1

It is said that God created the world in a six-day miracle, and on the seventh day, he rested. In other words, even God takes days off. And since God does it, Shiroe thought, humans would do well to imitate Him.

After labor, there should be a holiday.

Without them, people break down.

That was simple common sense.

This might be another world, with Adventurers and the Catastrophe, but there was no need to destroy common sense. …And yet.

Lately, Shiroe had been too busy to even raise such complaints.

He wasn’t being picked on by his guild mates, of course. Nyanta, Naotsugu, Akatsuki, and even the new members—Minori, Touya, Isuzu, and Rundelhaus—were trying to help him. However, the Round Table Council sent down an even greater amount of work than that.

Well, it might be cowardly to put it that way.

Those jobs weren’t being forced on him as the result of malicious power harassment.

…Probably.

If anything, Shiroe himself might have been the cause.

Shiroe was considered, both by the Round Table Council and by his own guild, to be a quick-witted strategic counselor type, and even he thought it probably wasn’t an inappropriate label. However—and this was something Shiroe was deeply conscious of—it wasn’t that he’d been blessed with extraordinary talent or the brain of a genius. On the contrary: According to Shiroe’s analysis, his abilities were perfectly mediocre.

In Shiroe’s own estimation, he was a typical advance prep type. He felt that his ability was to gather sufficient information ahead of time, examine and study it, include in his calculations how well it could be used off the cuff at the actual site, and then draw up scenarios.

This type wasn’t unusual. Put roughly, everyone who read the strategy guide before playing a game could be classed as this type of person. Really, it was a kind of cowardice. What set Shiroe apart was that reading the existing strategy guides wasn’t enough for him, and he would then begin to write his own strategy guide. It was probably curiosity—strong enough to force the cowardice aside—that made him do it.

He had no confidence in his skills, so he prepared very carefully. As a result, the people around him came to rely on this, and before long, he would inevitably be immersed even further in his preparations. He was the type who, although not particularly obliging, found himself handed the role of organizer before he knew what was happening.

Being cowardly was generally considered a weak point, but in terms of Shiroe’s role, it certainly couldn’t be called a total weakness. When acting as a strategy counselor, caution bordering on paranoia was an advantage, not a flaw.

However, that was the sort of thing you could say only if you were in a position to direct plenty of manpower. Shiroe was on his own, and the reality was that he was being nearly crushed by work.

This other world held far too many things for Shiroe to research.

Where the future was concerned, the more information they had the better, and the information he wanted to collect covered a very wide range. Elder Tales had existed as a game for twenty years, and there was a vast amount of strategy information even among others of its genre. Now that it had transformed into another world, that amount had only ballooned to several dozen times the original size. Not only that, but the world wasn’t static; it interacted with itself, and its aspect changed from moment to moment.

Of course, Shiroe had set a certain order of priority and was trying to make estimates as he investigated necessary information. He didn’t personally have enough acquaintances or economic support to achieve his goals, but he was able to connect with the public flow of information from the Round Table Council and he had a budget, if a set one. Compared to how it had been just after the Catastrophe, he’d grown far more efficient at gathering information.

That said, even so, there were a vast number of things he wanted to know and things he should know, and his feeling of unease never lifted.

Shiroe wasn’t collecting all the information about this world that he could get his hands on out of sheer personal curiosity. Whether the Adventurers worked to return home or gave up on it, the fact that they’d have to survive in this world was already common knowledge.

In order for that to happen, there were probably many situations where information would prove to be a lifeline.

In addition, just as a ship on an ocean voyage needed a sea chart, the Round Table Council needed information about this new world. No matter the situation, if they didn’t understand the surrounding information, they couldn’t hope to make an accurate decision.

For that reason, gathering and analyzing information was a public duty for Shiroe.

However, for the eleven guild masters on the Round Table Council—Akiba’s organization of self-government—routine contacts and miscellaneous duties took up a lot of time all by themselves. Just reading through the circular documents was quite a chore.

Major guilds such as D.D.D. and the Marine Organization probably had plenty of personnel who assisted their guild masters. Even within the guilds, sensible members had formed backup systems.

In a sense, this was just like having a private secretarial pool, and they supported the business processing abilities of Krusty, Michitaka, and the other guild masters. Even if they weren’t actual secretaries, it was reassuring to have friends nearby who could be asked to glance over something and give you their opinion on it.

However, with Log Horizon’s small membership—even though they’d added two more members to bring their total to eight—Shiroe couldn’t hope for a member whose sole function was support of him and the business. Moreover, it was Shiroe who was best at office work anyway. Minori was probably second best. However, Minori was still in training. If Shiroe kept her busy helping him with clerical work all the time, she’d fall behind Touya, Rundelhaus, and Isuzu, so he couldn’t ask for her assistance that often.

In consequence, Shiroe was being crushed by mountains of reports and miscellaneous paperwork.

“Arrrgh, I can’t do this!”

Faced with a messy heap of correspondence, Shiroe groaned. Of course, that type of work was in his nature, and a large part of him was doing it because he wanted to, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get discouraged. In particular, not being able to go outside for long periods of time depressed him.

Shiroe gazed out the window.

Until just the other day, that “window” had been no more than a square hole in the wall, but now it had been fitted with a window frame fashioned from thin boards and a covering made of sailcloth.

It was afternoon, but unfortunately, it was raining outside.

The autumn rain beat down on Akiba. Softly, rain like thin silver threads moistened the concrete and struck every single leaf of the ancient trees that grew throughout the town.

It was a gentle, quiet, exquisitely beautiful sight.

Even when Elder Tales had been a game, the weather engine had created “weather” in the outside zones. It had been pretty compared to most other games, but in comparison with the shining silver drops that fell onto Akiba now, it really had been no more than a game.

At this point, it seemed to Shiroe that the sights in this world outshone those of real-life Japan in every sense of the word.

Evening showers in summer, thunderstorms with lightning and thunder that seemed to split the very air, light rain like autumn mist… Even though they were all rain, they were all distinct, and all were beautiful.

Shiroe had lived in Japan, where public transportation was advanced and multiple courier services made their presence felt, and the only signs of the season he’d been able to find had been on NHK news. To him, the weather in this world was like a perfect drama all by itself.

When he drew back the sailcloth just a bit, the air in town seemed to be blurred with endless white lines. It was the rain, falling without a break. Although it was October and not really cold yet, it was likely that autumn would slowly deepen after this. Here and there in the town, people were out walking, not minding the rain; he also saw Adventurers who were hard at work cleaning the buildings and structures they lived in, as if this had struck them as a good opportunity.

It had been two months since the Zantleaf Peninsula sweep, but dealing with the aftermath had taken more time than expected.

Or, rather, it might have been better to say that they’d passed the clean-up stage and were beginning to forge a new relationship with Eastal, the League of Free Cities, an alliance of People of the Earth.

The reports that were delivered to Shiroe also supported this idea. Mentions of skirmishes had grown less frequent, and those of business transactions and material transport had gradually increased. Now that they’d reached this stage, the rest was probably in the jurisdiction of the commercial guilds.

The Libra Festival, for which preparations were in full swing, was proof enough of that.

With that thought, Shiroe felt as though a burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders.

…Only one burden, however.

What was currently dragging down Shiroe’s mood was the situations coming in from all over. Up until now, he’d had his hands full with Akiba itself, and he’d intentionally ignored the outside problems, but he was fast becoming unable to keep his eyes averted. He’d traced his connections and listened to stories, put them in order, took steps and gathered information, and discovered that the situation had advanced dramatically. Or rather, it had gone too far.

Well, it isn’t as if I didn’t see it coming, but… To think it would turn out this way, of all things. Good grief, them and us… We’re both…

Shiroe threw himself into a wicker chair and looked up at the ceiling.

Several maps, figures, and reports flickered through his mind.

