Yuu Tanaka Read online

  contract. The old dwarf tended to take jobs that pleased him, but maybe he was

  approached by a powerful noble or the royal family. He would have a difficult time

  refusing them, even if he wanted to. If that were the case, he might not be allowed to

  communicate with the outside at all.

  Finally, he could just be swamped with work and forgot to get in touch with us. A

  plausible situation for a prolific craftsman like Garrus.

  “I’ll look into it,” said Reggs. “Give me a day.”

  “Thanks. Anything I can do to help?”

  “Not really… I do my best work when people don’t see me coming. But do you know

  our Guildmaster, by any chance?”

  “Hm.”

  “You could ask them for information. And ask at the Blacksmiths’ Guild, too. No digging

  or espionage required.”

  Reggs would probably do the digging for us, once Fran got him the initial information.

  “Sure.”

  “Alright. See you tomorrow.”

  “Hm.”

  After a quick debriefing, we parted ways. He charged a flat rate of 30,000G, regardless

  of what he dug up. It was a little higher than market rate, but Reggs assured us that he

  would be worth it. The rogue waved goodbye and left the building.

  Let’s go and see what Gammod has for us.

  We were already at the Adventurer’s Guild anyway, so we might as well visit the

  Guildmaster.

  “Hm.”

  We showed our guild card to the receptionist and asked to meet him. She processed

  us immediately. She had overheard our earlier conversation with Reggs. Fran’s moniker

  was well known throughout the Adventurer’s Guild now, and the receptionist’s former

  politeness was amplified. After a moment, someone showed up to lead us to the

  second floor.

  “Been a while, little lady. I heard you had a lot of fun in Ulmutt.”

  “Hm.”

  Waiting for us in his office was the former A-Rank and Guildmaster of the Bulboa

  Adventurer’s Guild, Dragon Hammer Gammod. We had fought alongside him during

  the Fiend Riots. Armed with stout stature and an even stouter hammer, the dwarf was

  powerful enough to knock the giant Linford out of the sky.

  “I would’ve watched you fight if I didn’t have to deal with the mess here.”

  “Can’t be helped.”

  “I would’ve loved to see how you took down Phelms! Those strings of his are more

  than a neat trick.”

  The two former A-Ranks lived in the same city and had probably worked together.

  With nicknames like Dragon Hunter and Dragon Hammer, it was even likely they’d

  teamed up.

  “You know Phelms?”

  “Of course. Phelms is my old partner, you know.”

  Gammod and Phelms really used to be in a party together? The A-Rank party Dragon

  Killers was quite legendary. Bragging about your party was cringe-inducing, but when

  you were an A-Rank it all sounded quite cool.

  “So, what brings you here today? I doubt you just missed my face.”

  Gammod was fast on the uptake. Fran asked about Garrus.

  “So you’re looking for him…”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “Sorry, but I don’t have a clue.” Gammod shook his head. “He did maintenance on my

  weapon ten days ago, so I know he was still in Bulbola then.” But Gammod hadn’t kept

  in touch with the blacksmith afterward. “He mentioned something about going to

  Ulmutt… but he didn’t say when he was leaving.”

  “I see.”

  Another dead end. With Gammod at a loss, we decided to go to the Blacksmiths’ Guild.

  Just as Fran got out of her seat, the Guildmaster called out to her.

  “By the way, do you have something against mercenaries?”

  “Hm?”

  “I heard some weird rumors.”

  “Elaborate.”

  “About how the Black Lightning Princess hates mercenaries with a vengeance and

  goes out of her way to wipe them out. How ruthless she is about it depends on who

  you ask. Some say she fires a barrage of spells as soon as she spots one. Stuff like that.”

  That’s what people were saying?

  “There’s some mercenary bands in town and they’re all terrified. They asked me to

  make sure.”

  “I don’t hate mercenaries in particular.”

  “Oh, you don’t?”

  “I beat up everyone who makes an enemy of me.”

  “I see…”

  “Hm.”

  Fran did have a track record of wailing on mercenaries. Now that I thought about it,

  the first adventurer who picked a fight with her was a former mercenary. And then

  there was Blue Pride, the Blue Cat mercenary crew we ran into in Ulmutt. The Beast

  King wiped them out, but people who didn’t know the details might have attributed it

  to Fran.

  Given such rumors, Dimmel Squad could be forgiven for being scared of her. The

  mercenaries we met on the way back to Bulbola knew they were up against an

  adventurer who could destroy them with ease, and worse, an adventurer who reportedly

  had some kind of personal grudge against them.

  “I’ll tell them,” said Gammod.

  “Please do.”

  “Also, I have a job for you, if you’re up to it.”

  “A job?”

  “Yeah. You’ve clashed swords with some A-Ranks. I was wondering if you’d be interested

  in showing off your strength.”

  Were there dangerous monsters that needed exterminating? Whatever it was, I hoped

  it wouldn’t take long.

  “We have some promising adventurers here, but I want to show them what real

  strength is like. I was hoping you’d be interested in sparring.”

  “Can’t you do it yourself?”

