Somewhere in the Great Tomb of Nazarick. One very busy skeleton.
"Where is that chest?" Already losing my patience, I slammed the lid shut in frustration and turned back toward the center of one of the guild's minor storage rooms. This was where frequently used items and consumables were dumped; trekking all the way to the central Treasury every time you needed something was an utter pain.
I needed a container of high-level Wands of Resurrection. I had already delayed following through on my mental note, and I would be leaving the tomb soon. The problem was that Momonga, whose memories I had inherited, hadn't thought about where these wands were kept in Nazarick for... many years. He possessed an arch-rare artifact ring, the Shooting Star, which, besides boosting the effects of any wand in the wearer's hands, allowed him to manifest any wand with any effect within the limits of the ten standard spell tiers. Furthermore, any player could use the created wand regardless of class. The ring's cooldown was only an hour, and its only downside was that crafting required the user's mana—the more powerful the wand, the more mana had to be poured in—but that was hardly an issue for a caster of Momonga's level. In other words, he had absolutely no need for other wands; he was his own free shop with an inventory for any situation. For me, however, this translated into the headache of searching through the guild's massive storehouses for a chest I had no description of, other than the fact that it existed somewhere. I could have sat down and started crafting the necessary artifacts personally, but providing for just the Guardians and the Pleiades would take over ten hours. Besides them, there were plenty of other high-ranking denizens of Nazarick who, realistically, ought to be given the means to resurrect their beloved boss. I truly loathed wasting an extra day creating something that was already lying around somewhere in sufficient quantities. So here I was, digging through a warehouse of emergency consumables that hadn't been inventoried in a decade, quietly cursing those damn obsessive hoarders and especially the former owner of this body, who, over years of solo grinding, had piled up heaps of random drop trash here but couldn't be bothered to systematize any of it.
There was, of course, the option of going to the main Treasury, where a shipping container's worth of this stuff was undoubtedly stashed and cataloged. However, Pandora's Actor—the Treasury Guardian—resided there, and I was not yet mentally prepared to meet him. I already had enough obsessive attention and adoration coming at me from all sides; if I visited Momonga's personal creation, there was zero chance he would ever leave me alone afterward. Plus, I simply couldn't handle his personal quirks right now—the ones Satoru had stuffed into his head back when he was still a teenager. I needed to tame my own demons first... No, if ignoring Pandora's Actor threatened any actual trouble, I would have sucked it up and gone to play Commander Shepard with a new squadmate, but in that regard, the Actor was a good boy, unlike everyone else here. You could safely leave him alone for a week, a month, or even ten years. Nothing would change. He was programmed such that he wouldn't even notice; he was practically a hikikomori who enjoyed silence and solitude, and his job as a warehouse guard made him happy. In fact, he had already been sitting there alone for those ten years—Momonga forgot about him the moment he was created, at best sparing him a glance during visits to the Treasury. In short, I had to look here. Worst case scenario, I'd raid the personal storage of the other guild members—everyone had one in their private suites, and Momonga hadn't touched anything after they left. There would definitely be resurrection wands there, even if not for all classes; I could manage the task of figuring out who gets what.
Damn it...
At the thought of Pandora's Actor, my mind involuntarily jumped to the others... ahem, "personal characters" with valuable skills. There were quite a few in Nazarick, but Albedo's sisters stood out particularly. Well, if only because they were Albedo's sisters, even if only by lore and creator rather than race.
Nigredo and Rubedo. They weren't in the manga, but they were here, and they were... I actually shuddered, despite the skull-breeze activating. Once again, I promised myself to kill every member of the guild if they ever showed up here. Peroroncino with particular cruelty, and our "Great Alchemist," the "father" of the sisters, with particular perversion. Or vice versa. I hadn't decided yet. What that freak had cooked up was many times worse than the feathered birdbrain's "harmless pranks" regarding Shalltear. So what if she has a complex about her chest size? Tabula Smaragdina had treated my Overseer's sisters (and the Overseer herself) far worse. Nigredo was the weakest of the three, but the "eldest." A gaunt girl with a body appearing to be between sixteen and twenty, created to mimic the classic image of a "woman's ghost in a filthy nightgown with her face covered by black hair," crawling out of a well or a television to kill the protagonists of a horror movie. She even had a scripted cutscene based on those tropes to scare guild members. And potential intruders, sure, but primarily guild members who happened into her domain. In fact, her "debut" and "presentation," due to that cutscene and the specifics of how it ended, nearly resulted in an epic brawl and likely several pairs of soiled pants in the real world. Satoru, at least, had been close to it, and only an empty stomach saved the "Father of Nazarick Democracy" from such shame. But back to Nigredo. The girl has a Good alignment; she is caring and adores children—genuinely, in the good sense of the word—but she has no face. It was literally "peeled" from her head, exposing the facial muscles. That was nothing, honestly, compared to half the population of Nazarick, but the problem was that, despite her kindness, she wasn't always responsible for her actions; she was functionally insane. At least, that was written into her lore and scripted mechanics: take away her favorite doll, and her berserk mode triggers, under which she attacks everyone, including guild members. And I had absolutely no desire to test how that translated into the real world, especially since her "loving" creator had placed her in the Frozen Prison—not as a guard, but as a prisoner locked in a special cell that continuously tortured her with obsessive illusions and the voices of suffering children. On one hand, logic dictated that she should be released from that hell as soon as possible, if only to prevent her mental state from deteriorating further. But on the other hand, releasing a demonstrably unstable individual with a power level near the top, in a situation where even perfectly sane subordinates are capable of causing absolute chaos at any moment... it was scary, to say the least. Add to that the fact that Tabula Smaragdina had a few screws loose himself and was more obsessed with "writing backstories" for his creations than the rest of Nazarick combined—meaning he undoubtedly wrote in every nuance of madness and psychic disorder with precise medical detail and in their terminal stages... There was surely no chance of curing or fixing any of it.
