Danjon ni Deai wo Motomeru no ha Machigatteiru Darou ka - Familia Chronicle - Volume 2 - Chapter 1.1

Ali and the 8 Followers 
1 
“I wonder where my Odr is.” 
—Here we go again. 
Ottar was struck by an impulse to cover his face with his boulder-like hand. 
“Hey, Ottar…” 
“You mustn’t.” 
“…I didn’t even say anything yet.” 
“You cannot go.” 
In his usual overbearing way, Ottar admonished his patron goddess, Freya, who was pouting like a moody child. 
They were on the top floor of Babel, the looming tower at the center of the Labyrinth City, Orario. 
This one-of-a-kind space was a physical manifestation of the special privileges granted to the patron goddess of the familia that reigned at the top of the city. The giant, flawless glass window that looked out over the metropolis below; an entire wall devoted to elegant bookshelves that were filled to the brim; the plush carpet so thick that crossing feet sank into it; striking depictions of the sun and moon; a side table that tastefully evoked the image of an apple tree. 
Compared to the conspicuous gaudiness of the avaricious wealthy, this room was furnished with relatively few items, but the craftsmanship visible in each and every item was enough to demonstrate the class of the room’s owner. 
It was here, in the beautiful goddess’s private chambers, that Ottar was trying to talk some sense into Freya. 
“You were about to say that it was time to search for your destiny again.” 
Freya was having another of her fits. The aforementioned Odr was the companion she was fated to be with one day, and she was planning to set off on an aimless journey to find them, wherever they were. 
For Ottar and the rest of the familia, Freya was the sole object of their absolute loyalty, the one they offered all their respect, veneration, and love to. As far as they were concerned, the idea of her going on a journey alone was nothing short of sweat inducing. If even a single scratch were to mar their goddess’s beauty, her followers would never forgive themselves. If such a thing ever happened, the members of Freya’s familia were liable to take on extreme penances, like scarring themselves worse than anything their goddess suffered as an act of atonement. 
In general, they were overly protective, but this attitude was emblematic of how devoted they were to their goddess and just how precious they considered her to be. 
Ottar’s response was a natural extension of those values. 
Normally the shining example of a perfect retainer, Ottar’s response smacked of a lecture. Freya, reclining in her regal armchair, took offense and elegantly raised an eyebrow. 
“Ottar? When did you learn to speak to me like that?” 
“Ordinarily, I would never take such a tone with you, Goddess. However, I only have your best interests in mind. As your vassals, it is our job to admonish you if it is necessary for your own safety.” 
“…” 
Beneath his almost excessively polite choice of words, Ottar was trying his best to communicate that Freya should restrain herself in light of her position as the patron goddess of what was arguably the city’s most powerful familia. The lack of a rebuttal seemed to indicate that she found his argument persuasive. 
Once in the past, Freya had gone for a stroll in Orario without bringing along any of her children. While she never went beyond its walls, she was still out on the streets of one of the world’s largest metropolises, all alone. Ottar and the others had understandably panicked and turned the city upside down looking for her. Mistaking Freya Familia’s mobilization as the prelude to some major operation, Loki Familia had raised their alertness in response, which ultimately led to an accidental clash. This racked up tensions between the two factions and the dispute came very close to escalating into open warfare. 
Incidentally, Freya had tried to play off that disaster with a cute smile and an “I’m sorry. ?” (Given her demeanor at the time, it wouldn’t have been strange if she had giggled and stuck her tongue out to boot.) For once, Ottar and the other members of Freya Familia could do nothing but watch as the goddess Loki delivered divine justice to Freya with an iron fist. 
Returning back to the moment at hand, Freya understood that her current situation was liable to end in a similar fashion, so she reined herself in and opted to candidly express her displeasure instead. Her childish outburst was rather charming. This unexpected contrast was a perfect example of the “gap appeal” that many deities often spoke of. The sight of Freya pouting like a little girl was so bewitching that it wouldn’t have been strange if Ottar fell to his knees on the spot. 
However, he was certain that if a burly man such as himself openly reacted that way, he would be called out for being creepy. Fully aware of what was at stake, Ottar somehow managed to maintain control by sheer force of will. 
“How is it that you can spend so much time by my side and still not understand how I feel?” 
“…I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me. If you ask for anything else, we will gladly do it for you, even if it costs us our lives…” 
“You’re trying to keep me locked in a gilded cage, just like the foolish gods who tried to keep me cloistered up in the heavens.” 
