1

The moment the doors opened, the floor was flooded with people.

A group of Adventurers who’d come on a pleasure trip as a guild. Young girls who were here to pick up the latest clothing creations at low prices. Skilled merchant traders lining up for the famous Tailoring guilds. Peddlers who’d come to lay in goods without even taking the time to undo their traveling clothes. Aristocratic merchants in resplendent clothes.

There had probably been some who’d anticipated the crowd, but it was likely that only a few guilds had expected business to be this good. There was a panic at all of the sales booths, and they were hard-pressed to provide service.

The event that was underway in this hall was a clothing exhibition and sale.

Since it was limited to garments, not all of the production guilds were present at this locale, though many were. It was only natural for guilds as large as the three major production guilds to have divisions that covered every facet of daily life, since they easily counted more than five hundred members each among their ranks. However, production guilds that were midsized or smaller tended to choose a theme for their guild and collect members around it, so only the garment-making guilds were here.

For example, Amenoma was a guild known to Akiba insiders that specialized in weapons forging, and more specifically, swordsmithy. Most of its members were high-level Blacksmiths, and there was a rumor that their fanatical pursuit of quality had finally, in this post-Catastrophe world, led them to forge by hand. But, not unexpectedly, their guild had no Tailors, so they weren’t participating in this particular hall’s sales space.

Of course, the Libra Festival as a whole held opportunities for all sorts of guilds and artisans.

The garment market that was being held on the first floor of the Silver Hall had been set up indoors at the request of the female Adventurers, but there was a flea market being held at the same time, centered on the town’s main street, at which all kinds of items were being sold from stalls.

The clothing-only indoor market, and the outdoor market that included everything from weapons and defensive gear to jewelry: If asked which one was the main part of the festival, the answer was, naturally, the outdoor flea market. That said, it was also true that this indoor exhibition was attracting enthusiastic attention from some very interested parties.

The highlight event of the garment market was the fashion show. It would be exactly what it sounded like: models, dressed in various elaborate outfits created by a wide range of guilds, strutting across a stage. The show would feature a big lineup of Akiba’s most popular people and Adventurers who were considered beautiful, and as an event, it was quietly drawing fanatical attention. Considered thus, a certain percentage of the people who’d flooded into the venue were probably spectators, and couldn’t really be called customers.

The booths were roughly divided into large and small sizes.

The large booths had many workers and lots of merchandise on display. These were the spaces rented by the so-called major guilds. These megabooths were set up along the wall and were designed to make it easy to carry in stock.

The scale of the small booths, which were like little, half-open rooms set up along a partition wall down the center of the floor, meant they were for the small and midsized guilds.

The Crescent Moon League’s booth wasn’t in a terribly good location. It was rather removed from the center of the floor, but it wasn’t along the wall, either. In terms of the flow of customers, it was a fairly disadvantageous position. It was far from the stage where the show would be held as well, and they expected to have a tough time of it.

However, unlike most of the guilds assembled in this hall, the Crescent Moon League wasn’t a straight production guild. It was a lifestyle guild, the sort whose motto was “Do anything that anyone’s interested in.” As a point of fact, the exhibition booth was being run by volunteers from the guild, and it didn’t have the guild’s full power behind it.

Because it was a good-natured guild that attracted people who liked to party, if they’d asked, the combat-type guild members would have helped, too, but compared to the pure production guilds, their enthusiasm toward sales was rather low. That meant that, if the Crescent Moon League had taken a good location, people would have been bound to say they’d abused their authority as one of the eleven guilds on the Round Table Council. In that sense, this location was safer.

“Say, isn’t this gettin’ kinda outta hand?”

Marielle was calling “Whoa! Whoa!” in a loud voice and wandering around. Henrietta caught her. She dragged her guild master’s infuriatingly feminine body back behind the cashier table and pushed her down onto a small stool.

“Mari. You’re the guild leader. What good does it do for you to panic? Just sit there and be quiet for a while.”

“Yeah, but, it’s just… I haven’t seen this many people in f’rever…”

Marielle fidgeted restlessly.

Come to think of it, she was right. When they’d been in the old world, they’d ridden crowded commuter trains every day. It had been routine for them to see several thousand passersby in front of important train stations or crosswalks.

However, after the Catastrophe had sent them to this world, they’d stopped seeing sights like that. Akiba’s central plaza was lively, but because of its vast, open-air construction, it never felt all that crowded.

The venue was packed enough to remind them of the old world. The horde of visitors that had streamed in when the doors opened promptly crowded around booths here and there and launched into negotiations.

The fact that they could do this sort of comedy routine even in the midst of that bustle meant that the Crescent Moon League’s booth really was located away from the main flow of people.

The big guilds along the walls were inundated with customers right away, and, like rebounding spray, others began flowing toward the small and midsized guilds near the stage.

However, they only had the leeway to watch the flow of people for about thirty minutes after it had begun.

Once lines formed at the big guilds, some people began to think, If we’re just going to be standing in line, let’s look around at the empty booths instead. There were a formidable number of such wanderers.

Henrietta had planned to put Marielle(’s smile) on the front line and keep track of their accounts herself acting as the cashier, but as it turned out, she wasn’t able to do that.

There were more People of the Earth than she’d thought.

The Crescent Moon League members who’d come here to do business were Marielle, Henrietta, and two guild members with Tailor subclasses. The Crescent Moon League was also running a snack vendor stall and a weapons-forging shop at the flea market, in addition to the fashion-show exhibition.

As the guild leader, Marielle would probably need to put in an appearance at those as well. Once the afternoon fashion show ended, Henrietta had assumed she’d have to release her from this booth. That would leave them with two younger members as their main force.

Henrietta glanced over at the two. They shook their heads emphatically.

Their meaning was clear: We can’t, we can’t. We’re amateurs!

As Henrietta moved forward with the sales talk she was conducting, she sighed inwardly.

If the other party was an Adventurer who’d come in search of casual clothes to wear around town, they’d have almost no problems. They’d all be from Earth, and they’d all be aware that they were conducting business they weren’t used to. The activity taking place on this floor was an advanced version of playing store, but for the Adventurers, that was enough.

On the other hand, most of the People of the Earth were merchant traders.

Not only that, but they hadn’t come simply to purchase clothing. They seemed to be here to gather information, to network, and, if possible, to request negotiations that would lead to laying in stock in the future. As a result, they would ask sharp questions about things like price setting, materials and sewing methods. Those sales talks would be a bit too difficult to leave to young members who’d been no more than students back on Earth.

Well, it isn’t as though I’m all that experienced or can take responsibility myself…

As Henrietta responded to cross-questioning from a middle-aged merchant Person of the Earth, she smiled superficially, but in her mind, she was examining herself.

The negotiations with the three big production guilds regarding the establishment of the Round Table Council… Henrietta wondered whether she’d acquired gambler’s courage after making it through that deal.

Henrietta was still in her twenties.

There was no way she could be experienced enough.

When you were in your twenties, even if you said you were a full-fledged member of society, once you found a job, you realized you were no more than a chick with pieces of eggshell still stuck to you. This was something Henrietta had been painfully aware of in her life back on Earth. However, it was also true that unless you stood on the front line with those bits of shell still sticking to you, you’d never graduate from being a chick. She’d stood on the front line long enough to know that.

I mustn’t push this off on the younger members… At the very least, I’ll need to handle the difficult negotiations until we know how things stand.

Henrietta’s intent must have gotten through.

Either that, or they’d unconsciously formed a system of cooperation. Their natural formation was to have Henrietta deal with native merchants, while the other three Crescent Moon League members fielded Adventurers.

The two younger members wrapped up merchandise, and a beaming Marielle accepted money. All three bowed their heads in unison, and the sale was complete.

