A warm blush of scarlet swept across the horizon by the time we entered the provincial town of Rolstein. There was much to admire about this quaint town. Filth and sewage did not clog up the streets and …
Well, no, that was it.
Such a small town was ordinarily little more than a passing landmark during my rare excursions to our greater domains. Actually setting foot in one was a novelty. And yet still, I found I had little curiosity to spare.
Beneath the setting dusk, a blanket of decay stretched from the nearby road all the way to the rolling hills in the distance.
It was as if I was gazing upon the wreckage of a battlefield. Except that there were no wars fought here, other than those contested between the crows as they dived for that one slither of movement among the wilted fields. A single field mouse darted for cover, then found itself mercilessly preyed upon by a rampant squawking flock.
I shuddered, wondering if this was a premonition of times to come.
“It's as I feared … this blight, it stretches into the heart of the lowlands.”
Coppelia nodded in response, surveying the same destruction, but wearing an altogether different expression. As she witnessed the flock of crows disperse without leaving anything behind, she gave a satisfied nod.
I wasn't certain if it was due to her being a clockwork doll or not, but she appeared to be rather predisposed towards optimism, didn't she?
“Mmh, it's quite spectacular.”
“Excuse me?”
“Spectacularly bad, I mean. Very bad. But look on the bright side. People will be a lot less fussier now. Who likes picky eaters, anyway?”
I kept my lips tightly pursed.
“I-Indeed … all of us should take care to enjoy the fare that this kingdom's people have striven tirelessly to grow, rear and cook for us. It is unbecoming to reject anything brought to the table, even if it's shaped like a grotesque mannequin hideously distorted.”
“Hmmmm ... I'm definitely going to need an example there.”
“Carrots,” I instantly answered. “I'm told that their appearance repulses a significant number of the populace.”
“… As in, you?”
“Of … Of course not! I'm merely stating a commonly held opinion.”
“Oh, I see. But hypothetically, if you don't like carrots, why don't you cut them into little pieces instead?”
“Unacceptable. The mere thought of them also repulses me. Hypothetically.”
Coppelia eyed some of the townsfolk as they went about their day. Some shot us curious glances. Others with significantly less interest. Almost all wore the attire of farmers and shepherds.
“You'll fit right in here.”
I looked at her, aghast.
“Please remove all such notions from your mind. We've come here to—”
“I'm here for my book.”
“—I've come here to lift these poor, suffering peasants from their circle of misery. I've not come to join them.”
“My bad. How do you plan on saving these wretched souls from their miserable and worthless existences today?”
“With questions and answers. Beginning with the Adventurer's Guild.”
The determination filled my voice as I hardened my heart for the challenges ahead. With so much at stake, I had no time to waste.
There was just one issue.
Adventurer's Guild – Rolstein Branch
Currently closed for renovations.
Thank you for your understanding.
I rubbed my eyes.
And yet no matter how hard I tried, the words failed to disappear from in front of me.
Apple had scarcely taken me more than a few steps into the town before the wide sign of the Adventurer's Guild dangled jovially from a building which may very well have been a bar in its past life. Even from outside, there was a distinct whiff of alcohol and lack of morals.
But the most incriminating thing about it was surely that notice nailed onto the door.
“Closed … Closed for renovations … ?”
I stared in shock for several moments before the indignation finally struck.
Renovations?! The … The irresponsibility! Did these layabouts not at least pretend that their entire existence was based on their incessant nosiness and wish to elbow themselves into the security affairs of sovereign nations?
Why, their existence was only tolerated because they served as useful fodder for when the lives of our soldiers could not be risked! Oh, yes. We know. We all know. Do not pretend that you as an organisation are merely altruistic! There is not a single court official from any kingdom, duchy or principality that believes you have no political agenda. And we permit it! But only so long as you uphold your end of the bargain!
That means no lunch breaks! No holidays! No sick leave! And most certainly no closing for renovations!
“It appears the miserable will stay miserable,” said Coppelia. “Would you like a jam tartlet?”
“Excuse me?” I replied, still confused at almost everything this girl said.