Things were even worse with Rubedo. To start with, she was created using a World Item. A "Living Golem," one might call her. And this NPC was the SINGLE most powerful character in the guild. And oh... breeze, you are so good! Anyway, Tabula was true to himself and continued to adhere to his twisted tastes. Who do we have? A kind, caring woman with a loose screw who looks like a monster. A literal demoness with all the traits inherent to her race, yet "maintaining the image" of a sweet little angel. And for dessert—an Eldritch Horror (and remember, by the standards of Nazarick, nine out of ten NPCs qualify as Eldritch Horrors). How should such a thing look? Exactly: like a sweet, harmless girl of about thirteen. A death-dealing loli who, unlike Shalltear, makes no attempt to hide her stature. And what personality should such a good girl have? Right again—Chaotic Evil, skewed more toward the chaotic than the evil. Or -250 Karma, as the local terms put it. Her behavioral model... a genki tomboy. Overall, she's quite a positive and pleasant creature, but if she gets a bee in her bonnet, she'll tear through everything and everyone like a hurricane, then stomp on the bodies of the fallen and kick the corpses of those who particularly offended her. And she truly can, single-handedly, take down nearly all the other Guardians combined; besides her total stat superiority, she possesses abilities perfectly tailored for destroying demons and undead, while having no racial vulnerabilities to their attacks herself. And most importantly, why? Why make the most powerful Boss of the entire dungeon like that? For what purpose? What is the meaning? Is there any?! Not only did they give her a loli model—which one could leave on Smaragdina's conscience—but they also stuffed her in the deepest hole of the map, making her a "secret boss." The most powerful Guardian might not even encounter potential invaders because they could just walk right past without discovering the "good girl's house." But even that wasn't enough for that idiot! He wrote that the "Supreme Beings" feared the power of the resulting creation... and placed her under guard. Meaning the boss's entire entourage of level 75-90 beings were her jailers. One of whom was even given a World Item to put her down if she started rampaging. So, I have a literal temperamental "World Boss" level monster sitting in my basement who knows she is feared and disliked, and who is only held in that basement by the inertia of game conventions, the fact that a jailer with a big club stands outside, and perhaps "decent living conditions." A goddamn Keter-class SCP. I understand the game joke and the roleplay, but why waste a resource so stupidly? She's a literal death machine with an entourage of "murder-harvesters!" And she was stuffed into a hole you can't reach without knowing the map and having access to teleports! Meanwhile, poor Shalltear has to cover three floors at once, and the last line of defense in the Throne Hall is held by the Pleiades—units of level 46-63, which are practically harmless sword-grease against level one-hundred players! Oh... breeze, don't stop, blow through me! Blow me away entirely!
But seriously, something needs to be done about this problem. Not right now, of course, but in the near future. For now... it's better not to touch what is working and isn't trying to kill you. Although surveillance should be increased. Theoretically, both of these ladies are loyal to me, which doesn't negate their mental state. All sorts of yandere are loyal to the cap, but they are perfectly capable and willing to stab their "beloved" if the mood strikes. Re-educate and treat them? Or rather, treat and re-educate? Is that even possible? I can't even break the Guardians of their religious ecstasy at my every word and their maniacal drive to invent motivations for me; how would I manage that? Besides, I have plenty of other things to do... So let them stay where they are for now; they aren't a priority.
Another cause for a headache was Demiurge's story about the Eight Greed Kings and their Sky Castle. Momonga's memory contained information about several guilds with similar bases, but while those bases were few, to have any chance of guessing who they were, I'd need to see that city of Eryuentiu in person. At the very least, I'd have to send reconnaissance there and hook in via the Mirror... which would only help in the unlikely event that the guild which bought "Flight" for its citadel hadn't bothered with basic "Observation Shielding." As if I didn't have enough to worry about without knowing that the locals have access to the storehouses of a top-tier Yggdrasil guild, held by none other than a Dragon Lord—beings who, even in Yggdrasil, were among the most powerful creatures that were nearly impossible to crack even at level one-hundred. But a Dragon Lord on a mountain of treasure is one thing. He's sitting on the other side of the continent, and considering how he reacted to the Demon Gods—or rather, didn't move a tail until the whole world begged him in tears to donate a couple of swords for a good cause—he shouldn't aggro on me as long as I don't poke him first.
A far worse issue was the question of who or what was arranging these social experiments with cross-world transfers. Do they exist, or is it just my paranoia? If they exist, what do they want? And if they want something, what happens if I don't live up to those expectations? When is the next transfer? In a hundred years or fifty? Who will drop onto my head? Another group of greedy teenagers with superpowers, or someone like Momonga, but instead of a skeleton in a citadel of Evil, an archangel at the head of a heavenly host with subordinates just like mine? But instead of "We will conquer and burn the world for the Master's glory!" it will be "We will eradicate all evil and all dark creatures in the name of Good!" And some reverse-Demiurge in shining armor will, on the third day, delight his overwhelmed player with an already-implementing war campaign plan against the vile nest of filth—a plan the loyal servants reconstructed from his sparse remarks like: "yeah, monsters and undead are bad."
In short, I'm so sick of all of this! Give me just one day to live peacefully without all of this! Without obsessed servants and the realization of what a mess those even more obsessed roleplayers left for me just for fun; without threats of world wars, continental catastrophes, and just uncontrollable, brutal chaos that threatens to start at one careless word of mine—or even without me, simply because some World Class Item left by past transfers will surface somewhere among the locals and they'll decide to whack someone with it. And even better—without thoughts of trans-mundane entities for whom I am like a laboratory hamster released into a maze, feeling free only until the end of the experiment, after which I will be "removed" from the world in one way or another.
Oh, breeze... Yes, only you love and support me, I know...
Fine, we'll solve problems as they come. Right now, I need to find the wands and distribute them to my uncontrollable monster fanatics. I hope they work according to game conventions and affect the player despite the player being undead. If not, there will be an "Oops"...
The morning of the following day. The outskirts of the fortress city, E-Rantel.
"Do you remember everything clearly?" I checked with Narberal one last time before casting Levitation.
Having finished the main business in Nazarick and given all necessary orders, I proceeded to implement the second part of my previously outlined plan. As expected, the moment I breathed a word about a second foray outside the tomb, Albedo and Sebas acted as if they'd been unleashed. They nearly organized an escort of a couple thousand elite Nazarick guards complete with tanks, artillery, and air support. I barely managed to get a word in about having already planned my own protection. But as it turned out, I celebrated too soon—Demiurge, that ginger blabbermouth, had managed to wind everyone up and scare them into a frenzy. He had, you see, calculated with high precision the probability of three hundred and seventy-five assassination attempts against me by some unknown cabal of either Judeo-Masons or cyber-reptilians from Mars, who supposedly were the shadow government of this world that had killed all previous players. I had to pull rank... In the sense of authoritatively decreeing from the high manager's chair that there would be no assassination attempt now and that I didn't need guards for that. As for Demiurge, he was still young and had fallen into excessive panic due to failing to account for three important factors (which ones—I won't say, figure it out yourselves!), and therefore he was prescribed to eat more sweets and take walks in nature. I fought them off...
Notifying my future "bodyguard" of her new-old appointment was no problem. The Battle Maid was ready to move at my slightest whim and execute any order. Once again quietly thanking my undead state (no matter how you sliced it, Narberal was an absolute smokeshow of a sultry Asian girl, and in an anime style at that), I began briefing her. Then came a small masquerade with a change of clothes—the maid's armored (!!!) uniform is a pain. It's just a pain. Even if it looks good on the girl—and a teleport to a small clearing just a kilometer from the city walls.
"Yes, Lord Momo—" the cutie began with zeal. In her white shirt and tight trousers, she had gained at least +20 to her cuteness.
"Incorrect!" I cut the girl off. "In this world, I have already named myself 'Zellos'; that is the name you should use. I have already told you this."
"My apologies, Lord Zellos!" The maid dropped to one knee.