As Henrietta watched them out of the corner of her eye, she continued responding to People of the Earth. Even if they accepted big orders for a hundred pieces every month, a guild the size of the Crescent Moon League couldn’t fill them. Henrietta’s current policy was to turn down the things that needed to be turned down.

Heaven only knows what would happen if we agreed to a contract like that… There are people like Master Shiroe in this world, gentlemen whose hearts are truly black, and one really can’t be too careful—Hm?

Henrietta looked around.

Come to think of it, Shiroe wasn’t there.

She was sure she’d made him take a change of clothes, but she didn’t see an insolent young man with round glasses in the booth, or, for that matter, a small, black-haired girl.

“…Master Shiroe?”

After checking to make sure that there was a lull in the difficult customers, Henrietta stood on tiptoe, looking around the area. She was slightly taller than Marielle, but with the swollen torrent of people flowing down the corridor in front of the booth like a river, she couldn’t see very far.

“Where are—”

“That’s right. This merchandise is being sold on a trial basis. In order to get opinions from as many people as possible, sales are restricted to two items per person.”

“I said I’d pay for it.”

“That isn’t the issue.”

As Henrietta stood on tiptoe, straining her eyes, she heard Shiroe’s cool voice.

Apparently he was handling a complaint from someone. Henrietta looked around, and, through a momentary gap in the waves of people, she spotted Shiroe at a booth on the other side of the corridor.

The long, hooded, sleeveless vest lent him a casual air, and with a thin, long-sleeved T-shirt layered on underneath it, Shiroe looked right. His expression was composed, and he was standing in the way of a merchant who was so irritated his head seemed about ready to release steam.

In the clothes the Crescent Moon League had made, Shiroe looked not medieval, but like a perfectly ordinary young Japanese guy. They looked so right on him that Henrietta felt a bit tickled, as though she’d caught a glimpse of Shiroe’s private life on Earth.

“Excuse me. Let me through, please.”

She’d only been fascinated by that figure for a moment when her vision closed again, and Henrietta hurried over to the opposite booth, pushing her way through the customers who were enjoying the exhibition.

The shop belonged to the guild Cocoa Brown.

Shiroe stood surrounded by several staff members, facing a merchant who was trembling with anger, and he wasn’t about to give an inch. Akatsuki stood just beside Shiroe, and it looked as though he was restraining her rather than shielding her.

Although Cocoa Brown was a clothing and ornaments guild, it had narrowed its focus down to accessories. It sold colorful polished pebbles, necklaces that were chains of silverwork, and earrings.

Accessories that struck even Henrietta as tasteful were set out on display, and they’d attracted her attention when she’d gone around greeting people before the doors opened. The prices were also astonishingly low. The Cocoa Brown member who’d been minding the booth had told her, “We’re a small production guild, and the people from the combat guilds protect us, so we wanted to repay their kindness.”

“Listen to what I’m telling you! If you sell those to me, your names will become widely known among the People of the Earth—”

“I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to leave.”

Shiroe and the merchant were still arguing.

By that time, the people that were passing nearby had begun to realize that there was some sort of trouble. A growing semicircle of people was spontaneously forming around the Cocoa Brown booth.

In all probability, an unpleasant merchant was attempting to buy up Cocoa Brown’s accessories in bulk. Two or three might not do any harm, but if anyone started buying them by the case, they’d never manage to keep the booth running for the rest of the time.

Of course, if they thought in terms of sales amounts or prioritized selling their entire stock, they could decide to just sell it all off. However, Cocoa Brown hadn’t wanted to do that. They’d intended to have the residents of Akiba use their wears, and so they’d hastily introduced an item restriction and gotten into an argument with the merchant.

When it came to physical and magic specs, Adventurers were superior to People of the Earth. Even in terms of creating items, depending on subclass level, they could display expert-level skills.

However, arguments and negotiations weren’t conducted through physical specs. Some people had temperaments that were suited to them, and some didn’t. In that case, it became something almost no one was even conscious of anymore: A problem for the player (the spirit), not the character (the body).

That was why Shiroe had stepped in.

He’d extended a helping hand.

I expect that isn’t a bad guess, at any rate. But dear me, what a luckless Person of the Earth.

“Don’t get full of yourself, stripling!”

By the time Henrietta pushed her way through the packed crowd and broke into the clear space in front of the Cocoa Brown booth, the People of the Earth merchant had finally snapped. He swung a big fist down at Shiroe.

Most of the gasps in the crowd came from People of the Earth.

Some averted their eyes.

However, the result was just what Henrietta had anticipated:

Shiroe gently stopped that fist with a fingertip.

True, Shiroe was an Enchanter. Enchanter was one of the magic-user main classes, and, like the other magic users, its stamina and physical strength were set extremely low. However, that was in comparison to other Adventurers of the same level in different classes.

When there was a level difference of more than fifty, and the other man was a Person of the Earth, even a magic user’s agility and physical strength far surpassed those of his opponent. From Shiroe’s perspective, the arrogant merchant’s punch felt a bit like being hit with a balloon.

Apparently, since Shiroe had caught it gently, the fist the Person of the Earth had brought down hadn’t even been counted as an attack. There was no sign that a guard was on its way.

Even as Shiroe stopped the middle-aged merchant’s fist with his left arm, he had his right arm wrapped around Akatsuki’s slim torso. He’d probably stopped her from drawing a kunai. Akatsuki was looking up at Shiroe with a disgruntled expression.

“You will leave, won’t you?”

Shiroe smiled as he spoke.

However, Henrietta was a Bard, and she could clearly sense the invisible power that was gathering around him.

Shiroe was drawing mana from the air. Like Enchanters, Bards were in charge of supplying their companions with mana, so she’d sensed it quickly.

The expressions of several of the other Adventurers on the floor clearly showed that they had also picked up on the change in Shiroe.

Shiroe was smiling, but even with that tolerant smile on his face, he was rapidly building an oppressive aura. Eerie was the only word to describe it.

He hadn’t chanted a spell, though.

He’d only gathered mana in preparation for doing so.

As a result, this didn’t count as an aggressive act. It wasn’t the sort of thing that would bring down the guards, and there wasn’t the slightest hint of battle in Shiroe’s smiling expression.

However, even People of the Earth—who were much less sensitive than Adventurers when it came to combat or magic—could vaguely sense the aura of dense mana that Shiroe was radiating.

Even as they watched, the blood drained from the face of the middle-aged merchant. Pale-faced, he knocked Shiroe’s hand away with the fist that had still been caught.

“Disgusting. I’m going home!”

With that parting shot, the middle-aged merchant left as though he were running away.

“He was quite a hot-blooded fellow, wasn’t he?”

“You pressed him pretty hard as well, my liege.”

“If I’d left him to you, Akatsuki, you would have taken his head off.”

“After I’d cut off his arms and legs, yes.”

Shiroe gently admonished Akatsuki, who was sulking with her cheeks puffed out.

As Shiroe shrugged, looking mildly appalled, the Cocoa Brown members thanked him. An adorably round dwarf girl clasped Shiroe’s hand, so happy she was nearly in tears.

“Master Shiroe.”

As she spoke, Henrietta was just a little startled. Her voice had sounded cross.

“What’s the matter?”

“No… I mean…”

“My liege, she probably wants you to do your job.”

“I see.”

At Akatsuki’s retort, Shiroe scratched the back of his head. The power of a moment ago had vanished completely. The spectators who’d gathered also scattered, seemingly satisfied by the scene.

“Miss Henrietta?”

“Yes, Master Shiroe?”

“This venue’s pretty noisy, isn’t it.”

Henrietta, who’d instantly chased away the question of why she’d been irritated, tried to follow what Shiroe’s words meant.

A noisy venue.

Did he mean the merchant? When she thought back, it seemed as though there had been some sales that had been very close to arguments. Henrietta had assumed this was because they were dealing with People of the Earth, and because they were former Earthlings with very little experience… But did Shiroe see it differently?

