I Was a Sword When I Reincarnated (LN) - Volume 12 - Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

King Granzell

TWO DAYS PASSED. Peace had yet to return to the capital, but at least the fighting had stopped, and the marquis’ men were no more. But shortages of food, shelter, and medicine continued. Tensions were mounting. If it kept going like this, a riot might break out. 

The main problem was shelter. Tents had been set up for the people who lost their homes, but there weren’t enough to go around. At least some of the problem was because the nobles were claiming whole tents for themselves. So, somewhere that could have housed twenty people now only housed two or three. And there were enough nobles doing this to cause an issue.

At first, I thought they should just stick the nobles in together with the commoners, but that would be problematic. For starters, sharing a living space with some stuck-up nobles would be torturous. It would be more comfortable to sleep on the streets with a blanket. Nobles also had bigger egos than adventurers, so rank became a problem. A count would not stand to share living quarters with a baron. Even during an emergency, they had to save face.

Eventually, the commoners who shared tents with a noble moved to stay with their friends and relatives, but the bickering continued. Nobles regularly complained that it was an insult to have to live in such conditions. Some of them even commandeered the houses of commoners. Fights broke out, and the chasm between the lives of the rich and the poor grew deeper.

To make things worse, strong winds stirred up the ruins of the noble district, causing dust storms. Fran set up wind barriers around the shelters, and people were very grateful for it. Some nobles ordered her to put up barriers around their tents, but of course she refused anyone who didn’t ask with common courtesy.

Still, aid had started coming in from neighboring cities, including food and security personnel. More helping hands were expected to come from all over the kingdom. Meanwhile, adventurers and soldiers were clearing up the rubble while the knights kept the peace.

The royal family was safe and had been moved to a secure location. Apparently, they were staying at a noble villa in the residential area. I had no idea what the king was like. The only impression I had of kings came from comic books. Specifically, the ones that said things like “a king must protect his men!” as the palace crumbled around him. But a real king would have to be as strong as the Beast King to do that. For normal rulers, it was more prudent to get somewhere safe. After all, a king could do more good for his kingdom and citizens by guiding them through the reconstruction efforts than by stubbornly dying in his castle.

“Sorry to keep you.”

“It’s okay.”

“Indeed.”

We were visiting Count Bayreeds, who was staying in one of the knight’s stations after his manor was destroyed. I thought we would have left by now, but the capital needed all the help it could get.

“Why did you call us?” 

“Well, I wanted to thank you for telling me the details of the incident. You were a great help. Both of you.”

The count already knew that Velmeria was alive and in Urslars’ care. As much as he grieved her loss, he was thankful that she was still alive. Bayreeds had let Velmeria go, but Fredrick, the Drakefiend Halfling, had gone with her. He disappeared as soon as the conversation was over, despite the injuries Fanatix had inflicted upon him. I suppose he was more loyal to Velmeria than to the count.

“Where should I start?” Bayreed mused. “I think you’ll be happy to know that the state won’t be pressing charges against Garrus. However, he will be assigned guards to monitor him for the time being.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He was acquitted of all crimes once it was clear that he was being manipulated. And besides, it would be foolish to punish him, given the current chaos.” 

“What do you mean?”

“His Highness prioritizes the kingdom’s well-being above everything else. The country has already suffered enough damage to its national power and pride. That situation must not be allowed to get any worse.”

The threat of Raydoss loomed large from the north, and the notion of an ever-loyal class of nobles was shattered by this incident. But how was Garrus tied to national interest?

“Even before this, Garrus was the closest thing we had to a Godsmith. Now, he’s actually touched a Godsword. It is better to turn the other cheek to his involvement and let him work for the kingdom instead of punishing him. Besides, there’s also the matter of the Adventurer’s Guild.”

“…?”

Fran tilted her head, but Forlund knew what the count meant.

“Favors.”

“That’s right. A lot of adventurers owe Garrus their livelihoods. Imagine the outrage if we charged him with crimes.”

Garrus traveled across Granzell, selling quality equipment to adventurers for cheap. We were among such adventurers when we met him in Alessa. Fran had just started out, but even then, he provided her with excellent armor. There were probably countless adventurers like her who owed their first gear set to him.

“This country is home to a large population of adventurers. There was that large influx after Raydoss expelled them from their kingdom. Afterward, we made policies which gave preferential treatment to adventurers.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I can see you don’t understand, Fran. We have five A-Ranks, and over ten former A-Ranks. Granzell is the only one with that many adventurers among the people. Of course, there are fewer of them now, but even so…”

We only really knew about Granzell and the Beastman Nation. The latter had a former adventurer for a king, but these two were the exception rather than the rule. Adventurers were given tax breaks here, which made their lives easier. 

“That isn’t without its problems. Granzellian knights and soldiers are weaker as a result, but that’s a subject for another time.”

With more adventurers around, fewer knights and soldiers were needed for monster hunts, making it difficult for them to level up. Knights were always intended to deal with people rather than beasts, and so the knights of Granzell specialized in civilian peacekeeping.

“In any case, adventurers have a lot of power here, and the state will need to call upon that power in the future. Adventurers will become pivotal in the coming years.”

The last thing the state wanted was to annoy them. Garrus had been saved by his deeds.

Meanwhile, Count Bayreeds had also escaped severe punishment. He was relieved of his office as Knight Commander, but all he had to do was pay a pittance in damages—or otherwise work them off.

“I was prepared to give up my lands and be confined in my own home…”

The count had failed to prevent a rebellion and thereby allowed most of the capital to be destroyed. Furthermore, his own daughter was one of the prime agents in the destruction. As Knight Commander, he was more than ready to take responsibility for what had happened, but the king had other plans. Instead of charging the count with negligence, he simply shifted the blame to Marquis Aschtner for secretly housing Fanatix. The king must have felt it more prudent to enlist Count Bayreeds’ help in reconstructing of the capital. And, after all the destruction and loss of life it had suffered, the capital would need all the help it could get. Ultimately, the king was quite measured in his judgment of the situation.

Did that mean Velmeria was off the hook?

“The casualties and destruction my daughter caused were far too great. She attacked the palace—even if she was being manipulated. Besides, there are too many witnesses who saw what she did.”

Compared to the self-destructing soldiers, the damage Velmeria caused was on another level. Granting her amnesty would set a bad precedent.

“For now, the king has assumed direct control of Aschtner’s lands, as well as the lands of his accomplices. They will be redistributed at a later date.”

Probably to the nobles who lost the most in this disaster.

“One last thing. The two of you have been summoned to have an audience with the king. You are to go to the mansion where he is staying today.”

Wait? The king? As in the ruler of Granzell?

“Why?”

Bayreeds sighed. “You have no idea how much influence you wield, do you?”

Forlund was a known hero, sure, but Fran was also getting famous among the people that she healed, and placing in Ulmutt’s fighting tournament only added to her fame. Now, as far as the capital was concerned, she was as famous as Forlund—we just didn’t know it yet. After all, we’d spent the last two days away from other people, clearing away rubble. And we had moved through the city with teleportation and Air Hop, so Fran was too fast for ordinary people to spot.