“A jam tartlet. The bakery here sells them. If we cannot relieve the wretched from their suffering, then we may as well enjoy ourselves. They're nice, if slightly overly sweet.”
I reminded myself to maintain my poise. Dignity in the face of all hardships. Even if it was a preposterous reason for closing a public service in the midst of a potential famine.
“We're not here for jam tartlets, as lovely as that sounds. Or at least, I'm not. I understand you have your own duties. However, I was assured that a reliable adventurer in Rolstein was well-placed to answer my queries regarding the state of the lowlands.”
“—And who assured you of that, young lady? Because that means I'm due a stern word with someone for speaking highly of me.”
I looked behind, and to my delight, found someone who I could direct my ire towards.
A man in a spotted lilac poncho. And an extra twirly moustache. He carried a stack of documents in his arms. An indication of business that was at odds with his dress sense. Among the dourness of the town, he looked like the only raspberry trifle on a table full of burnt eclairs.
Usually, flamboyant dress was a sign of wealth, but this man didn't have a whiff of nobility about him. Indeed, he smelled like the building behind him.
I wrinkled my nose.
I didn't know who he was. But that didn't matter. Someone with such a frivolous appearance was clearly deserving of my dissatisfaction!
“That would be a common barkeeper,” I answered, nudging at Apple to face this bizarrely dressed man, and if necessary, snort in his face.
“A barkeeper? … It couldn't be, Thomas?”
I nodded. It'd began with the letter 'T'. Maybe.
“Are you the senior adventurer I was advised to speak to?”
“Well now! I wouldn't necessarily think of myself as senior, at least not in the age sense—”
“Excellent, because who I speak to matters little. I require information. The abject state of the farmlands. Please explain to me in five words or fewer what is wrong.”
The man looked at his hand, then started counting his fingers in thought.
After a moment, he nodded at me in satisfaction.
“Nobody knows.”
Hmm.
Two words. Succinct. A praiseworthy skill. With that alone, this poncho man was already earmarked as another potential servant.
If nothing else, this journey was certainly opening my eyes to the disparate state of our current workforce. Not only did our attendants stutter over every word, but they also couldn't lift up twice their bodyweight with arm strength alone.
“Why has this not been fixed? What has the town's governorship done to rectify the situation? I swear, if Baron ...”
“Baron Alonte?”
“Yes, if Baron Alonte has spent these days of crisis fishing by the seaside, I will have him and his entire family making soap for the next 10 years. I'm going to need lots of it.”
The man raised an eyebrow, looking for all the world as if me asking very sensible questions was the strangest thing in the world.
Ugh. Peasants. I really did have to do everything, didn't I?
“Well, Baron Alonte hasn't been idle, at least. He's commissioned everyone from adventurers to mages to have a crack at finding or repairing the root of the problem. Thinks there might be magic involved.”
“Magic?”
“Magic.” The man nodded. “The going belief is that the extent of the crop damage means it can't be a natural phenomena. Nor is he the only one. You think it's bad here, you should look past the hills. Sight gets more sorry by the minute. The lowlands have been faring poorly for several seasons now, but this is altogether new. We call it the Withering.”
I frowned. So magic was the proposed reason for this … Withering?
It'd certainly explain the unprecedented extent of the damage. This wouldn't be the first time that an errant spell gone had gone haywire. Mages were renown for their utter disregard of … well, everything, when conducting their spellcraft.
Even so, this scale of devastation was noteworthy. When and if the culprit was found, I would ensure that their skills were put to good use. 100,000,000,000 bars of soap didn't conjure themselves.
“Very well, I understand now. Clearly, by the swathes of wilted crops I see in all directions, both mages and adventurers alike have been unable to engineer a solution to this calamity. Fortunately, I'm here now.”
“... I see? And you are?”
“Juliette.” I placed my hand on my breast, proud that I was modest enough to stoop to using only my first name. “And this is my future attendant, Coppelia.”
Beside me, Coppelia curtsied and smiled, sacks in hand.
“A fine day to you, sir. How fares your worthless existence today?”
The man blinked at her, a bewildered expression on his face.
I, too, was stunned.