Sigh... It's so annoying when you want to sigh but can't. And I remember that Momonga had this exact same issue with her! But no matter who I took, nothing would have changed! Even Yuri Alpha would have dropped to her knees like that. At least with Narberal I know for sure she can handle infiltrating human society, even if with some difficulty; the same can't be said for the others. Solution could play a bitchy lady who doesn't want to meet anyone, but that was in Sebas's company; what she would pull in my company at the same "he breathed wrong on the Supreme One!" is a big question. Most likely, she'd simply swallow the offender, and you couldn't pull her back by the arm—she'd slip away because she's a Slime. Shizu? She'd silently shoot them or burn them with an eye-laser before you could blink. Entoma is an insect; you can't disguise her since she doesn't even have hands. With Yuri, I bet my teeth her head would fall off at the most inopportune moment—it's only held on by a thin collar. There is also Aureole Omega among the Pleiades, whom I didn't know at all from the manga (like many others who weren't mentioned in the manga but exist here), and she's even human, strangely enough for Nazarick, but she's responsible for the teleportation gates inside the tomb, and without her, everything would go to hell instantly. Lupusregina could have worked, but... she's too active, and heaven knows what would pop into her head. What if a dog barks nearby and her wolf instincts flare up into total madness? Plus, as I knew from Momonga's memory, sadism is written into her personality; meaning if Narberal simply despises humans, Lupus will want to cause them maximum pain while smiling sweetly and revealing none of her plans until it's too late. In short, as they say, if there's a reliable recipe, don't reinvent the wheel.
"Don't call me 'Lord,' it will attract too much attention," I lifted her from the ground by force. "Using 'Master' is sufficient."
"Understood, Lo—" She cut herself off and began to flush. Doppelganger, right. "M-master Mo—" came the second attempt, after which a thoroughly embarrassed Narberal bit her tongue and pulled her head into her shoulders.
"Try again," I encouraged the maid.
"Forgive me, Master Zellos..." the girl grumbled barely audibly, looking at me with the guilty-scared eyes of a "beaten puppy."
This time, the breeze in my skull brought both relief and frustration. Relief that I wouldn't lose my dignity, moved by such a surreal picture, and frustration because I couldn't fully enjoy it.
"Try repeating it in your head until you get used to it. And for safety, I'll repeat the rest: do not kill, maim, or verbally humiliate anyone without a specific order. That is an order. Our task is information gathering and setting a few foundations for the future. I have plans for this kingdom, and I wouldn't want their implementation complicated by annoying misunderstandings. Do you understand everything?"
"Yes, Master Zellos."
"Do you have questions?"
"How... How should I act if these inferior beings dare to show you insufficient respect?" Who would have guessed, right?
"Keep yourself in check. If I deem it necessary, I will deal with anyone who insults me personally. However, I wouldn't want your reaction interfering with the conversation if I myself provoke the interlocutor into crossing the line. There are many situations where unsettling someone or provoking aggression can be useful. An angry person easily blurts out things they would never say under normal circumstances, just as they can be used to manipulate someone else. Just perceive all such cases as part of my plan, and it will immediately become easier for you to endure them." It wasn't that I actually knew how to do all this, but this kind of justification was something she would accept easily and gladly.
"Understood! I will do my best!" See? Encouraged immediately.
"Any more questions?"
"Well..." The girl hesitated, looking away. "Are you sure you had to choose me?" A deep breath—and the black eyes looked back at me with resolute self-sacrifice. "I am convinced that someone more beautiful and gentle, like Overseer Albedo, would have been far more suitable!"
"You had a conversation with her before our departure, didn't you?" Of course I was right! I saw Albedo sidling into the room where Narberal was changing.
"Ah?.. I!.. But!!! N-no!.. Well... Just don't think I'm trying to push you toward Overseer Albedo! I... That is..." The maid began to fuss in a panic. "I mean, she is wonderful and the best and most beautiful in all of Nazarick, of course, but I would never try to influence Lord Momonga's decisions to make him get closer to Lady Albedo!.." Then she apparently realized what she'd blurted out, and her face turned a bright crimson. "I mean, that wasn't what I wanted to say! You misunderstand me, Lord Mo... Master Zellos... I..." She wilted completely. "I only wanted to speak of..." the Pleiad's voice dropped to a choked whisper, "competence and... Forgive me!" She bent at the waist in a perfect "L" shaped bow.
"Narberal." The moment I spoke, the maid's head dropped even lower. "It is high time you understood that I love all the inhabitants of Nazarick." Lying is bad, but sometimes it's necessary. "Some a bit more, some a bit less, but all of them, otherwise I wouldn't have stayed with you until the very end. All of you: you, your sisters, Shalltear and Aura, and, of course, Albedo, are precious to me. You are the most beautiful diamonds of Nazarick, the stars that give the night skies all their magical beauty and flawlessness. And Albedo doesn't need to try to get closer to me—I already trust her more than anyone else, and she herself occupies one of the most important places in my heart." I placed a hand on the crown of the girl's head, who had frozen like a statue of herself. "And stop bowing already; you are not at fault for anything."
"My-my apologies, Ma... Master Zellos," came a half-choked squeak from below, in which panic and delight intertwined. I wanted to sigh heavily and close my eyes, but... not meant to be.
"What did I just say?"
"..." Narberal straightened uncertainly, still eyeing me like a cornered rabbit.
"There. Excellent. And remember: I am counting on you."
Next came Invisibility and Flight, and here we were in E-Rantel. Of course, one could have walked through the gates, but the guards might be very interested in a strange masked mage; additionally, a few crude compliments toward Narberal might occur. I didn't want to start my introduction to the city by slaughtering the local guard or performing mass brain-washing; simply flying over the outer wall was much easier and cheaper.
The day had already come into its own, so there weren't that many people on the streets—everyone was busy with their own affairs—some worked in shops, some as officials, some, of course, were trying to lure the not-so-numerous passersby into their shops, taverns, or open-air stalls. In general, the standard life of a standard medieval town, though it was cleaner than I expected. Or is that the "outstanding" sense of smell of an undead of my type?
"Excuse me," I caught the attention of a decent-looking passerby. "I am looking for the alchemy shop of the Bareare family; could you help me?"
"Eh?" The person who turned toward me clearly wanted to say something not particularly pleasant, but seeing a robe that was clearly not cheap, as well as the very beautiful girl standing nearby in equally high-quality clothes, the citizen decided to show restraint. Hmmm, perhaps the man has good intuition. "Yes, of course, go straight—that will take you to the central square. There you'll need to turn onto Craftsman Street, it'll be on the left, there's a sign, you can't miss it! Then further down the street, Master Bareare's shop is on the corner of the avenue."
"Thank you," I nodded to the passerby. "Let's go, Narberal."
"I follow you, Master Zellos," the disguised Battle Maid bowed slightly and, contrary to her words, walked slightly ahead—scouting and Watching, I suppose. Nothing to be done there; it's easier to resign and accept it than to try to re-educate her. At least for the time being.
