Episode 5

“You two have a new personal commission.”

“There have been a lot lately. Is it a subjugation request?”

The Adventurers’ Guild. There was no age limit; as long as you paid the registration fee, you could act as an adventurer. Even non-adventurers could use some services—monster butchering, buy-backs, and the like—but the fees were higher. If your goal was to raise funds, working as an adventurer was more convenient.

There were two main activity styles as an adventurer: take requests solo, or form a multi-person team—what people called a “party.”

With the former, you received the full reward, but all expenses for supplies and such came out of your own pocket, and you had to fight dangerous monsters alone, so the risk rose.

With the latter, the danger to your life lessened, but rewards were divided evenly as a rule. From a fundraising standpoint it was inefficient, yet if you wanted steady growth as an adventurer, forming a party was recommended.

Hiroto had initially worked alone, but Luke gradually began accompanying him. They had not formally formed a party, but because they could temporarily take requests together, it posed no issue with the rules.

The Adventurers’ Guild ranked its registered adventurers. The number and nature of completed requests, aptitude as an adventurer, and character were the main evaluation targets. Ranks began at F and topped out at S.

The primary purpose of ranking was to set guidelines so people took requests appropriate to their ability; if you had not reached the required level, you could not accept a given request.

(Yeah, classic setup. In the game, you couldn’t even join the Adventurers’ Guild.)

From C-rank upward, clients could issue personal commissions to specific adventurers or parties, so nobles and merchants did keep adventurers on retainer.

Zeke (Hiroto) and Luke were not an official party, but because they often worked the same jobs, many commissions named the two of them. They had achieved the youngest B-rank promotion, and their completion rate was high; their name recognition was strong.

(In my case, it’s definitely the “infamous” part drawing attention.)

They had continued by selecting which jobs to take. He refused requests that didn’t pay off and flatly rejected anything clearly unnecessary. Even where lives were at stake, it made no difference to him—but Luke sometimes moved things forward on his own, so Hiroto grudgingly agreed at times.

“As for this request, the details haven’t been disclosed. The client wants to speak with you both directly.”

“…That would be a first. Did the Guild agree to that arrangement?”

“I’m sorry; I truly don’t know the contents. Only that the client seems to be someone special.”

(An anonymous commission? They don’t want the details public… Clearly a headache.)

In the past, they had received requests from nobles and merchants, but the Guild had never brought something forward under the guise of anonymity.

“Heh. Someone at another branch boasted they ‘always remain neutral.’ What happened to that? Changed your policy?”

Hiroto still held a small grudge over the basilisk affair.

“When you put it that way… it does hit a sore spot…”

“There’s no point blaming her. But without the contents, we can’t say anything.”

It was roughly two years until the start of the original story. To meet it in perfect shape, he wanted to avoid needless trouble. Even so, he could not rule out the possibility that this request would become a future spark.

“As a guild, we can’t force you, and it’s not as if it has to be now. We’ll only proceed after confirming your wishes.”

“Understood. We’ll talk it over and get back to you.”

“Thank you. We appreciate your consideration.”

Leaving the Adventurers’ Guild, the two headed to Luke’s home.

Since Luke had regained consciousness, they had also trained in the Rent Domain, and each time Hiroto had been invited over. By now, it felt like a familiar place.

“So, what will we do? It’s easy enough to refuse.”

“Even an idiot can tell—there’s definitely something behind it.”

“Right. The bigger mystery is why they singled out the two of us.”

Plenty of people wanted to establish ties early with promising young adventurers. But such connections only mattered if you showed them publicly.

“If their position keeps them from issuing a request openly, then there’s no reason it has to be us—and if they don’t want the public to know, that goes double.”

The number of adventurers in the Guild was considerable. Plenty outranked the two of them, and there were trusted individuals and parties with deep experience and records.

As Luke said, there was no need for it to be them. It was unusual that they were a noble and a commoner working together, but…

(If anything, that feels like the reason.)

“Talking here won’t get us anywhere. First, we’ll take a look at their face.”

“I’m not thrilled, but I suppose we don’t have a choice. We can still decide after we hear them out.”

(I doubt it will be that convenient.)

Judging from the Guild’s stance, the client was likely a person of some importance. He doubted it would end with just a chat.

(In that case, my stance won’t change.)

It didn’t matter who the other party was. If they blocked his path to survival, he would show no mercy.

—Hiroto, with no ties in this world, had nothing to protect.

“These are the background notes on the investigation target.”

“Thank you. I’ll review them.”

(The Lord of Lagias… we barely need to investigate to see the guilt there. The problem is the son.)

From the basilisk subjugation onward—to curing an unknown illness, to wiping out monster colonies including variants—his accomplishments as an adventurer were remarkable.

(Older findings said he was influenced by his parents… but that doesn’t connect. We’ll have to confirm directly.)

An intelligence agency of the Kingdom of Diabalet was preparing to move into a full investigation of the House of Lagias.