by Kumo Kagyu
“It-it’s kind of in preparation for…for when the time comes to show it to someone. Underwear is a girl’s last trump card,” Guild Girl said while remaining as gentle as ever.
“Is that right?” High Elf Archer asked offhandedly, to which Guild Girl said bluntly, “Yes, it is.”
Hmm…
It was hard for her to imagine that such a slim, unreliable-looking piece of clothing could be all that.
Maybe Guild Girl could sense High Elf Archer mulling this over, because she muttered, “Oh, well. You don’t have to force yourself to buy it right now or anything, but you should think about it.”
“Sure, I will.”
High Elf Archer tore off the clothes she’d been trying on without a moment’s regret. Then she grabbed up her own garments, which had been scattered on the floor, and squeezed into them as fast as she could. From the other side of the curtain, she could hear Guild Girl exclaim, “Y-yikes!” as the lingerie came flying over.
“If you put on clothes over these and then tried to move, it seems like they would be kind of…fluffy and rustly.” High Elf Archer bounded out of the changing room, back in her usual garb, and looked Guild Girl in the eye. She was picking up the clothes the elf had flung to the ground. High Elf Archer smiled without malice, like a cat. “I’d rather do something fun. Hey, wanna play a game?”
§
“A tabletop game?”
“Right. I just found it recently.”
Thus they came to the Guild tavern some time after noon.
Padfoot Waitress gave them a little bow, and High Elf Archer took the chairs off one of the tables.
Guild Girl produced a long, flat box wrapped in a copper-colored cloth. She opened a window and blew some dust off it. On the lid was a winding snake pattern.
“You move pawns, roll dice, and act like an adventurer… At least, I think that’s how it works.”
“So…you pretend to be an adventurer?”
“More or less.”
When they opened the lid of the box, they found several old sheepskin books, along with a collection of pawns and dice, tucked neatly inside. High Elf Archer took one of the figurines in hand and scrutinized it. It stood on a circular base: a knight wearing blue plate armor. Perhaps it was made of metal, because it had heft to it. This figure held a banner with an omega symbol on it, brandished a fine steel blade, and was crying out to end Chaos. A paladin, no doubt.
“This is pretty good craftsmanship.”
“There are a lot of scenarios, too. From saving the world to, well, slaying goblins.”
High Elf Archer giggled at the words slaying goblins. Her long ears bobbed happily.
“I bet it would go south fast if we made Orcbolg play it… Hey, can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“What’s the point of this?”
Guild Girl was left blinking by the sudden question. High Elf Archer saw her confusion and waved her hands frantically.
“Sorry, don’t take that the wrong way. I mean literally.”
“Oh, I see… Hmm.” Lost in thought, Guild Girl seemed very much the same as usual, despite being out of uniform. “I guess you could use it to determine your roles and actions before going on an actual adventure, to a certain extent.”
The disconnect caused High Elf Archer to snicker, and Guild Girl scratched her cheek.
“But I’ve never done this before,” the elf said.
“It takes effort and time, and of course you need enough players. Plus, a lot of people can’t read.”
“Hmm…”
She added that although the game was available, it was rarely used.
That was understandable to High Elf Archer. She put the paladin carefully back in the box. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be enough to guarantee a smooth adventure.”
“That’s true. It’s completely different from reality, that’s for sure.”
As she spoke, Guild Girl reached into the box again and took a piece. It was a masculine-looking light warrior, wearing leather armor and holding a dagger at the ready. Perhaps a scout.
“But maybe…that’s enough.” She touched its face gently with a finger, smiling shyly. “You could welcome back adventurers who had saved the world. It’s not quite a fantasy, or a dream…” She spoke quietly, almost as if to hide some embarrassment.
I get it. The elf girl waved her long ears gently and smiled. She could understand. Even though she was on the side being welcomed instead of doing the welcoming.
“Hey, teach me how to play,” she said, taking the paladin back out of the box.
Yeah. I like her face.
“Just watch me. I’ll save all the worlds you like!”
And then High Elf Archer proceeded to fail. Not only did she not defeat the immortal wizard, but she never even arrived at his maze-like mausoleum. Finding the miasma-laden entrance to the tomb was not for half-baked heroes.
Saving the world turned out to be a Herculean task, even when the world was a game board.
§
“Aww, man! That sucked!”
The tavern at evening was boisterous, and nobody listened to High Elf Archer’s exclamation. Sometimes adventures went well, and sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes the kindest thing you could do was ignore someone.
“I swear something was wrong there! How can a dragon just come flapping out of the sky?!”
“That was what was in the materials, so that’s just how it went.”
As the elf sprawled across the table and pounded the wood, Guild Girl responded with an awkward smile.
After that, the world had ultimately been destroyed several times. Despite the addition of Inspector, as well as Priestess and Cow Girl, who had shown up at the bar, peace for the world seemed a distant goal.
“‘Just how it went’! Not acceptable.” The two-thousand-year-old elf pouted like a child.
“You think?”
“Yeah, I think we could have done something more. I’m sure of it,” she complained, giving a wave of her cupful of grape wine.
