs. As Michitaka savored the simple, somehow nostalgic confection and strong Black Rose Tea, Marquis Dalte carefully broached the subject.

“No. We don’t necessarily need to exterminate the monsters. I’d actually wanted to ask you for something else. …Provision of the technology for marine transport.”

Michitaka stared in astonishment.

Marine transport. That meant the provision of a steam-powered ship.

Marquis Dalte’s proposal was to make imports and exports go smoothly without expending soldiers on monster subjugation.

2

Inside the tent, the mood was gloomy.

To tell the truth, it was so bad it made it a bit hard to breathe.

In her sleeping bag, Isuzu stirred restlessly.

They’d been eating dinner up until a little while ago, and she could see the flames of the fire through the tent’s sailcloth, so she thought it was probably still only nine PM or so. In the old world, it would have been too early for bed, but out here in the wild, even if you stayed awake, there was nothing to do.

Even if there had been, she was limp and exhausted, and she didn’t feel like doing anything. That said, when she tried to sleep, sleep refused to come.

For the time being, she’d crawled into her sleeping bag, but she was just lying there worrying.

The interior of the tent was lit by a magic light, and her friends were there, organizing their packs.

“Nn…”

Isuzu turned her head toward them.

The one who was seriously working was Minori. Like Isuzu, Touya had crawled into his sleeping bag, and Serara was slumped in a corner of the tent. Rundelhaus was sitting cross-legged on top of his sleeping bag with his arms folded, looking irritated.

A heavy atmosphere hung over all of them.

This was only natural. The day’s expedition had been a disaster.

Isuzu’s party’s battle had turned into a melee, becoming a confused, long, drawn-out fight that had attracted more Skeleton reinforcements.

Fighting with their formation in disarray had done more than simply drain the entire party’s HP. It leeched away their MP, the special skills they’d been saving for later, and even their concentration. At the beginning of the battle, they’d had enough HP that they could have pushed through by brute force, but as things dragged on, they’d had to fall back on recovery spells.

However, since recovery spells were also limited by MP, it was inevitable that they would run out at some point.

Rundelhaus had complained—I’m taking huge damage because you can’t perform recovery properly!!—but from what Isuzu had seen, she thought their two healers, Serara and Minori, had done their best.

Of course Isuzu had no idea what exactly it was they’d been doing, but since Serara looked exhausted and Minori seemed to be brooding, she could declare categorically that they hadn’t been slacking off.

Isuzu was one of the newbies who had been rescued from Hamelin. Her class was Bard.

She had been friends with Minori since their time in Hamelin.

…Or rather, Minori had taken care of her.

Minori, a middle-school kid who was three years her junior, had a very good head on her shoulders.

Her level had been much lower than Isuzu’s, and she’d been younger, with less experience, but Isuzu felt something very close to respect for her. Of course, some of it was because of the knowledge she constantly shared—the “things Shiroe taught me”—but more of it was due to the girl’s intelligence and her strong sense of purpose.

I’m pretty dense myself… I’m afraid I’ve leaned on Minori a lot.

As Isuzu thought, curled up in her sleeping bag, her thoughts turned to herself. She didn’t think she was the tiniest bit useful in this situation.

In high school, she was in the wind instrument club. That was her hobby: instruments. The wood bass, at that.

She was tall and gangly, but her hormones had gone off-kilter while she was growing, and she was as thin as a track athlete (not that she was particularly strong). She didn’t think her face was ugly, but it was quite ordinary and far from beautiful.

She had a bit of a complex about her freckles. Her hair was on the thick side and tended to curl oddly even if she braided it, which discouraged her on a daily basis.

It wasn’t that she had few friends or that she was bullied, but in the real world, she’d been no more than a country high school girl, the sort that seem mass-produced.

She’d started online gaming on a whim. Her older brother, who was a Gundam geek, had said, “I’ve got an extra invitation ticket that’ll let you play for free. Want to try it?” and so she’d tried it.

Once she’d started playing, she’d decided it was pretty fun, and she’d been happy to settle into the music-related Bard class, even in the game. That said, if asked whether she would have played even if it hadn’t been free, she probably wouldn’t have. Her enthusiasm hadn’t gone that far.

Then Isuzu had gotten pulled into the Catastrophe, and had gotten mixed up with the corrupt guild Hamelin.

At first, she’d panicked. She’d been so confused she hadn’t known what was happening, and it had gone on and on, but soon a profound despair had caught up with her.

…And she’d caved, just like that. Her hope had been flattened, and she’d given up resisting. She’d cursed God and the world, cursed them and cursed them until she was empty, and she’d stopped thinking about anything except being fed every day.

So this is what life feels like for kids in poor countries, she’d muttered to herself, feeling terribly miserable. She hated it so much she thought she’d go crazy, but at the same time, a part of her felt that it made sense. She heard a tired murmur inside her, telling her that this was the kind of ending supporting actresses got.

Isuzu had lost to the Catastrophe.

Even at a time like that, Minori had been kind to the other new players.

True, knowledge wasn’t the sort of thing that disappeared if you shared it, but that didn’t mean there was no point in hoarding it. If you kept it to yourself, there was a bigger chance that when push came to shove, you’d be the only one saved.

Even so, Minori had talked to the other new players in her room every day, trying to share all the game information she knew with them.

Her little brother Touya had been like that as well.

It was impossible not to be surprised that those two were middle schoolers.

They both had a strength that was beyond exceptional. If it hadn’t been for Minori, Isuzu thought she would have gotten much, much worse in Hamelin, and she might not have managed to regain her cheerfulness yet.