She refused Ottar’s attempts to placate her and completely abandoned her usual sublime bearing, behaving like a fickle sprite. Turning away from him, she swept a dismissive hand to the side. 
“Leave me.” 
The enchanting goddess of beauty could never be satisfied with just one love. Not even countless loves could ever be enough. At a glance, her amorous nature appeared to simply be outrageous and immoral. However, that was merely by the standards of mortals. As a deity, there was probably nothing insincere about her feelings. 
Ottar had a faint sense of what Freya truly wished for, which made things complicated for him. While he could understand what it was she wanted, he had to do whatever he could to stop her from behaving recklessly. His desire to respect Freya’s will and his concern for her safety were at odds with each other. 
“…” 
At times like this, the expression that often crossed Ottar’s face betrayed his utter loss at how to respond. If anyone watching were asked to share their impression of what this warrior was feeling, it would definitely be described as sorrow. 
The young girls working as attendants were getting worked up in the corner of the room, looking to Ottar for cues on how to proceed. 
One of the boar’s ears on top of Ottar’s head bent over, as if to drive home the fact that he had no idea what to do next. 
 
Later that day, as the flood of light and the bustling chatter of the sleepless Labyrinth City filled the night air, several figures gathered around a giant round table. This meeting was not taking place on the top floor of Babel nor was it some nondescript bar on the outskirts of the city. It was inside Freya Familia’s home, Folkvangr, located in the city’s fifth district. They were in a conference room where only the top members of the familia were allowed to enter. 
“What’s this about, Ottar?” 
Allen Fromel, a cat person sitting at the table, was the first to open his mouth. Though he was only one hundred sixty celch tall, his gaze was piercing, so sharp that it caused others to shrink back. His very presence seemed violent, as if he might snap at any moment. The black fur and blue eyes he sported would have normally been considered quite handsome if not for how dangerous he seemed. He was a Level 6, a first-tier adventurer known as Vana Freya—Freya’s Chariot, a paragon of Orario whose name rang out far beyond the confine of the city walls. 
“How long has it been since the last emergency assembly?” 
“The all-out war with the Evils, wasn’t it?” 
“Then this must be for a battlefield to match that.” 
“Should we ready our weapons?” 
The same voice ringing out four different times came from the quadruplet prums sitting across from Allen. They were the Gulliver brothers, first-tier adventurers of Freya Familia often mentioned in the same breath as Vana Freya. The four of them were known collectively by the title Bringar, the Four Knights of the Golden Flame. As Level 5s, their teamwork was indisputably the best in the Labyrinth City, and they were powerful enough to overcome the physical disadvantage of being prums. Naturally, their features were identical. The only visible difference between them was the slightest variance in eye color. From the right, starting with the eldest, they were Alfrik, Dvalinn, Berling, and Grer. 
“The harbinger is upon us, the horn of demise signaling the twilight of Orario…a great war embroiling all the familia comes…M-my arm trembles…Heh. Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee…” 
“Don’t force yourself to speak, Hegni.” 
The dark elf’s lips twisted into an ominous grin marred by spasms that only aggravated his struggle to string words together. The one chiding him like this was a regular occurrence was a white elf. The elven duo, Hegni and Hedin, was often considered a pair even though they were not related by blood. Their full names were Hegni Ragnar and Hedin Selrand. The former had dark sable skin and silver hair that was almost a pale purple, while the latter had white, nearly translucent skin, and golden hair flowing down his back. They were both Level 6, first-tier adventurers, and they were both magic swordsmen who wielded powerful magic and their weapons with equal amounts of skill. The titles they were granted by the gods were Dáinsleif and Hildsleif respectively. Together, they were known as the black and white knights. 
The people currently assembled at this round table were Freya Familia’s pride as well as their greatest assets in battle. 
“The reason I summoned you all is…Lady Freya.” 
Looking around the table, Ottar’s solemn voice rang out as he got right to the point and raised the topic at hand. In other words, how to control Freya’s urge that had reared its head yet again. 
“…So that’s what it is.” 
Immediately, Allen and the others fell silent as everyone present assumed rather serious expressions. 
“In that case, I understand why we were all called.” 
“It was fairly touch and go last time…We were right on the verge of a direct confrontation with Loki Familia.” 
“Yeah, we nearly killed Nine Hell.” 
“Wait, I thought the real issue was that we had pissed off all the elves, even the ones outside Loki Familia, and barely managed to escape their wrath.” 
“““Shut up, Alfrik.””” 