The alchemist's shop was found exactly where we were told. And frankly, I had imagined the workplace of the "best master in the city" somewhat differently, although... that reputation was given to me by the village residents from whom the guy buys supplies; moreover, one shouldn't forget we're talking about a border town in a kingdom that doesn't really have a magic school, or rather, a centralized magic organization. Nevertheless, a sturdy but clearly not new stone house with a modest sign wasn't quite what I expected to see. Subconsciously, I wanted something more... magical, basically. Even if I now understand intellectually that such a shop, combined with the master's home and laboratory, is a perfectly normal phenomenon in the local reality. Well then, let's go in.
*Ding!* The bell at the door gave a simple trill.
"I'm coming!" a young, energetic voice called out from the depths of the building.
Regarding the premises itself: there was a small "foyer" with a few benches and chairs, presumably where customers were expected to wait for their orders or for the alchemist to bring out prepared materials. A few meters from the entrance and the benches stood a wide wooden counter, behind which was a bit of open space and a wall lined with shelves. The shelves were cluttered with various vials, powders, bundles of herbs, and other junk. And I do mean junk—in Nazarick, this stuff wouldn't even qualify as "trash." I sincerely hoped these were just showpieces and cheap, ready-made mixtures that wouldn't be missed in case of a robbery. Otherwise, I was wasting my time on this inferior being. Grrr... all right, stay calm. Besides, in the original story, he managed to upgrade his potions based on a sample and even invent a new one; that means he has brains and is capable of reverse-engineering, which is a start. At that moment, the subject of my thoughts appeared. He was a rather short, scrawny youth with light brown hair—quite long, which was hardly ideal for someone mixing decocts, though perhaps he had a cap for that? Bah, not my problem. The shopkeeper was dressed in a simple linen shirt and matching trousers, topped with a rugged, well-worn leather apron.
"How can I help you, Sir, Madam?" The boy scanned our figures with his gaze.
"Greetings," I gave a short nod. "Are you Nfirea Bareare?"
"Yes, what of it?" the craftsman asked, immediately becoming slightly wary.
"I have a letter for you," I said, handing the boy the note from the village.
"Oh! May I?" He clearly recognized the handwriting of the object of his affection and was practically dancing with impatience, though he tried to maintain the air of a serious master.
"Of course, it is meant for you, even if it concerns us." The alchemist nodded and delved into the text. As he read, his face grew longer and longer, and he turned quite pale. Though... if I found out that had it not been for a passing mage who wasn't even obligated to intervene, the love of my life would have been killed at best... he was holding up reasonably well.
"So, those prisoners from the Theocracy that Captain Gazef brought in were captured near Carne..." Nfirea bit his lip. "Thank you, Master Zellos." The boy stepped out from behind the counter and bowed, earning himself a few points in the eyes of the Battle Maid. "Um... Lady Shalltear?"
"What?" Gamma's eyes bulged in surprise and she even buckled slightly at the knees before plunging into a sharp panic. "I am infinitely far removed from the greatness of Lady Shalltear!"
"Nfirea, allow me to introduce Narberal," I said, placing a hand on the girl's head to calm her. "She is my dear servant and bodyguard... and she takes matters of hierarchy very seriously," I felt obligated to add.
"Ah... I see. It's just that Enri wrote that you were with your daughter. In any case, I am deeply in your debt and will provide any assistance I can."
"I appreciate that," I nodded. "As you know from the letter, we have come from distant lands. First and foremost, we would like to get our bearings regarding local geography, laws, and, of course, magic. I would like to purchase the relevant atlases and reference books if possible. We also need a guide to navigate the city."
"I grew up here, so I can show you around the city and buy everything you need concerning geography and the laws of the Kingdom. Magic, however, is more difficult," the boy mused.
"I would prefer to simply exchange a few coins or gemstones for local currency and purchase everything myself."
"B-but..."
"We will need the Kingdom's coins for our future travels anyway. Your services as a guide and informant will be more than enough as your way of helping. Furthermore, I don't want to put you to unnecessary expense; a handful of gold is no problem for me." I understood the boy was grateful, but letting him just shove a few coins at purchases to "pay off" his debt... No, I wouldn't let him off that easily. Even if he didn't mean it that way, the subconscious is a strange thing. Or was that the lich in me talking? A difficult question.
"V-very well, then we should visit the moneylender—their guild handles currency exchange. Wait, I'll just ask my grandmother to mind the shop and I'll be right back!"
"Thank you."
"It's the least I can do!" And the respected master dashed behind the counter. Judging by the heavy footsteps, there was a staircase leading to the second floor.
In less than five minutes, he returned, sans apron but wearing a sturdy jacket. Treading behind him was a withered old woman, a classic "fragile grandma" type.
"Hello, young people," she said, squinting through failing eyes as she nodded to us and moved toward the counter. "Oh, I'm getting too old to stand here, but if that's how it is..." Contrary to her words, the old woman nimbly ducked behind the counter, pulled out a chair, a pair of knitting needles, and a ball of yarn, then sat down and armed herself with the needles. In an instant, the subscriber was lost to the world. The young alchemist headed outside, gesturing for us to follow. The next stop on our route was the money changer.
The local "larval bank" was a solid stone house with narrow slit-windows, a heavy bog-oak door reinforced with steel bands, and a pair of thugs in heavy mail sitting decorously by the entrance. Yes, sitting—because a warrior standing in one spot for hours with ten kilos on his shoulders isn't of much use when something actually happens. In short, common sense and a pragmatic approach were evident.
"Oh, Master Bareare! A pleasure to see you in my humble establishment! Do you wish to invest? Or perhaps you need a loan? Old Oldi will have the best rates for you either way!" a man in his fifties greeted us the moment we crossed the threshold. He was short, with shifty eyes and very active facial expressions—the image of a "kind uncle." Yet, for some reason, my imagination pictured this "uncle" with the same friendly expression ordering the thugs at the door to break a debtor's bones to stimulate repayment. With interest and extra compensation for the delay and the inconvenience to a respected gentleman. Then again, I might be wrong.
"Hello, Master Oldi," the alchemist nodded slightly to the moneylender. "My friends recently arrived in the city and would like to exchange some of their money for Kingdom coins."
"Oh, certainly, right this way!" The man led us to a small private room containing apothecary scales and various jars and flasks. "Well then?" The moneylender raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"I think fifty should suffice for starters. Narberal, if you would be so kind."
"Yes, Master." The Battle Maid reached into the depths of her enchanted bag, pulled out a pre-prepared pouch with the required amount of coins, and placed it on the counter.
The moneylender quickly untied the strings and pulled out the coins. For a couple of minutes, he simply froze, poking the unfortunate coins with various probes, dousing them with solutions, and even tapping them gently with a small punch. As his investigation progressed, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
"This can't be! I mean, it can, but why?!"
"Is something wrong?" I asked politely.
"Everything is wrong, Sir... um. Forgive me, I don't know your name."
"Zellos. So, what about the coins? You look quite surprised, Master Oldi."
"There's nothing wrong with them. There's too much right with them! Also, they are pure gold!"
"Shouldn't a gold coin be made of pure gold?" The Battle Maid didn't understand the nature of the complaint, and I must admit, I was a bit taken aback myself.
