WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Dionysus
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◈ The Wizard's Memoir ◈
Chapter 8: Tension
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Each party had its own rules, but shares had to be as fair as possible.
Olivia's party put half its earnings into a common fund and divided the other half equally among its members. The leader didn't get a larger share, and people with rare professions didn't receive anything extra.
Etran gazed down at the silver coins in his palm.
After halving their total earnings of 1,787 dena and dividing the rest three ways, his share was 297 dena. Fourteen silver coins and seventeen pieces of silver felt heavier than he had expected.
“What is it? Disappointed?”
It wasn't a small sum, but considering the hardship and the lives lost, it wasn't much either. Etran carefully put the money into his purse and pulled the strings tight.
“No. I'm happy.”
“Happy?”
“It's the first money I've earned as an adventurer.”
Among those who called themselves adventurers, mages were especially rare. They had ways to earn dena without taking risks.
With the dungeon that had caused so much trouble over the past few months cleared, the North-Landing Guild office, also known as the Guild Pub, grew quiet.
The village was important both geographically and geopolitically, so the Guild probably wouldn't withdraw. Still, there was a good chance the branch manager would be replaced by a skilled worker serving as a liaison. The Adventurers' Guild had a serious staff shortage, too.
“Walter's party has left as well.”
“Already?”
“They have a lot of mouths to feed.”
After receiving their shares, the parties that had been exploring the Shadow Castle Ruins left one by one. It was time for Olivia to make a choice, too.
Adventurers didn't have to limit themselves to clearing dungeons. There were plenty of small jobs if they looked.
The work ranged from hunting dangerous animals like bears and wolves to finding people, medicinal herbs, and ore deposits. They really were all-purpose hired hands.
“But that's not adventuring.”
“Of course it isn't.”
“You can do it for a while if you need travel money, but make a living out of it and you'll spend your whole life cleaning up after other people. I've seen plenty of washed-up adventurers drift along like that, grow old, and turn into layabouts.”
Olivia hissed through her teeth in disgust. Apparently, she knew someone like that.
“May I interrupt for a moment?”
Someone approached Olivia. He had belonged to one of the parties exploring the Shadow Castle Ruins, but now he had nowhere to go.
“Oh, uh... You're from Dermi's...?”
“Rolf Lorins. My role was artillery, and my specialty was arbalester.”
He was the crossbowman Olivia's party had rescued. He looked so much tidier than when they first met that she hadn't recognized him at once.
“How are you feeling? Did the treatment go well?”
“Much better now. It was worth the high price.”
Olivia made room and invited him to sit. Rolf thanked her, then ordered three beers and one milk from the tavern keeper. Knowing even Etran's preferred drink immediately earned him some goodwill.
“Come to think of it, I don't believe I've thanked you. You have my sincere gratitude.”
“Oh, it was nothing...”
“Ehehehe...”
Olivia and Dahlia scratched the backs of their heads in embarrassment. They were strange young women, fond of showing off but helpless in the face of praise.
The free drinks put everyone in a good mood. They talked about friends who had gone far away and what they planned to do next. Rolf, whose party no longer existed, had a great deal he wanted to say.
“Now that I think about it, you're in quite a difficult spot.”
“What difficulty? You earned plenty of dena. Why not take a year off?”
“I'm afraid it isn't that simple.”
He had received the largest share from this dungeon, but after funeral expenses, treatment, equipment repairs, and other costs, there wasn't much left. Unlike long-lived halflings or mages whose prime lasted many years, he needed to earn as much as he could while he could.
At this point in the conversation, his real purpose began to show. Since it could be a somewhat uncomfortable subject, the quick-witted Etran changed the mood.
“Is this an arbalest?”
“You know of them?”
“I read about them.”
Its proper name was a mechanical crossbow. Unlike an ordinary crossbow, whose string was drawn by bracing the weapon with a foot, it used a pulley mechanism to produce enormous tension. Its power was equally impressive, making it more popular as a weapon of war than for hunting or self-defense. Rolf had originally been a mercenary who fought in wars, too.
“I gave it up because killing people didn't suit me.”
“Does it suit anyone...?”
Rolf gave a humorless smile and looked straight at Olivia, the leader.
“Would you let me join your party?”
“Uh... Hang on. That's a little sudden.”
“I'm confident in my ability to kill monsters, so you won't regret it. You needn't decide right away, so please discuss it and give me your answer.”
Rolf finished his drink and stood. He was staying in a guest room upstairs, so they could call him back at any time.
Olivia, Dahlia, and Etran looked at one another, then folded their arms or rested their chins on their hands. This needed careful thought. The leader spoke first.
“Four is better than three. His role fits, too, doesn't it?”
Too few party members made things dangerous, but too many caused problems as well. Income didn't simply fall from the sky. If there was no work and too many mouths to feed, everyone suffered.
“Do we need more artillery when we have Etran? Magic's much stronger than a crossbow.”
Dahlia, who was completely taken with Etran's magic, objected. In truth, she was worried about the extra expense. Etran thought a little longer before speaking.
“I'm in favor.”
“Really?”
“Magic can't do everything. We'd be much safer with a skilled bowman.”
“How do you know he's skilled?”
“I think he probably is.”
Etran remembered Rolf's palms. They were so heavily callused that even the second joints of his fingers had changed shape. It was proof that he had handled a crossbow for a long time.
Though he hadn't boasted about it, Rolf had also killed two hobgoblins. He had said they were shot dead, after all. Olivia raised her beer mug.
