by Mamare Touno
Setting up a hypothesis based on that fact, they didn’t know whether the quest system, which had been an important part of Elder Tales, was still functioning normally.
Quests were a type of mission, and the story component of the Elder Tales game had depended heavily on the quest system. For example, a place like the village of Choushi should have had quests such as “A ghost appears in a field outside the village. Please exorcise it,” or “We’re going to an island off the coast to catch fish. Come along and guard us.”
Quests sometimes began with an item or place that seemed significant, but more commonly, the beginning took the form of a request from a non-player character.
This provoked doubts: Now that the non-player characters at the heart of the system had become People of the Earth, wasn’t that function gradually being lost? Even if a certain quest was operational at this very moment, if that Person of the Earth lost their life, from that point on, the quest might not begin.
…This had been Shiroe’s worry, anyway. However, Marielle could understand the sense of impending danger.
For example, in the days of the Elder Tales game, there had been “standard quests” that everyone completed. One of these quests had had a magic rucksack with a gravity-negating effect as its reward. Marielle and every other veteran player had this bag, and they used it all the time. It was just convenient. If, by some chance, it became impossible to undertake this quest, the new players wouldn’t be able to get this magic bag. The effect that would have was probably greater than they imagined.
“Shiro thinks about all sorts of stuff, and he wants me to bring home as much info as I can. About Choushi, and about the People of the Earth. We think we know ’bout them, but we don’t really understand.”
“I see… Yes, you’re right.”
Minori nodded meekly, as though she’d been convinced. “What do you suppose Shiroe is doing now?” she continued.
“Kiddo? He’s probably collectin’ information, too. Or… Well.” Marielle giggled, as if she’d just realized something. “He may not be gettin’ to do much of that, actually.”
3
The bright, elegant melody came from a string quartet.
The vast hall was decorated magnificently and filled with the laughter of ladies and the murmurs of gentlemen. Even then, it was likely that only 40 percent of the guests were here.
They chatted in small groups scattered around the room, gathering at the sofas set along the walls and at the round refreshment tables, leaving the center of the hall deserted.
The official start time hadn’t yet arrived.
Apparently, at parties like these, guests were expected to arrive a little late, and the tendency was even more pronounced among royals and nobles. Shiroe had heard as much from a waiter he’d flagged down a moment ago. He gave a small sigh.
We’ve made ourselves look like country bumpkins, I guess…
With the tragedy of being so inexperienced they’d had no way of knowing about that aspect of the situation, they’d arrived a bit early, knowing they couldn’t afford to be rude. Apparently it had backfired.
With no help for it, Shiroe’s group gathered at the wall, moistening their lips with their drinks.
This was the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice.
Located just two hours away from Akiba, it was a palace that had been built by the ancient alv race. That was the castle’s backstory, at any rate. In the world of Elder Tales, the ancient alvs were said to have been destroyed, and their race existed only in the past. They had had outstanding magical power and all sorts of techniques, but had been obliterated in the course of history. Faint traces of them remained in the half alvs, one of the eight playable races.
The Ancient Court of Eternal Ice—located on the southern side of Tokyo, in what would have been Minato-ku in the real world—was a giant, masterless structure. At present, it was collectively managed by the feudal lords of Eastal, the League of Free Cities.
—Eastal, the League of Free Cities.
It was an alliance that governed the area that was eastern Japan in the real world. In Elder Tales, the area under the jurisdiction of the Japanese server was roughly divided into five countries and cultural areas.
The area that would have been real-world Hokkaido was the Ezzo Empire.
Shikoku was the Duchy of Fourland.
Kyushu was the Nine-Tails Dominion.
The eastern half of Honshu was Eastal, the League of Free Cities.
The western region was the Holy Empire of Westlande.
In what might originally have been a ploy by the game operators to add plenty of variety to adventures, areas with their own unique races, customs, and artwork were gathered on the Japanese Archipelago, which had been condensed by the Half-Gaia Project.
Of these, Eastal, the League of Free Cities, whose territory was eastern Japan, was a league composed mostly of city-states. More than twenty forces known as “noble domains” or “noble cities” had formed an alliance that stood in opposition to the Holy Empire of Westlande in the west.
Compared to the real-world Japan Shiroe knew, the number of humans in this world was overwhelmingly small. This was true even if the People of the Earth, whose population had increased tenfold from what it had been in the game, were included in the reckoning.
Human territories didn’t cover a large percentage of this monster-haunted world. When compared to all of eastern Japan, even the areas governed by the lords who belonged to the League of Free Cities were no more than bubbles of safe territory on the surface of the savage wilderness.
However, even if their numbers were small, there were probably about two million People of the Earth on the Japanese server.
And Eastal, the League of Free Cities, administered only eastern Japan; but even then, social rules and systems of government were necessary.
In Eastal, that system took the form of feudal rule by the nobility. In Elder Tales, whose basic worldview was based on medieval European fantasy, these lords all referred to themselves as nobles.