On the other hand, Serara was a girl her own age.

She was the one who’d first handed out hot, delicious soup and bread, minutes after they’d been saved from Hamelin. Their treatment at the cursed guild had been awful. It felt awkward to say it herself, but right after their rescue, she’d probably smelled like garbage.

Even so, Serara had hugged Isuzu, telling her, “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

They’d been like a group of refugees that day, in the entrance of the guild hall. As the newbies sniffled, soaked with tears, Serara had told them she was also a new player, and that her level wasn’t much different from theirs.

“I was targeted by slave traders, too, in a town called Susukino, but I was rescued, and now I’m part of a proper guild,” she’d told them. Those words had probably saved many of her friends.

Of the whole Crescent Moon League, she’d been one of the members who was kindest to the newbs. Isuzu had felt an affinity with her, both because their levels were similar and because their actual ages were the same. By now, she was the person she was closest to at the Crescent Moon League, and they spent almost every day together.

Because of this, to Isuzu, Minori and Serara were both trustworthy acquaintances. She thought it would probably be okay to call them “friends”, but for some reason, she felt that it wouldn’t be right to declare that they were friends without their permission, and the feeling made her call them “acquaintances.” Still, in her heart, they were friends.

…And so there was no way the two of them had slacked off on recovery. Isuzu knew neither was the type.

Then what had caused that day’s tragedy? Who had been in the wrong?

When faced with that question, Isuzu found herself at a loss.

That confused, drawn-out battle had gone on for a whole thirty minutes.

By the time they made it through the battle—a battle in which somebody could easily have died—the party was half destroyed, and every member had completely exhausted their MP and special skill recast restrictions. If the enemy had found them one more time when they were like that, they really would have been annihilated.

Desperately, the party had tried to get back to the entrance. On the way, they were spotted by the Skeletons who’d revived, and they’d ended up having to fight a gruesome running battle as they went…

Today was completely awful.

They’d had a horrendous time of it.

Isuzu and the other members’ first attempt at a dungeon had set a record: They’d beat a retreat just one hour after going in.

It…wasn’t Touya.

She wasn’t as close to Touya as she was to Minori, but she did know him.

She thought he was a good, cheerful kid. Had they gotten into trouble because Touya was useless, or because he’d had ill will toward them? She could declare categorically that was not the case.

True, during their short expedition, he’d made a few wrong moves, like that forced charge. However, if she examined each individual case, although every one of them had certainly been a misstep, there had been some sort of idea or logic behind them on Touya’s part, and they weren’t the sort of things she could just arbitrarily blame him for.

She tried thinking of other causes.

For example, she had met Rundelhaus the Sorcerer for the first time at this camp. Of their current group, his personality and actual strengths were the biggest unknown.

There was nothing modest about anything Rundelhaus said. He was arrogant, and his constant bragging was annoying. True, he had the face of a handsome prince, but as far as Isuzu was concerned, he just seemed shallow.

Then was Rundelhaus behind the day’s defeat? She wasn’t sure about that, either.

Yes, in some ways, Rundelhaus’s overconfidence and carelessness had made their situation worse. Still, when she looked at each incident separately, as with Touya, Rundelhaus’s actions had been backed by intent and the idea that he could win.

More than anything, there could be no doubt that Rundelhaus loved his class and had done his best to display its true strengths. After all, Rundelhaus was a type of narcissist, and he considered annihilating the enemy a virtue, so there was no way he’d cut corners.

He isn’t a bad guy…

From where she lay on her stomach, Isuzu shot a glance at Rundelhaus. With his arms crossed and his mouth set in a dissatisfied line, Rundelhaus had the air of a mountain monk sitting under a waterfall. The fact that his looks were completely Western European made this seem very strange, but there was no doubt that he was serious.

I bet he’s mentally going over what went wrong today.

She also thought he might be blaming himself. Rundelhaus seemed to say whatever came into his head, and during the day’s adventure, he’d roundly blamed most of the group. Still, at the same time, he was apparently hard on himself as well, and he’d seemed irritated and filled with self-reproach.

Haaaah…

In that case, when it came right down to it, was nobody to blame?

Nuh-uh. Hold it, girl. That’s not quite fair, is it?

Right. There was one person she’d failed to examine: Isuzu herself. She couldn’t deny the possibility that she’d had issues which had dumped them into trouble several times.

It’s not as if I’m good at this stuff…

When all was said and done, Isuzu was a newbie gamer. She knew nothing about martial arts, and in the real world, she’d never even dreamed of struggling to survive. There was a decent possibility that she was bad at fighting.

Even so, it had been two months already.

Isuzu was aware that she’d fought her way through battle after battle in this world. She couldn’t possibly be so unused to combat that she’d ended up this much of a mess, could she? Besides, unlike Touya, Isuzu was a rearguard class. She wasn’t taking enemy attacks directly.

Still, when Isuzu thought back, all sorts of things about the day’s adventure had felt off to her as well. In this case, “felt off” meant no more than actions which, in retrospect, hadn’t been the best move.

She didn’t know why it had ended up the way it had, but when she thought back, she felt as if several mistakes had piled up, one on another.

Bards had many types of special skills, but their Continuous Support songs were particularly noteworthy. These were musical wave patterns that were unconsciously radiated from the Bard’s body.

They were convenient and powerful special skills: They were sustainable support that affected all members of the party, and they would continue to bestow their benefits indefinitely, as long as the Bard didn’t end the effect. If used at the beginning of an adventure, Continuous Support songs would continue to display their effects throughout the adventure without any effort on the Bard’s part, which made them the sort of special skill you’d want to use all the time.