"Of course not! Gold is an extremely soft metal and would wear away quickly in circulation! That's why in normal coins, gold makes up a third at best—everything else is silver and hardening additives. These aren't just gold; they are alchemically pure gold!"
"What?!" Nfirea's eyes widened from under his bangs. "Who would make coins out of alchemical gold?!"
"That's exactly the question I'm asking," the moneylender said, glancing at us. "But that's not all. To strengthen the coins, they were either soaked in some hardening solution or have had Fortitude charms placed upon them—and of a level you wouldn't find on every Royal Guardsman's armor! The processing of the coin alone costs ten times its face value!" I saw what a learned man looks like when he watches someone drive nails with a microscope. It was very... ahem... well, just very. I can't even find the words; you simply have to see it.
"So, can you exchange these coins or not?" I decided to bring him back to reality.
"I can," the man sighed. "If we go by the gold content and purity, the rate will be one of these coins to five Kingdom Crowns. But what kind of country is it where even simple coins are reinforced like armor..." Oldi shook his head, beginning to count out the required sum.
"A very distant one," I replied, nodding to Gamma to collect the pouches the moneylender set out. "Well, I thank you. It was a pleasure doing business with you."
"Likewise, Master Zellos. If you require my services, stop by. Master Bareare's friends are my friends," the man smiled.
"Hm, he's quite welcoming," I noted as we left the shop.
"Well," the boy ran a hand through the hair at the back of his head, "I periodically supply him with ointments for rheumatism, and he's known my grandmother for thirty years."
"I see. Shall we continue? We still have atlases, the legal code, and magic treatises on our agenda."
"All right. Atlases and law collections are sold in bookstores, but as I said, magic books will be more difficult."
"More difficult?" I already understood that magic here was in a rough state, but I held onto the hope that primitive, everyday-level stuff was readily available.
"Yes, you see, Master Zellos, our Kingdom doesn't have such impressive Magic Academies and Schools of Sorcery as the Baharuth Empire or the Slane Theocracy. The Magicians' Guild of E-Rantel is only such in name; in reality, it's just a few alchemists and wizards working on their own, like me and my grandmother. A few others provide services as a branch of the Adventurer Guild, and that's about it."
"Then how do mages appear here? Even your alchemy requires magical manipulation."
"My grandmother taught me everything," the boy smiled sheepishly. "It's much the same for everyone else; the craft is passed from Master to Apprentice, almost always between relatives. There is a main Magicians' Guild and several private schools in the capital, but their services are mostly available to nobles."
"I see." And I really did. A classic example of feudal fragmentation, except in a magical framework where it was even more rigid. Then again... even a simple blacksmith wouldn't teach a stranger family secrets, and might not even share the simplest things. After all, the craft is his livelihood; sharing secrets is just creating competition. In magic, it's even more intense, as the phrase "knowledge is power" is literal for mages. Of course, magical might and the size of one's mana pool play a role, but without knowledge, they mean nothing.
"I suggest you go to the Adventurer Guild," the boy continued. "Their branches have libraries that anyone can access for a small fee. You can also buy ready-made magic scrolls there, but only if they're in stock. Additionally, some adventurer-mages take on apprenticeships or might allow you to copy something from their Spellbooks—not for free, of course, and certainly not everything. But many casters start that way... Oh! You could also trade spells! I doubt that would be a problem for a mage as powerful as you, Master Zellos."
"Yes, perhaps that is the best option."
"Then we're heading this way." Nfirea turned in the right direction and began showing the way. "Tell me, Master Zellos," he spoke up again after half a minute, "how is it that your coins are so enchanted? Did you enchant them yourself?"
"No, I have never engaged in minting. I am more of..." I watched a group of men in mismatched armor with weapons and badges glinting at their necks, "...an adventurer. Or rather, I was one at the start of my career."
"Oh?"
"Naturally, our lands' traditions don't align perfectly, from what I've gathered, but broadly speaking, a system similar to yours was common with us as well. As for the coins... Honestly, I see no reason why one of my colleagues couldn't have worked for the treasury. Once the necessary spell is formulated, casting it is a matter of seconds. I imagine one could simply enchant the mint's equipment once. As I see it, the savings from protecting the coins from wear and forgery would be much higher than the cost of one or two specialists." I gave the first logical explanation that came to mind for the discrepancy, likely caused by Yggdrasil's game mechanics.
"But such an artifact would be insanely expensive! Adding other metals to the coin alloy is much simpler and cheaper."
"Perhaps," I shrugged. "I haven't yet grasped the level of your magical tradition, but I suspect it's a matter of the quantity and strength of available casters. The value of a service is largely determined by its availability, so if there are enough mages, the price of their work inevitably drops. By the way, Nfirea, I think it's better to start with the bookstores; otherwise, I fear we'll never reach them if I get too caught up in magic."
"As you wish, Master Zellos." The boy shrugged and changed direction again.
The bookstore looked like... a bookstore. Had it been placed in the reality of my world, no one would have noticed the difference, except that instead of electric lights, there were small glowing crystals. It had a solid carved counter covered in green cloth and several stacks of books receding into the depths of the shop. The only difference from a modern bookstore was the absence of a "hall" where a potential buyer could wander and flip through the merchandise. Not surprising, though; given the general state of things, printing is likely underdeveloped here, meaning every tome is handwritten or, at best, magically copied. Both methods would be expensive, so no one would put such valuable yet fragile items out for general browsing.
The bell at the entrance chimed, and after ten seconds, a young man of about twenty-five came out to meet us. He was slightly stooped, wore glasses, and his short hair was in a state of creative disarray.
"Welcome to the Ales Bookstore. How can I help you? Oh, hi, Enf. Did you finally decide to buy that medicinal herb collection from me?"
"Hi, Ric," our guide nodded to the bookseller like an old friend. "No, today I'm accompanying Master Zellos. He's new to our Kingdom and wants to purchase several maps and legal codes."
"Unusual." The merchant shifted his gaze to us and... "Oh, Sir, beautiful Lady!" He began to clean his glasses diligently. "Ricardo Ales, entirely at your service. What specifically interests you?"
"A map of the world, or at least the continent, and more detailed maps for the kingdoms and regions if you have them. Historical treatises, from ancient to modern history. I also need a collection of the Kingdom's laws. If you have any for the Empire or the Theocracy, I'll take those as well."
"One moment!" The boy dashed into the depths of the shop. He was gone for quite a while, but he returned with an armful of venerable-looking volumes and scrolls. "Here!" He laid his treasures on the counter. "A map of the known ecumene!" The boy unfurled the first tube.
Well... once again, no coordinate grid, no "altimeter," but instead, filigree drawings of little houses representing villages, fortresses depicting cities, and a schematic castle for capitals, plus all sorts of flourishes and kraken-dragons in the corners. The other maps shown later weren't fundamentally different from the first, except for the scale and level of detail. Even Carne Village, which I saved from the Theocracy's raid, didn't appear on the large map, though it was in the Kingdom's atlas.
