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“—Coppelia, it’s a bit late to bring this up, but could you refrain from being so rude?”

In this society built on hierarchy, speaking out of turn to someone of higher status is considered impolite.

While I, as a shrine maiden with a certain level of authority, could engage Sir Simon, supposedly a noble, on equal footing, Coppelia was my attendant. Normally, she would be expected to stay three steps behind me, careful not even to tread on my shadow. Her conduct just now was outrageously improper.

For now, Sir Simon’s magnanimity had kept the situation under control. But should his patience suddenly run thin—and considering we had only met him moments ago, I had no idea where his breaking point might be—I could vividly picture the scene: the moment he shouted, “How dare you!”, his well-trained guards would close in like a tidal wave, weapons at the ready.

“Don’t worry, Lady Clara. I am provoking him to lower his Affection Level, and then I will deal with him under the guise of an accident if he attacks—that’s a foolproof plan.” Coppelia said this with a dazzling smile. “Besides, let’s be real: even if all these pathetic weaklings came at me at once, there’s no way they’d stand a chance against someone as high-performance as me!”

Coppelia’s brazen proclamation echoed loud and clear, pushing the mounting tension around us to the verge of eruption.

“Thus, let those far away hear my voice and those near bear witness! Lo, I am none other than the automaton sent from the future to prevent Lady Clara’s black histo—nnggueh!?”

Just as she raised a morning star in one hand and a glaive in the other, both inexplicably pulled from the endless depths of her apron’s pocket, and prepared to ignite a full-blown battle, my palm and Cestlavie’s fist struck the back of her head in perfect synchrony.

“Oooh… ohhh-men! What are you doing, Lady Clara?! And you too, pleb!”

Coppelia twisted her head a full 360 degrees before using her hands to snap it back into place.

The onlookers collectively gasped and recoiled in horror.

“What are you doing? you ask?! If you start a commotion in the middle of town like this, you’ll cause trouble for Lady Teressa! Exercise some self-restraint, for goodness’ sake.” I then turned and bowed deeply to Sir Simon and his entourage. “My apologies. She’s not a bad girl by nature—oh, no, I mean, she simply has some… defects in her wiring. Occasionally, she says and does peculiar things, but I’ll do my best to keep her in check. I humbly ask for your forgiveness.”

“Ah, no, please don’t worry about it. You may raise your head. As for the rest of you, aiming your weapons at a woman is unbecoming. Return to your posts at once!”

At Sir Simon’s stern rebuke, the guards who had drawn their weapons and nearly rushed in came to their senses. Though, judging by their deflated expressions, it seemed the sight of Coppelia’s rotating neck had already sapped their fighting spirit. Reluctantly, and with lingering unease, they retreated to their original positions.

Even Emil appeared thoroughly bewildered, holding his temple as though he’d encountered something he was better off avoiding altogether.

“By the way, Lady Clara, forgive me if this question reveals my ignorance, but I understand we’re heading to the Adventurer’s Guild. Is it even possible for a formal shrine maiden to also serve as an adventurer?”

Sir Simon, showing a surprising level of composure despite the earlier commotion, naturally fell into step beside me and shifted the topic with practiced ease.

“Yes, it’s not uncommon at all. Adventurers frequently face dangerous situations, so having someone on-site who can perform healing magic is highly beneficial. Because of this, the Church and the various guilds maintain a cooperative relationship. Moreover, as part of our service and training, we clergy members are encouraged to take on fieldwork assignments.”

Sir Simon nodded thoughtfully at my explanation but still seemed unconvinced.

“Even so, for a rare healer to venture into such dangerous places… And for someone as graceful and elegant as you to associate with adventurers, the likes of whom are often little better than rogues—doesn’t that pose certain inconveniences?”

He tilted his head slightly, clearly struggling to reconcile the idea.

“Hmph,” Cestlavie let out a quiet snort.

I could appreciate his genuine concern for my well-being, but I am no delicate flower to be kept in a greenhouse, so his worry felt a touch excessive. Not to mention, the faint disdain for adventurers that laced his words was hard to miss—a somewhat typical attitude, all things considered.

After all, the general perception of adventurers isn’t exactly glowing. To most, they are little more than vagabonds and drifters, people unable to secure stable employment who scrape by doing dangerous work for meager pay. They’re often regarded as society’s lowest rung—a precarious step away from becoming criminals or exiles. This, of course, is an exaggerated view, but there’s no denying the underlying stigma.