The problem was that only two of these Continuous Support songs could be used at the same time. High-level Bards had fifteen types of Continuous Support songs, and at this point in time, even Isuzu had ten variations. The question of which two of these ten types of support to use was the first problem a Bard encountered, and it was one even high-level Bards continued to worry about.

Today, Isuzu had chosen Circular Carol and Sword-Speed Etude. The first support song added additional damage to magic attacks, while the second increased the speed of weapon attacks. Of the types of support Bards could provide, both were standard.

However, in today’s combat, they had failed.

Circular Carol did increase magic damage, but as a result, the enemy’s attention had been drawn to Rundelhaus. She hadn’t expected that particular problem at all.

On top of that, there had been more enemy reinforcements than she’d anticipated, and the battle had turned into a melee.

At that point, although they were in the middle of a battle, Isuzu had decided to change songs. Changing a support song required a long chant, and it was generally best to avoid doing it during a battle. Even this time, she’d hesitated and put it off, but the idea that they might be wiped out if things kept on this way had stiffened her resolution to change them during battle.

She’d switched Circular Carol for Nocturne of Meditation.

Sword-Speed Etude had become Dancing Pavane.

Nocturne of Meditation was a support song that gradually recovered MP, even during battle. In Elder Tales, MP recovered slowly whenever players weren’t fighting. Resting increased the speed of recovery. However, it didn’t recover during battle. Nocturne of Meditation was used to recover MP while players fought, although the speed was a mere fraction of what it would have been if they’d been resting.

Dancing Pavane improved all party members’ agility and increased their evasion rate for monster attacks.

Once enemy reinforcements had appeared, it had been inevitable that the battle would be prolonged. Actually, the battle was already chaotic by the time she’d decided to change songs. Isuzu had changed them in preparation for a long-term battle.

At the time, she’d thought there no other alternative, and even now, she didn’t think the decision had been wrong.

Still, in retrospect, it hadn’t changed the situation in their favor.

It had raised their evasion rate, of course, and the speed at which they expended MP had clearly slowed down. The recovery from Nocturne of Meditation was helping to buffer the amount of MP consumed by special skills and healing.

However, at the same time, Circular Carol and Sword-Speed Etude had stopped increasing damage.

Once their damage output fell, it took more time to defeat a single enemy. If defeating enemies took longer, combat time increased—and as a result, the amount of necessary HP recovery needed increased, and MP consumption grew fiercer.

It was a vicious cycle.

Still…

Yes: “Still.”

Isuzu couldn’t convince herself that the decision had been a bad one. It might have been a mistake, but only in that it hadn’t been the best move possible. In other words, it was no worse than the mistakes Touya and Rundelhaus had made. She couldn’t believe that it had been what had pushed them into the day’s confused, desperate battles.

Besides, if it had been a mistake, what should she have done?

Isuzu contemplated.

…I’m not much good at thinking, either.

She wasn’t good at reflecting on her mistakes and putting together strategies. Analysis and execution were her weakest fields. However, the heavy atmosphere in the tent made Isuzu even more uncomfortable than thinking did.

As a result, even though she felt as if her stomach were filled with heavy, sunken stones, there was nothing for her to do but worry.

This was probably true not just for her, but for Minori and Touya, too, and all the newbies in the tent. Worrying was the only way to pass the time.

Their first night in the mountains of Zantleaf had only just begun.

3

The hall was tiny—although probably still larger than a school classroom in the old world—and it echoed with a sweet melody played by beautiful women. With that chamber music in the background, many groups of people filled the room.

The Ancient Court of Eternal Ice.

The Room of Seven Maidens, in a corner of an upper story.

Young knights stood, speaking magnanimously. Young princesses had installed themselves on the sofas tastefully arranged around the room and were giving little cries of delight at bits of gossip. Young nobles behaved courteously. Fledgling scholars showed sober smiles that were almost wry. Slender bureaucrats.

Tonight’s soirée was said to be a candid gathering of the young people of Eastal. About forty guests, whose ages ranged from late teens to midtwenties, were present.

“…Do you intend to stay here the entire time?”

“Yes.”

Krusty’s answer was brief. He and Raynesia were seated across from each other at a small, round table.

Raynesia tried to smile back, but her smile was slightly strained.

It wasn’t that Raynesia particularly disliked Krusty.

As a rule, the well-built knight was taciturn, and he never tried to use aristocratic flattery on her. This meant she could get by without pretending to be “a beautiful princess soaked by the rain,” which was very nice.

However, she was a daughter of the Cowen dukedom.

If she spent this much time with one man, who knew what sort of rumors would spread? Things would probably be all right during the soirée. However, the thought of what might be said later depressed her.

Does this man understand that…?

In front of her, Krusty was drinking Black Rose Tea mixed with alcohol, his expression untroubled. They’d taken their seats at this table about the time the soirée began, nearly an hour ago. They hadn’t made any real conversation, either.

The situation was a result of their interests aligning for the short term. For Raynesia, the advantage was that she wouldn’t have to be suffocated by compliments from young nobles, knights, and civil servants. After all, she was the granddaughter of the leading lord, Duke Sergiad.

There were only two ducal families in all of Yamato. Dukes were the greatest of the great aristocrats. The title had been granted to them by ancient Westlande. Now that that ancient dynasty had fallen, in terms of the aristocratic class system, the only house that outranked the Cowen dukedom was the House of Saimiya, the grave keepers of the Westlande dynasty.

