Adventurers.
They might seem like a profession brimming with romance, but the reality is worlds away from anything romantic.
For starters, they aren't citizens of any city, nor are they farmers in some village. They have no home. They scrape by on whatever daily meals they can earn by solving tasks that citizens commission on the spot.
Slay a monster settlement that's sprung up out of nowhere, fetch rare materials needed for specialty goods production — in other words, they're subcontractors for the city. They aren't citizens, so they don't pay taxes, and because they don't pay taxes, they're seen as nothing more than parasites on the city — vagrants, freeloaders.
Most adventurers are composed of displaced persons or orphans. Stories of those who couldn't endure a lord's tyranny, fled under cover of night, and barely survived as adventurers are far from rare. Their backgrounds are deeply suspect. They aren't trustworthy.
"I'd sooner trust a cat with a herring than leave a commission to an adventurer."
That, broadly speaking, is how adventurers are perceived. You could call it a terrible reputation, and you wouldn't be wrong.
Unlike the modern era, where law enforcement and public order are well developed, in this age "trust" carries an abnormally heavy weight, and adventurers — whose origins are murky at best — are avoided by everyone.
Say you hired someone to work part-time at your shop. What would you do if that part-timer embezzled the shop's money and fled?
In the modern era, with its strong law enforcement and meticulous personal records, it's simple: report them to the police and have them arrested. But here, the law enforcement network is threadbare, and information databases exist only in the crudest form. If a part-timer flees the city, tracking them down is practically impossible.
That's why everyone wants to hire people they can "trust."
The most obvious example: the sons and daughters of other citizens. These people are expected to obtain citizenship, so the risk of them fleeing the city is low. Even if they did run, you could claim damages from their parents. Safe.
Or a priest from a temple or a city official who vouches for someone's identity. Such a person inspires trust. Priests and officials, if only to protect their own reputations, will thoroughly screen anyone they recommend. So if you want to land work, you absolutely must obtain a letter of guarantee from a reputable priest or official — or at the very least, a merchant.
Adventurers have none of that.
"At least once you've built up some track record, you can join a mercenary company."
"Life out in the world isn't easy, is it."
Jeremy managed a wry smile.
She and I were currently inside the adventurer guild's office building. It was an old structure. The wooden floorboards creaked underfoot, and despite the outrageously steep prices, the only thing they served was cheap beer. I tipped the low-quality brew into my mouth and surveyed the guild hall.
"We are recruiting adventuring parties bound for the Dantalion Demon Lord's Castle!"
"Fifteen percent of total equity to yellow-rank adventurers! Ten percent to green-rank!"
The place was a madhouse.
People streamed through the building nonstop, the old wooden floorboards groaning and creaking under the constant foot traffic. Adventurers shouted themselves hoarse, calling for anyone willing to form a party with them, straining to attract even slightly higher-quality companions.
This was the adventurers' hideout — the guild hall.
Individual adventurers naturally suffered from low credibility. So, the solution they devised was the guild. Most decent-sized cities had at least one adventurer's guild.
The guild managed, above all, an adventurer's "trust rating."
Citizens posted commissions to the guild. Adventurers then chose which commissions to accept from the publicly posted quest board. If an adventurer successfully completed a commission, the guild ledger recorded that this person had faithfully fulfilled a particular task.
Conversely, if they abandoned a commission, the ledger noted that they had neglectfully left it unattended.
In this way, data accumulated on how reliable any given adventurer was.
Adventurers whose trust rating dropped too far were expelled. No one would hand them commissions anymore.
It might sound cruel, but for the adventurer profession to function at all, there was no other way. In any world, the unreliable get weeded out. Adventurers were no exception…
That was why an adventurer would never take on a commission that exceeded their abilities. A sparrow trying to keep up with a stork would end up tearing its legs apart. Is this quest within my capabilities? Is there any chance of failure? They had to think carefully.
For example, suppose there was a commission that read, "Fifty thousand gold coins to any adventurer who brings back Demon Lord Barbatos's head!" No matter how tempting the bounty, it was absurd. Only a lunatic would snatch up that quest.
But one couldn't be too cautious either. After all, one still had to put food on the table. One also needed the nerve to take on a reasonable degree of risk.
A discerning eye and the grit to back it up — only those who possessed both could succeed as adventurers. And even then, a bit of luck was necessary to survive to the end…
I took a swig of beer.
"But my Demon Lord's Castle is known as a pile of junk, so…"
"Exactly. It seems like every adventurer in the city has shown up."
My dungeon didn't even have a name.