On the Half-Gaia Project’s half-sized reproduction of the Japanese Peninsula—here known as the Arc-Shaped Archipelago Yamato—there were five player towns. In addition to Akiba, where Shiroe and the others lived, these were Shibuya, Minami, Susukino, and Nakasu. Also known as the Five Great Cities, they had been places the Japanese Elder Tales players could call hometowns.

When Elder Tales had been an MMO game, because these cities had been connected by teleportation devices known as intercity portals, the distance between them hadn’t really registered, but right now, that function had been suspended. As a result, moving between cities took the amount of time you’d expect, and in this world where monsters prowled, travel was risky. It was fair to say that exchange between the cities had dropped off dramatically.

It had been five months since the Catastrophe.

The town of Akiba, where Shiroe lived, had gone through great changes. Its appearance was the same as before, but the way people lived in it and related to one another had changed decisively. Add in the way they interacted with the League of Free Cities and the People of the Earth, and no one could say this was a game anymore. That was how far the situation had progressed.

Those five months had passed equally for everyone in this world.

As a result, Shiroe thought, it was only natural that all sorts of other places had changed, just as Akiba had.

However, Akiba’s transformation had been influenced by Shiroe’s will. He was aware that he’d made every effort in his attempts to change the town. In that case, were the changes to the other cities also being influenced by someone’s will? When he thought about those wills, Shiroe felt something in the pit of his stomach grow heavier.

Shibuya had probably been the one that had seen the fewest changes.

In the first place, Shibuya had held a unique position among the five player towns.

The town of Shibuya had been created last, with the intent of spreading out the players that were concentrated in Akiba. As part of the dispersion project, Shibuya had focused heavily on the gates as an intercity transportation system, and now that the gates weren’t working, the city’s functions were nearly paralyzed.

As a result, most of the Adventurers who’d been based in Shibuya had merged with the town of Akiba. At present, Shibuya was used freely but infrequently; it was treated as a sort of summer-home district on the outskirts of Akiba.

In a way, the changes to Susukino had been just as Shiroe had foreseen. Susukino had never recovered from the deterioration of public order that had followed the Catastrophe. On the contrary, that deterioration had ended up transforming it into a lawless city. Over the past few months, almost all the Adventurers who had been in Susukino and wanted to leave it had made their escape.

At the time, Serara had been a brand new Adventurer, but she’d managed to hide herself and get away. Of course this was due to the rescue operation Shiroe’s group had mounted, and since then, expedition teams organized by the Round Table Council had made several trips to Susukino and rescued everyone who wanted to get out.

However, although it had been thought that Susukino wouldn’t survive as a player town, even now, it still held more than two hundred Adventurers. They hadn’t been left behind. They’d voluntarily chosen to stay in that environment. Not only that, but there were a few Adventurers from Akiba and Minami who had deliberately moved there.

In this other world, this Elder Tales made real, there seemed to be a certain level of demand for lawlessness. He’d heard that Susukino had become a town where an Adventurer minority controlled the People of the Earth majority…

Shiroe didn’t sense any malice in that. Actually, saying he didn’t sense it would have been a lie, but there wasn’t much of it. More than that, Shiroe was simply afraid.

He had called for human rights for the People of the Earth at the Round Table Council for two main reasons:

One was as a way for the Adventurers to survive. Here, the People of the Earth outnumbered them ten to one. People of the Earth made the foundations of most consumable items, the world’s commodities. If they killed or dominated the People of the Earth, sooner or later, the friction would build and war would break out. No matter who won, it was sure to leave an enormous scar. Protecting the human rights of the People of the Earth was a way to protect their own rights. This wasn’t Humanism or anything like it; it was a pragmatic calculation.

The other reason was fear.

Even now, Shiroe had a clear memory of the People of the Earth village where they’d stopped on their way back from Susukino. In that village, for the first time, Shiroe had sensed that the People of the Earth were human. He’d felt their warmth and backgrounds, their personalities and intentions, and he’d seen them as people for the first time.

To Shiroe, who’d received a standard modern-Japanese education, the idea of turning intelligent “others” into slaves was terrifying. It was such a taboo that it leapt over reasoning like justice and evil and morals to link directly to fear. Of course the idea of becoming a slave was frightening as well, but the mere thought of having slaves and using them himself carried a visceral disgust.

The chill Shiroe felt from Susukino was rooted in the same thing.

However, there were only a few hundred Adventures in Susukino. If the scale was that small, there was still hope.

But this one…

Minami was…

…plunging into a situation that far surpassed what Shiroe had predicted, at a speed far greater than what he’d foreseen.

2

“Master Shi-ro-e!”

As Shiroe continued thinking absentmindedly, he was addressed by a lovely voice that sounded both reproving and somehow sympathetic.

“Pull yourself together, please. Are you eating properly? Sleeping? Hm. You seem to have been sitting there for hours again.”

“I am, and I am. And I went to the dining hall about two hours ago.”

Even as he delivered a mild retort, Shiroe stood and accepted a document box from Henrietta.

Adventurers had advanced physical abilities. In addition, since the foundation was a game, there was no difference in physical strength between men and women. On the contrary, as a weapon attack class, Henrietta the Bard was stronger than Shiroe, who was an Enchanter and magic attack class. She might even have twice his strength.

However, when he looked at Henrietta in her tight, secretary-style skirt and her bolero jacket with its corsage, he felt ashamed to make her carry a bulky box of files.

Shiroe set the box of documents on his work desk, then turned back.

“You didn’t have to bring them all the way over. If you’d sent me a telechat, I would have come to pick them up.”

“Yes, I’m sure you would have, Master Shiroe, but…I heard you’d been concentrating and pushing yourself for ages. I came to show my support for all your hard work, and…well…”

“If you’re looking for Akatsuki, she should be back soon.”

“Oh, my. Fu-fu-fu-fu… That wasn’t what I meant at all, but…”

Henrietta was blushing. Shiroe gave a little sigh.

Henrietta, the Crescent Moon League’s brilliant accountant and holder of the purse strings, often came to visit Shiroe this way. Marielle, “Akiba’s Sunflower,” was the Crescent Moon League’s guild leader, but Henrietta was the one in charge of its practical business. Her paperwork ability was particularly noteworthy. She was curious and inquisitive, and her contribution to the Round Table Council was probably greater than Shiroe’s, who squandered the greater part of his administrative capacity.

“Let’s see, these are—”

“—the Libra Festival,” Henrietta pointed out, peeking in from the side at the documents Shiroe had picked up.

October. The air was chilly, and the season grew colder each time it rained, but Akiba’s enthusiasm hadn’t yet cooled. On the contrary, with the normalization of relations with Eastal, commercial trade had increased, and for many of the production guilds, business was better than it had ever been.

Foodstuffs, clothes and accessories, machinery, medicines, organic materials: All sorts of items were imported and exported at terrific speed. At present, Akiba was a processing and export town. Naturally, Adventurers were able to collect ingredients, ores, and other primary products, but it was easier to obtain them in greater quantity by purchasing them from the People of the Earth.

The People of the Earth, particularly the aristocrats and merchants, badly wanted the high-quality items the Adventurers made, and because they were keeping their eyes peeled in an attempt to somehow get their hands on their secrets, all sorts of lively business transactions were in progress.

As the production guilds grew more active, the ripple effect influenced the combat guilds. In particular, a huge number of quest requests had been issued by the Fairy Ring Investigation Project, which had begun the month before, and the number of parties heading out had visibly increased.

In the midst of this situation, the Libra Festival project had been brought up, seemingly out of nowhere. It was a festival event that had been demanded by the Adventurers living in Akiba, and the whole town was involved.

Even when this had been Elder Tales, users had held many unofficial events that the official side had had no hand in planning.

There had been lots of them, from small, banquet-like gatherings of a few people to enormous events that had pulled in whole towns or the server, but naturally no one had heard of such events being held since the Catastrophe. They hadn’t had the spare energy for it. However, now that five months had passed and a fairly stable local infrastructure was settling into place, there was demand for an event where everyone could make noise and forget their worries for a while. …That was Shiroe’s understanding, anyway.