As a daughter of such a great noble family, Raynesia was courted by many knights and civil servants. Raynesia had one older sister and one younger brother, but her sister had already married someone below her station, and so when Raynesia took a husband or her brother took a wife, one of them would inherit the House of Cowen. Viewed in that light, it was no wonder that she was an object of worship, adoration, and desire to the nobles and knights of her generation.

Haaaaah…

Thinking about it made her stomach start to feel like lead, and she gave a furtive sigh. To Raynesia, “marriage” seemed like something from a distant, unknown country. Her parents’ relationship seemed much too formal for what the world termed “husband and wife,” and her older sister’s relationship was a very soppy one. Raynesia couldn’t decide which of these was really “marriage.”

Personally, all she could think was that she could never live with a perfect stranger of the opposite sex, but in her position, she knew she would probably have to.

If they were married, they couldn’t exactly be called “perfect” strangers, but Raynesia seemed not to have realized this.

Incidentally, upon seeing Raynesia’s melancholy look, the young nobles and princesses around her whispered to each other: “How sorrowfully Lady Raynesia sighs…” and “She must be lamenting the future of this world. What purity…”

However, this had completely slipped her mind as well.

Krusty, the other much-discussed character, was also enjoying certain advantages. He was the young leader of the Round Table Council, the largest force among the Adventurers and the current focus of conversation.

In terms of soldiers, they had an army that was about ten thousand strong. Not only that, it was said that each of these soldiers was an elite no knight with lukewarm skills could measure up to. In terms of the knights the lords held, the Round Table Council’s power was equal to several tens of thousands of soldiers. The scale of their economy might not be as large as that of Maihama, the largest territory in Eastal, but there were rumors that they might be nearly equal.

They were an enormous force that had appeared quite suddenly in Eastal, the League of Free Cities.

Even without these elements, when viewed as an individual, Krusty himself attracted quite a lot of attention.

His height was over 190 centimeters, and for a human, he was rather large. That said, he didn’t come off as skinny and gangly. His trained, well-muscled body showed that he was a top-class warrior at first glance.

If he just sat silently, his glasses and intellectual profile made him seem aristocratic, and his sandy-colored hair suited him very well.

Even setting aside the fact that he was an Adventurer, he constantly exuded a charisma that made him the object of the aristocratic ladies’ curiosity and longing.

His heavy, dark gray armor with scattered dark-blue accents—which he had worn at the goodwill match held for young knights the other day—had had scars and scorch marks all over it. That alone had been enough to make the knights who prided themselves on their beautiful armor refrain from fighting him. The experienced warriors who’d asked for a match were now completely infatuated with him.

As a result, in a different way from Raynesia, Krusty was now the focus of attention among the nobles, and being with her made it possible for him to avoid receiving unnecessary invitations or being pulled into troublesome conspiracies. That was what he’d said, at any rate.

Uuu…

Raynesia watched Krusty resentfully. Krusty completely ignored her gaze, but he did raise his head. His eyes were focused on something behind her.

“Princess Raynesia?”

“I do beg your pardon. We didn’t mean to disturb your chat. Um… Would it be all right if we joined you? We’ve brought cookies.”

The two girls were Marquis Lester’s daughter Apretta and Fevel, the granddaughter of the Baron of Iwafune. They were her contemporaries, the girls who’d debuted with her at the ball.

“Yes, of course. …You don’t mind, do you, Sir Krusty?”

Raynesia answered them with a flawless smile. Krusty also smiled amiably and stood, guiding the pair toward chairs composed of graceful curves. She had no idea where he’d learned the gesture, but it was sickeningly perfect.

…Oh, I see. So he does know his etiquette… He knows how to treat ladies. …Hmmm.

Seeming relieved, the two girls offered them cookies and began to talk about trivial things. To Raynesia, being the object of worshipful gazes was the same to her whether said gazes came from knights or princesses, but since they didn’t propose to her, she felt somewhat more at ease around women.

She wasn’t at all able to empathize with their private lives, though. When they spoke of new perfumes and dresses, she couldn’t actually follow the conversation.

She had a vague idea that perfume stank.

The fragrances were too strong.

Well, putting it that way, if left to herself, she would have gone without bathing for a week or so, in which case she would have smelled worse, but in reality, of course, they never left her alone. Her ladies-in-waiting dumped her into the bath every day, and they doused her with perfume.

Dresses—another favorite topic—were, on top of being uncomfortable, either too revealing or over-decorated, and she thought they were terribly hard clothes to do anything in.

Raynesia’s favorites were cotton pajamas.

Thin, soft-textured, flannel pajamas were wonderful. Silk also had a nice feel to it, but it made her a bit nervous somehow. Those were the pajamas of evil.

To be perfectly honest, she would have loved to spend her entire life in her pajamas. If she could get by without ever leaving her futon, so much the better.

“—Don’t you agree, Princess Raynesia?”

Fevel and Apretta were laughing, charmingly. On reflex, Raynesia smiled back. “Yes, truly.”

Upon receiving Raynesia’s agreement, the two girls giggled and whispered together happily. Internally, Raynesia broke out in a cold sweat. She’d agreed because it had been so sudden, but she’d been busy fantasizing, and she didn’t have any idea what they’d been talking about.

“Princess Raynesia is lovely, isn’t she, Master Krusty?”

“Yes, I’m honored.”

At Krusty’s response, the young princesses giggled. Even to Raynesia, the two girls seemed charming. They were completely different from her: They were charming on the inside.