“Forlund tells me your teacher was a great help in the battle.”

Rumors that Fran’s master—me—sacrificed himself for the sake of the capital were beginning to spread—probably because of Erianthe and Colbert. And we’d been so busy that we hadn’t had time to clarify the situation. Still, I wasn’t expecting that to reach the king!

“His Highness would like to show his appreciation to the heroes of the capital. I suppose he wants to make it clear to the citizens that he is on your side.”

Not politics again!

Fran felt the same way and let it show, but Bayreeds just gave her a wry laugh.

“Not to worry. His Highness doesn’t expect perfect manners from adventurers. I doubt the guild would stand idly by if he did, and he knows that better than anyone. He only wishes to chat with you.”

It wasn’t like we could turn down the king’s invitation. If we’d heard about it earlier, we might have been able to flee the capital, but it was too late for that now. Annoying as it was, we had no choice but to accept.

A few hours later, Fran, Forlund, and I found ourselves inside a mansion. It wasn’t very big, but it was clean and well-furnished. As the chamberlain led us down a hallway, I could feel a strange tension in the air. This was where the king was staying, and where he was tending to all the matters of the state.

Since the capital was in a state of emergency, Fran and Forlund were told to forego the formalwear, and as usual, they’d taken the suggestion at face value. Still, no weapons were allowed in, so I morphed myself into a bracelet for the time being. They would barely even notice me. At least all of this would be over quickly—after all, it was too early for dinner and too late for teatime. 

The mansion was filled with knights, which was to be expected right after a rebellion. The tension I felt was their collective Intimidation. They knew the mansion was not easy to defend, so even guests like Fran and Forlund got the brunt of it. But the two of them weren’t offended—they knew the weight of the knights’ responsibility. In fact, they were so relaxed that it didn’t feel like they were going to meet the king at all.

Fran, you have to be polite when speaking with the king, all right? I’m serious now.

“Hm.”

Actually, try not to say anything out of turn.

“Hm.”

Nope! I’m still worried! Will she be okay? She’s going to have an audience with the king here. The KING!

Are you sure you’ll be okay? If you don’t know what to say, just don’t say anything. You don’t wanna be rude.

“I know.”

Forlund looked like a veteran, but Fran was still a beginner. And if she wasn’t worried, then I was certainly worried for her. Of course, she had met the Beast King before, but he was hardly the measuring stick for how royalty behaved.

Forlund, please back her up if anything goes wrong! I’m begging you!

Very well, replied Forlund. But you have nothing to worry about. The king of these lands is not so shallow as to be upset by awkward manners. As long as people aren’t rude to him on purpose, it will be fine. 

You say that, but…

We were talking about Fran here—a girl who didn’t show nobles even a shred of respect. I mean, most of them didn’t deserve respect in the first place, but politeness was an issue in this case.

I’m ready to flee the country if things go south…

“I’ll be fine,” said Fran. “Trust me.”

“You worry too much,” Forlund agreed. 

How can you two be so calm…?

Despite my anxieties, it was soon time for our audience. The chamberlain leading Fran and Forlund stopped outside a large door. It was a dining room, ordinarily used for entertaining guests, and large enough to serve as a provisional audience room.

“The king is beyond these doors. Pray, conduct yourselves properly.”

“Hm.”

“Sir.”

The old chamberlain stared at them. “Very well.” 

He was probably thinking, “I wonder if these two will be all right?” I felt the same way.

Just like we practiced, Fran.

Hm.

The door opened from the inside, revealing a simple audience room. It was probably modified after the king decided to move in. A red carpet came out of nowhere, extending from the door all the way to the throne. The throne was much simpler than the one we saw in the Beastman Nation, but it was still extravagant. A middle-aged man in lavish clothing sat upon it, and if I was being honest, he looked a bit out of place.

He wore a thick red robe which restricted his movement and made him look like a bishop. His feet were adorned with sparkling sandals, and a small crown adorned his head. I assumed it must’ve been one made for everyday use. The sight was quite breathtaking.

The man was around fifty years old, and while his hairline was beginning to recede, his body was quite well-built. Not as much as a warrior, but enough to showcase his discipline. He wasn’t a tyrant with a beer belly, that was sure. This king was nothing like the powerful rulers we had gotten acquainted with in our travels. Although to be fair, our points of comparison were the S-Rank Beast King and the Phyllius royals who possessed their own Godsword.

Knights and nobles stood on either side of him, and I could tell that half the nobles were looking down on Fran. Still, the other half happily welcomed her and Forlund both. In fact, most of the better-dressed nobles seemed to feel that way. They recognized the importance of adventurers in Granzell. The knights, on the other hand, remained as stone-faced as ever. The strongest among them stood closest to the king, and he was a very strong man, indeed.

His skin was white as snow and his hair was fine as silver. He was only around 180 centimeters tall, but the pressure and mana he gave off amplified his presence. I once heard that bodyguards looked intimidating to deter potential assailants, but this man was on another level. He declared his strength to everyone who approached the king so they would think twice before doing anything funny. On the flip side, anyone who couldn’t sense his strength wasn’t worth his attention.

He has no blind spots…

He was probably around A-Rank in strength, but unfortunately, I couldn’t use Identify. After all, we were in the presence of royalty. This man was the king’s royal guard, and perfectly positioned to attack Fran and Forlund if he had to.

“Go forth,” the chamberlain said.

Fran and Forlund stepped forward and bent at the knee. Good, just as we practiced. In fact, Fran’s etiquette was so proper that it shocked the nobles. They weren’t expecting this little adventurer to be so well versed in court etiquette. In the end, Baron Allsand was good for something. His Court Etiquette Skill was top-notch.

“We are extremely honored to have been granted audience with Your Highness,” Forlund said. 

Fran remained quiet and kept her head down. The chamberlain told them that that was good enough. Somehow, things were working out.

“Arise,” the king said.

“Your Highness,” the two of them said, raising their heads.

So far, so good.

“You have done a great service to the kingdom.”

They nodded. “Your Highness.”

Everything was going according to plan. The audience continued just as formally, until the king gave them his compliments and drew things to a close. There wasn’t any small talk at all. What a letdown.

I was expecting him to talk about the future of Granzell or something.

Hm.

No court ranks offered. No awards. Nothing.

We had talked to Erianthe before we left, and she had told us to be careful about refusing a court rank. That could come back to bite us in the ass later. Instead, if Fran awarded a rank, Erianthe advised her to show the Golden Beast Fang Award she’d received in the Beastman Nation.

That award had come in handy outside the audience room too. After that idiot noble had tried to recruit Fran the other day, there were many more who wanted to associate themselves with the Black Cat Saint. Didn’t they have anything better to do while the capital was in crisis? Apparently not. They hadn’t been asked to help with the important task of reconstruction, and judging by how stupid they were when they approached Fran, that was probably for the best. 