"Hm..." Not great, but better than nothing. "I'll take these copies." I set aside the highest quality pieces among the works I'd examined. "What about the laws and history?"
"Here is a collection from the Baharuth Empire. Regarding the Slane Theocracy, unfortunately, I only have their religious literature, which they distribute in large quantities across the world." Propaganda is all well and good, but there was no point in buying that scrap paper—our "guests" each already had a similar book, and those were even being translated under Demiurge's supervision. Or rather, the prisoners explained what was written and the strategist's subordinates wrote it down. They'd eventually get to actually studying the language, but the demon had other priorities for now, and I didn't interfere. "As for the Re-Estize Kingdom's law collection, I can only offer an outdated version."
"Outdated? Why? Your shop looks quite prosperous; I doubt you have trouble acquiring books."
"That's correct, Master Zellos. It's just that quite recently, Her Highness Third Princess Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself implemented a reform, banning slavery in the Kingdom. Thus, the entire section of laws regarding the conditions for falling into slavery, the maintenance of slaves, and liability for damaging another's slave is no longer relevant. At the same time, it doesn't yet contain the section on liability for human trafficking and keeping slaves, as those laws have only just been issued."
"It is no matter. I never intended to purchase slaves anyway, so I will take this volume regardless," I said. Of course, how could I forget? Until very recently, a slave-owning system had reigned supreme here, and the locals saw nothing wrong with it. It was entirely possible that even this young lad wouldn't have minded keeping a slave girl or two around... for various tasks.
"As for history, I recommend these works," the bookseller said, sliding two more folios toward me. "The first is 'Records of the Southern War' by Lanposa I. The second is 'The Fall of the Gods' by Nicholas Raidon, which recounts the clash with the Eight Greed Kings and its consequences for the world from a purely historical, rather than theological, perspective."
"Fine, I will take them."
"Excellent! Anything else? Perhaps the beautiful lady would care to purchase a few interesting novels? My collection even includes works by Count Jean-Jacques de Jaquelait—a recognized master of the pen."
"No," Narberal replied, her expression suggesting she was speaking to a pile of cow dung that had suddenly gained sentience. With that single, curt word, she morally annihilated the poor bookseller; he looked instantly dejected.
"I won't insist. That will be..." The boy glanced over the pile of parchment. "Twelve gold and six silver coins." Damn, books certainly aren't cheap here if they're paid for in gold. Though... that might not be a fair metric. I'll need to stop by a tavern to check food prices or just walk through the market... or I could stop wasting time and just ask the guide.
"Pay him," I signaled to my Battle Maid. She counted out thirteen gold coins from her pouch and received four silver coins in change. Then, without a hint of self-consciousness, I stowed the purchases into my Inventory. We left the wide-eyed bookseller behind, despite his pleas for us to visit again.
"To the Guild now?" Bareare inquired.
"Yes... By the way, I wanted to ask about local prices. Roughly how much does food and other basic necessities cost?"
"Well," the boy mused, "it depends on what you're buying and where. Dinner in an average tavern will cost you a few copper pieces, provided there's no wine or luxuries. In an expensive one, you could easily drop a gold coin. A night's stay is five to seven coins," the boy glanced at Gamma and turned visibly pink, "that is... if you don't require any... uh... additional... ahem... services. If you buy groceries at the market, a couple of silver coins will easily last you a month. Weapons, potion ingredients, and magic scrolls are much more expensive; those are paid for in gold. The monthly salary of a city guardsman is around two or three gold coins, for example."
"And an alchemist?"
"Heh..." the boy turned bashful. "It depends on the orders, but on average, after subtracting the cost of reagents... one can earn about a hundred."
"I see. And how much do adventurers charge for their services?"
"It depends on the rank and the mission. I, for instance, periodically post requests for magical herbs and animal-derived ingredients. On average, I have to pay ten to twenty gold coins. The Guild takes a cut, and the rest goes to the adventurer or team that took the contract. And here we are—the Adventurer Guild!" Our guide waved a hand toward a sturdy building that even featured some ornamentation on its facade. It was clear the Guild was flush with cash.
Inside, the building resembled... well, nearly the same thing as a tavern, save for a few minor nuances. Most of the local crowd was encased in armor or wearing cloaks and robes. Every single person was armed. One wall was plastered with various notes and flyers, and instead of a tavern keeper, several pleasant-looking young women stood behind the counter.
"We need to speak to a registrar to place a request," the alchemist said, playing Captain Obvious as he pointed toward the counter.
"Fine, let's go." To the registrar it was.
"Welcome to the E-Rantel branch of the Adventurer Guild. How can we help you?" the blonde behind the counter gave a practiced smile. "Master Bareare, hello." Now, the smile directed at the young, unmarried specialist with an extremely high income by local standards was much warmer and more sincere. Or perhaps it was just because he was a regular customer.
"Hi, Lizzie," the boy smiled at the lady. Does he know everyone in this city? A very useful person indeed! "My friend, Master Zellos, would like to hire help through the Guild."
"Yes, of course. What can we do for you?"
"I would like to hire a mid-to-low rank magic caster for consultations in the field of magical sciences."
"Usually, such a request costs ten gold for an Iron-plate specialist. However, unfortunately, we don't have any solo specialists available right now," the girl said, leafing through her records. "But I can offer you a team that includes a druid and a magic caster, as well as a warrior and a ranger. They are currently free, and I believe they would agree to the hire for twenty gold coins a month."
"Hmm... a druid?" That was interesting. In the game world of Yggdrasil, a magic caster couldn't study and use druidic spells. Or rather, if they tried really hard, they could, but those spells had almost no effect unless they took levels in the Druid class. But this was a real world, even if it had some game-like qualities, so why not give it a shot? "Why not? I accept."
"Very well, I will make sure they agree as well. If everything is in order, you will need to pay twenty-five gold coins to the counter." They certainly have high commission rates here. It didn't matter that Nazarick was sitting on billions, if not trillions, of those yellow discs—unnecessary spending is never good.
The lines of a great poet sprang to my mind: "There King Koschei withers over his gold..." Ahem. Apparently, the psychological issues of liches were already known in those distant ages... Or perhaps the fairy tales from those ages gave birth to the issues of the liches in future games and the worlds created from them? I didn't want to think about it.
While I was deep in heavy thoughts about the "vile metal," the transience of being, and the scale of infinity, the girl had returned accompanied by four people. There were two guys of the "positive slacker" variety, and a respectable-looking man with a fair beard who gave off a general sense of being "bear-like," strange as that sounds. He looked to be around forty. Bringing up the rear of the mercenary group was a scrawny kid of fourteen or fifteen... or was it? Ahem... Apparently, fate has a sense of humor, or... I managed to arrive in the city at the same time as Momonga, and thus ran into the same party looking for new work at the exact same time.
"Here, Master Zellos. The Swords of Darkness have agreed to be hired as your bodyguards and consultants."
"Hmm..." Gamma looked at these "bodyguards" with massive skepticism.
"Very well. Narberal, pay them."