  We didn’t know if we could beat Gammod. He said he would’ve had a hard time beating

  Phelms, but Phelms was a chef now, while Gammod was still Guildmaster. I could still

  hear the thwack of his hammer ramming into Linford’s body. If all he wanted was a

  show of strength, that would be enough. But Gammod shook his head.

  “I’ve known them since they were kids. They’re too used to me and Forlund beating

  them. Tomorrow morning’s all I need. You in?”

  Teacher, can I take this one? Fran sounded motivated. She had to be interested in

  Gammod’s star pupils.

  I think it’s a good deal. Gammod will owe us after this, too.

  “Hm. I’m in.”

  “Nice! I’ll let the kids know. They’re all older than you, but still! Bust their noses open

  for me, eh? Ga ha ha!”

  “Hm.”

  Fran worked out the details with the Guildmaster before leaving the Adventurer’s

  Guild.

  Next stop, the Blacksmiths’ Guild.

  “Hm.”

  We wasted no time asking where it was. The Blacksmiths’ Guild was located close to

  the harbor to allow for transport of ores and minerals, but we had to make one more

  stop before heading there.

  We need to buy liquor.

  “Where?”

  A liquor store, I guess. We could check out some pubs and ask if they’re selling by the

  bottle, too.

  Gammod had advised us to bring a gift if we were visiting. The Blacksmiths’ Guildmaster

  and higher-ups were mostly dwarves, and as such appreciated alcohol. They acted

  much like the dwarves I’d read about in the fantasy fiction back home. Hopefully we

  could bring them a drink that would make their beards stand on end.

  I just hope there’s a good liquor store on the way.

  “When are we stopping by Phelms’?”

  Oh yeah. The Dragonhead is right around here, isn’t it?

  Fran reminded me of the former A-Rank turned master chef. We weren’t too far from

  his restaurant. Maybe they had some decent alcohol.

  Let’s stop by. The man already gave us a free meal ticket, anyway.

  “Hm!”

  It was a good time for lunch, so we headed off to Dragonhead.

  “Can’t wait.”

  “Woof woof!”

  Fran skipped all the way there, knowing the deliciousness that was in store for her. Jet

  was going to be a problem, though. Restaurants didn’t usually allow normal pets in, let

  alone wolves. Phelms was acquainted with both Fran and Jet, but he would be hard-

  pressed to make an exception. I explained the circumstances to Fran and she reached

  her cruel conclusion.

  “Stay in the shadows, Jet.”

  “Arf…?”

  No. The shop’s small enough as it is. I don’t think they allow ordinary pets in, anyway.

  “Woof…” Jet pleaded to Fran with tearful puppy-dog eyes, but his cuteness wasn’t

  going to work on her today.

  “No.”

  “Arf…”

  Utterly dejected, Jet took his time sinking into the shadows. I would have to cheer him

  up later with some equally good food. With Jet’s tiny rebellion out of the way, Fran set

  her eyes on the Dragonhead. She never forgot the location of good food and knew

  exactly which paths to
take.

  Good to see it’s the same. Not too loud, but not too shabby.

  The shop was tucked away in a nice corner and had all the charm of a trendy restaurant.

  I would’ve had a hard time walking through its doors back on Earth. It reminded me

  of a classy French restaurant, tucked away in an obscure corner of a residential area.

  A small name plaque was posted above the doorway. A window on the side allowed

  passersby to peer in. The place hadn’t changed a bit. Fran opened the door and went

  inside.

  “Welcome! Table for one?”

  “Hm.”

  “Right this way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Unfortunately, our head chef is away at the moment, so we won’t be able to serve you

  the entire array of our menu. Will that be alright?”

  The waitress handed us a short menu. Normally there were over thirty dishes for sale,

  but right now there were only five.

  I guess Phelms isn’t back yet.

  Fran had fought the Dragonhead head chef only a few days ago in Ulmutt, and he

  probably didn’t travel as quickly as we did. In the meantime, cooking duties were

  assigned to his sous chef, but he was still in training and couldn’t prepare as many

  dishes as his master. The house specialty, Dragonbone Soup, was still available—

  Phelms had made sure to stock up before his departure.

  “I’ll have everything on the menu.”

  “Umm, all of it?”

  “Hm. All of it.”

  “Our portion sizes are quite generous. Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, no problem. I’ve been here before.”

  “A-alright then.”

  “And here.”

  Fran took out Phelms’s meal ticket and handed it to the waitress. Her eyes grew wider

  than plates and her hands trembled. She was making a really big deal out of a single

  meal ticket.

  “Th-this is…”

  “Phelms gave it to me.”

  “I knew it! This is the legendary Immensely Invaluable Person Meal Ticket! Otherwise

  known as the Super VIP Ticket!”

  Wow. That good? It looked like an ordinary coupon to me.

  “Oh no, oh no, oh no! The owner’s away and that idiot’s the one doing the cooking!

  He’s not even a fraction as good as our owner! If his cooking upsets the Super VIP,

  Phlems will have our heads!”