“Maybe so,” Guild Girl said with a measured nod, pulling her food away from the wine droplets that splattered on the table. “Part of the interest of tabletop games is to see what people come up with.”
And she had to admit that the setup had been a little over-the-top.
“Hey, teach me how to play,” she said, taking the paladin back out of the box.
“Hey, teach me how to play,” she said, taking the paladin back out of the box.
Yeah. I like her face.
“Just watch me. I’ll save all the worlds you like!”
And then High Elf Archer proceeded to fail. Not only did she not defeat the immortal wizard, but she never even arrived at his maze-like mausoleum. Finding the miasma-laden entrance to the tomb was not for half-baked heroes.
Saving the world turned out to be a Herculean task, even when the world was a game board.
§
“Aww, man! That sucked!”
The tavern at evening was boisterous, and nobody listened to High Elf Archer’s exclamation. Sometimes adventures went well, and sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes the kindest thing you could do was ignore someone.
“I swear something was wrong there! How can a dragon just come flapping out of the sky?!”
“That was what was in the materials, so that’s just how it went.”
As the elf sprawled across the table and pounded the wood, Guild Girl responded with an awkward smile.
After that, the world had ultimately been destroyed several times. Despite the addition of Inspector, as well as Priestess and Cow Girl, who had shown up at the bar, peace for the world seemed a distant goal.
“‘Just how it went’! Not acceptable.” The two-thousand-year-old elf pouted like a child.
“You think?”
“Yeah, I think we could have done something more. I’m sure of it,” she complained, giving a wave of her cupful of grape wine.
“Maybe so,” Guild Girl said with a
measured nod, pulling her food away from the wine droplets that splattered on the table. “Part of the interest of tabletop games is to see what people come up with.”
And she had to admit that the setup had been a little over-the-top.
At those words, High Elf Archer rolled her head on the table to stare up at Guild Girl.
“…Actually, don’t you think it’s kind of wasteful?”
“Wasteful?”
“Or…indulgent. You guys barely even live a hundred years, right?”
Notwithstanding the occasional necromancer.
High Elf Archer wiggled her ears, tracing a circle in the air with her pointer finger.
“To use that scant time worrying about the future…it seems like a waste.”
“You mean we should be in the moment?” Guild Girl asked, her braids slipping down as she tilted her head.
“Yeah,” replied High Elf Archer with a laugh. “It’s the privilege of mortals to laugh or cry or get angry or fuss about what went on today. To worry about what happens a hundred or two hundred years from now—that’s our business.”
“I wonder.”
“A high elf said it. It must be true!”
High Elf Archer’s reply was accompanied by a proud snort as she confidently thrust out her small chest. She was a long way from the image of a noble high elf enjoining a human to be more thoughtful. But the truth was, she herself felt it took all she had to attend to what was right in front of her day by day.
Guild Girl giggled, and a smile came over her face—not her pasted-on smile, but a completely natural one. At the sight of it, High Elf Archer, quite pleased with what she had accomplished, narrowed her eyes like a cat and smiled.
“Well, since we’re here… Excuse me!”
“Yes!”
With Guild Girl still smiling, she called over Padfoot Waitress and ordered another bottle of wine. She was no hedonist, but this was special. Why not drink something good?
She opened the cork, enjoying the aromatic alcohol, then poured it generously into Guild Girl’s cup and her own. High Elf Archer took her cup, her eyes sparkling like she’d never seen one before, and Guild Girl did the same.
“…Okay. Here’s to today’s failed adventure.”
“A failure I won’t forget if I live to be a hundred!”
Cheers! Their glasses clinked with a musical sound.
The word tavern could mean many things. Not all such places were attached to Adventurers Guilds.
Wander around town and you’d find several, with bulletin boards and lights shining.
They typically had inns attached, and sometimes adventurers just wanted a change of scenery. These were places where adventurers could easily show up, eat and drink as much as they liked, and then set back off into town.
In one such tavern, a minstrel gave a warbling strum of his instrument and began to sing.
How many times do we meet and part?
What matters, proclaimed you, is what’s in the heart
With no one to fancy, they come and they go
Till you saw that sweet thing one day—oh-ho!
Be you a lord or be you a spy,
You don’t know her name, but you cherish her eyes
You ply your sweet talk, yet past tavern door
You realize too late: she’s not there anymore
How many times do we meet and part?
One meeting, one parting, and one broken heart…
“A’right, then. Guess we’ve got ourselves a party, hey, Scaly?”
“Ha-ha-ha. Though I could wish for a warrior and a scout.”
Sitting well inside the cozy tavern, two adventurers talked affably and laughed.
One was a dwarf, stroking his white beard, pounding his rotund belly, and helping himself to wine and food. And across from him was a lizardman, eating with his bare hands, his great, scaly body seated on a wine barrel. They drank the wine that was brought to them like water, in a manner that went beyond hearty and was practically celebratory.
“A blocker, a ranger, a warrior-priest, a cleric, a wizard. I would say we have a pretty good combination.”
“Well, true.”
Lizard Priest took a bite of the boar leg he held with both hands, while Dwarf Shaman lapped at a bit of wine that had spilled on the end of his beard. He poured wine from the bottle into his cup with a glug, glug, then slurped from the overflowing vessel. He downed it in a single gulp and let out a burp.