“I'm in favor, too. He cares about his comrades.”
“And how do you know that?”
“He took all his party members into the kitchen to shelter. Except that Jay-whatever who ran off on their own.”
In short, he had both a good character and good skills. He was also in his early thirties, still in his prime, so there was no reason to worry that he would hold them back. With the warrior and mage voting in favor, the seeker raised both hands in surrender.
“Fine. Fine! It's about time we moved into the bigger leagues anyway.”
And so Olivia's party gained its fourth member: the crossbowman Rolf Lorins.
@
Their stay in North-Landing grew a little longer.
Olivia and Dahlia pestered the Guild staff to find them a new dungeon, while their new member, Rolf, combined treatment with training to get his battered body back into shape.
Etran had done well in the dungeon, but he lacked the connections and experience to help with anything else. On the pretext of looking after a patient, he rested in a guest room at the Guild Pub.
“You said you were a mage from Storm-Seed?”
“You don't have to be so formal with me.”
“This is how I feel comfortable speaking. Please don't mind it.”
Rolf was unfailingly polite. Rather than a former mercenary, he seemed like a monk who called everyone “Brother” and “Sister.” Etran liked that about him.
“I heard you killed three hobgoblins.”
“I was lucky. I couldn't do it over and over.”
Rolf paused his strength training and studied Etran's pale face and equipment, which still had the look of a beginner's. Apart from his two magic rings, he was every inch a novice adventurer.
“You should get used to your equipment.”
“Get used to it?”
“Would you try drawing it?”
Etran was puzzled for a moment before realizing Rolf meant his armor and knife. Since he had been asked, he felt around at his waist and drew the blade. Even though it was a short dagger with a blade only seven inches, or about seventeen centimeters, long, he couldn't draw it in one smooth motion.
“Grip it close to the guard and relax your wrist. A stiff grip actually makes it easier to drop.”
“Oh, right!”
Rolf briefly showed him how to hold the dagger and thrust with it. Etran happily absorbed knowledge the university didn't teach. But that was all. After checking his movements a few times, Rolf stepped back.
“Aren't you going to... teach me swordsmanship?”
Rolf was taken aback by Etran's disappointment. Perhaps because he was a genius, the young mage had no barriers when it came to learning.
“A backup weapon is for emergencies. Normally, you have no use for it, and it's best if you never need it. It only has to do its job once, at the moment you truly need it.”
“Then...”
“Practice until you can draw it smoothly and quickly.”
That made sense. If a mage often found himself fighting with a blade, something was seriously wrong. He would only use it in a real emergency, so speed mattered most.
Satisfied with the explanation, Etran began practicing. Rolf lay facedown on the floor and resumed his strange exercise, raising and lowering his upper body. It looked difficult, but Etran couldn't tell exactly what it did. While he was wondering whether to ask Rolf to teach him that as well, Dahlia kicked the guest room door open with a Bang! and rushed in.
“Everyone! Good news! They've found a new dungeon in Star Valley!”
She had made good use of knocking in the dungeon, but apparently didn't bother with it in everyday life. Etran muttered that this was the men's room, but she pretended not to hear.
“Star Valley... as in a valley of stars?”
“It's three days north of here. You know the Northern Highlands? They found a dungeon in a mining village tucked away in a corner of the highlands. The news isn't even ten days old. It's fresh!”
It was nearby, and the information was recent. Etran didn't know this, but it was common to hear about a dungeon and travel there only to find that someone had already cleared it. The Guild might boast an international communication network, but it couldn't spread news from remote regions in real time.
“Then the chance that it hasn't been cleared yet is...”
“Almost a hundred percent!”
Excited, Dahlia looked around for Olivia. Etran reminded her that this was the men's room, but once again, she pretended not to hear.
“So this is where you've been lazing around?”
Speak of the house elf, and it pricks up its ears. Olivia, who had left the pub early that morning, was now leaning against the doorway. Her expression was strangely serious, but the excited Dahlia didn't notice.
“Listen to this! They've found a new dungeon in Star Valley...”
“A request has come in from the Guild.”
All three experienced adventurers now looked grim. Etran glanced at each of his companions, then cautiously raised a hand.
“A Guild request?”
“Just what it sounds like. A request issued by the Guild itself.”
“So they do that, too.”
“Not often. That's why it's usually serious.”
Adventurers were free to do as they pleased, but that didn't mean they lacked a sense of belonging. In fact, without the title of adventurer, they were unwanted people with no profession at all, so many clung to groups like their Guild or party. That made it hard to ignore a request from the Guild.
“The pay isn't bad, either. For one thing, you don't have to worry about not getting paid.”
“Oh. So that happens with other requests.”
Etran was a little shocked. The world wasn't completely cruel, but it wasn't completely kind either. Rolf pulled on his shirt and asked a question.
“Was the request specifically addressed to Olivia's party?”
“No, but it applies to every party in Northland that can move right away.”
“What kind of request is it?”
Olivia looked behind her and closed the door. This was the Guild Pub, so it didn't matter who heard, but she was being unusually cautious. With four people packed into the cramped guest room, the air felt stifling. Perhaps it was because of the strange tension coming from the warrior.
“A sacred relic of the Hero has been stolen. The Church seems to think it's the work of a demon.”
Etran and the others blinked. Those words lay at the very roots of adventuring, yet changing times had made them feel impossibly distant.
“The Hero?”
“...A sacred relic?”
Their whispers sounded like something from a fairy tale of long, long ago.
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