Why, I had no idea Coppelia could curtsey!
“Uh … yes … I'm good, thank you … and in which fields are the two of you specialised?”
“Everything,” I answered.
The man paused, clearly in awe at this angel of problem solving hastened to his doorstep.
“I … I see. Well, it's certainly a joy to have such an illustrious pair visit our simple town. Both Rolstein and the guild will be delighted to accept your prodigious assistance in any way, shape or form. Now, uh, if you'll excuse me ...”
He coughed, then indicated towards the door of the Adventurer's Guild. I frowned as the most recent source of my ire caught my attention once again.
“It says it's closed for renovation. Do you have any knowledge about this unacceptable breach of working ethics?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” The man gave a hearty grin. “Cedric Halls. Guildmaster. Formerly C-rank. Don't mind the sign. It's just to stop the people trying to use me to fetch their lost cats. For the people with actual problems, you can walk right in.”
Guildmaster?
A position of responsibility! And here I thought he was merely a goon!
I placed my hand over my mouth, mortified at my manner of speech thus far.
Had I known he was the guildmaster, I would have been far less accommodating. What if people thought I treated everyone equally?
“Guildmaster, I would remind you that one of the founding stipulations of the Adventurer's Guild is a naive willingness to entertain each and every menial task that the inept chooses not to do themselves. You do not have the luxury of filtering requests. Doing so is grounds for severe reprimand, from both your guild and the kingdom.”
The man winced. His jovial smile diminished significantly.
“W-Well … no, you're not wrong there. But you see, Rolstein is a small town. It's barely able to justify a guild branch. As we have trouble even manning the reception desk, it's only right that we prioritise those requests that are most urgent.”
“... Is it, now?”
“We have two reliable adventurers absent from duty. As a result, we simply don't have the number needed to handle every commission, and those that are posted are often paired with, shall we say, insufficient remuneration. It's not really fair on the lads and lasses we have to take on smaller jobs.”
I was unimpressed. If adventurers only sought fame and fortune, then they needed to rename themselves as the dragon slaying and treasure hunting guild. Fetching lost cats was precisely the sort of disgustingly endearing jobs they took for the sake of public approval.
We all had our roles. If I was forced to wear a tiara inlaid with citrine gemstones instead of rubies, then they too could suffer the indignity of a world that was not fair.
“Very well. In that case, I have a commission for the Adventurer's Guild.”
“Oh?”
Like a weed snapping back into position, the poncho man recovered from my chastening with a look of interest.
“Please deliver these spoils to the town garrison for seizure. They were recovered from a band of hooligans residing in the woodlands between here and the Royal Villa.”
Without my asking, Coppelia immediately dropped every sack from her hands. The heavy thunk as they landed sent dust flying in every direction.
The man looked at Coppelia with his mouth slightly open, clearly not expecting such a mass of weight from what she'd been carrying with so much ease. Then, as his eyes turned to the openings at the top of the sacks.
His jaw fully dropped.
“This … how did you …?”
Adorned tableware, trinkets and jewellery glittered amongst a trove of copper, silver and gold crowns. Ignoring the bag filled with crude weapons, his eyes lit up as though he were gazing down at an actual treasure haul.
My opinion of the adventurers in this town dropped markedly. Was this truly enough to impress them? My personal assessment was that it was barely enough to pay for a handful of my smuggled novels, and I was assured that the price I paid was with a most reasonable royal discount.
“Once you are done, please ensure that some of your busy adventurers are sent to the forest on the north road where the river separates the provinces. As I lacked the time to marshal the outlaws I appropriated these items from into prison, that is a task I will leave to you.”
“O-Outlaws … ?”
The man noticeably swallowed a gulp as his eyes joined his mouth in widening.
“Wait, you can't possibly mean … that infamous band led by the Black Scar? No, wait, that's impossible. There's simply no way … yet what other groups operate in that area? And this much crowns … does this mean, you defeated him ? You?”
The Black Scar?
True, the lowlife I'd bested in a game of wit and cunning had a deep gash across his face. But he was also unremarkable … like a slightly meaner potato.