Of course, Shiroe had been swamped with business over a range that extended far beyond event planning for a while, so he didn’t know much about the Libra Festival. All he knew was what he’d picked up from briefly skimming the notices that were circulated among guild masters.

It was the town of Akiba’s large commercial event, which would be held a few days from now. That was all he knew about it.

“How is the Liaison Committee?”

“Calasin is full of enthusiasm. My opinion of him has improved: He’s running the event perfectly.”

Henrietta’s response came after she’d turned her back to Shiroe and begun organizing the files.

“I’d expect no less from an advertising agent.”

The production guilds, and the Production Guild Liaison Committee, had taken charge of this festival project.

Ever since the establishment of the Round Table Council, a series of new discoveries and items had appeared, and these had brought great prosperity to the town of Akiba. At first, many topics related to the new items had been discussed by the Round Table Council, but this reached its limit before long. The Round Table Council was a place where decisions affecting the entire town of Akiba were made, and it couldn’t spend all its time resolving commercial issues and balancing interests.

In addition, if the problems were practical issues involving items or distribution, they predicted that they would be able to resolve them without tying up the time of eleven guild masters, and had created a dedicated organization to do so.

This was the Production Guild Liaison Committee (PGLC).

The Liaison Committee had its offices in the guild center, two floors down from the Round Table Council on the very top floor, and it operated around the clock. That said, it seemed to be full of Adventurers who had nothing better to do, and the organization was frank and candid, rather than straitlaced. The atmosphere at the PGLC headquarters was that of a combined meeting room and workshop that was open to anyone.

In accordance with their policy of energizing the small and midsized guilds, the Liaison Committee office had become a sort of gathering spot for guilds that didn’t have large guild halls. Michitaka of the Marine Organization and Roderick of the Roderick Trading Company were positioned as advisers.

Recruitment ads, requests for business deals, and calls for information purchasing were posted on a big bulletin board, and there were business negotiations that dealt with finding partners in the sale of new items. It felt like a lively and noisy town assembly hall; since the Liaison Committee was only there to liaise, it didn’t have the solemn atmosphere of the Round Table Council.

As it happened, the Production Guild Liaison Committee was acting as the host of the Libra Festival.

The Crescent Moon League—which had become one of the eleven guilds on the Round Table Council due to its importance, even though it was a smaller guild—probably had its own work to attend to. Lately, Henrietta seemed to have been doing more work for the PGLC than for the Round Table Council.

“Will the Crescent Moon League be appearing somewhere as well?”

“Yes, of course. Our young Blacksmiths will be selling short swords at the flea market. Then we’re also bringing back Snack Shop Crescent Moon. Serara’s working very enthusiastically on it, and besides, the new players never got to eat anything from it. Still, I suppose our grandest effort is probably the fashion show.”

“Fashion show?”

“Yes. Didn’t you know?”

“Well, I’d heard it mentioned, but…”

Apparently, the Libra Festival had had its roots in an idea that had been brought up to the PGLC: “Couldn’t we just hold a product fair?”

The first thing the Adventurers had wanted after their arrival in this other world had been decent food, but now that that had been settled, clothing and improvements for living environments were in high demand.

Back when this had been a game, residences had been no more than places to log out from. Furniture had been mere toys, used to decorate your personal space, and although there had been lots of variety as far as form was concerned, none of them had given the least thought to function.

Clothing had been the same. Among the companies that had participated in Elder Tales, Fushimi Online Entertainment (FOE) had been a developer with an established reputation for developing new (otaku-type, Japanese-style) graphics. Still, even if there had been an abundant variety of clothing and accessories, none of it had been everyday wear that emphasized function. At the time of the Catastrophe, the “underwear” category hadn’t even existed on Adventurers’ item creation menus.

Lately, these inconveniences were also being gradually resolved. The items Adventurers created on a daily basis were richly imaginative and original, and their numbers increased by the day.

However, even the residents of Akiba tended to miss information on minor items. At present, the only way to learn information about products was to accidentally stumble onto them, or to rely on word-of-mouth or on the scant number of flyers that were handed out.

The proposal that had been made as a result had been to hold a product fair, but as debate followed debate, although the original plan had included a fashion show, an underwear exhibition and sale, a street stall village that exhibited food products, and model rooms with the latest facilities, the demand to exhibit various other products had grown.

Most guilds had at least one item that they could advertise as being their best offering, and they wanted all sorts of people to see them.

In that case, why not just hold a festival with such an exhibition as its center?! That idea had first been proposed two weeks ago.

This discussion had been conducted internally by the Production Guild Liaison Committee, but because roughly half of Akiba’s residents belonged to production guilds, the information raced through the town at terrific speed.

Since being affiliated with a production guild meant you were an exhibitor, simple visitors were in the minority at this festival. As a matter of fact, guests who came from outside might have been the only ones who fit the description.

In that sense, at this festival, the exhibitors doubled as guests, which meant it bore a marked resemblance to a school cultural festival.

Shiroe had been absorbed in collecting external information lately, using the eyes and ears of the Round Table Council. As a result, he didn’t know much about what was happening in Akiba itself. Of course, this “not knowing much” was measured by Shiroe’s own standards, and in fact, he knew more news than the majority of Akiba’s residents. In other words, Shiroe didn’t have enough information according to standards based in his strategist nature.

He knew what had triggered the proposal for this festival, and he understood that the festival was being held with the goals of economic promotion and the introduction of new products (or from the simple desire to have fun, using these things as an excuse).

He was aware that the festival was being hosted not by the Round Table Council itself, but by the Liaison Committee, a subordinate organization, and that Calasin of Shopping District 8—who was quite reliable when placed in charge of this sort of event—was organizing it.

He’d thought there would be no need for him to meddle, and he had let the information pass without notice.

“Master Shiroe.”

“Yes?”

As Henrietta spoke to Shiroe, she was tidily stacking the documents and filing them.

“How is dear Isuzu doing?”

“Oh. Right. …I thought I should go speak to you about it formally, but things got busy, and it slipped my mind. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need for that. You’re too close to the Crescent Moon League for such things, Master Shiroe. It’s only that Serara was worrying about whether she was getting along well.”

“Yes, she’s doing just fine. She goes out hunting every day. She got sunburned this summer. With all the unused space we’ve got here, there’s room to spare.”

They were talking about the young Bard Isuzu, who had transferred from the Crescent Moon League to Log Horizon. Isuzu, a girl with lots of freckles, had followed Rundelhaus to Log Horizon and had joined up herself.

Rundelhaus the Sorcerer and Isuzu the Bard. These two were Log Horizon’s newest members, after Minori and Touya. Both guild masters had discussed the transfer, and it had gone smoothly. Like Minori, Isuzu was a newbie who’d been kept virtually imprisoned by the vicious guild Hamelin. She hadn’t been a member of the Crescent Moon League for very long, and as a result, there hadn’t been any particular issue with her transferring out.

In any case, the Crescent Moon League and Log Horizon were on very friendly terms with each other. They routinely interacted through newbie training and invitations to go hunting. Serara had been worried, but even Serara saw Henrietta every three days at least.

“You didn’t go outside at all this summer, Master Shiroe.”

Henrietta spoke reprovingly. This was perfectly true, and Shiroe had no way to respond. Henrietta was a Crescent Moon League executive. Like Shiroe, she filled the position of “brain” within her guild. Since she also handled the Crescent Moon League’s books as its treasurer, she couldn’t possibly have much free time, and yet, from what Minori said, she sometimes looked in on the newbies’ training, and she seemed to be working energetically. As a result, Henrietta’s words made his ears burn a bit.

“…I know. I regret it.”

“Good. Here.”

The object she held out to him seemed to be a venue pamphlet. Scribes, Shiroe’s subclass, could create copies of this sort of printed material from their item menus. The original had to be drawn by hand, but once it had been drawn, it wasn’t at all difficult to make more of it.