“?”

“However… Princess Raynesia is a very compassionate lady. She spoke as she did out of consideration for me, because I am a newcomer.”

“That isn’t true at all. You are a gallant knight, Master Krusty.”

Uh— Huh?!

Outwardly, Raynesia smiled gently, but she was panicking.

Apparently, in the course of the conversation a little while ago, the two young princesses had complimented Krusty, and that was what she’d agreed with.

Unlike Raynesia, whose ball debut had been delayed by her doting grandfather, if she recalled correctly, these girls were twelve or thirteen. To them, Krusty’s age must make him the sort of knight they idolized. At their age, they could get away with that. That was probably why they’d been able to come to the table, without feeling the diffidence the other princesses felt.

Those two had praised Krusty, and she’d agreed with it—that must have been what had happened.

Please let it have been some sort of harmless compliment!

“Princess Raynesia is keeping me company this way because I am unused to palace customs, and she’s helping me escape being maligned as a country bumpkin. I feel I’m quite unworthy of the honor.”

The smooth tones in which Krusty spoke to the two princesses made his earlier reticence seem like a lie.

H-he’s a bad person! A really bad person!

“My! Then, Master Krusty, we could introduce you to everyone…”

“Or, rather, would you join us in a game of chaturanga over there?”

The two raised startled voices.

“No, Princess Fevel, Princess Apretta. I am a barbarian who knows nothing but the battlefield. Besides, until I’ve repaid Lady Raynesia for the compassion she’s shown me, I must not leave her side.”

Even though it was likely that he just didn’t want to bother dealing with the other nobles, Krusty delivered that line with a very serious, loyal expression. However, the two young princesses misread the words and assumed there was romance behind them. “A knight’s pledge!” they said. “How wonderful…” It made Raynesia’s head hurt.

“It’s perfectly all right, Sir Krusty. Don’t bother with a girl like me. Please, go admire the flowers of the palace. Won’t you?”

Raynesia fixed Krusty with as ladylike a gaze as she could manage, whispering to him. Her words carried the nuance, Isn’t it about time you found some other place of refuge?

“No. My heart is frayed from battle, and the tranquility around you heals it. If you would, please grant me the opportunity to repay you for the duration of the conference.”

She interpreted Krusty’s words to mean, Let me use that act of yours as a shield for the whole conference. We both benefit, you know.

When the two princesses gave bright shrieks at their exchange and fled, the exhausted Raynesia leaned limply against the sofa.

Nearby, Krusty maintained his usual, peaceful serenity.

To a bystander, they looked like nothing more than a princess, faint from the heat of the gathering, and her faithful knight, quietly watching over her.

4

“Haah… Hah…”

Breathing raggedly, Touya drained the contents of his canteen.

Serara, who’d seen this out of the corner of her eye, asked, “Are you all right?”

Minori’s party had entered a small burial chamber on the right-hand route of Forest Ragranda. The floor was littered with the bones of countless Skeletons.

They’d just gotten through a battle in the corridor, disposed of the reinforcements, and barricaded themselves in the burial chamber, managing to survive the melee.

They all looked near exhaustion.

In this other world, their physical strength was reinforced to a great degree by their status. The fact that a mere middle-school girl like Minori was managing to hike through the mountains and explore dungeons all day was proof.

However, mental fatigue was a different matter. Fighting long battles wore away their concentration, and the more bewildering the combat situation, the worse the strain on their nerves. Even Minori had been suffering from a rather bad headache for a little while now.

Come to think of it, I haven’t had any water since this morning…

Her throat didn’t feel dry, but she took a swallow from her canteen anyway. If she let dehydration dull her thoughts, she’d lose everything.

This situation isn’t good…

Minori looked at each of the party members.

Touya sat huddled, hugging his sword. His breathing seemed to be calming down, little by little, but he’d had a rough time during the recent battle. He’d shed a lot of blood, and there’d been a moment when his HP had dropped to 30 percent of the maximum. He’d been hit with a lot of bad status effects, and at some points his recovery hadn’t been able to keep up. It must have hurt.

She thought it had to be his emotional strength that had made him camp near the door even now, when he was completely drained, securing the position that would make him the monsters’ first target if another battle began.

Serara was still out of breath, but she’d begun rummaging through her bag anyway. Minori guessed she was adjusting the positions of the potions in her pack in preparation for the next battle.

It sounded funny that she and Serara, the Healers, relied on potions, but even negative-status cancellation spells had recast times. Minori’s was Great Purification Prayer, and its recast time was twenty seconds. In other words, if she insisted on using Great Purification Prayer and nothing else, she’d only be able to cancel one bad status every twenty seconds.

For example, if all party members had been poisoned, in simple terms, it would be eighty seconds before she could recover the last member. In order to get the team by without that loss, Serara seemed to think it would be best to cancel her own poisoned status with a potion.

I see. That’s really neat. I’ll bring some next time, too.

Minori made a mental note.

Still, that did mean that Serara, a Healer whose level was higher than her own, didn’t have an effective way to handle the current situation. Potions were no more than a drop in the bucket.

Rundelhaus had his eyes squeezed shut.

The position reminded Minori of something: He probably had his status screen open and was staring at his remaining MP.

They’d been fighting battle after battle for a while now, and Minori’s MP had also been driven down to 25 percent. Since they were resting, her MP was recovering at a steady pace. If they waited ten minutes, it was likely that she’d have recovered 70 or 80 percent of her MP and would be able to fight again.