What is Master Shiroe seeing?… But, come to think of it…

Henrietta wavered. Hadn’t there been some information which she hadn’t been sure whether or not to pass on to Shiroe?

“Master Shiroe, I…”

“The People of the Earth merchants are acting suspicious. I don’t understand it, though. The resolution isn’t high enough. It feels as if I don’t have all the information.”

On hearing Shiroe’s murmuring, Henrietta understood: Shiroe had also noticed that indefinable oddness.

Akatsuki looked up at Shiroe, as if she was worried.

Henrietta tried to speak to him. His vision might give new shape to the doubt she was feeling.

However, by then, Shiroe had already shifted into action. He muttered a few words, and he wasn’t talking to himself. He was asking a question, through empty space.

He was listening hard to a telechat.

Before long, he nodded. Turning to Henrietta, he informed her of the results in a clear voice:

“It sounds as though someone is attacking Akiba.”

2

That day, Raynesia had been busy since morning.

Against her will, of course.

She should have been able to take things at a more leisurely pace during this festival.

She’d planned to spend it vegetatively, indolently, to be as bad as she wanted to be.

However, she’d been hard-pressed to respond to the letters of invitation and greetings that arrived one after another, and she hadn’t even been able to take a decent nap. Elissa was flying about the room like a honeybee, pulling together and examining accessories from there, dresses from here…

But Elissa’s actions weren’t those of an empty-headed girl who loved fashion.

In aristocratic society, dining together and receiving visitors were important occasions that demonstrated rank. For example, when worn, every single accessory sent a message to the other party through its value, its colors, and the meaning of its precious stones. One could say that society was the exchange of these vague, almost metaphorical messages.

For example, Raynesia was the second daughter of a duchy, but since the eldest daughter had already married below her station, she was treated as the eldest. In addition, although it had been generally advertised as being an apology to the Adventurers, as well as discipline, it was clear that she was living in this town as one of the nobles affiliated with Eastal, the League of Free Cities, and as a representative of the House of Cowen.

Since this was the case, when she gave official audiences, they could not be anything that would damage the dignity of the House of Cowen, the greatest noble family in the East. However, on the other hand, in order to preserve the shield of her status as a representative, it was desirable to let a few unofficial nuances remain as well. When she met with merchants, if she didn’t wear something that had cost a suitable sum, they’d look down on her, and when she met with nobles, her pedigree and status would be questioned. If she knew the circumstances of the other party’s house, she’d conduct complicated mind games, such as avoiding the color of the hair of the other party’s family members who were also at court, or possibly matching it.

Elissa was selecting an outfit based on these particulars. No new maid treated as a lady-in-waiting could handle consideration on this level. This was a job for an Elder Maid like Elissa, who was well acquainted with the relationships between the aristocracy and prestigious families.

Naturally, she couldn’t wear the same thing all day.

She was quite busy, changing clothes and accessories for each new visitor.

Nobles attached great importance to honor. For example, the act of having a request you’d made to someone’s face turned down by the other party was strictly avoided among nobles. This was true even if the noble refusing the request was of higher rank than the noble who’d made the request. All requests from nobles should be granted, if only superficially.

To that end, the lower the rank of the petitioning noble, the more careful they were not to make requests the other party couldn’t agree to. Higher-ranking nobles were expected to induce the other party to restrain themselves before they put their request into words. In these unspoken maneuvers, the important things were clothing, trifling light conversation, and the articles exchanged as gifts.

“Oh, gracious! Whatever are we going to do for the dinner party? I really cannot comprehend the Adventurers.”

“Wouldn’t the usual be all right?”

“What do you mean by ‘the usual’?”

“Um… Something floaty?”

“Honestly, Princess Raynesia…”

Apparently even Elissa didn’t yet have a complete grasp of Adventurer etiquette and customs.

Common sense in Eastal dictated that feelings of gratitude must be conveyed through action. However, they were dealing with Adventurers. It wasn’t possible to expect them to understand the nobles’ style of gratitude: conferring decorations, or the blessing of being made to kneel. It would be even less possible to convey their intentions through clothing and subtleties of etiquette.

As that was the case, there was no way the dinner party could be anything but incredibly vague. When it came to food preparations, nearly half depended on the cooperation of the restaurants of Akiba, in addition to the palace cooks invited from Maihama. Had this been the court of Maihama, they probably would have been accused of slighting the invited guests, but apparently, in the fashion of the Adventurers, it wouldn’t be a problem.

Because everything went that way with them, there was no point in worrying about a dinner party that hadn’t even begun. Raynesia herself had planned to laze around until the actual event, without worrying about this and that. Of course, this was true even if she couldn’t deny the fact that it was also because she liked spacing out and not meeting people.

However, the situation had changed.

“Will this do, do you suppose? …No, let’s add one more chain of jade. Just a moment; I know we received one for your birthday last year…”

Elissa’s voice was tense as well.

“You’re right. We mustn’t neglect the formalities…correct?”

The situation had been far too abrupt.

They’d received word that Lord Malves, a merchant from the West, would be visiting.

In addition to being a merchant, Lord Malves was a prominent aristocrat from the Holy Empire of Westlande. The status of Sergiad’s family wasn’t lower, but he certainly wasn’t someone they could treat lightly. On top of that, if he’d been sent at a time like this, they couldn’t deny the possibility that the House of Saimiya might be behind it.

The talk of a coup d’etat in the West must have been true, then.

Raynesia bit her lip.

Naturally, there was a reason behind the pressure she felt.

Two hundred and eighty years ago, the archipelago of Yamato had been united as one nation. The country had been governed by an imperial family, and its name had been the Westlande Imperial Dynasty. It was now known as the Ancient Dynasty. During this Ancient Dynasty, the imperial family had reigned in Yamato with enormous power.

However, the imperial house had fallen in the midst of the tumultuous changes of history, particularly the Ruquinjé affair. With the extinction of the imperial family, Yamato had lost the bond that had unified it as one nation, and it had split apart.

That said, even now, the nobles that governed Yamato were descended from the governing bodies of the days of the Ancient Dynasty. During the dark age that had followed the dynasty’s collapse, when the human society of Yamato had lost its focus, it had been governed by the regional lords who’d served the Westlande Imperial Dynasty.

This was conspicuous in Eastal as well.

For example, the Cowen ducal family, into which Raynesia had been born, was one of only two remaining duchies in current Yamato. The title of duke had originally been bestowed on them by the Westlande imperial family. Each of the lords of Eastal governed the People of the Earth by right of titles that had been granted to their ancestors.

The unified nation of Yamato had collapsed, and the entities that drew the most influence from the Westlande Imperial Dynasty were Eastal, the League of Free Cities; and the Holy Empire of Westlande, which, between them, nearly divided Yamato in two.

The Holy Empire of Westlande was led by the House of Saimiya, which they acknowledged as the successors of the imperial family of Westlande.

Raynesia didn’t personally know that much history, but she was aware that the House of Saimiya had been a sort of branch family of the ancient Westlande imperial family. The Saimiya family’s bloodline had been split off from the imperial family of Westlande for political reasons, in order to preside over religious rituals. Because they had been split off and had transferred their residence to Ise, the House of Saimiya had survived the fall of the Westlande imperial family.

The Holy Empire of Westlande had raised up the House of Saimiya as its rulers and had styled itself the leader of Yamato. The intent to strongly promote itself as the rightful successor to the Westlande Imperial Dynasty was apparent from its name, the Holy Empire of Westlande.

However, naturally, not all the aristocrats of Yamato acknowledged the House of Saimiya as the imperial family itself. In fact, Eastal—with which Raynesia was affiliated, and in which the town of Akiba was located—hadn’t accepted the House of Saimiya as their leader.