No, I'd read enough tales to know that a moniker like 'The Black Scar' could only be applied to someone who commanded terror like a pirate commanded the oceans.
Not someone who dropped to their knees after suffering one bout of my biting repartee. Even fresh faced nobility at least stayed on their feet when they wept.
“Thank you for agreeing to this commission,” I said as my answer, deciding this conversation had fulfilled its purpose. “Once you've herded the ruffians into the custody of the garrison, you may extract what reward you deem acceptable from these sacks.”
“H-Huh? Any reward? You mean you'll allow us to decide?”
“It will obviously be a pitiful sum, given what you see, but I hope that the lack of remuneration will remind you of your basic obligations. I trust that you do not want the kingdom to be the one to remind you.”
I turned to Coppelia, satisfied at my conduct.
For some reason, she held her hand over her mouth, and her expression was wrinkled with amusement. It was as if she was holding back laughter with every cog and fibre of her being.
Undoubtedly, she enjoyed the spectacle of a guildmaster being reminded of his duties. I would be deceiving myself if I claimed I also didn't share the sentiment. But this was more than about my sense of duty.
It was about keeping the populace in check.
The fewer overall grievances the commoners had, the less chance there was of this kingdom turning into a … a …
Republic.
A shiver ran up my spine as images of the end of the world came over me. I rapidly shook my head, batting the terrible thoughts away
I had more pressing issues to deal with. This whole travesty with the failing crops, for one thing. But also another.
Before I could begin fixing what, frankly, nobody but me had the competency to do, I had to fulfil an important task, as well as handle the consequences of it.
“Coppelia, I have an agreement to deliver Apple on behalf of his owner. I now intend to honour it before proceeding with single-handedly saving the kingdom.”
“Uh-huh.”
“However, as doing so will deprive me of my steed, I will need an alternative method of transit. If necessary, I may call on your obscene strength to carry me at short notice. Please be aware of this added responsibility as my future attendant.”
She thought about it for a moment, then smiled as brightly as the sun.
“No.”
I nodded, then tugged on Apple's reins.
I'd ask again later.
A warm blush of scarlet swept across the horizon by the time we entered the provincial town of Rolstein. There was much to admire about this quaint town. Filth and sewage did not clog up the streets and …
Well, no, that was it.
Such a small town was ordinarily little more than a passing landmark during my rare excursions to our greater domains. Actually setting foot in one was a novelty. And yet still, I found I had little curiosity to spare.
Beneath the setting dusk, a blanket of decay stretched from the nearby road all the way to the rolling hills in the distance.
It was as if I was gazing upon the wreckage of a battlefield. Except that there were no wars fought here, other than those contested between the crows as they dived for that one slither of movement among the wilted fields. A single field mouse darted for cover, then found itself mercilessly preyed upon by a rampant squawking flock.
I shuddered, wondering if this was a premonition of times to come.
“It's as I feared … this blight, it stretches into the heart of the lowlands.”
Coppelia nodded in response, surveying the same destruction, but wearing an altogether different expression. As she witnessed the flock of crows disperse without leaving anything behind, she gave a satisfied nod.
I wasn't certain if it was due to her being a clockwork doll or not, but she appeared to be rather predisposed towards optimism, didn't she?
“Mmh, it's quite spectacular.”
“Excuse me?”
“Spectacularly bad, I mean. Very bad. But look on the bright side. People will be a lot less fussier now. Who likes picky eaters, anyway?”
I kept my lips tightly pursed.
“I-Indeed … all of us should take care to enjoy the fare that this kingdom's people have striven tirelessly to grow, rear and cook for us. It is unbecoming to reject anything brought to the table, even if it's shaped like a grotesque mannequin hideously distorted.”
“Hmmmm ... I'm definitely going to need an example there.”
“Carrots,” I instantly answered. “I'm told that their appearance repulses a significant number of the populace.”
“… As in, you?”
“Of … Of course not! I'm merely stating a commonly held opinion.”
“Oh, I see. But hypothetically, if you don't like carrots, why don't you cut them into little pieces instead?”
“Unacceptable. The mere thought of them also repulses me. Hypothetically.”