While the elder brother bore the full annoyance of the other three Gulliver brothers for pointing out an inconsistency in their stories, Allen glared at Ottar. 
“I said it before, didn’t I? We’ve given her far too much freedom. Who cares if she’s passionate or whatever? We should force her to behave a bit more like a proper patron deity. Even if that means locking her away in a cage.” 
“—Watch your mouth, filthy cat.” 
“A stray like you has no right to infringe upon our goddess’s freedom.” 
The Gulliver brothers had instantly put their bickering aside to confront Allen for his comment, but he refused to back down, spitting back with venom in response to the four sets of murderous eyes now trained on him. 
“A bunch of nobody prums who can’t do shit by themselves shouldn’t be so cocky.” 
“Heh…Hee-hee…Now is the time for ones such as I, who have surpassed savage valor, to show their devotion…No one can match my zeal, and of course that includes you worthless rabble…” 

“I said quit talking already, Hegni.” 
With even the dark elf Hegni joining in, the meeting was quickly spiraling out of control. Hedin’s heavy sigh went unheard as the hostile atmosphere thickened around the round table. The leadership of Freya Familia, or rather all of Freya’s children, did not have particularly good relations with one another. In fact, the majority was often at one another’s throats. The only one they had sworn loyalty to was Freya. And the only thing they desired was her favor. The other followers with whom she had shared her ichor were nothing more than obstacles to be kicked aside. In order to demonstrate who was more deserving of her love, they held death matches masquerading as training every day. 
Despite knowing that was happening, instead of putting a stop to it, Freya would simply smile and say, “You get along well, don’t you?” 
But that severe internal rivalry was the secret behind the dominance of the city’s strongest faction. The ceaseless competition that cast aside cheap platitudes like “working together to grow and mature” was what enabled them to reach ever greater heights at a speed that no one else in the city could match. And they did all of it in order to court their goddess’s love. Freya’s charisma and divinity were what drove them. 
Theirs was a strength born of refusing to pay any heed to their comrades, the polar opposite of Loki Familia, led by Braver and other adventurers who banded together to reach their true potential. 
On one side was an assembly of powerful individuals who constantly probed one another to maintain their keen edge. On the other was an organization of like-minded allies who cooperated closely to cover one another’s weaknesses. That was the most fitting description of the two familias at the top of all Orario. 
“Starting another unsightly quarrel won’t solve anything. Whatever we do, we should do it quickly…” 
Hedin pointed out the meeting’s lack of progress in the hopes of making some headway. 
Unable to dispute the elf so handsome that even deities admired him for it, Allen and the others scoffed as Ottar nodded and returned to the original topic. 
“Restraining Lady Freya…will not be an option this time, either. Indeed, if we snatch away her freedom, it will only cause an even more severe outburst later. The best we can do is to protect her from the shadows.” 
Everyone’s eyes lit up at Ottar’s grave tone. They were all glaring, intent on keeping one another in check. The meeting had shifted to the next dispute on the docket: Of all the first-tier adventurers in the familia, who was best suited to protect Freya? 
“I’ll go with her. I’m her chariot.” Allen was the first to speak up. 
“Heh.” One of the prums immediately sneered at his response. 
“—Which of you assholes laughed?” 
The cat person exploded with murderous rage in the blink of an eye as the Gulliver brothers openly ridiculed him. 
“A cat pulling a chariot? Don’t make me laugh.” 
“Hey, we won’t get anywhere this way, so drop it, Dvalinn.” 
“Quit pulling chariots and just go plow the fields already, livestock.” 
“Listen to me, Berling.” 
“Filthy cat, rutting just because our goddess scratched your chin once or twice.” 
“I said stop already, Grer!” 
“““This is why pets like you are so worthless!””” 
“Stop this!!!” 
—More accurately, only three of the Gulliver brothers were mocking Allen. The eldest was desperately trying to hold them back. 
Alfrik Gulliver was the most worldly of the four brothers. Though he was older than his siblings by only a few moments, the role of reining in his unruly brothers often fell to him. 
Even as it became clear that Alfrik was on the verge of tears from yelling, no one at the table seemed inclined to help. As far as the rest of them were concerned, they considered this business as usual. 
The situation was deteriorating and only getting more explosive by the minute, which prompted Ottar to speak once more in a heavy tone. 
“…As I suspected, I’m the one who should go with her.” 
“““Huh?””” 
In an instant, the air around the table froze. As if they moved with the will of one mind, every single person around the table glared at Ottar. 