To them, the House of Saimiya was a branch family that had inherited the blood of the imperial family, and nothing more.

They took the stance that once split off, a bloodline could not be returned to its original place.

In any case, if the issue was one of whether or not bloodlines had been inherited, this was the ancient aristocracy: Due to complicated marital relationships, even the House of Cowen had the blood of the imperial family in its veins.

In the current situation, in which various factors came into play and tangled with each other, the House of Saimiya was not in a direct position of leadership over the Cowen duchy. However, although they might not be leaders per se, it was true that the family did share the blood of the leaders—the imperial family—and on their own they weren’t a family that could be treated lightly or disregarded.

In the peerage system left behind by the Westlande Ancient Dynasty, the House of Saimiya was the one exceptional clan to outrank the duchies. Based on this political situation, although both the League of Free Cities in the East and the Holy Empire of Westlande of the West were still influenced by the imperial family, they had been locked in tense opposition.

Lord Malves, who had been dispatched here, was a great noble of the Holy Empire of Westlande and was in charge of their commerce. Raynesia seemed to recall hearing that he was also called the Prince of Noble Merchants, and that he had great power in marine transportation.

The objective of the dinner party was to deepen friendships with the Adventurers, but if he said he wanted to pay his respects, she had no choice but to invite him. With his rank, she couldn’t just turn him down with a “Some other time, perhaps.”

Raynesia shook her head, chasing away the premonition of trouble.

However, like Raynesia, Lord Malves was a Person of the Earth. He was also a noble who’d inherited the culture of the imperial family in Yamato, as she had. In that sense, it should be possible to deal with him on equal terms in the same arena: in aristocratic manners and culture.

At least…

Raynesia felt that all she could do was carry out her responsibilities.

Her role was that of a daughter of the House of Cowen who had been dispatched to Akiba; in other words, the role of “Princess Raynesia.” She thought that if she were able to repay Akiba for saving her homeland in some way, she would probably have done her duty.

Raynesia stood, flaring out the skirt of a dress that was as white and misty as a light snowfall.

She didn’t know what this noble of the West wanted, but she intended to bear the full brunt of it herself.

3

“What…?”

“It’s an attack. Most likely some sort of psychological or information warfare. What lousy taste.”

Shiroe snorted.

Not only was it tasteless, it was rude.

Their methods were terribly transparent.

Their forces had entered Akiba, and the goal of their attack was to destroy trust in the Round Table Council and to weaken the bonds that existed in the town. However, their methods were far too slipshod.

Was it because the enemy who was conducting this attack was incompetent? Or…

“…Are they arrogant?”

At Shiroe’s murmur, Akatsuki cocked her head.

Seeing this, Shiroe waved his hand slightly.

“Never mind, just put the kunai away.”

“But my liege…”

“We won’t need it this time.”

Reluctantly, Akatsuki slipped the rough blade back inside her skirt. Averting his gaze from an accidental glimpse of her calf, Shiroe turned to Henrietta.

“The town of Akiba is under attack.”

“Yes.”

Henrietta nodded. Her expression was tense.

Henrietta had also been vaguely aware of it, Shiroe realized. In that case, he decided, it would be best to fill her in on the circumstances, up to a point.

“Their methods are probably to infiltrate, then to engineer mild disturbances and spread rumors. Their objective is to damage trust in the Round Table Council.”

“…Let’s take action as soon as possible. Depending on the situation, we might have to cancel the festival…”

“That wouldn’t be a good move.”

Shiroe responded to Henrietta, who had jumped to conclusions.

“If the festival is cancelled, people will doubt the Round Table Council’s ability to cope with crises, and as a result, they’ll lose confidence in it. That’s just what they want. The best course of action here is to get through by minimizing the trouble. That means the festival has to go on.”

“That’s… Yes, that’s true.”

Henrietta’s expression looked a little gray.

The fact that they were taking an attack from an unknown enemy, in a form that wasn’t directly visible, was putting her under that much pressure. Shiroe wasn’t entirely immune to that pressure, either. He could “see” a bit more of it than Henrietta, so he was calm. That was all.

Shiroe had a hunch that this attack came from the People of the Earth. There were various reasons for this, but the greatest was the sense of wrongness in the key phrase “loss of trust in the governing organization.”

Most of the Adventurers of Yamato, including Shiroe, were Japanese in the real world.

Although this wasn’t the sort of thing one could brag about, to Japanese people, trust in governing organizations wasn’t valuable enough to be worth damaging. Of course, Japan’s actual administrative and police organizations provided some of the highest-level services in the world. If these organizations stopped working, there would clearly be trouble that very day. However, didn’t most people feel as if those administrative end services had no connection to the governing organizations? To the Japanese, government incompetence was already taken for granted. The idea of attacking confidence in a governing organization was itself un-Japanese, and in Yamato, it wasn’t at all like the Adventurers.

In addition, the crudeness of the attack told him something else.

At the very least, the hostile People of the Earth didn’t think this attack could inflict a devastating blow on the town of Akiba and the Adventurers themselves. Of course not: The Adventurers wouldn’t be weakened immediately just because the festival failed, law and order in the town grew a bit worse, and the Round Table Council was criticized as incompetent.

Since this attack wasn’t by nature the sort of attack that would settle things on its own, what seemed to be their current goal—damaging confidence in the Round Table Council—should be considered no more than a foundation for their actual goal.

In that case, what was their true goal in this situation? What would benefit the attackers?

It was likely that it lay in being able to negotiate with Akiba under advantageous conditions.

That was probably the goal of the merchant traders from the West who had been mentioned in his telechat with Minori. Since the Round Table Council had concluded a treaty with Eastal, the western People of the Earth would need to sign a treaty with the town of Akiba as well, to keep the others from monopolizing the profit. In order to improve the conditions of that treaty, they were interfering as a sort of preemptive strike.

Since they’d been able to mobilize merchants on a scale like this one, a wealthy merchant or noble with sufficient capital was probably in command.

When he’d checked with Isaac, he’d received information that one group of important figures who fit the description had arrived that morning with the intent of staying in town.

He could understand it.

Depending on the situation, it would be possible for the strategy to produce a certain effect.

However, Shiroe thought, for precisely that reason, it was crude and completely lacking in aesthetics.

In mobilizing this many people, then attempting to make the negotiations go their way through threats, intimidation, and groundless rumors, they’d given away their origin.

“From the West…?”

“Don’t mention it to anyone just yet.”

In the back of the Crescent Moon League booth, having finished his explanation, Shiroe made a request of Henrietta.

“I won’t, but what are you going to do next, Master Shiroe?”

“Well…”

Shiroe tried to continue, but faltered.

Shiroe was one of the eleven guild masters who made up the Round Table Council. However, the Round Table Council was an organization of self-government, and it had only the trust of the town of Akiba. Would it be proper for him to conduct defensive activities at his own discretion, or not? Shiroe thought about it for a little while, but stopped partway through.

He’d reached the conclusion that the answer to that question wouldn’t present itself easily, and he had given up.

Besides, we should get by without seeing blood this time. …They came to stir things up using aggressive methods, so they’ve probably considered the possibility of being repaid in kind.

…This slightly irresponsible thought was also present.

If you get hit, hit back. That was only natural. This world was far stricter than Earth when it came to handing out retribution. Either way, they’d need to use defensive tactics this time around. Self-defense was a natural, self-evident right.

“Fight. Of course.”

The sense of wrongness Shiroe had felt. The feeling of roughness that had continued since yesterday. The inquiries to the Production Guild Liaison Committee had made it clear: The number of incidents that needed to be dealt with was increasing rapidly.

It wasn’t limited to disputes in town. On the contrary: Cases stemming from direct quarrels were only the tip of the iceberg. For example, applications that required only one form had been split across two forms and submitted. Town entry procedures were being used to monopolize personnel. Taxes were being fudged slightly. They were attempting to pass bribes. Each individual thing was simply a troublesome triviality, not worth bothering about, but an intent to maximize these things was assailing Akiba.