Coppelia eyed some of the townsfolk as they went about their day. Some shot us curious glances. Others with significantly less interest. Almost all wore the attire of farmers and shepherds.
“You'll fit right in here.”
I looked at her, aghast.
“Please remove all such notions from your mind. We've come here to—”
“I'm here for my book.”
“—I've come here to lift these poor, suffering peasants from their circle of misery. I've not come to join them.”
“My bad. How do you plan on saving these wretched souls from their miserable and worthless existences today?”
“With questions and answers. Beginning with the Adventurer's Guild.”
The determination filled my voice as I hardened my heart for the challenges ahead. With so much at stake, I had no time to waste.
There was just one issue.
Adventurer's Guild – Rolstein Branch
Currently closed for renovations.
Thank you for your understanding.
I rubbed my eyes.
And yet no matter how hard I tried, the words failed to disappear from in front of me.
Apple had scarcely taken me more than a few steps into the town before the wide sign of the Adventurer's Guild dangled jovially from a building which may very well have been a bar in its past life. Even from outside, there was a distinct whiff of alcohol and lack of morals.
But the most incriminating thing about it was surely that notice nailed onto the door.
“Closed … Closed for renovations … ?”
I stared in shock for several moments before the indignation finally struck.
Renovations?! The … The irresponsibility! Did these layabouts not at least pretend that their entire existence was based on their incessant nosiness and wish to elbow themselves into the security affairs of sovereign nations?
Why, their existence was only tolerated because they served as useful fodder for when the lives of our soldiers could not be risked! Oh, yes. We know. We all know. Do not pretend that you as an organisation are merely altruistic! There is not a single court official from any kingdom, duchy or principality that believes you have no political agenda. And we permit it! But only so long as you uphold your end of the bargain!
That means no lunch breaks! No holidays! No sick leave! And most certainly no closing for renovations!
“It appears the miserable will stay miserable,” said Coppelia. “Would you like a jam tartlet?”
“Excuse me?” I replied, still confused at almost everything this girl said.
“A jam tartlet. The bakery here sells them. If we cannot relieve the wretched from their suffering, then we may as well enjoy ourselves. They're nice, if slightly overly sweet.”
I reminded myself to maintain my poise. Dignity in the face of all hardships. Even if it was a preposterous reason for closing a public service in the midst of a potential famine.
“We're not here for jam tartlets, as lovely as that sounds. Or at least, I'm not. I understand you have your own duties. However, I was assured that a reliable adventurer in Rolstein was well-placed to answer my queries regarding the state of the lowlands.”
“—And who assured you of that, young lady? Because that means I'm due a stern word with someone for speaking highly of me.”
I looked behind, and to my delight, found someone who I could direct my ire towards.
A man in a spotted lilac poncho. And an extra twirly moustache. He carried a stack of documents in his arms. An indication of business that was at odds with his dress sense. Among the dourness of the town, he looked like the only raspberry trifle on a table full of burnt eclairs.
Usually, flamboyant dress was a sign of wealth, but this man didn't have a whiff of nobility about him. Indeed, he smelled like the building behind him.
I wrinkled my nose.
I didn't know who he was. But that didn't matter. Someone with such a frivolous appearance was clearly deserving of my dissatisfaction!
“That would be a common barkeeper,” I answered, nudging at Apple to face this bizarrely dressed man, and if necessary, snort in his face.
“A barkeeper? … It couldn't be, Thomas?”
I nodded. It'd began with the letter 'T'. Maybe.
“Are you the senior adventurer I was advised to speak to?”
“Well now! I wouldn't necessarily think of myself as senior, at least not in the age sense—”
“Excellent, because who I speak to matters little. I require information. The abject state of the farmlands. Please explain to me in five words or fewer what is wrong.”
The man looked at his hand, then started counting his fingers in thought.
After a moment, he nodded at me in satisfaction.
“Nobody knows.”
Hmm.
Two words. Succinct. A praiseworthy skill. With that alone, this poncho man was already earmarked as another potential servant.