But there were so many of them, and some even refused to back down after we namedropped the count. We asked Erianthe what to do, and the Golden Beast Fang was her solution. The award was much more powerful than we initially thought. When Fran showed it to her, Erianthe literally jumped.

Not that foreign awards carried much weight in Granzell, but it did show that Fran was connected to the Beastman Nation in a significant way. She was a beastman after all, so she could pass as a native of that land. And, since the Beastman Nation Granzell’s ally, Erianthe supposed that showing the award would deter any forceful invitations.

I didn’t want people thinking that Fran was in the pocket of the Beastman Nation, but she was comfortable there, and it was much better than having a court rank forced upon her. Maybe the Beast King knew that it would help her when he gave her the award. Anyway, I was worrying too much—so much that I felt like I’d lost a few pounds, just from worrying. Had my blade gotten thinner? 

Anyway, I needn’t have worried—the audience ended quietly and without interruption. 

“You two.”

But just when I was breathing a sigh of relief, the chamberlain stopped us on our way out of the mansion. That didn’t bode well, and the next words out of his mouth were the very ones that I didn’t want to hear.

“The king is waiting for you in another room. Right this way.”

The chamberlain didn’t wait for Fran and Forlund’s response before leading the way. I guess he thought it was impossible for them to disobey him.

Fran, remember to be polite.

“Hm? Sure.”

Had she forgotten? If she had, then I’m glad I reminded her!

We walked through the mansion for a few minutes before reaching the room where the person I didn’t want to meet was waiting for us.

The chamberlain motioned to a couch. “Please.”

“Sir.”

“Hm.”

Fran and Forlund sat on the sofa, and quite a comfortable sofa it was. I guess that was one of the perks of living in a mansion. We were now in a snug little drawing room which was smaller than the audience room from earlier, but that only made me even more nervous. The king was closer to us now—his sofa was only three meters away from ours.

“Relax,” he said. “This is not an official meeting.”

So he says, but no one’s going to take that at face value.

“Hm.”

No one except Fran, that is! No, we’re still okay. She’s only relaxed her shoulders. She can still recover!

Fran, don’t let your guard down!

Hm?

Uh, just sit straight for as long as you’re here!

All right.

That was close. But at least my girl could sit as straight as a board if she wanted to! 

Now if only Sir Silver Hair would stop glaring at her. You’re going to make her think you want to fight! Things won’t end well if the two of you clash!

As I was freaking out, the king started speaking.

“I am Wisolla Bredd Granzell.”

This was certainly the same man we met in the audience room, but now he seemed way too relaxed for comfort. I scanned the room and only detected the king, two knights, and the chamberlain. Usually, they would have guards hiding behind the walls, but not this time.

Fran tilted her head, and the king caught her eye.

“What is it, child?”

“Why…does Your Highness not have guards?”

“Ah. I told my knights that they would not be necessary. They would only be a hindrance if the two of you were to attack.” The king looked intently at Fran. “You don’t seem very strong by my count, but…”

Apparently, the king had an Identification Skill of some kind. But Fake Identify meant that she only appeared to be an average adventurer. However, it didn’t fool the silver-haired knight next to him.

“She is at least as strong as I,” he said.

“And I have no reason to doubt Luga’s words. Allow me to introduce you. This is the Captain of the Royal Guard, the King’s Knight, Luga Moufle.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Luga Moufle, the silver-haired knight, greeted Fran and Forlund without taking his eyes off of them. This man was meticulous to a tee.

“He is among the few powerful warriors of my kingdom. I trust you will see each other quite frequently.”

The king emphasized the words my kingdom. He really wanted Fran and Forlund on Granzell’s side. But King Granzell was quite different from the Beast King. While Rigdith was an intimidating warrior, the man in front of us was more politician than fighter. Even so, he did not lack the dignity of a king. Although he told us to be at ease earlier, he made it perfectly clear that he was peerless in this room. He had the quiet grandeur of the true elite. I appreciated the fact that he wasn’t an idiot, but that meant we shouldn’t let our guard down.

“Let us get down to business. We do not have time to waste.”

The king glanced at the chamberlain, and the old man immediately took out two small boxes, about thirty centimeters in length. He set them before Fran and Forlund. Inside was a medal decorated with jewels.

“These belong to the highest rank of the nobility.”

Well, that came out of nowhere. We couldn’t be roundabout in rejecting this either. Was there an ulterior motive behind this gift? Or was it granted from the goodness of the king’s heart? I couldn’t tell by looking at him.

Teacher? Fran asked. 

Hang on. Forlund, what should we do?

Telepathy was very useful at times like this.

I see, said Forlund. Fran doesn’t wish to accept the title?

Of course not.

Forlund nodded. Very well. Let me handle this.

He was so reliable!

“As much as we appreciate Your Highness’ offer…”

Forlund looked the king in the eye and shook his head.

“You would refuse?” the king asked. 

“As I did the last time. The same goes for her.”

“Hm. I refuse.”

Fran! Wording!

Royal Etiquette helped with Fran’s mannerisms, but not her vocabulary. I told her to rephrase.

“I’m sorry. I would like to continue being an adventurer.”

“Even though I am granting this to you?”

The king furled his eyebrows with disdain, and Luga Moufle increased his Intimidation. Was he getting ready to throw down?

Pressure filled the room. This was when the weak and the flatterers would fold. Even I was getting queasy in my nonexistent stomach.

“Most unfortunate,” Forlund bowed.

“I apologize,” Fran said, following his cue.

The two of them treated Luga’s pressure like a faint breeze, but to me, the silence was stifling. King Granzell frowned.

“It is as you said, Luga,” he scoffed, sinking into his sofa.

“They are adventurers, Your Highness.”

“I was right to do this away from the lower nobles. Imagine the noise they would make.”

At least they both seemed to expect it. 

“They have no idea how much they owe to adventurers,” he sighed. “Even the greatest among them are beginning to forget…”

The king planned to give Fran and Forlund their ranks away from the nobles so that the nobles wouldn’t hate them. Was their disdain also an act? And yet it remained there.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve offered this gift to Hundred Blade Forlund, so I was expecting his refusal. But why do you refuse, Black Lightning Princess? I know your kind hates managing land, but you would not need to. At the highest rank of nobility, you would be like a count without a territory. I thought you would appreciate this gift.”

It was a court rank for adventurers. In exchange for the yearly noble taxes, the adventurer swore fealty to the kingdom. Since they were no longer considered adventurers, they could participate in wars. In exchange, the adventurer would gain honor, as well as the backing of the kingdom.

“Why is it that you will not accept?”

Forlund answered the king’s question simply. “Freedom.”

“I am afraid that I am unfamiliar with that word,” the king scoffed. “Aren’t you the least bit interested in power and money? What about you, child?”

“I don’t…have no particular interest in such things.”