Each had their own castle or mansion, wore a crown and mantle or tiara and gown, and ruled over the People of the Earth as typical aristocrats.
The lords of Eastal gathered here, at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice, once or twice each year for a conference at which they discussed various political issues. They also renewed old friendships, formally presented their sons and daughters as nobles, jousted, and formed relationships.
Seen from certain angles, it was an elegant culture, but on the other hand, the shape of the allies of Eastal desperately helping one another in the face of the threat of monsters showed through.
The Ancient Court, with its supports of magical ice, had been built in what would have been southern Tokyo in the old world, on the site of Hamarikyu, and for these and other reasons, it was used by the aristocracy of the People of the Earth as a venue for conferences and social occasions.
Shiroe’s group was standing idly in the great hall of the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice.
“Huhn. That’s quite a spectacle. Nerve-wracking.”
It was Michitaka of the Marine Organization production guild who’d spoken, and he’d probably meant what he said. He was openly staring at the palace’s furnishings and decorations.
“Pretend they’re all monsters. That will calm you down.”
The response came from “Berserker” Krusty, the leader of the combat guild D.D.D. Contrary to the image his byname evoked, to all appearances, Krusty was a pale, thoughtful, handsome youth, and today he was making a tuxedo look good.
“That’s so very you,” Michitaka cackled.
He was also wearing a tuxedo, and the impact wasn’t at all inferior to Krusty’s. In the first place, tuxedos were Western formal wear, and they were better suited to individuals who were rather stoutly built than to slender ones. For the two warriors, they were the perfect dress attire.
On the one hand, the head of Akiba’s largest production guild. On the other, a man who was no
t only the representative of its largest fighting guild, D.D.D., but the representative of Akiba’s self-governing organization, the Round Table Council.
Considering their reasons for attending this conference, making an impact was one of the best things they could have done.
“He’s right. You’re the only one who’d feel more relaxed surrounded by monsters, milord.”
That said, Krusty’s comment had probably been too bold. The tall woman who stood beside him admonished him as she handed him a small glass of sparkling liquor. From what Shiroe had heard, she was a member of D.D.D., and her name was Misa Takayama.
He’d guessed as much on hearing the dress code, but this might as well have been a ball. Assuming that it might be necessary since they would be socializing, the three Round Table Council representatives had brought escorts as part of their entourages.
“…My liege.”
For that reason, the slight girl who stood at Shiroe’s side also wore a magnificent dress. As if she couldn’t even hear the guild masters—two of the eleven on the Round Table Council—she spoke to Shiroe in a voice that was thoroughly forlorn.
Shiroe looked down at Akatsuki.
There was a difference of nearly thirty centimeters between their heights, so if she came too close, instead of her expression, all he could see was the top of her head. It was pretty inconvenient.
That said, if he crouched down so that he could look her in the eye when he talked to her, she’d say, “Don’t treat me like a child, my liege!” so there was really nothing to be done.
“What’s wrong?”
“I, um… I look…w-weird.”
As she pleaded, Akatsuki’s voice was like a mosquito’s whine. It wouldn’t have been possible to imagine this voice from her usual attitude.
Shiroe was perplexed; he had no idea what she was talking about.
There was nothing strange about Akatsuki’s costume. On the contrary: It was arrestingly lovely.
Her beautiful black hair had been arranged, and her petite, slender body was sheathed in a gown. Its overall basic color was pearl, but the train of her light, flowing skirt was dyed turquoise to a point about halfway up, and as the color continued upward, it melted into the pearl white.
The clean color combination exquisitely complimented her black hair and eyes, lending her a dignified beauty. “Umm…”
“You don’t look weird. As a matter of fact, you look adorable. You’re lovely. A fluffy, sweet Lolita strawberry! You’re so cute I want to take you home. No, I will!”
That was a declaration just now.
Henrietta, shrewd accountant and the pride of the Crescent Moon League, had cut in as Shiroe hesitated, bewildered. Her honey-colored hair was put up, exposing her neck, and her costume was unmistakably that of a noblewoman.
Her beauty was neat to the point where it seemed hard, and, in contrast to her looks, she always wore clothes that were rather reserved. They gave her an air of tidiness and were quite popular with some of her fans. However, seeing her in the evening dress she wore now, he had to admit that aristocratic clothes like these suited her best.
“A-are you sure? I can’t relax. It makes it hard to hide weapons, too…”
“Honestly! Where did you pull that kunai from?!”
“My lieeeege.”
Akatsuki ducked around behind Shiroe’s back, as if she didn’t know what to do.
She wanted to hide from his eyes, but she didn’t seem prepared to put any distance between them.
Akatsuki’s too conscientious about the word guard.
Even as she meddled with Akatsuki, Henrietta carried herself as if she was used to this. Shiroe had asked about her previous experience with fancy-dress balls, and had been told that she had none. She had said that her composure was all bluff, but from what Shiroe saw, he guessed she was so taken with Akatsuki that she simply hadn’t noticed anything else.