“Know your place, boar. Bold of you to propose standing next to our goddess with that enormous head of yours.” 
“Besides, how exactly are you planning to sneak around with that huge body of yours, meathead?” 
“You’ll just make her uncomfortable, meathead.” 
“Have some shame, meathead.” 
“The only joke you should stick to is that ridiculous thing you call a body, meathead.” 
“Hee-hee-hee…M-meathead.” 
“You really are quite the disappointment, Hegni. That said, you are a meathead, Ottar.” 
“……” 
Unsurprisingly, Allen and the rest were quite unhappy with the boaz adventurer entrusted with serving as Freya’s retainer. 
Ottar’s face went blank as he fell silent, mercilessly berated from all sides by his heartless comrades. It wasn’t because he was the head of the familia and believed that he should be where the buck stopped when the familia members complained. No, even Ottar could get angry and had limits to his patience. He wasn’t that tolerant. However, he recognized that as a simple warrior, he could not win against them with his words. In other words, what he needed in order to silence them was—his fists. 
He exchanged gazes with each and every one of them. 
Even when empty, a first-tier adventurer’s fist could easily be considered a lethal weapon, and Ottar’s cracked as he clenched it. Right when it seemed like the tension was about to snap, Helen entered the room. 
“Umm…Lady Freya has left behind a letter and gone out…” 
“““What?!””” 
Ottar and the others all swung around to focus on Freya’s lady-in-waiting. They all froze, wide-eyed, like statues. 
—This bunch is beyond help. 
Helen’s eyes stared off into the distance as that single thought crossed her mind. 
 
“It should be fine as long as I don’t cause a fuss inside Orario, right?” Freya, would-be queen, spoke to no one in particular as she stood outside the giant walls enclosing the Labyrinth City. 
She realized her excuse was nothing but exploiting a technicality, but that was hardly enough to stop the capricious goddess from going where her whims took her. 
Just a few scant hours ago, the goddess had quietly forced her way into the Guild chief’s office. The head of operations, Royman Mardeel, was understandably flustered by her sudden appearance as she approached him with a seductive look. Once an enamored expression appeared on his face, Freya struck. 
“—You don’t want me to tell Ouranos the secret you’ve been keeping, do you?” 
Royman turned deathly pale, and Freya smiled broadly as she whispered a proposition. “If you find it agreeable, we could just say that I enthralled you and made you let me out of the city.” 
As she stood there with a smile that would captivate any victim, she was without a doubt the epitome of an enchantress. She was like the wind itself, slipping through any and every crack in the city, and even the highest-ranking official’s secrets were not safe. 
The Guild chief customarily forbade familias from leaving the city, let alone their deities, but Freya’s ultimatum left him little choice. In the end, he caved in to her request and allowed her to depart. 
“It’s rather refreshing to see the outside world like this…” She laughed to herself quietly. “…Or perhaps it’s simply the building anticipation that I’m feeling.” 
A sea of grassland plains spread out before Freya. All along the road paved with white stone stretching into the distance like a bridge, the smell of fresh blossoms and flower petals dancing in the air seemed to greet her. Spring was in full swing. Freya was certain the goddess of this gentle season was surely in a good mood and blessing her trip. 
“East, west, north, or south?…You there, which direction do you think would be best?” Freya called out to a group of people on their way to the city. 
The goddess was sensibly wearing a robe with the hood pulled up to conceal her identity. Passing her by was a traveling merchant with a horse-drawn cart, some travelers in road-worn clothes, and a demi-human bard. Staggered by the goddess’s beauty that was apparent even when obscured, they each pointed in the direction they recommended. 
The Beor Mountain Range to the north. 
“—If you pass through the rugged valleys, there is a hidden lake as beautiful as any in the Dungeon.” 
The saltwater lakes leading to the ocean to the west. 
“—This time of year, you should be able to see a sight that can’t be found anywhere else in the world: waterfalls rising up into the sky.” 
The stretch of land that led to the center of the continent to the east. 
“—You will be greeted by the wondrous bazaars that have thrived from trade that spills out from the Silken Road.” 
The unexplored expanses that had not yet been fully mapped to the south. 
“—The remnants and ruins lost to the passage of time will surely show you something that has never been seen in this lifetime.” 
Freya smiled faintly as the children of the mortal plane sung the praises of each respective direction, like odes in honor of a goddess. Her eyes narrowed bewitchingly as she looked out at the scene unfolding before her. 
“Now then, where could my Odr be waiting for me?”