by Hiro Ainana
In the central part of East Street, we saw a crowd of people standing in the plaza.
“Pious men and women of Seiryuu City! The day of the demon lord’s resurrection is nigh! You all must have witnessed it. The starfall was surely a portent of terrible things to come! Now is the time to devote yourselves to the temple of the benevolent Zaicuon!”
In the center, a rotund, self-important-looking man of around thirty years old was heatedly addressing the crowd, in garb reminiscent of a Shinto priest. Partway through, when he started going into devotion, the crowd began losing interest and dispersing.
“What’s going on?”
“That’s the high priest of Zaicuon Temple. He must be desperate because they’ve been losing followers.”
“Oh? Did they do something?”
“No, no. Everyone’s leaving because the temple can’t do anything.”
My confusion must have shown on my face, because Martha gave more details. “See, Zaicuon Temple doesn’t have anyone who can use Holy Magic. If you’re going to make offerings at a temple, you’re better off with, say, Parion or Garleon. At least they can heal you if you’re wounded.”
I see. I guess you had to be practical in a tough world like this. Such an attitude could hardly be called faith, but I guess people would inevitably flock to the religion with real-world benefits.
The fat priest was getting desperate, grabbing a citizen who was trying to walk away. The lower-ranked priests around him tried to stop it, but I didn’t want to get involved, so I ignored them, and we left the plaza.
The garment area had a lot of places to repair or resize clothing, in addition to secondhand shops. I finally found a stall with new clothing amid all the used clothes, so I bought a good amount of underwear there.
While I was at it, I picked out some nice, soft-looking towels. To my mild disappointment, they were really just two pieces of cloth stitched together; still, it was better than having nothing at all, so I bought some in a few different sizes.
Compared to food and lodging, clothing was pretty expensive.
“Look, Mr. Satou! It’s a dragon mask!”
Martha picked up a carved wooden mask from the stall’s display and held it in front of her face. There were also smooth silver masks, white masks, and all sorts of others for sale.
“People wear these at the harvest festival. This silver kind was quite popular last year.”
Huh… I picked up one of the silver masks. It looked to be the type that you attach with string.
“What do you think, lad? That dragon mask is s’posed to bring peace and good health,” prompted the shopkeeper, a woman who seemed to be in her twenties. Her shirt was cut in a very low V-neck, so it was difficult to find a proper place to look; she wasn’t really my type or even all that attractive, but it was still hard to tear my eyes away.
Trying to find something else to look at, my eyes fell on a wig for sale, beside the silver mask. “Do people wear these with the dragon masks?”
“Well, the only ones who wear dragon masks are the actors who play the dragons. The black wig here is for the actor playing the hero, and this blond one is for other parts, like the princess and her attendants.”
So this festival had a lot of different parts to be played. In the end, I couldn’t resist her recommendation, so I bought the silver dragon mask and the blond wig.
On Teputa Avenue, there were shops selling all kinds of clothing and accessories.
First, I bought a waterproof mantle with a hood for rainy weather at a shop for travelers. I also bought several sets of durable-looking shirts and trousers.
I picked up some footwear, too: a pair of waterproof shoes for travel, some boots that looked like they’d match my robes, and sandals. Most of the sandals they sold were the type that you tie up with cord, ancient Greece–style, but I wanted slip-ons, so I got a cobbler inside the shop to make some to order for me.
While I was waiting for my sandals, I found a bag that looked just like my Garage Bag. Thinking I’d struck gold, I braced myself and checked the market price—but this was just a normal leather bag, much to my disappointment.
Still, it looked like it could serve as a facsimile of my Garage Bag, so I bought it anyway. The color and stitching were a little different, but as long as nobody looked at them side by side, it should serve.
I’d gone a little overboard with my shopping. I wondered if it would be too much to carry. “Excuse me… Is there any way I could ask you to hold on to my purchases for me while I’m shopping?”
“Yes, of course. If you like, we can even have them delivered for you.”
“Oh, yes please. I’m staying at the Gatefront Inn, under the name Satou.”
Had they offered because I bought so much? What great service.
A boy of about ten, maybe the son of one of the shopkeepers, accepted the bundle of clothes from the clerk and set out to deliver them.
In the next shop, I picked out some clothes to wear downtown. The robe I was in was a top-quality enchanted item, but judging by the clothes for sale and the outfits I’d seen around town, its design seemed a little old-fashioned.
“How about this robe here? It’s very dignified.”
“It’s a little big…”
“What do you think of this doublet, then?”
The two salespeople, both women of about thirty, kept following me around with suggestions that leaned more toward the most expensive items than the ones that would suit me best. I didn’t exactly mind that they were pressing just a bit too close to me in a possible attempt to seduce me into buying, but the dizzying intensity of their perfume made the situation half as enjoyable.
“Hey, Mr. Satou, I think this doublet here would look nice, don’t you?”
“Oh, it’s very nice. The orange lining is a little too much for me, though.”
“Don’t worry—the color will fade after two or three years.”