  The waitress didn’t pull her punches talking about her colleague. I assumed “that idiot”

  was Phelms’s pupil. I felt sorry for the poor guy.

  “You don’t have to do anything special.”

  “No! We can’t just serve something ordinary to someone with the Immensely Invaluable

  Person Meal Ticket…!”

  Actually, this was a good opportunity. I felt slightly guilty about exploiting our superior

  position, but maybe we could use her panic to our advantage.

  Fran, ask her if we can have some liquor.

  “I’ll have some of your liquor, then. A bottle of your best should do it.”

  “Yes, ma’am! Alcohol, right? I’ll be right back!”

  The waitress left without taking our order. It felt like an actual offense. Whether we

  told Phelms about it would depend on the quality of alcohol.

  Five minutes later, the woman returned, clearly out of breath. She brought a bottle of

  wine, encased in a beautiful wooden casket. The bottom of the bottle was wrapped in

  red velvet and screamed high quality.

  “This is the greatest wine produced by the best vineyard in all of Granzell! This bottle

  has been preserved with magic for a hundred and twenty years!”

  Okay, I don’t think we’re worthy of this wine!

  “Unfortunately, we don’t sell this bottle in our restaurant…”

  “Then how’d you get it?”

  “The bottle came straight from the owner’s private wine collection! He is quite the

  connoisseur, you see!”

  Whoa, no, stop. Phelms might actually have her head for that. I didn’t want us to be the

  cause of his bad mood. We refused her mad offer and asked her to bring the best wine

  they actually sold.

  A bottle was worth 10,000G. It didn’t sound too bad. It was expensive enough to be

  high quality, and I didn’t think Phelms would stock his shop with bad wine. It was the

  perfect gift. Five bottles would do nicely.

  “Are you sure this is enough? The owner has better wine in his cellar.”

  “It’s fine. Anyway, I’m hungry.”

  “Aaaah! O-of course! I-I’m so sorry! We’ll get your food ready right away!”

  The waitress finally remembered to take Fran’s order. She rushed away to the kitchen,

  head still bowed in apology.

  Is that girl going to be alright?

  “Hm.”

  You know it was bad when even Fran was worried. At least we got some nice bottles

  of wine out of it. After cleaning all five of her plates, Fran washed it down with a cup

  of tea.

  How was it?

  It was nice.

  Her appetite was proof that the food was delicious. Still, she looked oddly satisfied.

  The chef came out of the kitchen. He was a stern-looking man with a shaved head. His

  angular face made him look much older than he was. This was “that idiot.” He came

  out of the kitchen to greet the owner of the VIP coupon.

  “H-how do you find your meal?”

  Despite his terrifying appearance, he was very modest.

  “Phelms’s is better.”

  “I-I see…”

  Fran just came out and said it. She was never one to flatter. Actually, I didn’t think she

  knew how. I just hoped the chef wouldn’t feel too bad about it.

  “How can I make it better?”

  The man was more resilient than I thought. He asked Fran for advice without a hint of

  regret. He took out a notepad. He wasn’t an idiot in the kitchen, but he was probably

  an idiot about cooking. We’d do him a favor by giving straightforward advice.

  Since I couldn’t eat any of it, Fran would be the one doing the critique. She’d been a

  slave for a long time, and most food was delicious to her. That said, she could still

  distinguish tasty from tasteless. An ordinary person might have five grades of

  deliciousness: Delicious, Tasty, Okay, Not Bad, and Bad. Fran also had five grades, but

  hers were more like: Super Delicious, Delicious, Okay, Not Bad, and Inedible. She

  calmly told the young chef which parts of his cooking needed work. Thanks to our

  maxed-out Cooking Skill, the advice was valid.

  Twilight had fallen by the time we left the restaurant. The young chef was gathering

  himself off the floor after Fran’s harsh critique. He took it like a man to begin with, but

  soon collapsed under the weight of her words. I wished him all the best.

  “What is it, Teacher?”

  Nothing. We need to get going to the Blacksmiths’ Guild.

  “Hm!”

  Having broken the man’s spirit, Fran went on her way. Once we’d entered the

  blacksmith’s district, we immediately spotted the guild. It was a large building with a

  chimney. Men as hard as hammers walked through its doors. This was the place alright.

  That one.

  The emblem in the building’s plaque was two crossed hammers. We pushed open the

  heavy doors to find quite the intimidating atmosphere. The hall was dimly lit and the

  ceilings were low, making the guildhouse look more like a cavern. I could hear the

  clang of metal and the angry shouts of men. This was no place for the fairer sex.

  “Hrmph. What do you want?” the receptionist grunted, lacking all the manners of the

  Adventurer’s Guild. The macho dwarf glared at Fran to make her go away.

  “I’m looking for someone.”

  “That’s not what we do here. Try the Adventurer’s Guild.”

  Oh, but he sounded so cool. It reminded me of a bartender saying, We don’t serve that

  here, when the protagonist asks for milk. An ordinary woman would leave. Then again,

  he was probably equal in his treatment of outsiders. Men and women alike would flee