However, Rundelhaus had paid out spells in rapid succession, and he’d used far more magic than Minori. If Minori had kept an accurate eye on his status, Rundelhaus was completely draining his MP in every battle. To him, waiting patiently afterward to recover might even be part of his efforts to annihilate the enemy.

Over the past two days, Minori had heard Rundelhaus mutter “Why…?” countless times. He probably meant, “Why is it this hard?” “Why can’t we win?” and he probably also meant, “Why am I this weak?”

It was likely his pride that made him mutter that way.

She understood. Minori was like that herself.

“Why…?” I know exactly what he’s feeling. Even the things I did well when I was alone don’t go well here. We’re limiting each others’ strengths. Something’s going…really wrong.

If she let those words out… If she swallowed them back…

She thought Rundelhaus wasn’t just a thoughtless, pampered rich kid. It was his responsibility to crush the enemy, and he was very serious about it. In fact, on that point, he hadn’t compromised at all.

Probably… Rundelhaus is… It’s hard to see it, but I think he’s fighting for keeps.

Isuzu was silent.

Minori was a bit worried about her. Isuzu was usually cheerful, and even a bit of a chatterbox. She was very sensitive to the surrounding mood, and she probably couldn’t be lively in a situation like this, but Minori was worried that in itself might crush her.

I guess… I’m the same way…

She knew they’d made some mistake, and that it had landed them in an extremely bad situation. Minori was aware that she probably understood this better than anyone.

This was one of the “crises” that Shiroe had spoken of so often.

But… Even so…

Minori shut her mouth tightly. Their current circumstances certainly were critical. They matched several of the cases Shiroe had warned her about.

“Why are we this weak?”

It was Rundelhaus who’d spoken; he seemed to have gotten his wind back.

He hadn’t spoken loudly, but his voice echoed strongly in the silent burial chamber.

“……”

Serara bit her lip, looking down. Isuzu couldn’t raise her head.

“I’m level 24. The enemy’s levels are between 17 and 21. In that case, why are the battles this hard? It shouldn’t be like this, should it?”

That’s…

It was probably because they weren’t using their full power. That was what Minori thought. Or maybe they were being divided so that they couldn’t use their full power.

…Of course, the undead didn’t have that sort of intelligence. High-level undead would have been different, but undead like the Skeletons and Zombies they’d met up to this point didn’t have enough sense of self or tactical intelligence.

In a manner of speaking, Minori’s group was limiting their own potential.

However, she couldn’t say that.

After all, Minori’s level was 21. She had the lowest level in the party, and she was the one who was holding them back. Then, too, the one with the highest level—29—was her brother, Touya.

Since Minori had the least power of anyone in the group, if she said this, it would sound as if she was making excuses. If Touya said it, it would inevitably sound as if he was defending Minori.

Besides, although she knew they weren’t managing to exercise their full strength, even Minori didn’t know how to overcome the problem.

“……”

“Will we just have to…keep training…?”

Rundelhaus’s words sounded as if even he didn’t believe them. They sounded that way to everyone else, too.

However, no one could say it, and Minori and the others only kept silent.

5

In the dark courtyard, the cool sound of water played.

Even though it was late at night, abundant water flowed smoothly from the fountain in the center of the courtyard. The water ran through beautifully carved channels, sending up spray whenever it traveled down one of the calculated steps.

The people who had designed the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice had apparently taken solid precautions against the heat of summer. To begin with, built as it was on pillars of Eternal Ice that raised it to a height of fifteen meters, the humidity in the palace was less than at ground level, and the temperature was cooler.

It wasn’t clear what sort of technology had been used, but waterways like the ones in the courtyard ran all through the palace, circulating cool, clear water from the upper floors to the lower ones, as gravity dictated.

As a result, although it was August, the night air in the palace was pleasant, and almost chilly.

In this cool courtyard, a girl was silently practicing martial arts, all alone. There was nothing violent about her movements, but an observer who knew what they were looking for could have seen the extents of her efforts and knowledge through the gestures’ dexterity and crisp definition.

With every move she made, her long, black hair swayed in the wind. Her body—wrapped in plain, shadow-colored clothes—was small, and she still didn’t have much of a figure, but her delicate, girlish curves made her silhouette quite attractive all the same.

It was Akatsuki, Log Horizon’s girl Assassin.

Lead right, slide left. One beat… Lead left, feint right, half-turn… One beat.

The girl was running through an odd practice form.

In karate and old martial arts, although footwork is considered important, moving the upper body along with it is emphasized as well. This is the same across nearly all martial arts. However, the girl kept her arms gently curved and stationary in front of her chest, and she seemed to be training with a focus on footwork.

It seemed rather like a partial taolu (a sequential dance performed as training) from Chinese kenpo. The care she took not to drop her center of gravity and the easy use of her knees and ankles in the footwork vaguely resembled kendo, Japanese fencing, as well. It was a strange sort of dance.

Lead left, feint right, half-turn… Twist your upper body, turn again. …Feint left, shift your body, lead right, two steps.

Akatsuki repeated the form as if in a dream.

When she’d repeated it so often she’d forgotten the passage of time, when the sequence of movements had melted together and begun to flow through her body almost like blood, she looked up, and there was Shiroe.

“My liege?!”

“Aren’t you going to sleep, Akatsuki?”

“H-how long have you been…”

“Uh, not long.”

Shiroe approached looking slightly troubled, and gave one of the glasses he held to Akatsuki. “Not long” had probably been a lie. If not, there would have been no reason for him to have two glasses.