“‘In such things’…! You adventurers are always…! But never mind. You may leave.”

Did we upset the king? At least Luga didn’t show any signs of attacking us. Maybe it was because he expected us to refuse in the first place. I guess he wanted us to know that he was still displeased regardless.

“Forget everything that happened here,” the king said as we were leaving. “I shall forget as well.”

His anger was still there, but he didn’t want to make enemies of us. That’s why he wanted us to forget his less-than-kingly conduct.

Phew. Well, at least that worked out somehow. Honestly, I was planning to leave the country.

As I said yesterday, said Forlund. The king places the good of the kingdom above everything else. He is not so foolish as to make enemies of us. Of course, if he thought it was better for the kingdom if he were to save face, he would’ve attacked us on the spot.

King Granzell wasn’t one to give in to his emotions, but he was still intimidating. A different kind of intimidating from the Beast King perhaps, but he still put pressure on us.

I’m just glad we made it out in one piece.

With the audience over, we made our way back to the Adventurer’s Guild. Erianthe had asked to see us. When we got there, the place was packed with adventurers. It wasn’t quite as busy as a Japanese train during rush hour—maybe more like a children’s schoolyard during recess. With all the aid coming from nearby towns, the adventurer population had at least doubled. There weren’t enough beds to go around, and many had taken to sleeping on the floor in the guild hall.

Fran was already famous among the local adventurers, but some out-of-towners would want to mess with her. The low-rank adventurers were mostly in charge of clearing the rubble, and while some went about the work with magic and skills, 80 percent used good old-fashioned manpower. That meant that most of them weren’t strong enough to sense Fran’s strength.

Many of these adventurers probably dreamed of coming to the capital and working on exciting quests. But when they got here, they were greeted by mountains of rubble, and the only work awaiting them was the hard labor of reconstruction. Adventurers weren’t saints, and many were all too eager to vent their frustrations on a little girl, but no such adventurer came at Fran today. Maybe they heard about what happened to the people who came at her yesterday and the day before. 

To be clear, we healed them back up afterwards. After all, the capital couldn’t afford to lose any manpower. But we also told them that worse things would happen if they didn’t take their job seriously. Right now, they were probably working up a good, productive sweat. And apparently, the story had spread to the newcomers, because no one bothered Fran today. In fact, they looked terrified when they saw her.

“Stellia.”

“Come on up!”

“Okay.”

The high-rank lines were temporarily closed to make room for more low-rank adventurers, and Stellia was busier than ever. It had to be tough work keeping all these adventurers in line, but she was managing it well. Usually, adventurers flocked to the prettiest receptionist, leaving Stellia’s line deserted, but today…

“Hey! There’s a line here over here! Stop complaining and shut the hell up!”

Stellia was using Intimidate to get the newcomers in line. They looked pale by the time they were organized, and I wished them the best of luck.

We left the ruckus of the first floor and arrived at Erianthe’s office.

“So much work… Never-ending work…”

Oof.

“Paper mountain.”

All the paperwork had somehow increased since the last time we saw it, and Erianthe sat in the center of it all, looking haggard and ghastly.

“Erianthe?”

“Oh,” she groaned. “You’re here… Hang on.”

“Hm.”

Over the next five minutes, Erianthe had calmed herself down with a cup of tea and gave Fran some documents.

“What’s this?” Fran asked.

“Your appointment letter. You’re getting promoted to B-Rank.”

“Hm? I’m promoted? Why?”

That came out of nowhere. Fran hadn’t done enough to even be eligible.

Erianthe sighed. “Do you know how much you’ve accomplished in this incident? You defeated the monster that annihilated Zefield and his party, you healed hundreds of people, moved mountains of rubble…and gods only know all the other things you did.”

Now that she mentioned it, Fran had done a whole a lot. Aside from Urslars and Forlund, no one else had contributed more during this incident. 

“I know you don’t like the hassle of promotion, but the things that were holding you back are no longer applicable. Not after what happened in the capital.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your combat rating was never really a problem. You’re as good as an A-Rank, really. But now we finally have evidence of that.”

Erianthe had seen the battle against the marquis, and if she wasn’t a good judge of combat strength, no one was. Fran had proven herself in actual combat instead of a simulated duel.

“Moving on to your accomplishments, you’ve made a name for yourself in the capital, and have been awarded a medal from the Beastman Nation. So, you have more than enough.”

Certainly enough to make B-Rank.

“As for your attitude toward nobility, your audience with the king has proven that you have at least a base level of manners and courtesy.”

So that was it.

B-Ranks had more dealings with nobility, and the guild had been worried about how Fran would treat them. They weren’t off-base to be worried, but she’d proved them wrong during her audience with the pinnacle of nobility—the king.

“A noble acquaintance of mine said your etiquette was perfect. In fact, you behaved better than most lower-ranking nobles. It shocked them.”

Her friend must have been one of the nobles standing around the king. 

“And I hear you refused the gift of a court rank?” Erianthe asked.

“Hm. But he was mad about it.”

“Oh, the king isn’t mad at you. Maybe he had to act that way so adventurers wouldn’t make light of him.” Erianthe paused. “Anyway. While the king isn’t to be trifled with, he doesn’t act on his emotions. And he would never do something stupid like make an enemy of you. You can count on that.”

So the king was acting. He must have wanted to show that he wasn’t to be refused lightly. But at the same time, he still wanted Fran and Forlund to associate with him. That’s why he asked them to forget his small outburst—which they had caused—to make them feel like they owed him. And so, he showed magnanimity and mercy to the adventurers who had so brazenly refused him. At least, that was how it looked like to anyone who didn’t know better.

This way, if the king issued us a quest in the future, he could say, “You refused my honors before, so surely you will not refuse this quest?”

I mean, he still let a coup happen right under his nose, but at the same time, he really was the king of a great kingdom.

And King Granzell was up against Fanatix, after all. A Godsword that was nigh impossible to detect.

“He wouldn’t try anything funny,” said Erianthe. “Not when you have an award from the Beastman Nation. Granzell’s relations with them will be pivotal in the near future. That’s also why Count Bayreeds received a lighter punishment.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Their relationship is quite famous. Rumor has it Bayreeds was removed from his position so that he could serve as envoy to the Beastman Nation.”

Going easy on Bayreeds and assigning him as envoy would only strengthen Granzell’s relationship with the Beastman Nation.

“Your award had a great effect on your promotion too,” said Erianthe. “The guild was concerned that you were just a child who walloped nobility. But now they know that you have a powerful supporter.”

Strong fighter, knew how to handle herself around nobility, had a powerful supporter. It was clear that there was no reason as to why Fran shouldn’t be made B-Rank.

“Honestly, the other guildmasters have asked me to promote you no matter what, and the guild’s integrity would come into question if we didn’t. So congratulations, you’re promoted!”

Erianthe made it sound like that was the end of it, but I saw the worry in her eyes. Fran still had the right to refuse. Moreover, she still had reason to refuse. After all, it would mean we didn’t have to deal with so many pesky nobles. Even with Fran’s sponsor, some nobles just wouldn’t leave her alone.