He glanced over it. It looked as if all sorts of exhibits and events were being held in venues specially set up all around the town.

The majority had to do with clothing and accessories or food and drink, but there were more than a few that dealt with equipment, other iron products or wooden furniture. The festival began with an evening kick-off party the day after tomorrow and ran all through the first and second days until the finale.

A great dinner party and a wrap party, hm…?

Shiroe checked the dates. As scheduled, they overlapped with the day he was supposed to receive a report from a messenger. The strategy was to have the messenger blend in with the festival, which would be full of milling visitors from elsewhere, and that would probably go quite well, but getting the report would require a bit of ingenuity.

That means we won’t be able to move during the festival after all. We’ll have to put things on hold…

Even when it came to gathering information, there would be a lot of static during the festival, and he probably wouldn’t be able to use any of it.

“What is that face supposed to mean? Honestly… If you feel remorse, don’t you think you should show it?”

“Huh?”

“By, for example, deepening your friendships with your guild companions at the festival.”

At her words, Shiroe looked blank, but now that he thought about it, she was perfectly right. It was an excellent idea. It probably wouldn’t do him any harm to do something like that every once in a while.

“I’ll try it.”

“And—”

Henrietta wagged a slender finger. In combination with her slim-framed glasses, it added an irresistible charm to her sophisticated beauty.

“Log Horizon is also one of the guilds on the Round Table Council. You will stir yourself and make things more exciting, I trust?”

“Uh… I’ll see what I can do.”

“You promise, then,” Henrietta informed him, smiling brightly.

“Both Akatsuki and Minori are adorable, you see. I’m looking forward to it already; I really can’t wait. No, really… As long as I have these fantasies, I could live without food. They say man cannot live by bread alone, but bread and fantasies are enough to get you through most hardships, aren’t they. Dear lord…”

Henrietta put her hands to her cheeks and wriggled. She was terrifying, but Shiroe couldn’t send his precious guild members into the jaws of death without putting up any resistance. He’d have to ask just what that “promise” entailed.

“What sort of help will this be?”

“It’s quite simple. I only want you to assist with the exhibition and sale of our winter clothes.”

Just being a salesclerk had nothing to do with being adorable, did it?

Shiroe, who’d picked up on Henrietta’s vision of the future, mentally bowed to his guild members in apology and began to worry about what he could do to make up for this.

3

Raynesia, sinking into a sofa in comfortable loungewear, was eating a small, beautifully decorated bento. Bentos like this one were a type of take-out lunch that was relatively common in Akiba.

It’s delicious…

It was her first day off in a while.

Even as she basked in its sweetness, when Raynesia remembered her recent spell of hard work, her lithe, feminine body shivered. She heaved a terribly heavy sigh, and her shoulders slumped. Yes: She’d been deceived. By Krusty.

She’d fallen for the honeyed words “three meals and naps,” and she regretted her carelessness.

If she’d given it a little thought, she would have seen it.

At present, it was safe to say that Adventurers held the key to the situation in this world. All the lords of Eastal, the League of Free Cities—which had been organized by Raynesia’s grandfather—knew this, and they’d tried to take them in and use them, militarily and politically. Her disgust at this selfishness had been one of the reasons Raynesia herself had spoken sharply to the Lords’ Council.

At the time, she’d been desperate: She’d wanted to protect her home, but she hadn’t wanted to force a rude, selfish wish onto the Adventurers.

In a way, you could say that Raynesia had been rewarded. She’d been supported by the goodwill of Krusty and the rest of the Round Table Council, and by the chivalry of the Adventurers, both her hometown of Maihama and the whole of Eastal had been saved.

However, now that the Zantleaf Peninsula sweep had been settled, the situation had reverted to its former state. Or rather, since the Adventurers had displayed their true strength to the lords, you could say the development had become even clearer.

The Adventurers had proven not just their combat abilities but their technical and economic power and the strength of their unity to the League. Of course, since they had shown their military power as well, there were probably no lords who would attempt to occupy Akiba, but there’d been an explosive increase in the number of lords who wanted to gain their friendship, to ally themselves with the Adventurers and to milk the relationship for all it was worth.

In fact, over the past month, Raynesia had seen so many examples of this that she was sick of them.

Having been transferred to a post in Akiba by her grandfather, Raynesia’s position was something halfway between penance and a martial arts training journey. At the same time, however, she was also the first person in charge of negotiations to be dispatched from the League to Akiba.

She received many requests from the Round Table Council and participated in ceremonies and the like. As a daughter of the aristocracy, she was also invited to…ball-like gatherings. Thanks to the finishing-school gentility that had been drummed into her ever since she was born, these gatherings were a walk in the park (although, of course, they were also a pain in the neck). However, the problem lay elsewhere.

For example, prominent members of clans whose central occupation was commerce—or, to use the Adventurer term, clans who were production guilds—asked her for business-related advice. Conversely, wealthy merchants and aristocrats from Eastal asked her for introductions to the influential figures of Akiba.

If she failed to examine the content of these requests carefully before responding, she might lose their trust, and it could occasionally cause trouble of massive proportions.

Of course, if she turned them all down, she couldn’t go wrong, but when the social world of aristocratic society was taken into consideration, there were some requests she simply couldn’t refuse. Even if she did belong to the duchy that boasted the greatest power in northeastern Yamato, she wasn’t its head; she was merely his granddaughter. Some willfulness would be allowed, but some would not.

On the other hand, the Adventurers said and did so little in the way of plotting that it shocked her. To them, the fact that she was a direct descendent of the head of one of the only two duchies in Yamato made her an object of interest and courtesy, but they didn’t seem to think she had either the sort of authority that would obligate them to kneel, or rights and interests enough to compel them to get on her good side.

She was a Person of the Earth, and they came to ask her about her opinion and connections as such. The idea of using her rank to attempt to accomplish something didn’t seem to have occurred to them.

She felt this was probably because they thought they—the Adventurers—were strong, and that, even if Raynesia was an aristocrat, she was a Person of the Earth, and therefore weak.

To Raynesia, this was vexing.

Of course she was glad to be acknowledged as an individual human being and not treated as a noble, but that gladness and the vexation were two sides of the same coin.

As an ordinary Person of the Earth, she was glad. As a powerless aristocrat, she was nonplussed.

And yet, that in itself is…

Now, in this situation, even that feeling seemed to have been a trap.

In order to fulfill aristocratic associations, honor, and ties of obligation, she’d had to learn about Adventurers and the town of Akiba. She didn’t feel it was her place to say it, but the People of the Earth—particularly the nobles and powerful individuals—really knew nothing at all about the Adventurers. Because (perhaps unfortunately) they spoke the same language and looked similar, they came to feel that they did understand, but there were vast differences between their lifestyles and cultures. When they cooperated or made deals, if they didn’t have a bare minimum of understanding, there were countless situations in which they would clash.

If she neglected to give nobles and wealthy merchants this sort of hard-to-hear advice and simply introduced them to Adventurers and production guilds, it was inevitable that a huge problem would occur someday.

Meanwhile, the Adventurers’ questions put Raynesia in a gloomy mood. Adventurers were an extremely pragmatic breed, and for the most part, they wanted practical knowledge. Each individual Adventurer was intelligent and highly educated. When she spoke with them, she was forced to realize that she knew nothing about her own people’s country or lifestyles.

Because she wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t a civil servant, wasn’t a man…

Up until now, for a variety of reasons, Raynesia had been kept away from the duchy’s public political affairs, and she’d considered that only natural. However, when she talked with the Adventurers, she found she didn’t even know anything about what the townspeople and farmers ate, what sort of houses they lived in, or what made them happy or sad, let alone about politics.

To the aristocrat Raynesia, knowing nothing about the lives and feelings of the citizens she was supposed to govern, let alone the Adventurers, was a keenly embarrassing thing.