How long had he been watching her? Akatsuki couldn’t hold back her dismay at the thought. She worked hard, though, and managed to keep it out of her expression as she took the glass.

“Thanks.”

The glass she’d accepted was filled with Garnet Tea. The taste was dull, but it was nice and cold, a good after-exercise drink.

Shiroe sat down on a carved limestone bench at the edge of the fountain. The space left next to him could have easily seated three people, but although she had the space, Akatsuki didn’t have the courage to sit there.

Akatsuki stood near Shiroe, drinking her tea with nothing else to do. Although she was standing close to him, she hesitated to stand directly in front of him, so she was about sixty degrees to the side.

Ninja should always be this way.

She’d muttered that to herself silently, but there was another reason: If she stood right in front of him, they’d be looking straight at each other.

It wasn’t that being a ninja made her this subservient; it was only that she felt overawed, or awkward. Standing directly in front of Shiroe, face-to-face, made Akatsuki feel incredibly nervous somehow.

“……”

Still, Shiroe didn’t seem to have the slightest idea that Akatsuki was thinking this way. His expression was vaguely perplexed, as though he were watching something far away. It made him look terribly mature.

Shiroe had sanpaku eyes, and when he stared at something, he tended to draw his eyebrows together (and he stared like nobody’s business), all of which made him seem like an obstinate young man. The endearing round glasses he wore let him fool some people at first glance, but if they were around him for any length of time, they’d be startled by the depth of his thoughts and the breadth of his imagination.

In any case, it was generally hard to tell what Shiroe was thinking, but there were some things only Akatsuki knew.

When you lived together as part of the same guild, like family, you saw people in all sorts of different ways. It was like that now, when he was sitting on the bench. Even though Akatsuki was short, she noticed things.

For example, the whorl in the back of Shiroe’s black hair spun clockwise.

Akatsuki thought it was really cute.

At the very least, the tuft that grew from behind that whorl and curled up like a cowlick looked like a mouse’s tail in a drawing, and that was very cute.

The cowlick was sticking up now, too, and she began to want to touch it with her fingertip. Of course, in the real world, both Akatsuki and Shiroe were college students. They weren’t at an age where they could make even that sort of trivial contact casually, so she shoved the urge down. …But.

Still, my liege’s whorl is cute.

That was what Akatsuki thought.

“What do you think, Akatsuki?”

“About what?”

“…The people of this palace, or their reactions…?”

Shiroe finished his sentence vaguely. Apparently this was about an impression even he couldn’t explain clearly. In response, Akatsuki gave a frank report of what she’d sensed.

“I would say they’re intensely interested. Goodwill and hostility. About half of each.”

“I see…”

“I think the one bright spot is that, although they’re hostile, they aren’t malicious.”

“?”

Hostility meant animosity. It was what both latent antagonists and rivals would direct at them. On the other hand, malice was a clearer intent to cause harm to the other party.

Once this was explained to him, Shiroe muttered, “Then you’d say it feels as if they don’t have a specific plan yet?”

“Even if it is hostility, I think it’s probably jealousy and envy.”

“Right… I’d bet there’s suspicion there as well.”

Shiroe nodded several times, agreeing with Akatsuki’s words. Shiroe had probably been observing his surroundings in his own way, searching for the meaning of those words and glances. He’d asked Akatsuki about it in order to compare their answers, to reconcile their impressions.

Over the past few days, wherever they went in the palace, Akatsuki’s party had been the focus of attention.

After their dance at the ball on the first night, Henrietta and Shiroe had become the subject of rumors. Both had changed partners and danced five dances, and they’d been spoken to by many noblemen and their wives. They had taken Eastal society by storm.

At the ball, Shiroe and Henrietta, and for that matter Krusty and Michitaka, had actively interacted with people, working to make themselves known.

Petite, lovely Akatsuki had, at first, been viewed as an oddity.

Common sense told that since she had appeared in the great hall, she was either a noble herself, a family member, or an attendant. Apparently they hadn’t been able to judge whether to treat her as family or as an attendant.

However, when they considered the fact that Shiroe had danced with Henrietta and the quality of the dress Akatsuki wore, they decided to treat her more as a member of a noble family than as a noble’s attendant.

After that, many people had spoken to her.

Knights and the sons of provincial lords approached Akatsuki one after another. They offered her drinks, or asked her to dance. She didn’t particular mind these things in and of themselves, but she was quite clearly being treated as a child, and she couldn’t stand that.

Akatsuki was an adult.

Why did she have to have people doting on her and speaking to her as if she were in elementary school? The only ones in that hall who had looked at Akatsuki as an independent individual whose age equaled theirs were the sons and daughters of the nobles, and they had clearly been in their early teens.

Why do I have to have children being considerate to me, as if I’m one of them?!

Just remembering exasperated her to the point where she felt as if her stomach was on fire.

In the real world, she’d been treated like this on a daily basis.

They wouldn’t let her into pubs. They’d patted her head and told her she only had to pay the child fare. Kids’ brand clothing turned out to be just her size. She was sick of it. Because she was sick of it, in Elder Tales, she’d pretended to be a tall, silent male character, but the Catastrophe had put the kibosh on that.

She’d been so annoyed at the party she’d very nearly drawn a kunai, but she restrained herself and ran away instead. She hadn’t wanted anyone to pay any more attention to her, so she’d used Stealth Travel and Silent Move and escaped from the hall.

After that, for the few days until today, as a rule, she’d used the same methods to prowl around the inside of the palace.