If nothing else, this journey was certainly opening my eyes to the disparate state of our current workforce. Not only did our attendants stutter over every word, but they also couldn't lift up twice their bodyweight with arm strength alone.
“Why has this not been fixed? What has the town's governorship done to rectify the situation? I swear, if Baron ...”
“Baron Alonte?”
“Yes, if Baron Alonte has spent these days of crisis fishing by the seaside, I will have him and his entire family making soap for the next 10 years. I'm going to need lots of it.”
The man raised an eyebrow, looking for all the world as if me asking very sensible questions was the strangest thing in the world.
Ugh. Peasants. I really did have to do everything, didn't I?
“Well, Baron Alonte hasn't been idle, at least. He's commissioned everyone from adventurers to mages to have a crack at finding or repairing the root of the problem. Thinks there might be magic involved.”
“Magic?”
“Magic.” The man nodded. “The going belief is that the extent of the crop damage means it can't be a natural phenomena. Nor is he the only one. You think it's bad here, you should look past the hills. Sight gets more sorry by the minute. The lowlands have been faring poorly for several seasons now, but this is altogether new. We call it the Withering.”
I frowned. So magic was the proposed reason for this … Withering?
It'd certainly explain the unprecedented extent of the damage. This wouldn't be the first time that an errant spell gone had gone haywire. Mages were renown for their utter disregard of … well, everything, when conducting their spellcraft.
Even so, this scale of devastation was noteworthy. When and if the culprit was found, I would ensure that their skills were put to good use. 100,000,000,000 bars of soap didn't conjure themselves.
“Very well, I understand now. Clearly, by the swathes of wilted crops I see in all directions, both mages and adventurers alike have been unable to engineer a solution to this calamity. Fortunately, I'm here now.”
“... I see? And you are?”
“Juliette.” I placed my hand on my breast, proud that I was modest enough to stoop to using only my first name. “And this is my future attendant, Coppelia.”
Beside me, Coppelia curtsied and smiled, sacks in hand.
“A fine day to you, sir. How fares your worthless existence today?”
The man blinked at her, a bewildered expression on his face.
I, too, was stunned.
Why, I had no idea Coppelia could curtsey!
“Uh … yes … I'm good, thank you … and in which fields are the two of you specialised?”
“Everything,” I answered.
The man paused, clearly in awe at this angel of problem solving hastened to his doorstep.
“I … I see. Well, it's certainly a joy to have such an illustrious pair visit our simple town. Both Rolstein and the guild will be delighted to accept your prodigious assistance in any way, shape or form. Now, uh, if you'll excuse me ...”
He coughed, then indicated towards the door of the Adventurer's Guild. I frowned as the most recent source of my ire caught my attention once again.
“It says it's closed for renovation. Do you have any knowledge about this unacceptable breach of working ethics?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” The man gave a hearty grin. “Cedric Halls. Guildmaster. Formerly C-rank. Don't mind the sign. It's just to stop the people trying to use me to fetch their lost cats. For the people with actual problems, you can walk right in.”
Guildmaster?
A position of responsibility! And here I thought he was merely a goon!
I placed my hand over my mouth, mortified at my manner of speech thus far.
Had I known he was the guildmaster, I would have been far less accommodating. What if people thought I treated everyone equally?
“Guildmaster, I would remind you that one of the founding stipulations of the Adventurer's Guild is a naive willingness to entertain each and every menial task that the inept chooses not to do themselves. You do not have the luxury of filtering requests. Doing so is grounds for severe reprimand, from both your guild and the kingdom.”
The man winced. His jovial smile diminished significantly.
“W-Well … no, you're not wrong there. But you see, Rolstein is a small town. It's barely able to justify a guild branch. As we have trouble even manning the reception desk, it's only right that we prioritise those requests that are most urgent.”
“... Is it, now?”
“We have two reliable adventurers absent from duty. As a result, we simply don't have the number needed to handle every commission, and those that are posted are often paired with, shall we say, insufficient remuneration. It's not really fair on the lads and lasses we have to take on smaller jobs.”
I was unimpressed. If adventurers only sought fame and fortune, then they needed to rename themselves as the dragon slaying and treasure hunting guild. Fetching lost cats was precisely the sort of disgustingly endearing jobs they took for the sake of public approval.