Since it was so roundabout, and it was difficult to pinpoint malicious intent, even the Adventurers who noticed it had been unable to decide whether it was truly a premeditated attack or not. However, this sort of trivial contact had piled up and was attempting to bind the PGLC—and, by extension, the Round Table Council.

Since they weren’t able to identify it as an attack, they couldn’t defend. The enemy was making the greatest possible use of that vulnerability.

So where was the point on which the enemy was concentrating their effort?

Right now, it was any point where the Liaison Committee was fielding paperwork of some sort. Intentionally false reports and multiple reports were being turned in with regard to duties such as the town gates, the storehouse facilities, and the flea market patrols, whittling down its processing capacity.

It was probably best to consider that points where Adventurers and People of the Earth interacted were being attacked as well. They were attempting to sour the festival and the town’s atmosphere by disrupting areas where communication would take place.

With either, the only countermeasure was to increase the number of staff on-site. On top of that, efficiency and flexible organization would be key.

All of Akiba’s self-governing organizations, beginning with the Round Table Council, were composed of volunteers. Considering that, they displayed extraordinary problem-solving abilities, but this was only when those organizations had sufficient people and morale. Being short staffed made the fatigue on-site more serious, and a lack of morale reduced their very energy to work. In addition, without proper placement and an awareness of the goal, they probably wouldn’t even be sure which way they were supposed to go.

Which meant they’d need to set up a system of command and inject personnel.

Then, too, it wouldn’t be possible to stop the next attack with that alone. Of course, the enemy might not play that hand, but Shiroe thought that if it had been him, he’d have another attack waiting as insurance. A move that would disparage the Round Table Council’s practical abilities.

Dispassionately, Shiroe flipped through the cards in his mind.

The theater of war is vast. Each individual piece of this infiltration is negligible, just minor trouble. …However, the battlefield is all of Akiba. The range is too wide; I can’t handle it on my own. Even if I asked everyone in Log Horizon, we wouldn’t be enough. That said, having the Round Table Council take action would be a bad move in and of itself. It’s likely that that’s exactly what the enemy wants: A situation in which the Round Table Council panics over trivial business issues at stalls.

Of course he’d probably need to contact the appropriate parties and ask for their cooperation, but he couldn’t let the rank and file of the Round Table Council realize they were in a state of emergency. Simply raising the level of alert would eat up some of their processing capacity. Since this was a saturation attack on the processing abilities of the Round Table Council and the PGLC, carelessly raising the security level would play right into the enemy’s hands.

Ideally, we’d get rid of the incident itself. Right…

That was the ideal outcome.

But how? In his mind, he positioned the forces he had, then ran simulations. Plans that failed were scrapped, the conditions changed, and another simulation run. When he stopped breathing, the noise around him grew distant, and he was enveloped in a world of silence. In the midst of the accelerating mock battles, Shiroe groped for the balance point he knew had to exist somewhere.

Even Akatsuki, who was peeking up at him as if she were worried, had disappeared for Shiroe now.

The repeated examination of conditions was erasing the light and sound from his world.

…But nothing worked.

The enemy’s attacks were too incompatible with Shiroe.

The enemy was barely thinking at all. Of course, their commander probably had a vague overall objective, but each individual attack was executed nearly on impulse, in all sorts of places. These weren’t pinpoint breakthrough attacks based on a detailed strategy. They were ad-lib attacks executed at random.

Not only that, but they’d managed to deduce the true state of the attacks only after the enemy had completed their battle formation and hit them with a preemptive strike. Shiroe the Strategist used advance adjustments as a weapon, and his affinity with this style was the highest it could possibly be.

Agh… I hate enemies like this.

He’d declared to Akatsuki and the others that they would fight, but the situation was worse than he’d thought. The fact that the enemy was acting haphazardly, or in other words, at random, was built into the strategy. He couldn’t make predictions. If the enemy had been planning to attempt to break through at a certain point, he could have deduced what that point was and concentrated his defenses there. That was precisely what made it possible for recruited soldiers to stop a vast, hostile army. However, this enemy was an epidemic of simultaneous terrorist acts. Not only that, but it was terrorism with no malice at its extremities. Shiroe didn’t have the ability to figure out what each individual enemy just happened to be planning.

At times like this, I guess there’s nothing for it but to give up, at least temporarily.

Shiroe mentally switched gears.

He gave up on dealing with everything.

What couldn’t be done couldn’t be done. With that as his premise, he’d do what he could.

There was no time, either. It was already past noon. If they didn’t take steps within the next hour, the situation would probably grow bad enough that even the residents of Akiba would sense the abnormality.

If he was going to find something to counter this enemy with, under these conditions…

“Hm? Well, if it isn’t Mister Shiro. You’ve been at the Crescent Moon League booth? That’s right, of course.”

When Shiroe turned, there was Soujirou, his old friend and leader of the West Wind Brigade, standing with the crowd at his back. Today—possibly as townwear—Soujirou was wearing traditional Japanese clothes: a kasuri-patterned kimono and navy blue hakama trousers. His hair, which was tied back in more of a ponytail than a traditional topknot, swung behind him, and of course, he was carrying his long and short uchigatana swords.

“It’s been quite some time, sir.” “Hello!” “Pleased to meet you.” “Who’s he?” “You know. From Log Horizon…” “Oh!”

The high-pitched voices behind him came from the girl groupies who were always with Soujirou.

“We went to the cake shop you told us about, Mister Shiro. Talk about fantastic bonuses! They gave us sixteen whole cakes. We couldn’t quite get through them all, so we called our guild mates and told them to come have some free cake, but the more members showed up, the more cakes they brought out. They were a really nice guild! …Um, huh?”

Shiroe felt the strength go out of his knees; he almost sank to the floor.

Those weren’t bonuses. They were just adding to your challenge menu, to suit the number of people. The comeback had made it as far as his throat, but Soujirou didn’t seem to have noticed a thing.

“About the time they’d brought out thirty whole cakes, they ran out of stock, I think. We all ate them together, and they were delicious. I liked the orange mousse. That one was really good, wasn’t it? It had something like the lingering scent of summer to it.”

Oh, geez. Soujirou is such a…

Even as he felt himself going limp, Shiroe set a hand on Soujirou’s shoulder as he delivered his report.

“What is it, Mister Shiro?”

“Nothing. You came at a good time, Soujirou. I have an issue that’s perfect for you.”

The enemy was developing a haphazard saturation maneuver that incorporated randomness.

In which case, it would be fitting to go beyond randomness and apply unconsciousness to that line of defense.

The ideal talent for the job was right before Shiroe’s eyes.

4

Ending the telechat, Minori clenched her fists tightly.

Her fear had been right on the mark.

Akiba—Minori and the others—was under attack.

“So it’s true?”

As Calasin asked the question, his voice sounded as if he’d had a shock. Minori nodded.

“Shiroe thinks so, too.”

Calasin bit a fingernail, glanced at the mountain of documents with a stern expression, then began to think again.

It had already been eight hours since Minori had entered the office. They’d worked straight through from early morning nearly without breaks, and as a result, the greater part of the towers of documents had disappeared. At this point, they were condensed and packed into the document crates in the corner of the room.

However, for that very reason, their situation had become clear.

They hadn’t noticed it because the reports had been scattered and were arriving separately, but merchants from the West made up more than 15 percent of the total number of attendees.

Although large, the number itself wasn’t a problem. The problem was the fact that that 15 percent of the incoming population had caused more than 60 percent of the trouble.

This room was the department responsible for the Libra Festival. In other words, it was the control room.

Before the fact or after it, information gathered here in the form of reports.