She’d hid in the shadows of carved pillars or generously draped velvet curtains, eavesdropping on the nobles’ conversations. She couldn’t get conspicuously close, of course. Akatsuki’s excellent ninja senses told her that the People of the Earth had spies lurking in the palace as well. In this sort of secret warfare, unless there were well-laid plans, the person seeking things had an advantage over the person hiding them.

The current conditions were nothing more than members involved in the same business agreeing that, as long as no one caused mischief, they’d turn a blind eye. It was spies agreeing not to get in each other’s way.

However, what she’d learned from even that sketchy surveillance was that the nobles had far more spies in Akiba than they’d assumed. They seemed to have a great interest in Akatsuki and the other Adventurers, and in the Round Table Council, too.

Moreover, it had become clear that the Catastrophe was already widely recognized in People of the Earth society, and that it was considered to be the first step in a large-scale change that would shake the world to its foundations.

“I wonder if their hostility is due to issues of military force.”

“It sounded that way.”

The Adventurers had great military strength. Approximately half of the fifteen thousand people in Akiba were level 90. Even if they kept their estimate conservative and assumed the average level was 70, that would mean there were fifteen thousand level-70 Adventurers.

That strength was far, far greater than any military force the lords held.

One provincial lord had let slip, “In my territory, I have fifteen level-thirty knights, plus sergeants-at-arms. There are about one hundred peasant militia members… For anything else, I have to employ mercenaries.” If it was true, thirty Adventurers would be enough to subdue that force.

“I see. I don’t think there was much falsehood in those numbers. That sounds about right for a minor lord in the Tohoku region.”

“Do you think so?”

Shiroe seemed to have looked into the matter to a certain extent beforehand. He affirmed what Akatsuki had heard.

“Since that’s the sort of force they have, when despotic Adventurers like the Briganteers act like barbarians, they aren’t able to stop them. There’s no help for that.”

“You’re right.”

At present, the town of Akiba and the Round Table Council had absolutely no intention of starting a war. On the contrary: They wanted to cooperate with the People of the Earth and live in this world in peace.

Of course, if it turned out they needed to fight the People of the Earth in order to get back to their old world, for example, a different debate would probably break out. At this point in time, though, there would be no merit for the players in opening hostilities with the People of the Earth.

However, it would be too dangerous to blindly believe that the same logic applied to the People of the Earth.

First of all, Akatsuki and the other Adventurers probably saw the world differently than the People of the Earth did. The nobles lived on the taxes they collected in the course of administering their territories. The Adventurers were an element of uncertainty in these activities, and they might think of them as a blot on the landscape.

Next, and largest, was the problem of martial strength, as Shiroe had guessed.

For example, how would it make you feel if there were a man with a machine gun in the room with you? Living in that room would probably be very stressful. Whether or not you could trust the character of the gunman wouldn’t be much of an issue. It wouldn’t matter how virtuous he was. This would be doubly true if he were a complete stranger. If a man with a machine gun were nearby, his very presence would be disconcerting enough.

“We don’t have an accurate picture of each other’s abilities yet.”

Shiroe’s words continued beyond that point.

Even if they knew the Adventurers were powerful beings, the People of the Earth couldn’t know what their true abilities were. In terms of the previous metaphor, it was as if the man who lived in the room with you had “some sort of terrible weapon,” and you didn’t know whether it was a machine gun or a chain saw.

It might be a trivial weapon, like a fruit knife or disposable wooden chopsticks, but in the worst-case scenario, it could even be a hand grenade or an antitank missile. In that case, the entire room would be blown to smithereens.

Since they didn’t know what kind of weapon their opponents had, the nobles probably couldn’t decide whether they should defeat them with a surprise attack or live so that they never, ever made them angry, no matter how humiliating it was.

“Should we stage a battle, to show them?”

“No, that would be a mistake. There’s no point in spreading terror. Or rather, it would do all sorts of harm, even if it did us a little bit of good.”

“I see…”

Shiroe summarily turned down Akatsuki’s suggestion.

Of course, Akatsuki wasn’t all that depressed by this sort of thing. This was the man Akatsuki acknowledged as her liege, and in the field in which he excelled—mental combat—she wanted him to fly so high she couldn’t follow him. All Akatsuki had to do was use the special abilities only she possessed to support Shiroe, and that was enough for her.

Huh…?

It was enough. But.

It should have been enough. …But.

She felt as if something was tugging at her, and it made her feel a bit out of sorts. Of course, since she didn’t know the reason for it, it was only a slight discomfort, and ignoring it wouldn’t cause any trouble.

There’s no problem.

The night was growing very late.

If they stayed up any later than this, it might have a bad effect on the many plots and espionage wars that would begin once dawn broke. If it had been Akatsuki herself, it wouldn’t have mattered, but Shiroe was their head counselor.

However, just as she was about to suggest he get some sleep, she felt magic, as if their surroundings had blurred slightly.

Shiroe must have felt it at almost the same instant.

He sprang up from the bench; at some point, a wand had appeared in his hand.

Akatsuki also readied her short sword. Before Akatsuki and Shiroe, a thin man appeared.

A scholar’s robe. An amethyst circlet on his forehead. He seemed gaunt, as though his skin had been stretched directly over the bare minimum of muscle. If this had been all, he would have seemed sinister, but an ironic sense of humor showed in the man’s expression, and it made him somehow appealing, even charming.

In a theatrical manner, the man bowed his head once, then spoke:

“Master Shiroe of Log Horizon, I presume. I am Li Gan of Miral Lake, Magician. I’d be honored if you remembered me on future occasions. …I’ve come tonight because I wish to converse with you.”