What now, Fran?

Hm? I’m taking it.

Are you sure? It’s going to further complicate things. Especially with idiot nobles and adventurers around.

I’ll just kick their asses.

Right…

It was up to me to rein her in from now on, but I loved Fran’s spirit. And so, we gratefully accepted the promotion.

A few days later, Fran was summoned to the Adventurer’s Guild once more. People stared and whispered when she entered the hall, but none of them looked at her with scorn. Instead, they gazed at her with either respect or fear. The greenhorns were in awe of the youngest B-Rank in history, but the fear was from the people whose asses Fran had kicked—as well as those who’d witnessed the whooping.

Either way, I was glad that they kept their distance. I guess being promoted had its perks. In fact, fewer nobles were approaching Fran too, and rumors that she had the Beast King’s backing were beginning to spread. Apparently, the king mentioned it at dinner one evening.

Of course, some nobles still approached her—mostly the ones who thought they were exceptional when they clearly weren’t. If they were anything special, then they wouldn’t be stuck with nothing to do right now. Still, a single Intimidate was enough to keep them away, so they didn’t get in the way of our work much at all.

Even so, Fran had less and less to do over the past few days. The critically wounded were all healed, and the court doctors and mages were taking care of them now. Out of town adventurers were clearing the rubble, and knights were keeping public order. 

But Fran still wanted to help. She asked Count Bayreeds if she should make temporary housing with Land spells, but he rejected her proposal. The outer walls were crawling with monsters so it was no place for anyone to live, and while the common district was densely populated, it had been spared most of the destruction. Even in the obliterated noble district, temporary housing wasn’t viable. After all, it would have to be knocked down during reconstruction—driving up labor costs. Ultimately, tents were the more economical option.

To be honest, I was thinking about Earth’s sensibilities when I made the proposal, but things were different in this world. For one thing, there were no prefab houses here, so any temporary accommodations would have to be destroyed sooner or later. So, as much as we wanted to help with the reconstruction, we wouldn’t be staying much longer. Fran had healed the wounded and set up wind barriers to protect the people from sandstorms, but with those dangers pretty much past, she was left with nothing to do.

I guess that was why she was summoned back to the guild. However, this time it wasn’t Erianthe who called her, but it was Forlund.

“I’m here,” she said.

“Good.” 

The two were as wordless as ever. Forlund guided us down the hall, so I guess we weren’t visiting Erianthe’s office today.

“Here.”

The room he led us to looked like a hotel room, so it was probably reserved for out-of-town adventurers who had business in the capital. There were times when adventurers couldn’t use inns, either because of time or the nature of their work. When that happened, they stayed here. 

“Garrus’s room?” Fran asked. 

“Yes.”

Garrus was its current occupant. Although the state had determined not to sentence the blacksmith, he was still under the care of the Adventurer’s Guild. Eiworth’s knowledge of alchemy had helped keep him out of the state’s hands, and the king wasn’t going to do anything to upset the Adventurer’s Guild. As for us, we decided to wait until Garrus woke up, so he could make the decision about what he wanted to do. 

When Forlund entered the room, we found Eiworth, Erianthe, and Garrus were waiting for us. Garrus was sitting up and welcomed Fran as she came in.

“You’re awake?” Fran asked.

“Yeah. Looks like I put you through a lot of trouble. Thanks. And sorry about everything.”

He was still looking worse for wear, but at least he could talk now. I wondered if the last of the drugs had finally worn off. 

“Are you okay now?” Fran asked. 

Eiworth grinned. “Of course he is. After all, I was the one who treated him. I used only the finest spirit potions. Oh, don’t worry about the cost. The guild has already agreed to pay me—they want this dwarf alive, after all. Besides, I received precious data during the process.”

For a second, I almost thought that Eiworth was being modest by refusing payment. In fact, he was as opportunistic as ever, and treated Garrus’ like any other experiment. Fortunately, it worked out, so we couldn’t really complain.

“Also,” said Eiworth. “I made a deal with the state.”

“What kind of deal?”

“Can you believe that they complained after I used their weak mages?” he scoffed.

Eiworth had teamed up with the kingdom’s mages and gave them a powerful potion. It boosted their strength and stamina, enabling them to fight without tiring, but the moment the potion wore off, they were struck with hellish soreness and insomnia.

“Of course they complained. They don’t have any mages left to help with the reconstruction effort because of you.”

“I eliminated the threat and prevented further damage,” Eiworth protested. 

“I know. That’s why they aren’t pressing charges, so long as you heal Garrus.”

“Hmph. I know that.”

“More importantly, we need to talk about what’s going to happen to Garrus now. That’s why we called you here today, Fran.”

Fran was the one who issued Garrus’ protection quest, after all. So, the guild had an obligation to her. Erianthe and Eiworth had already explained the situation to Garrus—even the parts the dwarf couldn’t remember. Even so, he felt responsible for everything he’d done.

“What do you want to do, Garrus?” Fran asked.

Garrus groaned as he thought about it. His actions had contributed to the destruction of the capital, even if he was being manipulated against his will. He clenched his hands so hard that they trembled.

“I’ll help you escape if you want,” said Fran. 

“The Thieves’ Guild is also willing to assist you,” Eiworth added. 

“That goes for the Adventurer’s Guild, as well,” said Erianthe. 

“As will I,” Forlund said. 

The guilds weren’t optimistic about Garrus’ fate. If the state got a hold of him, they might lock him up and force him to perform more research on Godswords. It was kind of them to offer, but Garrus shook his head.

“I’m staying. I don’t know if I can atone for my sins, but I would like to help rebuild the city as best I can.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

Garrus knew the implications of his decision, but still he decided he would turn himself over to the state. And, judging by the determined look on his face, nothing we could say would change his mind.

“I see,” Fran muttered, disappointed.

“Sorry. After all you’ve done for me…”

“No, it’s okay. As long as it’s your choice.”

“The guild will put the pressure on them, don’t you worry!” said Erianthe. 

“The Thieves’ Guild won’t sit idly by either,” Eiworth added. 

“And neither will I,” said Forlund. 

Garris had a lot of supporters, so he would probably be okay. If nothing else, the state wouldn’t detain him. If they did, they would have to face the wrath of several guilds and A-Ranks.

Garrus bowed his head. “Sorry about this.” 

In this heartfelt moment, who else could break the silence but Eiworth?

“Are we done talking about the tedious nonsense? We are? Excellent.”

He took something out of his pocket—documents, like the ones from the other day—and started questioning Garrus. The questions were quite technical, and Eiworth referred back to his papers as they talked.

“I don’t understand how this bit works—”

“Oh, that. You see—”

“Aha. So what you’re saying is—”

“That would be here—”

Garrus couldn’t ignore Eiworth—after all, he was treated him while he was sick. But Garrus didn’t seem like he hated it either. In fact, the dwarf looked like he was enjoying himself.