Two or three years?! I thought incredulously, but maybe that kind of thing was normal in this country. Except for suits and coats, I was used to needing new clothes after every season.
A doublet is basically a tight-fitting, waist-length padded shirt. In Seiryuu City, most doublets had a slash from the elbow to the shoulder where you could see the inner cloth. On others, the slash went down the whole garment.
From what I’d seen in the city so far, this sort of apparel seemed to be a favorite among flashy young men.
“This color over here is very in this year!”
“Oh yes, I definitely recommend that color!”
Naturally, the saleswomen were pushing a doublet about three times the price of the one Martha had found for me. None of the clothes had labels, so I had to use my “Estimation” skill, but I didn’t doubt that the display was accurate.
Not only did the garment have bizarre decorations on the shoulders, it was a particularly nasty combination of green and pink. I firmly declined.
Yeah, I think I’m pretty much done shopping here. Tuning out the saleswomen as they complained under their breath, we moved on to the next store.
Just two buildings away, we found a shop with a variety of stylish robes. It was basically a menswear store, with lots of tastefully subdued clothing for merchants.
“Wow! It looks expensive, but everything’s so nice!”
“Yes, and the stitching is high quality, too. This looks promising.”
“Thank you very much. Ours may not be quite as remarkable as your Yuriha-fiber robe, sir, but we guarantee the highest quality you’ll find in ready-made clothes.”
The shop manager, a young man, promoted his goods with genuine pride. I’d have bought it even if he hadn’t pushed, though.
“If you’d like to have something tailor-made, sir, my parents manage a menswear shop on Center Street. I’m certain they would produce something just to your liking.”
Huh. Both generations were in the same line of work, but they had two different stores? Maybe he was working in a separate location to
hone his natural talents.
I bought a plain but stylish robe with silver embroidery and an olive-brown merchant’s robe. Delivery was free here, too. This was starting to remind me of a certain online shopping service.
I had done all the shopping I’d planned for the day, but I was interested in seeing the menswear store the young man recommended, so Martha and I headed that way.
Upon entering the shop, a kindly looking, middle-aged married couple greeted us. Unlike the stores with clothes already made, very little merchandise was on display. Instead, they had samples of five different suits and a wide array of fabrics. A lounge area for discussing business took up the other half of the shop.
“Excuse me, but I’m looking for a heavy merchant’s robe. In a subdued color, if possible…”
“Welcome. Please have a seat here, and I’ll gather some fabric swatches for you. The five sample suits on the stands over there are our current best-selling designs.”
The husband guided me to the lounge and went into the back to gather samples. Just as he left, the wife came in to replace him, carrying some kind of black tea.
Martha sat beside me, uncharacteristically timid as she sipped her tea.
“The weather will be getting colder soon, so I would suggest this thicker cloth. If you’re going on a journey, we could also prepare a waterproof overcoat to match your robe, if you’d like.”
That sounded pretty good to me. Probably.
I’m the type to buy a bunch of different-colored clothes in bulk from that huge clothing company Uniqlo, so I ordered one of each of the five best-selling designs with matching coats. Apparently, the tailoring would take up to five days.
My order came to eight gold coins in total: pretty expensive, but I had plenty of money, so I paid without batting an eye.
“Wow, Mr. Satou! Merchants sure are rich, huh?”
“A merchant’s clothes are like a knight’s armor! I can’t be cheap about something so important.”
Oops. That sounded like an office lady who spends her life going to mixers. In reality, I was thinking that if I wanted to go sightseeing inside the inner wall where the wealthy people lived, I’d have to be wearing clothes to match, or I’d stand out too much.
Incidentally, the robe I was currently wearing would normally go for about one hundred gold coins. What an insane price! Just like in video games, magic robes here were on an entirely different level of value, I guess.
The clothes would be delivered to my room at the inn when the tailoring was done, but they’d be using temporary stitches. I’d have to come back to the store within a few days to take care of any minute adjustments needed.
The couple waved good-bye as we left.
The streets in this city were a lot cleaner than I’d expect from a European fantasy–style setting.
There was no animal dung to be seen and no homeless people to be found in the alleys. There were even gutters lining shoulders of the road, complete with stone covers.
None of this would be that unusual in a game, but if this were an alternate world instead of a dream, the country’s grasp of sanitation was disproportionately advanced compared to the rest of its culture.
Unlike East Street, Center Street had few street stalls and was full of regular shops. Most passersby seemed really well dressed.
On our way back, we walked by a man selling candy on the street, so Martha and I bought some. Instead of being hard candy, it was something called “malt syrup candy”—thin sticks with light-brown syrup stuck to the ends.
Eating it as I walked, I let my eyes roam over the people and all the wagons coming and going along the street. There were a lot of man- and horse-drawn carriages, so I guess magic wasn’t convenient enough to entirely replace machinery.
On that note, I also observed that most of the people pulling wagons were wearing collars.
“Are collars in fashion around here?”
“Wha…?” Martha answered around a mouthful of candy. “Oh, no, those are slaves. The especially rebellious or delinquent ones wear ‘enslavement collars,’ but the collars they’re wearing are probably just to mark them as slaves.”