As a result, responding seriously to requests from nobles and the Adventurers would require enormous amounts of knowledge and research, and the stretch of resulting work was so taxing that the words “three meals and naps” were absolutely nowhere to be seen.

“Agh… There really is no end to it.”

The worst of it was that there was no ceiling to this sort of study. Even if she hit on some superb idea or piece of advice or match, nobody would guarantee that it was the best.

If she thought a little harder or investigated a little more, she might find a better idea. Either that, or if she planned just a tiny bit more carefully, she might be able to head off the worst of the trouble. These ideas were constantly in a corner of her mind, and even with the slacker nature Raynesia herself admitted she had, they hadn’t let her cut corners.

She’d stayed at her work, paging through documents until she was truly worn out, and when she came down with a fever and collapsed—as you’d expect—Elissa had lectured her. Though, still, even though she didn’t know what prompted that preaching, she’d gotten these three days off, so she probably shouldn’t complain.

“Honestly! I refuse to do a thing.”

Raynesia ate her bento elegantly with her tiny mouth.

Stewed vegetables, boiled greens in soy sauce. The brown thing was a miniature hamburger steak. It was a Japanese-European hybrid bento in the compact maku-no-uchi style.

From an aristocratic perspective, a tiny meal packed in a box like this would have been considered far too vulgar and shabby, but Raynesia liked them. In any case, even if she was offered a whole tableful of grilled meat, boiled meat, roasted meat, and whatnot, she couldn’t eat it all. She’d always simply eaten fruit and bread torn into small pieces and smiled. They’d called her fragile and similar things when she did this, which had made it terribly hard to cope.

In contrast, this little take-out lunch was an incredibly relaxing meal. Of course, in terms of flavor, postrevolution meals couldn’t even be compared to what they had been before. This was so true that, at this point, she couldn’t remember her gray-colored diet from before.

Vegetables pickled in salt and the rice the Adventurers liked had a real depth of flavor. The ones that had Raynesia’s favorite sweet egg omelet in them were also pleasant. After she’d eaten the whole thing, Raynesia carefully closed the lid and set her fork on top of it. She was still learning how to use the utensils known as chopsticks.

“Could I have some tea, Elissa?”

The room was quiet and cool.

Could there be any luxury other than eating in her own, nest-like room without being criticized by anyone? No, Raynesia thought, there could not.

That said, Raynesia might have been the only one who thought she was being slovenly. Having undergone training ever since she was little, even if what she was wearing wasn’t a velvet two-piece dress, she wore it with dignity, and she had what could be called a noble, elegant aura. She might think she was dressed as sloppily as could be, but her linen and georgette loungewear would have appeared quite formal to the Adventurers. Her fresh, youthful beauty, which led to her moniker of “Eastal’s Winter Rose,” was unchanged, and as she relaxed in her loungewear, smiling and enjoying her meal, her sweet expression matched her age.

Her nagging maid might have called her clothes and attitude scandalous, but after all, she had three days of vacation. Raynesia had made up her mind that she would not let this chance pass her by.

She was going to make up for all the slacking off she hadn’t been able to do earlier.

It was all the fault of that brain eater, Krusty. She’d been tricked into this predicament by that lying, narrow-eyed knight.

As she accepted the tea that had been set down quietly and felt its hot steam on her cheeks, she realized how very busy things had been lately. It was as if a sweet tingling was spreading through every joint in her body. It was the unique sense of deep fulfillment that came right after having slept long and soundly.

Lately, the amount of time she slept just kept shrinking. The only words she had for that were “horrid abuse.”

“Honestly. It’s all that bullying menace’s fault. How could things get so busy?… Next time, I shall have to teach him what rightful power relationships really are.”

Just then, as Raynesia was enjoying the fragrant aroma and breathing a sigh of relief, a voice that really shouldn’t have been there addressed her.

“I understand them quite well, so I won’t require the lecture.”

Krusty, seated on the sofa to Raynesia’s right, retorted, looking unconcerned.

His tunic, which was intended to be worn about town, was dyed in several different shades that resembled the colors of dead leaves. In combination with his black-trimmed jacket, it gave Krusty an autumnal look, and his appearance was neat, as if he’d just finished dressing.

This merciless knight, who was so large he could have been called a giant, was certainly tall. However, since his arms and legs were also long and his physique was well-balanced, as long as he was simply walking around town in ordinary clothes, he didn’t strike others as enormous. On the contrary, his profile was delicate enough to make him look like a scholar or researcher. On top of this, he was always neatly dressed, and he showed no vulnerabilities. Absolutely none. No matter how hard you looked, you’d find nothing.

It was terribly unfair that this warrior, who had given off such an ominous aura on the battlefield and had looked like a veritable giant, seemed so quiet in town.

The timing of Krusty’s appearance had been unbelievable, and Raynesia’s mouth flapped uselessly in protest.

“Ah. Ah! Aah!”

“Scream or struggle if you like, but I think you should put this down first.”

Krusty spoke quietly, taking the ceramic cup out of Raynesia’s violently trembling hands. His calm attitude made Raynesia’s mind boil over all at once, making it impossible for her to think properly.

“Wha, wha!!”

She couldn’t pull her thoughts together. Why was he here? Who had allowed it? What did he mean by invading a lady’s private room (although, since it was also her office, that part was debatable)? These questions rose up and vanished in a fit of anger.

Raynesia scooted backward on her behind, shifting position, and fled to the end of the sofa. In physical terms, she’d moved only about a meter, which wasn’t nearly enough when you considered the length of Krusty’s arms, but unfortunately, if she went any farther, she’d fall off the sofa.

“Wh-what ti—”

“In terms of time, I believe it’s about ten o’clock.”

“How—”

“Elissa let me through in the usual way.”

“Wh-wh-why—”

“I heard you were recuperating, so I came to harass you.”

Raynesia was speechless.

Harass, he’d said. This menace had actually said “harass,” as if it was nothing!

“……Ah.”

“So this is harassment, then?!”

“Pardon me. Since there were no aristocratic ears around, I carelessly misspoke. You were terribly busy performing your duties, Princess Raynesia, and I came to show my support for your efforts. Simply to encourage you, as it were.”

As he brought tea—the same sort of tea that had been served to Raynesia—to his lips, Krusty spoke calmly in a laid-back voice. His words had been sealed over with lies from corner to corner, and they really couldn’t be trusted.

For her part, Raynesia was trembling (at least internally) on the very end of the sofa. In her mind, she heard Elissa scolding her—And you a princess of Maihama, the pride of Eastal! For shame!—but even if someone had actually said that to her, there was nothing to be done.

“Well. That’s enough joking for now.”

“Um…”

“How is the Libra Festival looking?”

Krusty’s question had been casual, but Raynesia realized that this was probably the main issue of the day.

The Libra Festival was a celebration that was being held by the entire town of Akiba. Raynesia’s understanding was that the Adventurers were holding the festival to celebrate their safety and prosperity. Apparently, they would bring all sorts of things and show them to each other, exchange them, and sell them. The fact that there would be no prayers to the spirits or gods and that it seemed quite a lot like a market made it different from the festivals Raynesia knew, but the part where lots of people would get together and have fun was the same. At least, these were the reports Raynesia had received.

At the Libra Festival, many Adventurers would gather and sell items, and lots of People of the Earth merchants were expected to come as well. In fact, Raynesia had received lots of letters requesting that she act as a go-between with the Adventurers.

“Yes. Well…”

“You’re busy, it’s hard, it’s too much responsibility.”

He’d read her mind again. Raynesia was afraid, but by now, she was no longer really surprised. Please don’t do that, she thought deliberately. That thought was sure to have gotten through to him as well. …Not that he’d ever held back, of course.

However, contrary to this fearful feeling, it was true that talking with Krusty was easy. He picked up everything, including things that were hard to say and things she wanted him to notice.

“I am…doing my job properly.”

“Yes, I expect you are.”

She argued back in a subdued way, but he turned it aside easily.

Apparently this mind-reading menace wasn’t about to be kind enough to pick up on Raynesia’s efforts and hardship.