Every time you get a bunch of researchers in a room, this is what happens!

The two of them carried on talking, ignorant of the exasperation in the room. Still, everyone was quite interested to hear more about the Fanatix replicas—especially Erianthe.

“And that about settles it.”

“So the Fanatix replicas can no longer be produced?” she asked. 

“They can’t. The Mad Faith Sword was the primary ingredient, after all.”

The first Fanatix replica was failed manatek, developed by the marquis’ alchemists. It was designed to absorb mana from its user and their surroundings and unleash it in a jet. They got as far as making prototypes, but they were never as stable or powerful as they’d hoped.

However, Fanatix was interested in the idea, and decided to modify it to look like a sword. Next, it added pieces of itself to the production line so it could use the replicas as remote-controlled substitutes. Finally, the manatek became full replicas, with pieces of Fanatix’s mind inside of them. They nullified mana because that’s what the manatek was originally designed for, and were placed in the spine because that’s how the manatek was equipped. Finally, they took the form of swords because Fanatix could only unleash its full potential in that shape.

“So now that the Sword of Mad Faith has been destroyed, the replicas can no longer be produced.”

“But whether the state will buy that story or not is a different question.”

“All this data cannot be fabricated out of thin air, and I’m sure they will discover more material at the marquis’ properties soon enough. After that, even a fool will understand it.”

Of course, the state would be interested in the Fanatix replicas. They might only be copies, but they were still replicas of a Godsword. However, if they lost control of the project, then the whole kingdom would be in danger, and King Granzell knew better than to follow that path. At the same time, the information the Thieves’ Guild had gathered from servants at the marquis’ house would show exactly how things played out once the marquis got his hands on Fanatix. Those thieves could be quite industrious.

Meanwhile, two things crossed my mind: Hummels’ night raids, and why Velmeria was chosen as the target. First of all, Hummels and the others had attacked Fran because they were looking for a strong host. Once they spotted me, she became an even more enticing target since I was made of orichalcos. However, they came across Velmeria in the process. She was a drake from a unique bloodline that possessed a powerful skill called Shinryu Form. That’s when Fanatix decided to kidnap her.

“That meant that Fanatix had to obtain the most powerful host it could before its plans could come to fruition.”

“Plans?”

Eiworth chuckled. “The mad sword was quite mad, indeed.”

He explained that the marquis discovered the Mad Faith Sword in one of his territories forty years ago. His expedition team were scouting the ruins of a hundred-year-old fort in order to repurpose it when they happened upon an underground compound overflowing with mana. The team presented the broken Godsword to the marquis, but since Fanatix was still alive, it took over. After that, the Godsword used all of the marquis’ influence and power for its own ends.

“What? It was going to cooperate with Raydoss to occupy Phyllius?” Erianthe asked, bewildered.

“To be specific,” said Eiworth. “It wanted Diablos.”

“Same difference.”

Fanatix wanted another Godsword so that it could mend itself. Of course, it needed Garrus to make more Fanatix replicas, but he was also needed to make repairs. 

“So the Raydossian invasion that happened recently…”

“Was all part of the plan.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Erianthe muttered. 

Her insectoid intuition must’ve been tingling, and that made me worry.

“We’re not hiding the fact that Slaughterfield Jean is stationed at Alessa,” she said. “In fact, we hope that the enemy will spread the word for us. After all, it will reduce their morale. But the fact that they’re still attacking…”

“Means that the Godsword prepared them for that.”

That didn’t sound good. As strong as Jean was, he was up against a military state with a plan. There was a very real chance that he could be defeated.

“Wh-why is everyone so quiet?!” Erianthe asked.

“Well, it has nothing to do with me,” Eiworth scoffed. The old man didn’t care which way the kingdom went. But that wasn’t the only reason why he was so calm. “Besides, the border town has Calamity to keep it safe.”

“What?” said Erianthe. “That makes it even worse! If Klimt actually fights…”

Eiworth had mentioned Calamity Klimt before, but Erianthe seemed more afraid of Klimt than she was of the Raydossian forces.

“Why are you guys so worried about Klimt?” Fran asked.

Erianthe paused for a moment before laying down the hard facts.

“You’re a B-Rank now, so I suppose I should tell you. Klimt is nicknamed The Calamity. He’s a powerful sorcerer capable of raining down mass destruction on friend and foe alike.”

So, his attacks covered a lot of ground, just like Urslars. 

“He was mistakenly given this nickname fifty years ago by adventurers who didn’t know any better. Now, most think that the nickname is warranted…but Klimt is the guild’s trump card. Still, it’s better if details of the incident never came to light.”

“Mistakenly?” Fran asked. 

“Yes. He actually saved a city and prevented mass destruction.”

It happened a long time ago, in a small country north of Granzell. It was a lesser kingdom and a vassal state of Raydoss. Stuck between two powerful forces, the land was subject to the political whims of both of its powerful neighbors. War always threatened to break out, and its people were constantly on their toes, ready to fight for their lives. Eventually, the overwhelming pressure and a lack of funding forced them to cast their lot with Raydoss.

At least, that was until their king tried to break free. To achieve this, he set his eyes on Spirit Magic. It didn’t cost much, so the king and invited druids to his country to develop it further. But Spirit Magic was exceptionally difficult and highly inconsistent when used by an untalented practitioner. Even if the same druid performed the same Spirit spell twice in a row, the results would change depending on their physical and mental condition and the whims of the spirit in question. Spirits didn’t think like living things, so they were liable to carry out orders in unexpected ways.

Soldiers and adventurers considered Spirit Magic too difficult, too unstable, and too weak to be of much use. Unless you were an expert, it was also extremely inconsistent, and that was its Achilles’ heel. Spirits went out of control far too often, and it took elves thousands of years of practice to make their spirits less volatile. 

In the end, the small kingdom’s experiments with Spirit Magic failed. The druids tried to summon a great spirit, but it quickly spiraled out of control. Miraculously, and unfortunately, they succeeded in summoning a greater spirit.

Spirits have a hierarchy of power: there are lower spirits, lesser spirits, intermediate spirits, great spirits, greater spirits, and king spirits. A greater spirit is as strong as an A-Threat monster—powerful enough to destroy a small country if it went berserk. The Greater Wind Spirit they summoned rampaged through the kingdom for five days, leveling over half the country, wounding and killing over fifty thousand people.

Finally, someone arrived to quell it—Klimt, the guildmaster of Alessa. He had stayed out of the experiments, but people who didn’t know any better thought that Klimt summoned the spirit himself. To overcome it, he had to form a contract with the greater spirit, and after that, he seemed to have it under full control. That only contributed to the misunderstanding. 

“In truth,” said Erianthe. “The kingdom only narrowly avoided destruction. Klimt infiltrated enemy territory, and somehow managed to enter a contract with the spirit. As insane as it sounds to talk about, it actually worked. He really is a genius among druids.”