"Yes, Master." The girl stepped toward the counter to count out the required sum, followed by the admiring gaze of one of the mercenaries. Well... that was to be expected. I couldn't blame him, though; Narberal is beautiful, truly. If it wasn't for her "programmed" sense of hierarchy, she would have had a decent chance of competing even with Albedo. As for the fact that her true form looks like a very basic child's drawing with black circles for eyes and a mouth... Albedo has a combat form too, as do Shalltear, Lupusregina, and half of the other female NPCs in Nazarick. If you perceived all of them not as they are ninety-nine percent of the time, but as they might become in that exceptional one percent, it would be easier to just go and kill yourself.
"Well then, let's get acquainted, gentlemen adventurers," I said, waving a hand to invite everyone to sit at a table. Fortunately, there were plenty of empty ones in the hall, seemingly placed there for exactly this purpose.
A minute later, we were settled at a round table in a sort of semi-private booth, partitioned on two sides by wooden panels about half the height of a man. In a sitting position, your head wouldn't be visible to your neighbors, and you couldn't see what was happening elsewhere. The third side was a wall, and the fourth opened toward the center of the hall, with the nearest tables five to seven meters away.
"I am the leader of the Swords of Darkness, Peter Mork," the guy sitting opposite me at the table said with a welcoming smile. "This is our ranger, Lukrut Volve." The second slacker tried to flash a charming smile and gave a "modest" little wave to poor Gamma. In response, she closed her eyes and... I can't say for sure, but I believe she began mentally reciting a mantra about the impermissibility of killing a "worthless gnat" without orders. I wonder if they'll give me a new adventuring party if something happens to these ones? "This is our specialist in healing and nature magic, the druid Dyne Woodwonder." The man gave a friendly nod and spoke in a powerful yet soothing voice:
"A pleasure to meet you."
"And finally, the magic caster and the brains of our group, Ninya." Peter pointed to the disguised girl with the short hair.
"A pleasure," the aforementioned "brains" nodded and immediately gave the leader a reproachful look. "Peter, could you please stop calling me by that title?"
"Eh? Why not?"
"What title are we talking about?" I felt obligated to inquire.
"Our modest friend here was born with a Talent," the party leader smiled brightly. "His power is called 'Arcane Intuition.' You studied magic for only four years instead of eight, right?" he asked, clarifying with Ninya.
"Uh..." The magic caster hunched their shoulders in embarrassment.
"That's why he's known to everyone as the Spellcasting Genius!" Peter concluded proudly. Narberal did her absolute best to maintain her composure at this statement; I could clearly see the grim struggle on her face. The result was... well, at least she tried.
"There are people in this city with Talents much better than mine, like Master Bareare," the rising star of sorcery continued to protest.
"Nfirea?" I turned to him.
"Well," he ruffled his hair, "I have the Talent to use any magic item, regardless of its restrictions." So, that part matched as well. Come to think of it, this was a significant reason to tie the boy to me. Even I, at level 100, have a mass of class and racial item restrictions, not all of which I could bypass even at the cost of the cash-shop items stored in Nazarick. In truth, I wouldn't even try, as many of those inaccessible items are for very rare circumstances. Nonetheless, having a human at my disposal capable of utilizing them without spending irreplaceable resources was a very useful prospect.
"Master Bareare?!" Mork nearly jumped to the ceiling. "It is a great honor to meet you!" The group rushed to express their respect while I fell into thought. These guys wore Iron plates, which meant they weren't at the very bottom; it spoke of a certain level of merit for the team. It was strange, though... even if this party wasn't composed of rookies, it didn't mean they had the money to buy from an alchemist of Nfirea's level, nor were they obligated to know his face. They had heard of him, but they hadn't crossed paths before.
"Very well. My name is Zellos, I am a magic caster, and this is my assistant and bodyguard, Narberal. Now, let's move directly to the terms of employment. I have arrived from a distant land where the magical arts differ somewhat from those here, and I wish to understand the reason for that. Therefore, I require lessons on the very basics of magic, the manipulation of mana, and first-tier spells. For the opportunity to copy something from your spellbook—should I happen to lack it—I am prepared to pay separately: one gold for the first tier, two for the second, and three for the third."
"I-I beg your pardon, but I only know spells of the first and second tiers," Ninya confessed. I decided I would refer to her according to her true gender from now on.
"Unfortunate. However, the basics will suffice for now. Now, regarding accommodations..."
"You could stay at my place," the alchemist offered, but I waved him off.
"I appreciate it, but I don't want to impose. Lessons require space and time, and having extra people in an alchemy lab certainly won't help the work. I will simply rent out the nearest inn."
"Um, you mean a room?" the ranger asked, confused.
"I mean the inn. You will also need somewhere to live and eat this month. Furthermore, it will provide us with the necessary rooms for demonstration and practice, which will simply need to be enchanted with magical protection to avoid accidental mishaps."
"A-all right." The party's eyes grew noticeably larger. It was an amusing sight, if not for that damn passivity that prevented me from fully enjoying the emotion... Stillness, you would be priceless if you only worked when needed!
"Well, since that's settled, I suggest you escort us to the nearest decent inn so I can arrange the details there."
"Um, excuse me, Master Zellos, but what about us?" the swordsman asked.
"Formally, as my bodyguards, you are under Narberal's command." Lukrut immediately began to melt into a happy puddle, his entire demeanor showing he was ready to be at the beautiful woman's complete disposal right this second. "But since she is unlikely to order you to do anything,"—the Battle Maid's gaze confirmed she wouldn't trust this lot to even clean up dog sh... excrement—"you may do as you wish, as long as it does not contradict the laws of the land, of course."
"Understood," Peter drawled.
"Since that's everything, I suggest we find a suitable inn." I rose from the table, and my companions were forced to do the same. "Nfirea, thank you for your help."
"Think nothing of it, Master Zellos!" the boy waved his hands. "It's the least I could do after you saved my... my friends in Carne. If you need anything else, just ask!"
"Hm... It's early to say, but perhaps you wouldn't mind answering a few questions later regarding the local alchemical tradition? From what I've gathered, healing potions in your Kingdom are made differently than in my homeland, and I would like to include that in my research."
"Ah... I don't mind," Bareare nodded, slightly taken aback but quickly recovering. "But what do you mean by 'different' potions?"
"This," I said, extracting a Medium Healing Potion from my inventory. "I heard that your healing potions are blue; to me, that is very unusual."
"Ooh..." The alchemist stared at the vial of red liquid as if hypnotized. The fish had taken the bait; all that remained was to set the hook. "May I have a look?" the teenager blurted out.
"Yes, of course," I handed the potion to Nfirea. "You can keep it and study it. I'm not overly skilled in alchemy myself, so I'd be glad to hear a local specialist's opinion."
"Thank you very much!" Bareare said excitedly. "To be honest, I've never seen anything like this." While the boy was rejoicing, a Shadow Demon slipped unnoticed into his shadow—a small insurance policy against unwanted individuals, capable of quietly snapping a local's neck or at least paralyzing them. It would also keep me informed of his location.