“……”

“Is something the matter?”

“No. Nothing.”

Raynesia turned away. She’d ignore him. She averted her face from the gentleman who was there with her, putting on a bored expression. It was a perfect attack. She was through letting Krusty’s honeyed words fool her. With that firm thought, although she’d been watching Krusty out of the corner of her eye, Raynesia hastily turned her gaze away. Snorting would have been far too rude, so she refrained from that (and in fact, she had no memory of ever doing such a thing before, but he made her want to).

“The preparations for the dinner party are underway,” she said. “It’s all right. I’m doing things correctly.”

At Raynesia’s words, Krusty looked a little surprised. Maybe he’d considered her grossly incompetent. If that was what he thought, then he could just as well stop sending work her way.

“…Oh. The one you’re hosting…”

…But apparently he’d only forgotten.

What a truly exasperating menace.

Raynesia was hosting the dinner party held on the evening of the second day. Of course, “hosting” carried the nuance of “as a representative,” and there was nothing for her to do regarding the preparations or cooking.

Raynesia’s job was to attend the main dinner party and greet the invited guests. She was simply managing the event as its hostess. Not only that, but in the town of Akiba, even this main role would be abbreviated in comparison to the many dinner parties Raynesia had attended in the past.

Adventurers disliked empty formalities.

In the month since she’d taken up her post in the town, her impression of this idea had changed slightly.

It wasn’t that they hated empty formalities. They just didn’t see the point. Since they didn’t see the point, they didn’t learn them, so they had no knowledge of complicated manners and etiquette.

The Adventurers had a serious lack of knowledge regarding the world of Yamato and the People of the Earth society. Sometimes, when she saw them like that, it made her wonder whether they were infants.

But that’s…

That was probably true for both sides, Raynesia thought.

Raynesia was relatively more involved with the Adventurers than most People of the Earth, but when they began a serious discussion with others of their kind, even if she was standing beside them listening, she couldn’t follow half of what they said. She didn’t understand any of the specialized terminology they used. She didn’t understand more than half the points of view they brought up, and even when she did understand the meaning itself, she couldn’t fathom why they’d say such outrageous things.

Adventurers didn’t even understand the concept of aristocrats and commoners.

As that example showed, there was still a considerable distance between the two groups.

However, it was a distance they would be able to close.

At least, that was what Raynesia thought.

The same issue was behind the fact that this ceremonial dinner had been planned as a dinner party and not a banquet.

If it had been a banquet, the invited guests would have been seated at tables by rank and had food served to them. Raynesia would have presided over the event, including the meal, and shown hospitality to the guests.

Dinner parties, which were unheard of among the People of the Earth, were a type of feast that was similar to—and yet was not—a banquet. Several different types of dishes were placed in readiness here and there around the venue, and were then carried around. At this feast, there was no fixed seating order for guests. They would stand and eat, as at a ball.

She’d contrived it so that the invited guests and as many different types of people from Akiba as possible could attend.

As Akiba’s governing institution, the Round Table Council was certainly important, but anyone who wanted to be accepted as a friend of the Adventurers would have to connect with a variety of different people. If the Adventurers’ way was to refrain from separating aristocrats and commoners, then everyone should be treated as aristocrats.

With that thought, Raynesia had requested the help of the Round Table Council and planned the dinner party as a large-scale ceremony.

It was an expression of gratitude for the Adventurers’ role in the Zantleaf war, as well as a display of Raynesia’s good faith.

The conflict at Zantleaf, which had occurred two months previously, had influenced the world in a variety of ongoing ways, but the cleanup had finally come to an end. Those were Raynesia’s feelings as she prepared for the Libra Festival.

It was likely that Krusty intended to come up with some pretext or other to foist another tremendously heavy responsibility off onto her, but this time, she absolutely refused to be sweet-talked into it. Raynesia turned away from him, loading the gesture with determination.

Her peaceful days (and not only that, but a gourmet lifestyle in Akiba) were finally about to arrive. No matter what, she had to avoid having work forced onto her or being dragged into something tiresome.

However, contrary to expectations, the impossible demand Krusty was bound to inflict on her (making it look like a simple task at first glance) never arrived. Krusty only quietly drank his tea.

Time in the room flowed slowly.

What is this menace thinking…?

Even as she worried, time passed, little by little.

Air that seemed to have had a yawn dissolved into it arrived, bringing drowsiness. The noise of festival preparations, like the murmur of distant waves, and the monotonous sound of the clock on the wall were like a fiendish, sleep-inducing spell.

Raynesia had planned to spend the whole day in idleness, so this situation wasn’t a problem for her. The sofa was soft, and she wouldn’t have minded spending half a day on it this way. All of that was perfect. The only issue was Krusty.

Even if Raynesia was an aristocrat brimming over with adventurous spirit, she couldn’t sit daydreaming beside a man forever.

When she glanced at him—stealthily, so that he wouldn’t notice—Krusty had set his cup down on the coffee table and seemed to be gazing out the window at the town, which looked as if it might melt into the autumn light.

He had a beautiful profile. The murderous intent he’d shown when he fought the Goblins had made him seem like a man-eating fiend, but not a trace of it was visible in him now.

Come to think of it, this person is a monster, so he knows all about everything anyway.

Raynesia’s mood grew lighter, as if an evil spirit had left her.

—But just a tiny bit.

A bare two palms’ worth.

Raynesia shifted back toward the center of the sofa.

The distance between them had closed slightly, although it was still wide enough that two Raynesias could have sat between them, but…

Krusty shrugged. Without saying a word, he continued to sit on the sofa, peacefully enjoying his tea.

4

“We’re all done loading!”

“Yeah, here too.”

Cheerful voices echoed back and forth, letting them know that the caravan was ready to move out.

“Rudy. We’re going.”

“Understood, Miss Isuzu.”

As he responded to Isuzu’s voice, Rundelhaus—a handsome young man with blond hair, blue eyes, and sweet, well-favored features—put a map and small articles into his rucksack.

Isuzu herself had already finished organizing her belongings. All she needed to do to be completely ready was stand up and slap the dust off her rump a couple of times.

In this other world, outdoor activities meant roughing it in the literal sense of the word. The idea of just running down to the convenience store didn’t exist. Even the town of Akiba was filled with ruins and littered with rubble; in places where the ancient trees grew thickly, you’d have thought there was a forest right in the middle of town. If you took one step outside the town, unspoiled nature jostled or merged with the civilization humans had created.

Much of Adventurer fashion was showy or magnificent, but it lasted only because of the Adventurers’ superhuman strength and the special function that automatically got rid of dirt.

Isuzu thought that if you had the sensibilities of a girl who worked very hard on her nail art (that is, a fastidious loathing of dirt), it would probably be tough.

Fortunately, Isuzu wasn’t that fussy about cleanliness, and jobs that involved a little dirt didn’t bother her at all.

Carrying instruments around was heavy work, and playing them for a long time required physical strength. Although they weren’t Isuzu’s specialty, wind instruments required lung capacity, and the wood bass that was Isuzu’s specialty weighed over ten kilograms.

Fundamentally, the brass band club was more an athletics club than a cultural club.

Besides, I’m a country girl anyway, she murmured silently, shrugging her shoulders.

She was from a town where the school was surrounded by rice paddies, and frogs croaked away in them in spring.

Isuzu was a Bard with a freckled profile and bright eyes. She wore thin leather armor, and her abundant hair was bound into a braid. She shouldered a big, two-handed spear that didn’t match her class; that was just her style.

It had already been three months since she’d been released from Hamelin, a guild that had exploited new players. By now, she’d grown completely used to living as an Adventurer, and her days passed peacefully.

For that reason, taking a break in the forest like this didn’t strike her as stressful at all. She could sit directly on stumps, and she didn’t feel she was the sort of girl who’d grimace because her butt had gotten dirty.

Nevertheless, Isuzu’s companion treated Isuzu—quite more than enough—as a girl.