“But Klimt got weaker as a result.” 

“How come?” Fran asked. 

Shouldn’t he have gotten stronger after having a contract with a powerful spirit? I thought that was how he became an S-Rank.

“His body is constantly straining to keep the greater spirit inside him in check. His mana output is much lower now, and his lifespan will be shorter as a result. The spirit even affected his physical body.”

“He used to be able to control multiple great spirits in battle, but that’s difficult for him now.”

No wonder his physical stats were low when I Identified him back in Alessa. I thought that was just the standard for mages, but A-Ranks didn’t usually have glaring weaknesses.

“But it’s not like he can’t fight,” Erianthe said. “He can still use the greater spirit if push comes to shove.”

Eiworth chuckled. “It’s a Greater Wind Spirit. Powerful enough to blow everything away at the roots.” 

The Adventurer’s Guild made Klimt the guildmaster of Alessa because he was Raydoss’ mortal enemy. This was the country that expelled and executed adventurers and took over the Adventurer’s Guild in its territory, after all. But Granzell was immediately south of Raydoss, and they provided adventurers with many benefits. And so Klimt was their trump card—assigned to protect their northern border. 

“Still, a trump card is only played as a last resort. That’s why Amanda and Jean are stationed in Alessa. We want to keep Klimt out of battle for as long as we can.”

The day Klimt unleashed the greater spirit was the day the world faced a threat even more powerful than Amanda.

“When he enters the fray, his greater spirit will do tremendous damage to the surrounding area, and Klimt wouldn’t be spared either. He used the spirit to fight a dragon once, and ended up in the afterlife for a short while. It’s almost impossible to fully control something like that.”

Eiworth chuckled. “I wonder who’s more dangerous: Calamity or Friendly Fire?”

They both posed a threat to their own allies and were powerful enough to wipe out whole countries. It seemed that Klimt was far stronger than I gave him credit for.

Erianthe was afraid that he would summon the spirit and losing control of it. She talked a while longer about the defense of Alessa, but stopped when she noticed that Fran wanted to speak with Garrus. Eiworth complained, of course, since there was still so much to talk about, but Forlund dragged him away for us.

After that, Fran set up a soundproof barrier. You never knew if Eiworth was listening in.

“Thanks again,” Garrus said. “I guess you found the scabbard I made?”

“Hm.”

With that name and shape? I knew something was up.

“And I knew I could count on you to notice,” said Garrus.

I’m glad things worked out, but you know there was a chance that we wouldn’t come, right?

Garrus had no way of knowing that we would keep our promise. We might have been occupied at the time, or even died in our travels, but he only shook his head and smiled.

“Nah. I knew you’d come through. You look like the type to keep promises.”

“Of course. I always keep my promises to my friends,” said Fran.

“Ga ha ha! Friends, you say! Yeah, I guess we are friends!”

“Hm.”

Garrus laughed, but it soon subsided, and his eyes filled up with sorrow. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. I wondered what was wrong.

“Anyway. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said.

“Hm?”

“Your equipment—is that my Black Cat set?”

Of course! Of course, he would wonder about Fran’s gear. Her armor looked completely different from the day he made it.

I explained how that had happened: we fought a powerful enemy, and the armor was severely beat up. The Self Repair function was weakened, and a blacksmith we met offered to repair it for us.

“The blacksmith you happened to meet… Did they happen to be a Godsmith?” Garrus asked. 

He noticed straight away. Garrus wasn’t called the world’s greatest blacksmith for nothing. He could appraise the craftmanship of something in an instant. He must’ve been sad because he was comparing Aristea’s armor to his.

Uhh…

What now? Garrus’ equipment had been modified without his consent. Even if Fran had needed it at the time, we still betrayed his trust.

I decided to apologize.

Yeah. Your armor was modified by Aristea, a blacksmith we met in Chrome. I’m sorry we did it without your permission…

“There’s nothing to be sorry for! In fact, I’m honored!”

Wha? Uhh, does that mean you’ll forgive us?

“There’s nothing to forgive, my friends! I’d be a fool to get upset with the quality of that work of art you’re wearing!” He inspected Fran’s Black Sky Tiger set, looking genuinely touched. “They upgraded named items so much… Brilliant!”

It was done by a Godsmith, after all.

“Gah! If it wasn’t for this whole mess, I’d love to become their apprentice…”

Really?

The finest blacksmith in Granzell becoming an apprentice? Well, I suppose it would mean learning from a legendary Godsmith. And it wasn’t impossible either. Aristea should be in Belioth right now, but I wasn’t sure if I should tell him that.

I’ll mention you the next time that we meet her. 

“You will?!” Garrus shouted, jumping out of bed. He grabbed Fran by the shoulders, forgetting that he was still recovering. “You’d really introduce me?”

Y-yeah. I don’t know if they’ll take you in though.

“I know that. I’ll make do with a chance of being acquainted!”

We would tell Aristea about Garrus then. What happened after that would be up to her.

I should mention that they don’t want to be used by people in power…

“I won’t tell anyone about it!” Garrus said. “I promise!”

He wasn’t one to go back on his word, but now he was looking at Fran like a predator eyeing his next meal. Was he really going to be all right?

“Can I have a closer look at your gear?” he asked. 

“Hm.”

The gear! Of course he was only interested in her gear! I should’ve known better.

He touched the fabric and knocked on its metallic parts. He looked like he was going to lean in to sniff it at one point, but he backed away. Blacksmith joke, he said. I was glad it was a joke, otherwise I would’ve needed to figure out a non-lethal way to punish the recovering dwarf. He inspected the detailing carefully.

“Hmm… Does Fran like this kind of look?”

No, Aristea just made it that way.

“I see…so this Godsmith is a woman?”

Yeah.

“I knew it. The armor looks exquisite. A woman’s touch makes all the difference.”

I thought that Garrus’ iteration of Fran’s armor was quite girly too. But apparently, he always tailored his work to his clients’ preferences. Garrus’ own taste was reflected in the Black Cat set’s boyish look.

“Besides, the design changes are peanuts compared to the difference in strength. You don’t see this kind of armor every day.”

It’s that good?

“That’s right. Especially considering the base materials. Your average B-Rank doesn’t have this kind of gear!”

Aristea’s upgrade was more powerful and valuable than I’d thought.

“I can see that you’re stronger too,” Garrus said, looking at me.

Wait, really?

“Significantly stronger,” Garrus muttered. “Even my Godsight can’t see all the data now, but I can see that you’re not the same sword I met in Alessa.” 

I appreciated the compliment, but it also made me nervous. Like having a professional appraiser tell you how much something is actually worth.

“Were you upgraded by Aristea, as well?” he asked. 

Kind of, but there’s more to it than that.

My circumstances weren’t so easily to explain, and Garrus picked up on it immediately.

“Is that so… Well, I won’t press you for the details. Just know that both of you have gotten much stronger.”

You’re making me blush.