"Well, I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one in for a surprise," I attempted to joke. I wasn't sure if it worked; with my emotions suppressed, I wasn't exactly feeling humorous. "But enough of that. I still have an inn to rent, and I see you're eager to start your research. I'll send someone to your shop to let you know where we've settled. If questions arise, come by, and we'll try to solve them."
"Certainly! Good evening, Master Zellos, Lady Narberal, everyone!" With that, a happy Bareare hurried toward the exit.
"So, gentlemen, where shall we head?" Let's see what these adventurers have to offer as a housing option.
"There's the Illiantier Inn nearby," Peter perked up. "They have plenty of free rooms, and the owner is open to negotiation. Come, I'll show you..."
A few minutes later, we stood before a large wooden building, its entrance barred by swinging doors like in American cowboy movies. I wouldn't call the structure "prestigious," but given medieval specifics, the relative cleanliness of the street and the proximity to the Adventurer Guild headquarters suggested it was a higher-end establishment.
"Here we are!" Mork stated the obvious as he entered first. "Adventurers stay here often, and the owner is used to all sorts of things. It would be much harder to negotiate at places meant for merchants and nobles."
I scanned the hall. The room was noticeably smaller than the Guild building but still quite spacious. A couple of small groups in mismatched gear sat decorously at tables with mugs and some food. At the bar counter, a lean man with a scar across his left eye looked bored. There was... dirt on the floor.
"You're back early," the bartender remarked none too friendlily to our guide as we approached the counter.
"But with a profitable deal!" Peter didn't even blink. "Meet Master Zellos; he'd like to rent several rooms from you."
"I would prefer to rent the entire building for one month."
"Eeeh...?" Surprised murmurs rippled through the hall from the patrons present.
What followed was a negotiation in which Mork played the lead role on my behalf, his tongue working for three people. The innkeeper tried to be difficult, either driving up the price or genuinely insisting he couldn't leave regular customers without shelter for a whole month (even though few adventurers lived here more than a couple of days, mostly just staying the night between missions). Regardless, a consensus was reached. It cost me twenty gold and ate up a good half-hour. Neither my impressive height, nor the ominous black robe, nor the featureless mask helped—apparently, they see all sorts of freaks here, or local adventurers are much crazier than their power level would suggest. The innkeeper himself was a "former" adventurer, which could be inferred from his slips during the argument. To be honest, I was convinced the tavern itself was a Guild-affiliated enterprise rather than just a "randomly convenient" spot.
"We shall begin tomorrow," I said to Ninya once all formalities were settled and the owner began slowly ushering out the patrons. "I imagine you need time to prepare the material and refresh your memory, and I have things to attend to as well."
"All right," the disguised girl nodded. "Ah... um..."
"Yes?"
"You mentioned you wanted to protect the rooms with magic..." the caster reminded me with a mix of timidity and curiosity.
"Yes, quite right..." I raised a hand, pointing at the ceiling. "Intermediate Area Enchantment: Greater Protection from the Elements." For a moment, the walls, floor, and ceiling flared with a yellow-greenish rainbow before fading. "Greater Spell Resistance." A wave of bluish runic chains rippled out from me, soaking into the wood and vanishing in a fraction of a second. "Shadow Citadel." Now the walls flashed with a shimmering gray-black film. "And Mass Fortification," I concluded, activating the appropriate charms to turn the wooden walls into the equivalent of reinforced concrete.
"Ah..." The caster girl fell into a state of sacred awe, as did the druid... and the ranger, and their leader, and those patrons who hadn't left yet, and the tavern owner.
"Do not worry," I turned to the latter. "I will remove all the spells when I check out."
*Clink-crunch...* The sound echoed softly from the entrance in the hanging silence. And then... "Aaaaaah!!! No-no-no-no-no!!!" Turning toward the sound, I saw a girl in a men's leather suit with shaggy, fiery-red hair down to her shoulders. She was looking at a blue puddle and a shattered vial at her feet with an expression of horror and universal loss. You've got to be kidding me. "I skipped so many meals, saved on food and drink just to save up the money for it... I worked so hard to collect it... All for today... And... Aaaaaah!!!" A scream of pain and despair followed, accompanied by her attempts to pull out her hair while facing the heavens.
Once is a fluke, twice is a coincidence, but three times is a pattern. First Narberal, then this adventuring party, and now this girl, who—if I remember correctly from the story—was nearly raped by Shalltear... It's one of two things: either the principle of historical inevitability is at work in this world, or someone has a lack of imagination.
Meanwhile, the scream cut off, and the girl, tears already glistening in her eyes and hanging like large drops on the edges of her thick lashes, turned to me.
"Hey you, Mister..." The adventurer's blue eyes shimmered with a feverish light, and a slightly hysterical smile appeared on her lips. One of those smiles that tries to seem polite and sweet but immediately tells everyone that something is very wrong with the owner. "You look like you're not poor... Yes, you're such an amazing mage, you surely have a couple of healing potions on hand?"
"Let's say I do." I liked her gall. To so quickly spot the only chance for compensation from life after such a blow of fate... I couldn't have done that in my past life. Easy, Nabe, stop! Do not dare kill "inferior beings!"
At the last moment, my hand landed on the shoulder of my Battle Maid, who had already tensed her legs and begun to exude bloodlust, and I squeezed hard. The poor doppelganger shriveled up like a cat that had just heard a copper basin slam into the floor behind it.
"I dropped my potion because of you!" Not noticing anything in her grief but feeling hope, the victim leaned closer. "I just bought it, and now it's broken! But you showed such magic, surely it wouldn't be hard for you to share a small vial?!"
"If I were at fault, I would have done so, but you simply failed to hold onto your potion," I said, ruthlessly trampling the girl's feelings into the dust with the iron boot of heartlessness.
Wait...
She is completely indifferent to me, that's true. She dropped the potion herself, though she could have put it in a pocket instead of holding it in her hand... Also correct. The fact that I was indirectly responsible with my fire show is not my problem... But wait. Is that the lich essence talking? Stupid question. Let's try another way... Well, she has a cute face; she's far from the top beauties of Nazarick, but overall, I understand why Shalltear was drooling over her. Her arms are a bit too muscular, which is visible even under her sleeves, but those are details, especially since even compressed by men's clothing, her chest is a solid C-cup. The conclusion? At the very least, she is suitable as a delicious reward for Shalltear, which means... For God's sake! Start over! Task: don't be an asshole! To not be an asshole, I need to empathize and help the girl! To empathize and help, I need an excuse! What excuse can I come up with? Oh! I have an idea.
"However, that doesn't mean I don't sympathize with you," I returned to the dialogue. "Yet it is not my custom to give people things for free. Tell me, can you read?"
"Eh? Read?" Thrown off first by her "crash" and now by the question, the girl blinked in confusion. "Yes, I can. You can't take quests from the board without it," the adventurer pointed a thumb reflexively over her shoulder.
"Good. Then I am prepared to offer you a private hire and, upon its completion, pay the cost of the potion or provide a new one. But we shall discuss the specific terms without an audience."