Akatsuki was a small, lovely, black-haired girl with the air of a swallow about her.
Henrietta was an intellectual beauty with honey-colored hair.
This time, these were the two Shiroe had brought along as his staff.
Why were Shiroe and the others in the great hall of the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice in the first place? The circumstances made for a rather long story.
It had happened in July, about a month before, when the town of Akiba was nearly ready to burst like popcorn from the heat of the reforms.
The Round Table Council had received a letter jointly signed by the lords of Eastal, the League of Free Cities. Written in the name of Sergiad Cowen, the lord who headed the list, the letter was both a request for their participation in Eastal and an invitation to the conference and ball that would be held at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice.
Eastal, the League of Free Cities, was an alliance of lords that controlled the area that had been eastern Japan in the old world. Needless to say, Akiba was one of the towns in their area.
Logically, now that Akiba had established self-government, it was perfectly natural for Eastal to contact them, and it was one of the developments Shiroe had anticipated.
The Round Table Council convened immediately.
It was probably the first time Shiroe and the other players had received this sort of invitation from the non-player characters. Although it was a situation they’d seen coming, the tension that ran through the Council was no small thing.
Eastal, the League of Free Cities, a part of this world’s sociopolitical system, was actively acknowledging the Council as a member and attempting to clarify its position.
Even as the Round Table Council buzzed, its members carefully analyzed the situation.
What would happen if they agreed to this request?
No doubt the intent behind the request was to acknowledge the Round Table Council, Akiba’s governing body, as a member of Eastal’s council of lords. In that case, it was likely that the lord (in this case, probably Krusty, the Round Table Council’s representative) would be given some sort of noble title.
In addition, they could assume that their continued participation in future conferences would be required. The merits were that they could collect vast amounts of information about the People of the Earth, and would gain negotiation channels. The demerits were that they’d be pulled into the People of the Earth’s politics.
So what would happen if they refused the request?
In that event, they’d lose the merits they would have gained had they accepted. In other words, they’d lose a negotiation line with the People of the Earth, and they would be unable to participate in the lords’ alliance. On the other hand, they wouldn’t be dragged into the politics of the People of the Earth.
They also discussed specific demerits. For example, would they incur the lords’ anger and trigger a war?
At this point in time, Shiroe and the others guessed that that possibility was a small one.
Akiba, after all, was a player town.
It had proportionate commercial facilities, and with this many Adventurers in one place, its martial power left nothing to be desired. In the real world, the development of modern firearms meant that the fighting abilities of individual soldiers had ceased to be a major factor in whether wars were won or lost. However, in this other, fantasy world, magic existed, and the differences among individuals’ combat abilities could still have a marked influence on the outcomes of entire wars. It was a world in which victory in one-on-one battles and great victories in strategic sites would have a huge influence on a conflict.
Generally speaking, the combat abilities of the People of the Earth were much lower than those of the Adventurers. Even among settlers living in pioneer villages in remote, fairly dangerous regions, for regular farmers, a combat level of 20 would be considered quite high.
Most farmers and huntsmen had levels under 10, while the levels of merchants, women, and children ranged from 1 to 5.
Of course the People of the Earth also had martial power on their side.
&
nbsp; No doubt the lords had soldiers, knights, and magic troops at their disposal. Their armies were fairly large, and from what Shiroe knew, their elite troops probably had levels ranging from 50 to 60.
There were also People of the Earth who had been given special abilities, like the town guards. Their levels weren’t actually higher than the Adventurers’. Instead, they used special “mobile armor” to guard specific town zones. This mobile armor conducted magical energy from arrays placed around the entire town and granted high-output magic-combat abilities. It was elite, magical tactical weaponry.
In addition, there were non-player characters whose combat abilities far surpassed even these. In the world of Elder Tales, they were known as “the Ancients.” Shiroe didn’t know the detailed folklore, but it seemed that while the People of the Earth considered the Ancients to be like them, they also saw them as special.
The Ancients. Indigenous folklore aside, in terms of the game, their significance was clear.
In this world, the People of the Earth were designed to be inferior to Adventurers in many ways.
By battling over and over, Adventurers grew. Their levels rose, and their combat ability expanded to dozens of times its initial values.
Even lethal wounds weren’t enough to destroy them: They returned to the temple and revived. They found, or retook, powerful items that had been left in ruins and with monsters all over the world, further developing their combat abilities.
To ordinary People of the Earth, Adventurers were a type of superhuman.
Of course, for a game, that was as it should have been. Under the RPG growth system, it would have been humiliating—and very stressful—if almost all the characters who appeared were stronger than the player.
There was significant meaning to the fact that the People of the Earth weren’t strong in the game. However, on the other hand, when creating story scenarios, it was necessary to have “superhuman People of the Earth” in the cast as well.