This “report” format had been the source of their error. Processing the wide variety of reports was putting them under pressure.

Of course documents were important.

“Leave a record” was an ironclad rule of clerical work, and in this world, using paper was the only way to do it.

However, the Production Guild Liaison Committee had been overwhelmingly short on processing capacity. The organization hadn’t been built to be capable of leaving a record as precise as the one they’d initially planned for, and the system hadn’t been applied skillfully enough. More than anything, they’d been crushingly short on the necessary personnel.

This weakness had been exploited.

For example, the simple oral survey of cargo when entering the town. The license issuing procedure for those participating in the flea market. The procedure to report items being sold. The procedure to use the publicly run storehouses managed by the Round Table Council. Issuing cargo exchange receipts on-site. All of these locations were understaffed.

The delay triggered stress, and stress invited trouble.

They’d thought this confusion had been caused inevitably—in other words, unintentionally—by the unexpected increase in People of the Earth merchants. That is to say, the Liaison Committee had been blaming themselves for having been unable to anticipate this crowd.

However, as they sorted out the documents, they saw that the same western merchants had intentionally requested multistep or redundant paperwork.

Someone, or possibly several someones, was trying to put stress on the system.

When Calasin had checked, the guilds who were on town patrol—D.D.D. and the Knights of the Black Sword—said they’d also been rendered unable to move by dealing with a sudden increase in fights and disputes. At the same time, all through the town, they’d heard baseless rumors blaming the Round Table Council for incompetence.

At this point, with Calasin’s permission, Minori had contacted Shiroe. She’d been worried that not sharing the information would do harm.

Then, on having received that information, Shiroe had determined that someone was attacking them, and, unfortunately, he’d given his support to Minori’s guess.

“You’ll be going back to join Shiroe, won’t you, Minori?”

Calasin’s question was just what she’d anticipated, and so Minori also took the attitude she’d planned on and shook her head.

“I won’t go back to Shiroe.”

“Huh?”

“I’m staying here,” Minori repeated.

The astonishment in Calasin’s expression was only to be expected.

When attacked, groups returned to their leader. It was a defensive response dating back to the time when humans were animals. Guilds were no exception.

Under the circumstances, the commonsense response was for all members to return to their guild leader and follow his instructions as a group. This was less a type of group discipline than a textbook move. They were on the receiving end of a mysterious social infiltration invasion. In fact, Calasin had just issued an order to summon all guild members whose hands were free to the area around the guild center.

On top of that, Minori was still young. Even she understood that Calasin had thought it was only natural for her to return to the wings of her “guardian,” Shiroe.

However, she had made up her mind to stay here.

Minori’s ability to organize documents was already equal to that of a full-fledged clerical worker. Of course, she’d had help from a few of Shopping District 8’s younger members, but it was true that Minori had cleared the flood of documents that had beset the office. Calasin had no reason to refuse her.

Pretending not to register Calasin’s worried gaze, Minori drew a deep breath. This was a battlefield.

But in her eyes, the mountains of documents in the office looked like something else.

The connection came naturally to her mind, and a new vision rose up.

In other words, it’s just like that.

The problem was their lack of processing ability.

In concept, it was equivalent to a lack of recovery ability.

She remembered murderous intent that chilled her spine and a suffocating sense of tension. Slowly, she opened and clenched her hand, intentionally helping her blood circulate. Minori was currently visualizing a raid.

Just remembering made her throat dry, and her temperature was falling.

All she had to do was what had been done at Ragranda, Choushi, and Zantleaf. To mimic what she’d seen Shiroe do.

“I’ll stay here and handle the storehouse work. Would it be all right if we had them bring all the storehouse paperwork in, too?”

“Huh? Oh. Yes, I see, you’re right. …Of course, if you’ll do it, that would be terrific.”

Calasin gave the order to the young man Taro, who was nearby.

Storehouse meant the materials storehouses managed by the Round Table Council. The small and midsized guilds could rent the storehouses by the month, and the facilities had been created at a relatively early stage after the establishment of the Round Table Council.

After the Catastrophe, the world had changed, and now the quality of materials affected the quality of created items. As a result, it had become important for producers to judge materials carefully before buying.

Before, in the case of tomato items, no matter what kind of tomatoes they were, the quality of the finished food had been the same (although it had been nothing more than soggy rice crackers.) However, at present, if you used damaged tomatoes, the tomato salad would be only as good as a salad made with damaged tomatoes. It would inevitably taste bad. As a result, at present, it had grown more necessary to look at an item directly and confirm its quality before making your purchase.

That meant that, unlike before, large storehouses with solid management systems were necessary. Big guilds could run their own storehouses, but small and midsized guilds didn’t have that kind of strength. In response to requests from these smaller guilds, the Round Table Council had established several large storehouses, and it continued to manage them.

During the Libra Festival, these storehouses had been made available to People of the Earth as well.

The service was necessary for People of the Earth merchants who’d come with freight wagons.

Much of their merchandise consisted of bulky items and the types of things that couldn’t be left alone at inn stables. In a storehouse cooled by summoning Heavenly Winter Robes—high-level ice spirits—items would also stay a bit fresher.

However, it was also true that since they’d been opened to the People of the Earth, the procedures themselves had grown more complicated. If they didn’t record the details of the items placed in their care, they couldn’t be responsible. In addition, the storehouses had been designed on the assumption that a fixed amount would be taken out each morning and what remained unsold would be put back at night. They hadn’t assumed frequent use, such as merchandise being removed each time a sale was made.

The plain truth was that the burden placed on the contact personnel far exceeded their processing abilities. It was a typical example of the attack Akiba was experiencing.

“Sorry about the wait, Minori.”

“Hi, Touya.”

Touya had entered the office without so much as a greeting, and Minori nodded to him.

The twins had each other’s addresses registered at the very top of their friend lists. To them, these were irreplaceable. They’d contacted each other via telechat so often that they could perform the operations unconsciously, to the point where it had gone past the territory of a direct call and was beginning to border on telepathy.

“Calasin, this is my twin brother, Touya. I had him come to help.”

“Yes. I haven’t seen you for a while. I’m sorry, and thanks in advance.”

“Roger that. Okay, Minori, I’m off.”

With a hasty greeting, Touya set his bag down and left the office. Minori didn’t ask where he was going.

Merchandise claim checks from several publicly run storehouses had been delivered to this floor. As she and Calasin had discussed earlier, Touya had probably gone to pick up those checks.

Before long, it was likely that all sorts of files would begin to stream into the office at double the previous speed. The claim checks from the storehouse group would be brought to the office, in addition to the reports that were arriving from the flea market.

They’d created space in the office by organizing the current paperwork, and now they would process these vast quantities of documents here in parallel.

That was the battlefield Minori had chosen.

“Calasin, take care of this as well, please.”

Minori passed a list of high-priority reports to him. It had “urgent” written in red in its top right corner. Calasin was flustered, but he nodded and began to rapidly glance through it.

Calasin was a guild leader with the sort of business abilities even Shiroe held in high esteem. He fielded hot matters, the sort Minori couldn’t handle, regarding materials entrusted to them—such as the fact that the same huge heap of potatoes had been withdrawn twice—with short telechats, settling matters by compensating for damages.

As she watched him, Minori was sure of it:

Running back to Shiroe right now would be a poor move.

Now, when the battle lines were being overwhelmed, was the time for the rear guard to display iron determination that continuously supported the vanguard. The rear guard had a duty to trust the vanguard.

I don’t know whether I’ll be any help, but…

Even so, at this moment, there was no one in this office. Only Calasin and two Shopping District 8 volunteers. Even with the additions of Minori and Touya, there were only five of them.

This was the core of the Libra Festival, and yet there were just five staff members.

The only instruction Shiroe had given her was to meet up with Touya.

Minori thought about the intent that might hold.

