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Demon beasts exist in this world, and while it’s not all of them, they’re carnivores who would attack humans. There are many conflicting theories as to why they would do so, but the current mainstream theory is that since humans have a small amount of mana in their bodies, they make a more efficient source of supply for mana compared to animals.

One theory said that it is a system of adjustment set up by God to prevent the overabundance and growth of humans, another said that it is simply because humans are the most abundant… Like so, many such theories are up in the air— Well, whatever the reason, the fact is, demon beasts are a threat to humans.

In order to reduce the damage caused by demon beasts, vigilante groups were organized in various regions, and these groups eventually became a solidarity group, operating as a single organization, adopting the name Adventurer’s Guild. The Guild provides its members various types of work according to the adventurer’s rank (S, A, down to F rank), from demon beast hunting, escorting, and gathering, as well as providing consultation, payment, and other services.

I also heard that the guild is not simply a profit-based organization, as it’s also involved in every aspect of its members from protection, training, and even punishment. Now then, the reason why I brought it up at all is…

“We are not a commercial guild, so we generally don’t do trade with non-adventurers.”
“My apologies. I came to the wrong place, it seems.”

Indeed, ‘guilds’ could refer to the Commercial Guild, the Artisan Guild, and the Adventurer Guild, of which I came to the last. In other words, I was out of place.

The lady at the reception desk —a small, slightly childish, but earnest-looking girl of about 18-20 years old with chestnut-colored hair, who was sitting in the center of the lobby amongst several other reception desks— gave me a sympathetic look before she presented me with a single application form.

“If you want, why don’t you register with the Adventurer’s Guild right now? You can make the trade as you register.”

I looked at the application she gave me and pondered for a moment. An adventurer, huh…

Bruno, a boy my age in the pioneer village, seemed to admire being an adventurer, but to be honest, my image of the line of work wasn’t the very best. While, indeed, the occupation was called an adventurer, in the end, it was muscle work that was unaffiliated with the military, which meant it was closer to gangsters and grunts who joined a violent organization to make a day’s work or get rich quick.

Right… to put it in perspective, the Adventurer’s Guild is much like the den for society’s dropouts who are either hillbillies or outlaws who like to put both feet on scratched tables with a beer in one hand, cig in their lips, and meat held by the bone on the other hand and constantly shout vulgar languages…

Perhaps seeing through my frown, the reception lady smiled and added.

“The general opinion of an adventurer might be somewhat seedy and suspicious, but it is a profession that has been duly registered by the government and, aside from minor offenses, malicious criminals and such are barred from registering. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Hearing this, I took another look around the spacious and brightly lit, window-lined first floor of the guild. Incidentally, my familiar Vier was sitting quietly in the plaza by the side of the building, where cavalry and other animals waited.

Men and women in navy blue uniforms, which were apparently tailor-made, line up at the counter and work briskly. The stone floor was neatly cleaned, and the chairs and furnishings, though not exactly exquisite, were in good taste. On the wall was a wooden board the size of a school blackboard with the words ‘Urgent Requests’ written on it, on it were pinned notes of what seemed to be the content of the requests. Some people —seemingly young adventurers either in leather armor or easy-to-move clothes with swords and such with them— were looking into the board, musing with difficult expressions on their faces.

It’s not like the dubious, degenerate pub with half-naked men from the post-apocalyptic world grumbling over their booze as their rugged, eye-patch-wearing guild master glaring at them daggers like what I had initially imagined it to be, but more like the front desk of a bank or a government office.

When I looked back at the receptionist lady, she smiled at me with a look that said “See, it’s all right, isn’t it?”

Yeah, perhaps it is a good idea to simply register, as that means I can make the trade without hassle… or, so I was almost instigated. Just then, adventurers who seemed to have just finished their work came into the guild, walking in groups as their dirty feet mud the floor.

“—so I told that greenhorn right on his baby-a̲s̲s̲ face.” A man built like a bear with a face just as hairy spoke in a voice that sounded like a cracked bell. “Why the hell you got spooked by a mere orc, twat? If that thing scares you, just go back to your mama’s hug and suck on her teats!” The big man then laughed, not minding his volume, as though he just made the joke of the century.

“So, what’d the guy do?”

Prompted by the man who seemed to be his crony, the big man broke into a wide grin and continued.

“He got so pissed off he swung his sword like a madman and rushed into them orcs! Came out more beaten than a wet rag, that useless twat!”

Right then, the group burst into wild laughter and walked toward the payment counter in the back of the room.

“……”
“……”

The receptionist lady and I remained silent as we looked at each other awkwardly.

“…err, well, Mr. Zahir is also a respectable person, in his own way.”

She added, perhaps trying to mediate it.

“So, you registering to the guild is… not going to happen, is it?”

Author’s Note:

We will conclude this arc here, and move on to the next arc.