Alternatively, adventurers are seen as treasure hunters, diving into labyrinths in pursuit of riches or rare artifacts, chasing dreams of striking it rich. Or worse, they are considered swindlers, preying on victims of monster attacks or bandit raids with their silver tongues and dubious schemes. In either case, they’re generally regarded as shady characters at best.

In reality, the number of unscrupulous adventurers is only a small fraction. The majority are properly registered contractors under the Adventurers’ Guild, employed for fair compensation to perform tasks such as odd jobs, gathering, escorting, extermination, or excavation. They are essentially diligent workers fulfilling contractual obligations.

“Although society views them with suspicion and regards the profession as dubious, I believe there is no inherent nobility or baseness in any line of work. For instance, consider a case where goblin attacks occur within a domain. Wouldn’t there be a significant difference in approach between hiring adventurers and dispatching knights, even if the results might be the same?”
“How so?”

Sir Simon’s expression seemed to suggest he found knights to be far more reliable and efficient, but I briefly glanced at Emil, who struck me as a pragmatic man, to gauge his reaction.

“Of course, there is a clear difference in skill between adventurers and knights, but for something like goblins—depending on the scale—a standard group of adventurers should suffice to exterminate them. The real issue lies in whether the results justify the cost.”

“Ah,” Emil exclaimed, slapping his knee as realization dawned on him. Sir Simon, too, appeared to grasp the point.

“Precisely. While deploying and maintaining knights or soldiers involves enormous expenses, adventurers can handle such tasks for a mere pittance in comparison. This isn’t about which is superior; rather, it’s about assigning the right resources to the right tasks, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Indeed, you are absolutely correct. My apologies, I feel as though my ignorance has been enlightened,” Sir Simon said sincerely, bowing his head slightly toward me and Cestlavie.

Cestlavie gave a small shrug in response, while Coppelia, ever the tactless one, puffed out her chest and proclaimed: “Well, setting aside adventurers as a whole, it’s self-evident that the common rabble consists of riffraff.”

“Even so, the adventurers of this town are truly fortunate. To think they can receive healing from someone as radiant and refined as Lady Clara—it’s nothing short of a blessing.”

Sir Simon’s words, overflowing with noble extravagance, made me feel a little self-conscious. I lightly scratched my cheek, trying to brush it off with a polite response, but the truth is, I used to be the so-called Ragweed Princess.

Having little experience with direct compliments about my appearance, I could only stammer out an awkward, “Oh no, I’m not worthy of such praise,” unable to come up with anything more clever on the spot.

“Exactly!” Coppelia chimed in with excessive enthusiasm. “In fact, most adventurers in this town charge into peril saying, ‘Once this battle’s over, I’m going to have Lady Clara heal me!’ It’s become quite the trend!”

At times like this, it’s always Coppelia who chimes in with unnecessary interjections—but this time, I found her input surprisingly welcome.

Still, if what she said were true, then the adventurers in this town must be…

Engaged in such idle chatter, we walked for over thirty minutes.

Soon, a sturdy brick building came into view. Though its whitewashed walls, in line with the Holy City’s aesthetic sensibilities, lent it a touch of refinement, there was an unmistakable ruggedness to its design.

This was the Adventurers’ Guild Headquarters in the Holy City of Thera Maryth.

Parked in front of its main entrance, however, were two large carriages. Their sheer size and the way they were carelessly double-parked in a “gang leader’s stop” style made it clear they were causing a nuisance to the surrounding area.

Emil narrowed his eyes at the crest emblazoned on the black carriage. “Well, now, that’s the crest of the Duchy of Enyuria… and the personal emblem of Princess Simonetta.”

I sighed as my gaze fell upon the other familiar white carriage. “And that one belongs to Lady Eliza.”

The fact that both were here could only mean that their respective owners had business at the Guild Headquarters. Which, in turn, implied an awkward clash of appointments right at the entrance.

“This has the makings of something rather volatile,” Sir Simon remarked with an almost amused murmur.

As for me, I was utterly tempted to turn on my heel and walk away from the scene altogether.

Author’s Note:

The reason riding in a cart is considered a taboo comes from the Arthurian Legends.

If I recall correctly, one of the Knights of the Round Table—was it Lancelot?—disguised himself and rode on a cart to infiltrate a castle. However, this act was noticed, and he was denied entry into the castle. After some persuasion from his comrades, he was eventually allowed in, but the residents refused to dine with him. Instead, he was left to eat cold food alone in a corner of the kitchen.

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