The first thing she’d picked up on was the message that the circumstances currently bearing down on Akiba weren’t the sort of danger that would cause direct, physical damage. If the situation had held that kind of peril, Shiroe would have told her to join them at any cost. If necessary, he would have sent someone to get her.

However, after the relief, the next thing she’d sensed was the message that she’d been given her freedom.

This didn’t simply mean that he’d granted her freedom of movement. Minori had been given this concession after sharing the information that they were under attack, and she interpreted this to mean that he was hoping she would act as reinforcements.

A small expectation from distant Shiroe.

The possibility might have been no more than a misunderstanding, but it kindled a blaze in Minori’s soul.

But if that’s true… If Shiroe’s hoping for something, even a very little something, from me, then I…

In this office, she’d imitate Shiroe.

That was what Minori had resolved.

She’d recreate Shiroe’s controlled encounter.

There would be no point in having two Shiroes in the same place, but here, where there was no Shiroe, she might find value in imitating him.

The people in charge of reception at the storehouses, who were continuing to take complaints from the People of the Earth, were the vanguard tank. That would probably make Calasin—who was using the time they bought him to resolve the vanguard’s problems—the healer.

On this battlefield, the very best Minori could do was to sort the problems by size, foresee the next move, and shape the information so that everything ran smoothly.

She couldn’t be the vanguard or the healer.

Even though her ideals were high, all she was really doing was organizing paperwork, transferring its content to another piece of paper and distributing it. She felt a furious helplessness and irritation at herself in the pit of her stomach, but she valiantly froze the emotions.

She was a middle schooler. If she was incompetent, that was only natural.

Besides, Shiroe had taught her that nothing was more useless than irritation in the middle of a conflict or the tormenting oneself therefore. She couldn’t betray him.

The flow of battle isn’t something you read. It’s something you become.

She remembered Shiroe’s kind voice. He’d been laughing, as if he were joking.

Become the flow…

To Minori, right now, “combat” and “the flow” were the continuous sequence of documents that were brought in one after another, and the telechats that flew in asking for instructions. She had to become these things.

Worry about nothing.

Think about nothing.

Become the documents themselves, the solution itself.

As she chased a sensation she could feel only faintly, Minori threw herself into the work in front of her.

5

A resplendent atmosphere enveloped the dinner party venue.

This was the great hall on the first floor of Water Maple Manor, where Raynesia lived. The manor had been created by repairing one of Akiba’s many destroyed buildings, which the Cowen duchy of Maihama had purchased when Raynesia was sent to Akiba.

The building had been very nearly in ruins, so they’d kept only the basic structure and redesigned it in the style of an aristocratic People of the Earth manor.

As an official residence, the manor sometimes housed guests, and regular business, including meetings and appraisals of specialty products, was often conducted here. As a result, although it was Raynesia’s private residence, it had been built on a rather large scale. There were three halls, a total of eighty rooms, and as a rule, there were more than thirty servants.

Now, just before the largest event this residence had ever seen, the number of staff had ballooned to a number that was beyond comparison with the usual thirty. This was a banquet on a huge scale: The chefs and bards and serving girls they’d summoned from Maihama hadn’t been enough, and they’d hastily recruited and mobilized kitchen staff and a wide variety of artisans in Akiba.

As a matter of fact, not all those who’d responded to the advertisement had been People of the Earth.

Although there weren’t many of them, there were Adventurers among the Chefs, the servers, the musicians, and the behind-the-scenes staff. Adventurers’ income level was high. The wages Raynesia’s people had proposed had been based on People of the Earth standards, and they hadn’t dreamed that Adventurers would respond to the advertisement, but this was the town of Akiba. Some Adventurers had stepped up, mostly for fun.

It was probably more than half in a spirit of volunteering. As these Adventurers worked busily behind the scenes of the grand banquet, some grew closer to People of the Earth of the opposite gender who were working alongside them and rather charming relationships began, but that’s another story.

“Thank you very much.”

Raynesia smiled and bowed to the Adventurer in front of her. The young Adventurer averted his gaze brusquely and muttered, “Nah, anybody would’ve done that.”

Apparently the young man had acted as rear-guard support and participated in the encircling operation during the Zantleaf War. All Raynesia could do was express her gratitude, but after all, the day’s dinner party existed in order to formally convey that gratitude.

“Thanks to you and your people, Maihama and the League of Cities were saved. I am eternally grateful to you.”

She lifted her skirt very slightly, bowing her head.

Seeing this, the young man waved a hand, interrupting her and speaking rapidly: “You don’t have to thank us all over the place. It wasn’t anything big. We’re Adventurers, and anybody would’ve done it, and we got paid. Plus…it wasn’t all that much trouble.”

Then the young man, whose face had gone red, said, “Just don’t worry about it. Not even a little, okay?!” He sounded uncomfortable, and he left in a hurry.

“They all seem rather gauche, don’t they?”

“Yes, they do… They really do.”

Raynesia responded to Elissa, who was waiting behind her.

Many of the Adventurers—particularly the young men—seemed to be shy. Most knights were romantics, but they were so absorbed in their chivalry that they tended to force their own way of doing things onto others.

On that point, the young Adventurers often grew flustered and ran away when Raynesia thanked them.

At first she’d wondered whether they were shunning her out of dislike, but she’d come to understand that that wasn’t the case. In Eastal, she’d been called “a beautiful princess filled with melancholy,” treated as a decoration, and admired for her beauty. Here in Akiba, apparently, she was the object of a similar, yet different, longing.

The Adventurers were just bashful and self-conscious.

Elissa had laughed—“My, my, my. They all show their shyness like children”—but Raynesia thought it was rather nice. It was better than being fawned over; it gave her a light, pleasant feeling and left her with a good impression of them.

There were about three hundred invited guests in the hall.

Two-thirds were Adventurers, and one-third were People of the Earth. The latter included shopkeepers who traded extensively in the town, and the litigation officers of the Kunie tribe, who were in charge of bank services. There were also commercial representatives from trading companies who’d traveled in from eastern territories for today’s festival.

The hall was filled with savory aromas.

The main point of this dinner party was light conversation, but the main subject—the food—hadn’t been neglected, either. Apparently the Chefs who’d come from Maihama had outdone themselves for Raynesia. They were creating sumptuous dishes, as if showing off for Akiba’s Adventurers.

Dishes like fish soup and veal with raspberry sauce had been rediscovered. They were traditional dishes that had been handed down in Zantleaf, but before the Revolution, they’d been created from the item creation menu.

Her memories of how food had tasted at the time were already misty, but naturally, the items had been dull and flavorless, and the only remaining impression was a dreary one. It was bad enough that she marveled at the fact that they’d kept themselves alive on food which tasted like that.

However, there were many dishes that they’d stopped being able to make after the Revolution. If they looked at the necessary recipe on the item creation menu, they could tell what sort of ingredients it was made from, but they couldn’t tell how those ingredients needed to be prepared, or in what order, to reproduce a dish that even superficially resembled the one they’d made from the item creation menu.

It could be said that the Catastrophe had exposed the ignorance of the People of the Earth. At that point, they’d been shown their own warped shapes: They couldn’t even make with their own hands the items they’d previously been able to make with the item creation menu. However, the Chefs of Maihama had tackled that situation boldly. In an attempt to create local specialties when the actual preparation methods were unclear, they’d worked to form hypotheses from the lists of ingredients used.

Possibly as a result of the pains they’d taken, most of the guests here today seemed satisfied. Raynesia went around the venue, introducing People of the Earth to Adventurers and presenting Adventurers to People of the Earth.

At this point, the dinner party seemed to be a success, and it looked as if it was going quite well. Raynesia’s grandfather Sergiad had said that the bonds between Adventurers and People of the Earth would become Eastal’s treasure.