“Miss Isuzu? Here.”

Lending a hand to Isuzu—who’d been about to put her foot into the stirrup—Rundelhaus boosted her up onto the horse’s back. For his part, he leapt up to sit astride his own mount with a fresh attitude completely devoid of sarcasm.

“What’s wrong, Miss Isuzu?”

The young man, Rundelhaus Code, turned back to Isuzu with a puzzled expression.

A People of the Earth Adventurer. It sounded contradictory, but it was exactly what made him unique and incredibly rare in this world. He was practically the only one of his kind.

His blond hair and blue eyes made him look like a prince from a girls’ manga, and his handsome features were elegant. His eyes still held traces of rich-kid naïveté, but even so, there was dignity and a strong will in them as well.

That said, because he was too elegant, Isuzu thought of him as a golden retriever puppy. In other words, the young man’s effervescent charm won out over his elegance in her mind.

“Are you sure, Adventurers? Really sure?”

“Yes, of course,” Isuzu answered.

The question had come from a Person of the Earth who was leading the caravan. They were about to start for the town of Akiba. If they left now, they’d reach it before evening.

Isuzu and Rundelhaus had come out for early-morning combat training and hunting. When they’d spotted the caravan, they’d decided to act as its escorts until it reached Akiba.

Right now, Isuzu and Rundelhaus were at Eight Canals High Coast. On Earth, it was the area around the mouth of the Tama River known as Keihin Port.

The area was about two and a half hours from Akiba on one of the Adventurers’ horses, and it was one of Isuzu and Rundelhaus’s favorite spots. Of course, that meant slightly different things to them.

When it came to combat training, Rundelhaus never compromised, and in addition to the hunting he did with his guild mates, he never neglected his own voluntary training. He could meditate and repeat new spells in any modest open space, but when working to improve magic control and hit accuracy, it was best to have an appropriate opponent… In other words, a monster.

This area, which had monsters that could be subdued by one person and was also in the vicinity of Akiba, was an ideal hunting ground. To Rundelhaus, Eight Canals High Coast was a convenient place for independent training.

Meanwhile, it was Isuzu’s favorite walking course.

There were many places where she and her brave, loyal hound Rundelhaus could go for walks outdoors, but Eight Canals High Coast lay along a river; the scenery was beautiful, and if you went downstream, you could look out over the ocean as well. It was a rather luxurious place.

Slightly over two hours one way was a bit far for a walk, but during this period, when combat training had been suspended during the commotion over the festival, it was the perfect way to kill time.

—Of course, Isuzu hadn’t forgotten that the goal was to hone her own and Rundelhaus’s combat abilities. In this dangerous new frontier, leveling up was the quickest way to protect yourself.

Acquiring new techniques wasn’t the only effect leveling up had. It also raised players’ hit points and all types of resistance.

The amount of damage you took when attacked by a monster of a certain level depended on how powerful the monster’s attacks were, but the relationship between your level and the monster’s also exerted an important influence. If your level was higher than the monster’s, that alone was generally enough to reduce the damage. In this world, undergoing combat training and raising your level moved you closer to safety, little by little, all by itself.

Isuzu had nearly lost Rundelhaus once.

She had no intention of repeating the experience.

For that reason, the two of them had come out here early that morning, but after noon, several hours after they’d begun training (or their “walk”), they’d run across this caravan. There were five freight wagons in total, with a group of about twenty People of the Earth. They said the caravan had departed from Izu and was bound for Akiba. They’d heard rumors about the Libra Festival and were on their way to sell their specialty products, and to purchase anything noteworthy they happened to see.

Isuzu talked it over with Rundelhaus.

By and large, the types of monsters that appeared in field zones were determined by the region. The monsters that prowled through deep forests and mountain ranges were stronger than the ones in the surrounding areas, but aside from that, in general, the closer you got to human settlements, the fewer powerful monsters there were. This area, which was close to Akiba, a player town, was relatively safe.

However, that was only as far as Adventurers were concerned.

Isuzu knew that for People of the Earth, journeys were always a series of dangerous situations. Over the past month, little by little, Rundelhaus had told her about the People of the Earth. About how powerlessly they lived in this world filled with monsters.

After talking it over, the two of them had decided to escort the caravan to Akiba. Of course, even without their escort, the caravan was almost certain to reach Akiba. Without exception, traveling merchants were cautious types.

However, even if they stayed with the traders, it would be for only half a day or so; in the end, it would simply mean going home slowly. When it came to combat training, even with guarding the caravan, all they had to do was wipe out the monsters as they saw them. With this in mind, Isuzu and Rundelhaus offered to act as escorts.

The People of the Earth had hesitated at first, but when they told them the only reward they needed was a meal, they agreed.

I knew they’d be hesitant around us…

It made Isuzu a little sad, but she resigned herself to it, thinking there was no help for it.

To People of the Earth, even if the Adventurers were close, they were distant beings. Akiba’s People of the Earth were used to Adventurers, but Rundelhaus had warned her, again and again, that they would be treated as completely different creatures farther out in the country.

The caravan traveled down a hill road that sketched a gentle slope under the fall sun. But the horse-drawn wagons were surprisingly noisy; the wooden bodies didn’t have much in the way of cushions or absorbers, and they creaked loudly as they picked up every bump and dip in the road.

Just to hear them, you would have thought they were about to fall to pieces, but they must have been built quite sturdily. All the key places on the wagons had been reinforced with iron bands, and they advanced slowly, loaded to the limit with cargo.

“Say, Master Merchant. What is it you’re carrying here?”

Rundelhaus directed a calm question at the slow procession. The caravan leader was sitting on the driver’s box and had been talking to a young merchant back in the bed of the wagon, but he raised his head at the sound of Rundelhaus’s voice.

“Well, let’s see, Adventurer. Most of our trade is in fruit, so there’s bitter oranges and kumquats and olives. We’ve also got spices and liquor in the load. When we start back, I’d like to be able to buy up clothes or dishes or some such to take with us.”

“Something does smell wonderful!”

On hearing his answer, Isuzu nodded several times.

A sweet, invigorating fragrance hung in the air around the wagons. In this season, naturally, there was very little raw, fresh fruit, and the goods in the barrels had probably been preserved in sugar. They gave off a brilliant perfume.

As a rule, Adventurers were wealthy. In addition, compared to People of the Earth, they were known for paying generously for things besides the items needed for survival, which made them good customers.

“Yes, these are our special syrup preserves. We hope the people of Akiba will buy up the lot.”

Rundelhaus nodded in response to the merchant’s affable smile.

“Still, we’ve certainly been seeing a lot of merchants over the past few days.”

“Well, sure. It’s the autumn festival.”

After giving the verbal jab to Rundelhaus, Isuzu pondered something. Rundelhaus was an exceptionally ambitious young man. With magic combat in particular, he trained hard, as if he were extraordinarily determined or wanted to carry out some sort of duty. That was why they’d come out this far today to train, but if he always did that, Rundelhaus would break. …This was something Isuzu worried about often. As the guardian of this fuzzy-headed, willful, single-minded young guy, it was Isuzu’s job to keep him from getting out of control.

Rudy should relax and play a bit.

Once she’d made that decision, things moved quickly in her mind.

Isuzu had a list of places she secretly wanted to go. Festivals meant music, and music meant festivals. There were lots of events she wanted to see, and lots of things she wanted to eat. She’d determined that they would participate in the night’s public bonfire performance if she had to tie a rope around Rundelhaus’s neck. She’d heard a rumor that Bards would be welcome to join in.

“There are sea routes, too, then.”

“Yes indeed. Lately, there’s… You know. The Nine-Tails…”

“…Right.”

“They say that’s been sorted out, and that ship voyages are more stable. They say the merchants from the West are coming in by boat. I hear there’s some new thing called a spirit ship, and it’s real fast. Still, it’s nothing humble, ordinary traders like us are ever likely to see.”