This was the first time that anyone other than Fran had commented on my growth. Maybe I was just easy to please, but I felt genuinely happy.

Th-thanks…

“I should be thanking you,” said Garrus. “I got to see the ultimate sword and an enhanced version of the armor I made. You’ve been a sight for sore eyes.”

After that, we kept talking with Garrus about all sorts of things.

A few days after the incident…

I think it’s time we left for Alessa.

“Hm.”

Fran had finished her work and Garrus’s fate was settled, so we no longer had any business in the capital. Still, I thought that Fran could do with a little more rest.

“I can finally train.”

Fran, on the other hand, was raring to get going. I was also interested in what was happening up north. Had the Raydossian invasion been repelled? Was Alessa all right? Fran was interested too. Since their last communication, the north had been silent. More than that, Fran was very excited to train in the Demon Wolf’s Garden. She couldn’t help herself, really.

And so we decided to leave for Alessa. We needed to drop by the guild there to get permission to enter the Garden. The Demon Wolf’s Garden was an A-Rank haunt, and you needed to be at least B-Rank to enter. There wouldn’t be any penalties if we entered without permission, but the guild could intervene. Besides, we might even be able to pick up some expedition quests while we were in town.

Not much left to do in the capital now that we have our reward.

“Hm.”

But let’s stop by the guild before we leave.

“Okay.”

Fran had already received a bounty and some special rewards, but after issuing the reward for Garrus’ safekeeping, spending a lot of money at the auctions, and donating to the reconstruction of the local orphanage and shelter, we were now in the red. That being said, we still had five million gauld on hand, and all Fran’s work meant that her approval rating skyrocketed. 

She’d healed the wounded and donated to the poor, and people were beginning to call her the “Black Cat Saint.” Fran preferred “Black Cat Princess” because it had a tougher ring to it, but the people of the capital mostly called her Saint. They even greeted her that way as she made her way to the guild, and I had a feeling that the nickname might even make it’s to the neighboring towns and villages. Fran didn’t seem pleased at this development, but I sure was.

Of course, Erianthe begged her to stay in the capital. After all, the Adventurer’s Guild’s ratings were through the roof with Fran was around.

“Stellia.”

“Hey there. What brings you here today?” Stellia asked, lazily munching on a cookie. 

The capital was finally settling back into a peaceful rhythm, and the senior receptionist could relax again.

“I need to talk to Erianthe.”

“Come on in. She’ll see you any time.”

“Hm.”

I guess Fran had an all-access pass at this point. It wasn’t because of her rank promotion, but because of the trust she had built up here. Then again, it might’ve been because Stellia didn’t want to go to Erianthe’s office to tell her Fran was here.

There are people in Erianthe’s office, I warned. She might have visitors.

“Hm.”

Maybe we should visit another time. For now, we should just drop by to say hi and tell her we’d come back later.

Fran knocked on the door.

Ooh, that was a very good knock.

Hee hee.

Fran puffed out her chest slightly. It might not have seemed like anything remarkable, but to me, it was a greater mark of Fran’s growth than her promotion. I mean for Fran to knock on a door before entering? That was astounding!

“Who is it? You can come in.”

Whoever Erianthe’s guests were, I guess they didn’t need privacy. Fran entered the room and we found Erianthe chatting and laughing with some familiar fighters. It was the insectoid mercenaries we’d had the honor of fighting with, and the light atmosphere told me that they were good friends with her.

“Good timing. We were just talking about you.” Erianthe said.

“About me?”

“Yes. These are my old friends. The mercenaries of Feeler and Shell.”

“Hello there. I’m Robin. Sub-leader of Feeler and Shell.”

The sharp lobster halfling held out his hand. Outside of combat, Robin looked mostly human—his patches of shell were gone, and the only signs of his insectoid blood where his feelers and black eyes. I had a feeling his everyday stats weren’t as high as his combat stats either.

“The name’s Hobbes.”

“Effie…”

“Ann!”

“I am Shingen.”

Grasshopper, mayfly, bull ant, and clam. All took turns introducing themselves. 

Hobbes looked younger than Robin and had a cool air of smugness about him. Like his sub-leader, he looked quite human too. Effie the mayfly was quiet—even gloomy. Meanwhile, Ann the bull ant was brimming with energy. And, as expected, Shingen was as kind as he was strong.

“We usually operate in the small kingdoms down south,” Robin said. “But we’re up north on business. Lucky for us, we happened to be in the capital.” 

Fran tilted her head. “Lucky?” 

Are you sure you don’t mean unlucky? You almost died a few days ago.

“Yeah. We made it just in time to help our friend in need, after all.”

“And make a little money on the side,” Hobbes added.

Robin was as hot-blooded as he looked, but Hobbes adopted a more cynical outlook. Or at least, he tried to.

“It was a great fight…”

“We haven’t gone all-out in a long time!”

Meanwhile, the two women enjoyed the heat of battle. They talked about the life-threatening fight as though it was the hottest piece of gossip. At least Robin wasn’t one to visit death’s door so readily. They seemed like Fran’s kind of people, and it made me worry for her.

Shingen smiled casually. “I’m glad we all made it.” 

I could only imagine the pain he had to put up with. Hang in there, my friend!

“We won the battle thanks to you. And you seem to have helped Erianthe a great deal too. You have my gratitude.”

“Robin!” Erianthe complained. “Stop talking like you’re my dad!”

“How could I not thank her?” he said. “She saved our lives, and the life of our friend too.”

“You’re always so overbearing!” Erianthe said, exasperated. 

But she didn’t look all that bothered. She must’ve shared a deep bond with these mercenaries.

“A-anyway,” Erianthe said, changing the subject. “You wanted to see me?” 

Her face was beet red, but Fran didn’t seem to notice.

“Hm. I’m going to Alessa.”

“What? You’re leaving the capital?”

“Hm.”

“H-hang on!” Erianthe pleaded “There are so many things I wanted your help with!”

But Fran wasn’t going to budge. Other adventurers could take care of the work, and the nobles were still buzzing around Fran. Eventually, Erianthe understood—nodding with a gloomy look on her face.

“Fine… When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

“T-tomorrow? Can’t it wait ’til next week?”

“Day after tomorrow?” Fran suggested. 

“Longer! Can’t you stay in the capital a while longer?”

Erianthe was probably calculating how many quests she could get Fran to do before she left. She was trying frantically to talk Fran into staying when Robin interrupted her.

“Now, now, Erianthe. You can’t disrupt a warrior’s journey like that.”

Erianthe groaned. “You only say that because you’re not stuck with my workload!”

“Actually, we were planning to stay here for a while to take on some work.”

“R-really? Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to help me?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s a verbal agreement! You’re stuck with me now! No getting away!”

Erianthe’s friends smiled wryly at her pitiful excitement.

“You’re the same as ever,” Hobbes sighed.

“Really…”

“That’s our Eri for you.”

“That she is.”

Oh, Erianthe… Poor Erianthe. Your competence is truly skin-deep.