“Not enough in the front row, not enough in the back row, not enough connections to get equipment and items. Complain about everything, and you’ll have everything to complain about.”
“Just so, just so,” Lizard Priest said, slapping the floor with his tail. “A party with three magic users is surely blessed.”
“Got to admit, it is a little surprising.”
“Your meaning…?”
“You.” The red-faced dwarf thrust his empty cup in the direction of Lizard Priest. “At first…I thought you might not be interested in partying up with another cleric.”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Oh, master spell caster. I never know what you will say next.” Lizard Priest laughed easily. Finished with the meat, he gnawed on the leg bone, making a ferocious show of his teeth. “All of us alike have come from the dust of the sea, so there is no cause for me to be upset that a descendent of the rats leads us.” Perhaps the alcohol was wearing off, for Dwarf Shaman looked weary as Lizard Priest rolled his eyes triumphantly. “I jest, I jest.”
“Afraid I can’t find it very funny,” Dwarf Shaman said, waving away the lizard’s nonchalance.
“Well, everyone has their own beliefs. If one chose to argue every time there was a difference, there would be no end.”
“But heretics and Chaos followers are different, I suppose…?”
“That is no mere argument. They must be killed until there are none left.”
Lizard Priest’s head bobbed with utmost gravity; it was hard to tell how serious he was being.
Dwarf Shaman pushed back his empty plate, catching hold of a server to order some meat, and rested his chin in his hands.
“Just out of curiosity—you hear rumors about lizardmen. They’re all left-handed, or their hearts are on the right. Is any of it true?”
“Hmm. I cannot speak to the location of my heart, but as for my hands, I would say I am ambidextrous.” The idea that all lizardmen were left-handed because a god’s left hand had created them was, apparently, nonsense.
Lizard Priest pointedly opened both of his clawed hands. Then he flicked his tongue as if he’d just thought of something.
“I hear dwarves can even float, from time to time.”
“If we’ve got wine, there’s nothing we can’t do. Wine, and good food!”
Dwarf Shaman said the same thing from several months before and grinned.
§
“If you’ve got wine, there’s nothing you can’t do. Wine, and good food!”
Just like many adventurers’ parties, theirs had been created at the tavern. At first, however, it had been just three people, and before that, only one.
The wind blew along the canal, making the air refreshingly cool as it came in through the door. It was twilight, and the water town tavern was alive with the sounds of voices giving toasts.
“But, m’ honored uncle! Don’t yeh think it’s a bit much to ask, even from your nephew?”
Dwarf Shaman sounded most displeased. He crossed his arms firmly and turned his back.
Across from him was a dwarf with more muscles, more beard, and more wrinkles than him, sipping an ale with a fixed expression. At his seat was a well-used war hammer, along with a grasping hook. He was a shield breaker. The dwarf veteran’s grim face, mug floating in front of it, eloquently bespoke the seriousness of the situation.
“Even so—listen. Right now, you are the only one I can call upon.”
“But even for you, dear uncle—there’s simply nothing to be done about it.” Dwarf Shaman gulped down his a
le and fixed his uncle with a lidded stare.
The dwarf’s face had even more wrinkles than before, and he was starting to go bald. He was well and truly aging. It was understandable: one of the young people in his tribe had set off to pursue magic and was now acting the ruffian.
But even so…this!
“Go on an adventure with an elf?” Dwarf Shaman said. “One presumably chosen by their leader or their king or whoever?”
“Presumably.”
“Tall, carved features, all too noble—practically shimmering with beauty—and oh so fragile.”
“Most likely.”
“Ever an elegant speaker, a first-rate poet, and the gods’ gift to archery?”
“Well, I’ve not met them…”
“Gaaah!” Absolutely no way, no how! Dwarf Shaman waved his rough hands emphatically. He was not kidding. “I couldn’t breathe around someone like that. I’d die of suffocation!”
“Listen, you selfish…”
“You say the world’s in danger? I’m more than willing to help—but not with an elf!”
Then it happened. A cup came spinning through the air, trailing wine, and smacked Dwarf Shaman’s uncle in the back of the head.
“Hey! You say that again!”
From behind his uncle, who was now facedown on the table and rubbing his head, there came a bracing, clear voice. Dwarf Shaman looked up and saw a sharp-eyed elf girl, her hands on her hips in an imposing stance. She was indeed delicate, willowy and modest-looking—and she wore close-fitting hunter’s garb, her long ears flapping energetically. One would not have guessed it from her tone of voice, but her ears, longer than those of other elves, were proof that she was descended from the old high elves.
Expecting a fight, Dwarf Shaman grabbed his ax, more than happy to take part, but a dog-faced padfoot said, “I’ll say it as many times as you want!”
The padfoot’s furry skin made it hard to tell, but to judge by the expansive chest, it was probably a woman. And her rough but high-pitched voice made it seem likely that she was, in human terms, just a young adult. Probably not an adventurer. She was in good physical shape, her movements precise—signs of proper training. A soldier, most likely. She wiped off the wine that dribbled from her head and gave a snort.