We all had our roles. If I was forced to wear a tiara inlaid with citrine gemstones instead of rubies, then they too could suffer the indignity of a world that was not fair.
“Very well. In that case, I have a commission for the Adventurer's Guild.”
“Oh?”
Like a weed snapping back into position, the poncho man recovered from my chastening with a look of interest.
“Please deliver these spoils to the town garrison for seizure. They were recovered from a band of hooligans residing in the woodlands between here and the Royal Villa.”
Without my asking, Coppelia immediately dropped every sack from her hands. The heavy thunk as they landed sent dust flying in every direction.
The man looked at Coppelia with his mouth slightly open, clearly not expecting such a mass of weight from what she'd been carrying with so much ease. Then, as his eyes turned to the openings at the top of the sacks.
His jaw fully dropped.
“This … how did you …?”
Adorned tableware, trinkets and jewellery glittered amongst a trove of copper, silver and gold crowns. Ignoring the bag filled with crude weapons, his eyes lit up as though he were gazing down at an actual treasure haul.
My opinion of the adventurers in this town dropped markedly. Was this truly enough to impress them? My personal assessment was that it was barely enough to pay for a handful of my smuggled novels, and I was assured that the price I paid was with a most reasonable royal discount.
“Once you are done, please ensure that some of your busy adventurers are sent to the forest on the north road where the river separates the provinces. As I lacked the time to marshal the outlaws I appropriated these items from into prison, that is a task I will leave to you.”
“O-Outlaws … ?”
The man noticeably swallowed a gulp as his eyes joined his mouth in widening.
“Wait, you can't possibly mean … that infamous band led by the Black Scar? No, wait, that's impossible. There's simply no way … yet what other groups operate in that area? And this much crowns … does this mean, you defeated him ? You?”
The Black Scar?
True, the lowlife I'd bested in a game of wit and cunning had a deep gash across his face. But he was also unremarkable … like a slightly meaner potato.
No, I'd read enough tales to know that a moniker like 'The Black Scar' could only be applied to someone who commanded terror like a pirate commanded the oceans.
Not someone who dropped to their knees after suffering one bout of my biting repartee. Even fresh faced nobility at least stayed on their feet when they wept.
“Thank you for agreeing to this commission,” I said as my answer, deciding this conversation had fulfilled its purpose. “Once you've herded the ruffians into the custody of the garrison, you may extract what reward you deem acceptable from these sacks.”
“H-Huh? Any reward? You mean you'll allow us to decide?”
“It will obviously be a pitiful sum, given what you see, but I hope that the lack of remuneration will remind you of your basic obligations. I trust that you do not want the kingdom to be the one to remind you.”
I turned to Coppelia, satisfied at my conduct.
For some reason, she held her hand over her mouth, and her expression was wrinkled with amusement. It was as if she was holding back laughter with every cog and fibre of her being.
Undoubtedly, she enjoyed the spectacle of a guildmaster being reminded of his duties. I would be deceiving myself if I claimed I also didn't share the sentiment. But this was more than about my sense of duty.
It was about keeping the populace in check.
The fewer overall grievances the commoners had, the less chance there was of this kingdom turning into a … a …
Republic.
A shiver ran up my spine as images of the end of the world came over me. I rapidly shook my head, batting the terrible thoughts away
I had more pressing issues to deal with. This whole travesty with the failing crops, for one thing. But also another.
Before I could begin fixing what, frankly, nobody but me had the competency to do, I had to fulfil an important task, as well as handle the consequences of it.
“Coppelia, I have an agreement to deliver Apple on behalf of his owner. I now intend to honour it before proceeding with single-handedly saving the kingdom.”
“Uh-huh.”
“However, as doing so will deprive me of my steed, I will need an alternative method of transit. If necessary, I may call on your obscene strength to carry me at short notice. Please be aware of this added responsibility as my future attendant.”
She thought about it for a moment, then smiled as brightly as the sun.
“No.”
I nodded, then tugged on Apple's reins.
I'd ask again later.