Isuzu was thinking about her plans for that evening, so she didn’t notice that Rundelhaus looked as if he was suppressing pain. However, it would have been mean to blame her for it. With the fastidious stoicism unique to adolescence, Rundelhaus wiped the expression from his face in an instant, so that even the merchant he was talking to suspected nothing.

The distinctive landscape of southern Akiba—which was no more than a pile of rubble, as though it had been mowed down by an enormous explosion—passed by, and before long, the green of the ancient trees came into view.

It would probably be several more hours before they reached the town of Akiba, but from this spot, the caravan that was heading for the town and the individual traders who’d loaded their cargo onto the backs of ponies began to see it. It probably wasn’t an illusion that everyone’s steps seemed to grow lighter and quicker.

In the town of Akiba, the fall festival was just about to begin.

Even as they kept up their careful watch, the two caravan escorts drew nearer to the town they called home.

5

“My liege. I have brought your clothes.”

Dexterously pushing the door open with her back, Akatsuki entered.

As usual, I don’t understand Akatsuki’s idea of a master-servant relationship.

Even as he thought this, Shiroe crossed to the table that had been set up at one end of the room. His room was vast: about twenty tatami mats’ worth of floor area. Though the building—Log Horizon headquarters—had been pointlessly spacious to begin with. They’d moved the room dividers several times, and as a result, Shiroe had come into possession of nearly a third of the second floor’s east side.

In this other world, the amount of information that would have fit on a handheld device—let alone a personal computer—turned into enough documents to bury several shelves and tables. It wasn’t efficient, either to search or to organize, but if he didn’t do it, he wouldn’t even be able to direct traffic for the situation right in front of his nose.

“Your face is pale.”

As usual, when Akatsuki peeked up at him from below, Shiroe started in spite of himself. This petite, beautiful girl wasn’t aware that she was a beautiful girl. Because she gazed at him steadily, without looking away, Shiroe always had a close-up view of her large, black eyes, like polished obsidian; and her lips, which shone with a jellylike luster. It made him feel nervous and scattered.

And besides, lately…

She’d shown symptoms of it from the beginning, but lately, Akatsuki had grown far too good at getting into his personal space. He didn’t know whether it was because she was small or because of a special class ability, but she would slip through the gaps between breaths when he let his mind wander and then appear startlingly close to him.

At this distance, he didn’t even have to put out a hand: He could feel the warmth of her body just by bending down slightly. Shiroe found a lot of things about this sense of distance uncomfortable, but Akatsuki didn’t seem to notice. She just worried about Shiroe with a focused seriousness that reminded him of a small animal.

“No, it isn’t.”

“I see.”

Akatsuki responded without seeming all that concerned, then briskly began folding the clothes on the sofa. They were everyday clothes that had been hanging out to dry on an upper floor.

Adventurer equipment, armor, and robes had set durability values. If their durability decreased, they’d get dirty and break, but when repaired by someone in a suitable subclass, they became good as new again. There was no need to wash them.

However, the items that were made in Akiba these days—the ones the Adventurers and People of the Earth created with their own hands—did get dirty and tear, and the Repair command wouldn’t restore them. They had to launder them properly, like this.

Of course, the sight of white shirts flapping on a rope strung through the green shadows of the tree wasn’t a bad one. Among the members of Log Horizon, laundry was a popular chore.

There weren’t all that many garments.

With the two of them folding, they were done before they knew it. Akatsuki began to pour Black Rose Tea into glasses. The things she’d taken out of her Magic Bag appeared to be today’s snack: anpan, rolls filled with sweet red bean paste. The distribution of wheat in Yamato was high, and bread was eaten relatively often. There was rice, too, of course, but after bread was baked, it kept better than rice did. Lately, culinary research was advancing, and different types of bread had begun to appear on the market.

Novel breads were expensive, but once a little time had passed and they began to be mass-produced, the price came down. Since people’s habits hadn’t changed, that sort of trade phenomenon was the same even in this world.

The price of this plain anpan had come down quite a bit, but it was still a little too expensive for a snack. Holding a roll in her left hand, Akatsuki held the remaining one out to Shiroe on a small plate.

“Are you sure?”

“My treat. I want you to eat it.”

Akatsuki’s answer was brief. Shiroe wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the offer.

The reason was that Shiroe had had a lot of paperwork for the Round Table Council lately, and he hadn’t been able to go out to the field. Akatsuki, who went afield to train Minori, Touya, and the others, was earning more money than he was. That meant there was no need for him to worry about the state of Akatsuki’s wallet when she bought anpan. Even so, Shiroe was the guild master, and most important, he was an adult male. Making a little girl (which was what she looked like) treat him to something was embarrassing.

Even to him, this pride seemed small-minded, but it was a problem of feelings, and there was nothing to do about the reluctance. That said, if he insisted on trying to look good, he’d actually look a lot worse. Shiroe thanked her and accepted the anpan.

Seeing this, Akatsuki took a big bite of her own roll. The two of them sat side by side on the low sofa, kicking their legs out in front of them, and enjoying the sweetness of the red bean paste.

“……”

“What’s the matter, Akatsuki?”

“Um, well…”

Akatsuki’s gaze wandered through space, as though she were searching for words.

“My liege, you…”

Shiroe gave her a quizzical look.

“…What are you doing for the festival?”

“Huh?”

That wasn’t a question Shiroe could answer easily.

Come to think of it, Henrietta had asked him to do something as well. Come to think of it, if he stayed shut up in his office all the time like this, his guild members might actually forget what he looked like.

“Henrietta asked me for a favor, so I’m helping her. Something about a fashion show… I suspect I’ll be delivering the opening remarks somewhere.”

“I see. Still, that’s not what I meant.”

He gave her another quizzical look.

“Shiroe!”

It was Minori who’d burst in. She was carrying a brown paper parcel in both hands as if it was something important, but when she noticed Akatsuki from the doorway, she stumbled forward a step or two, then stood still.

Minori, who’d faltered, was dressed in clothes she liked and wore around town a lot lately: a blouse with a large ribbon on it and culottes. As if in response to Shiroe’s questioning look, she hesitated several times, then spoke.

“Shiroe. Um, it’s about the Libra Festival tomorrow. Would you go in with me?”

“Go in?”

“I mean eat. Would you eat with me?”

The flyer Minori held out had “Cake Buffet” written on it in bright colors.

Shiroe had no idea what this was about. When he turned back to Akatsuki to ask for an explanation, Akatsuki was holding one of the same “Cake Buffet” flyers in front of her chest. She had an oddly serious expression on her face.

“Shiroe, you don’t dislike sweet things, do you?”

“No, I wouldn’t say I dislike them.”

“I could tell that from the way you ate the anpan.”

He was rather fond of mild sweetness.

“My liege. Let’s go. If a man and woman attend together, this is free.”

“Shiroe. Would you go with me? It is free, you know? Free.”

From what he saw on the flyer, to participate, you had to be accompanied by someone of the opposite gender—in other words, a couple—the time limit was forty-five minutes, and if you ate a total of eight or more pieces, it was free. In addition, apparently, the top two pairs would advance to the main match.

Four per person, hm…?

It would be cake, after all. They could probably manage that much easily. However, he sensed something unusual in their enthusiasm. It might have been his imagination, but Akatsuki and Minori seemed to be very aware of each other. This troubled Shiroe. Still, for some reason, he was hesitant to just ask them about it. Why was that?

…Oh. Come to think of it, it’s always been…

Yes, it had always been like that.

Now that he thought about it, the Debauchery Tea Party had been that way, too. It had invariably been the female players who’d blurted out whims, and she had been at the top of the list. When Shiroe’s thoughts had taken him that far, he heaved a deep, mental sigh. If all women were like that (and the possibility was incredibly high), then going against them here would not be wise.

“What do you think…Shiroe?”

“My liege, my liege!”

As the two girls pressed him, pestering, Shiroe’s only alternative was to raise the white flag.