I see… So that’s how it works…
At that moment, another horse-drawn carriage passed before my eyes. Like the rest, it was moving only about as fast as a brisk walk, probably because this was a crowded street. In the back were ten or so girls with collars—slaves.
Two of them in particular drew my gaze. One girl, with black hair knotted by the long journey and equally black eyes, had features that made her look markedly Japanese. Most of the people I’d seen looked Northern European, so this might have been the first Asian-looking person I’d encountered.
Since the girl’s eyes were downcast, there wasn’t some dramatic moment when our eyes met or anything, but I did make eye contact with the one beside her: a little girl with flowing lilac hair and the traditional Northern European features.
For some reason, she was gazing my way with utter astonishment. Stop it! Please don’t give me that earnest look. I can’t do anything for you… Also, I’m not into little girls, so…sorry.
Maybe because I’d been staring at her for so long, the girl’s name and level popped up next to her face.
> Arisa. Level 10.
That’s a high level for such a young girl…
More information appeared beneath her level.
> Eleven years old.
> Title: Witch of the Lost Kingdom
> The Mad Princess
> Skills: Unknown
That was as far as I could read before the cart turned a corner and vanished toward the west quarter.
Those titles definitely spelled trouble… No, I was definitely not getting mixed up in any of that. Not a chance!
“Welcome home, Ms. Martha!”
When we returned to the Gatefront Inn, a girl who looked like a first or second grader greeted us. At first I thought she might be Martha’s younger sister, but if so, “Ms. Martha” would be an odd thing to call her. Maybe this was the maid I’d been told about earlier.
“Thank you, Yuni! This is Mr. Satou. He’ll be staying with us starting today.”
“Welcome back, Mr. Satou, sir! I brought your packages to your room for you.”
“Ah, thank you! That was probably an awful lot for you, wasn’t it?” I patted little Yuni’s head. Despite her size, she spoke far more formally than Martha.
I wasn’t sure if tipping was customary in this country, but I handed her a penny coin as thanks. Martha remarked, “Good for you, Yuni!” so I figured I had made the right choice.
“Oh, right! Ms. Martha, guess what!”
“What is it?”
“Earlier, I saw a bunch of carts bringing in lots of meat!”
Yuni’s fists were clenched tightly with excitement as she drew closer to Martha, but Martha wrinkled her nose, apparently less than enthused. “Meat? Ugh, don’t tell me it was wyvern?”
“That’s right! The pieces had to be on lots of carts because they were each thiiiis biiiig!” As she said “thiiiis,” Yuni stood on tiptoe and stretched as high as she could to demonstrate the height, and for “biiiig” she flung her hands out sideways for the width.
Okay. This kid is too cute.
The count’s army must have finished breaking down the wyvern carcass and brought it here.
“Why are you so excited about wyvern meat?”
“Because! When the army defeats one, the count donates some of the meat to the orphanage! Meat! Real meat! How many months has it been, I wonder?” Yuni responded to my question like a child from an old-fashioned movie.
“I hate wyvern meat! It’s so gross. And it makes the west quarter stink…”
I guess in a fortified city like this, meat wouldn’t come around that often. Martha’s and Yuni’s reactions were probably evidence of their class differences: One could eat meat regularly while the other could not.
“Anyway, look at this, Yuni! Isn’t it cute?” As if the wy
vern conversation had never happened, Martha showed Yuni the pin I had bought for her.
“Ooh! Yeah, it’s so teeny and pretty!”
As the two of them broke into boisterous chatting, I thought I might return to my room, but first I decided to ask if there was a communal bath in the inn. Considering how clean the rest of the city had been, it didn’t seem that strange to expect a bath or a sauna.
“The rich people inside the inner walls have public baths, but they’re off-limits to us commoners. Only nobles and people wealthy enough to have houses inside can use them.”
Close but no cigar, huh? I couldn’t believe you needed social status to get into baths! Damn this feudal society!
“That’s too bad. Then what do folks like you do when you want to take a bath, Martha?”
“There’s a water well in the rear garden, so we bathe with that. During the winter, we usually bathe only once a trimoon or so, since it’s so cold. In midwinter, we try to use hot water so we won’t catch a cold, but nobody has the luxury of bathing in hot water in this season.”
I guess getting fuel might be a problem in a fortress city like this, too. Checking the map, all I saw nearby was a tiny river, the source of which was undoubtedly underground water.
A trimoon was apparently a period of ten days; months were divided into three parts—the first, second, and third trimoon. They didn’t have the term week in this language, so a trimoon was the closest equivalent. They didn’t seem to have anything like our names for the days of the week, either.
As I learned more about their society through idle chatter, some new guests arrived. “Hey there, Martha! Do you have a room for us?”
“Welcome! Yes, of course we do!”
The new arrivals looked to be merchants: two men of around forty and one attractive blond woman in her late twenties. Since Martha was caught up in inn business now, I motioned to her that I was returning to my room. Not knowing where it was, I asked Yuni to guide me.