Raynesia thought he might be right.

However, that result would come about only if both parties took care of those bonds and polished them on a daily basis. Raynesia thought her role was to shower the bonds with affection.

That might have been her grandfather’s purpose in sending her to Akiba.

Even though Raynesia herself only wanted to live an idle life indolently, comfortably, or possibly limply…

“Princess…”

“What is it, Elissa?”

Waiting for a break in the crowd, the lady-in-waiting who’d been standing behind Raynesia spoke to her. It probably had something to do with the maid who’d run up to Elissa and given her a message a moment ago; her color wasn’t good.

Raynesia braced herself for bad news.

She’d been ready for it ever since she’d heard that Malves would be coming.

Raynesia hadn’t greeted Malves at this dinner party. She’d been informed that he hadn’t yet reached the venue, and this hinted at the possibility that he was the true form of the bad news.

“It’s bad news.”

“…I’d rather not hear it, but tell me.”

“They say Lord Malves is on his way here now, and that he will reach the hall in ten minutes.”

“I see.”

She’d expected this. The information depressed her and stressed her out, but it wasn’t really bad news.

“And…”

“What is it?”

On her best behavior, Raynesia prompted her messenger.

“As a matter of fact, Lord Malves’s ship is offshore from Akiba, and he has rather a lot of material. He says he’d like to have that cargo placed in a storehouse. But…”

“Is there some sort of problem?”

“Yes, as you know, this came up suddenly, and there really is a large quantity… But in any case, storehouse depositing is a service intended for Adventurers.”

As she spoke, Elissa sounded troubled.

That was only natural. If some sort of problem came up, she’d have to advise Lord Malves. It was Raynesia’s duty to mediate between the People of the Earth and the Adventurers.

The hum of voices in the hall grew louder.

No doubt a large delegation had arrived. Apparently Malves was here, and she hadn’t even managed to hear the report in its entirety.

Taking Elissa with her, Raynesia crossed the hall filled with orchestral music, bowing to Adventurers as she went. A man in the prime of life had entered through the large double doors.

Raynesia hadn’t made his acquaintance, but there was no doubt that he was Malves, the aristocrat from the Holy Empire of Westlande.

“I’m so pleased you could come.”

In a light, graceful gesture, Raynesia pinched up her skirt and lowered her head deferentially.

In the aristocracy of the People of the Earth, Raynesia’s position was a very delicate one. As a daughter of the House of Cowen, the greatest noble in the East, she was in a position to receive great respect. In addition, her beauty had earned her the admiration of high society as “the rose princess.”

However, she was a woman, and in the aristocracy, it was unthinkable for a woman to hold an official public post.

Of course, Raynesia was living in the town of Akiba on official business, to act as a go-between for People of the Earth and Adventurers, and to lay the groundwork for a variety of negotiations. However, officially, an announcement had been made that it was discipline for the arbitrary decision she’d made to ask for reinforcements from the Adventurers without permission from the League.

Raynesia was active in Akiba as the representative of the eastern People of the Earth, but she had no official rank. She was only “the daughter of the House of Cowen, who is currently confined to a second residence.” This meant that when dealing with Malves, a great noble of the Holy Empire of Westlande, she had to curtsy quite deeply.

“My, what beauty. If my memory serves me, you must be Princess Raynesia, daughter of the House of Cowen.”

“Yes, Master Malves. I’m deeply grateful to be honored with your presence at my residence this evening, during this banquet to celebrate the autumn festival.”

Flawlessly hiding her innermost thoughts, Raynesia modestly lowered her eyes.

To be honest, her first impression had been a bad one.

It might even have been the worst one possible: Malves was an aristocrat with a face like kneaded white clay. Raynesia had met aristocrats from the Holy Empire of Westlande several times when she accompanied her grandfather, and every time, she’d felt a visceral distortion. She felt the same thing now, with Malves.

When it came to handing down ancient noble culture, the Holy Empire of Westlande was far more conservative than the East, and even the men often sprinkled themselves with cologne and wore rouge. Of course, it was probably quite becoming on some of them, but according to the customs of Eastal, the cosmetics were antiquated and bizarre.

Raynesia wasn’t one to talk much about others’ personal appearance. However, rather than a simple issue of appearance, Malves’s seemed to be the result of a certain inward aspect that had bled through to the surface.

“It’s a marvelous banquet. It looks quite the success.”

“Yes, my lord. Thank you.”

However, as a daughter of the nobility, Raynesia had spoken with a variety of diplomats and envoys. The skill children born into noble families most needed to acquire was the art of smiling and conversing with an innocent air, no matter how much one disliked the other party.

“And yet, how shall I put it? It strikes me as a touch too disorderly.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

The noble’s voice held a hint of contemptuous laughter. Raynesia raised her eyes, very slightly.

“Oh, the idea that nobles would appear at the same banquet as commoners. One might call it the fearlessness peculiar to the East, where they’ve inherited the blood of barbarians… Ha-ha-ha! …Here now, I’ll thank you not to come near me. Shoo, shoo.”

“I’m terribly sorry. The East is ill-versed in that sort of refinement, which is why this banquet became as it is. I’m not certain whether its flavor will please you, but would you care for some Eastern liquor?”

She certainly wasn’t accustomed to hearing such contemptuous speech, but it was nothing she couldn’t let slide. Most of the members of the League of Free Cities were local city-states that had been conquered when the Westlande Imperial Dynasty was established. In consequence, since the old days, the large Western cities with imperial palaces—Minami and Ikoma—had treated them as rather backward, barbaric regions.

Even then, Eastal was better off than some. Ezzo was despised as a savage land where no human being had ever set foot, as true barbarians. It wasn’t without cause that, after its independence, Ezzo had declared itself an empire and stirred up animosity toward central Yamato.

Raynesia tilted her head slightly, then poured liquor into the cup the ornately dressed Malves held. He narrowed his eyes at Raynesia in a rapturous smile, then insolently touched her silver hair.

Anger flared up in Raynesia’s immediate vicinity.

It was the Adventurers who were closest to Raynesia and Malves. Young, armored warriors holding glasses and dapper swordsmen with long weapons at their hips turned dangerous eyes their way.

Their glances meant, Should we butcher this impertinent white pig? Inwardly, Raynesia giggled at them.

Down to the last man, the Adventurers really were free, and as open-hearted as birds. Raynesia was happy that she’d grown able to understand their thoughts.

However, using only her eyes, Raynesia declined their silent offer. There were offers that one could not take advantage of precisely because they were kind. If they harmed a great noble of the West, they’d all suffer for it, and she’d anticipated sticky speech of this sort.

Unless Raynesia kept control of the situation, at best, this aristocrat would be thrown out, and at worst, he might be put to the sword. That would be an unfortunate ending for both East and West, for both People of the Earth and Adventurers.

If all he did was speak sarcastically, she was prepared to go along with him for as long as it took.

That was what Raynesia thought.

After all, she liked being lazy. She was confident in her ability to let entire conversations go in one ear and out the other. She’d even attempt to bite back unladylike yawns. Of course, she’d have to be prepared to face Elissa’s anger afterward, but even so.

“Well, never mind. Princess. I want you to make haste and prepare a storehouse. Some of the cargo I’ve brought along is seafood. It won’t do to let it spoil.”

“Of course. I’m having inquiries made as we speak. Please wait just a moment.”

Raynesia bowed her head gracefully.

However, with a clearly scornful expression, Lord Malves interrupted her.

“Hah! What are you saying, Princess? A request regarding this matter has already been made in writing. The same documents were sent to Duke Sergiad in Maihama as well, and I have a response.”

“Pardon?”

“You are ready to receive it, aren’t you? The merchandise is top-quality, the sort delivered to the Holy Empire’s House of Saimiya. I don’t want to see goods such as these treated lightly. You do understand, I trust?”