Nothing like Barbatos's "Palace of All the Dead," or Paimon's "Sea of Trees Where Lethe Slumbers." The sort of grand, impressive alias that any self-respecting Demon Lord's Castle was expected to have — mine had absolutely none.
It's just Dantalion's Demon Lord's Castle.
It hurts to be reminded again of how pathetic a dungeon master I am……
Well, whatever.
A whopping 4,000 gold bounty had been posted on that pathetic dungeon. On top of that, the city's mayor had personally hung a 1,000 gold reward around my neck. Altogether, it was a fortune of 5,000 gold.
For adventurers, it was a godsend.
Even if they formed a party of ten, the math was easy — 500 gold per person. They couldn't afford to miss this opportunity. That's what the adventurers would be thinking.
"That was the idea, of course."
"Hehe, imagine their shock when they learn that the Demon Lord himself is right in the corner of the Blue District."
Jeremy snickered.
That was right.
You could infer it just from the fact that the two of us had come here, but that commission was entirely a trap. The adventurers were being fooled by the old records of Dantalion's Demon Lord's Castle.
"The lowest-rank adventurers have swarmed in droves. Ugh, how pitiful. They're all going to die."
Just as Jeremy said. While it wasn't as vicious as Barbatos's place, my residence was no longer a pushover.
It was still only the first floor, but the finest architects in the Demon Realm had labored over it. I had poured in virtually unlimited funds. The dungeon was outfitted with all manner of traps and labyrinths. An average adventurer who ventured deep inside might not even be able to find their way out.
"Still, Your Excellency — wouldn't it be a bit dangerous if powerful ones showed up?"
"Right now, all the powerful ones are off working as mercenaries in the Lily War."
I shook my head. The Lily War referred to the civil war currently raging across the Frank Empire. The Kingdom of Bretagne, symbolized by the black lily, versus the Frank Empire, symbolized by the white lily. Hence the name.
War was the finest business for capable adventuring parties. They simply switched professions to mercenary companies, joined the side that was paying, and fought.
Between the Crescent Alliance Army's campaign progressing sluggishly in Habsburg and the civil war breaking out in Frank — it was a tragic era for the continent's people, but for the adventurers who were always starving for commissions, the words "Ah, what a great time to be alive!" would surely slip out unbidden.
I spoke.
"The adventurers still left in the city are all chaff. The vast majority are bottom-tier. They're the kind you can't even use as mercenaries. Well, even being generous, any adventurer of mid-rank or above would have already left the city."
I deliberately wrote the following in the commission notice:
'4,000 gold will be paid to whoever brings back the Demon Lord Dantalion.'
'The deadline is tight. By the last day of this month.'
'Dead or alive.'
"The important part here is 'the deadline is tight.' There's barely a little over two weeks left. Even if the high-rank adventuring parties currently out on the battlefield hear the news, it's impossible for them to participate."
"Ahh, so that was the meaning behind it."
Jeremy's eyes widened ever so slightly.
"As expected, Your Excellency, your silver tongue never fails to spin. This Jeremy is always impressed."
"...Is that a compliment?"
"Of course it is. The man whose silver tongue spins the best in all the world, yet who couldn't defeat 20,000 enemies even with 60,000 troops — the great Lord Dantalion."
I slid my foot under the table and kicked Jeremy in the shin. Jeremy scrunched up her face and went "Ow!"
"That's because Henrietta de Bretagne was cheating...! Do you think I'll ever again fight a pitched battle against a force with knights as their main unit in my entire life?"
"Ugh. Kicking a woman — Your Excellency, you're a barbarian."
"Does it hurt? Does it hurt a lot? That must be a stinger, huh."
I snorted.
For the life of me, I couldn't understand how it had come to this — not a single one of my subordinates was a retainer who genuinely respected me. Lapis was standing on top of my head. Laura, who used to follow me around looking adorable, had lately started thinking in bizarre ways. And Jeremy was just plain evil.
"Hmph, you worthless lot. I clawed my way up from nothing to where I am today, and you can't even bother to praise me..."
"You'd better not be mistaken. I do genuinely respect and admire Lord Dantalion, you know?"
Jeremy grinned from ear to ear.
"But Lord Dantalion, how should I put it, he's easy to be around."
"Easy?"
"Yes. I respect Lord Paimon as well, but he has no openings. You get this feeling — oh, so this is what a hero born under heaven's mandate looks like. That sentiment comes naturally. So when you stand beside him, you become solemn and serious."
"However," Jeremy said.
"Lord Dantalion gives off the strange feeling that he's missing a screw."
"……."
Without a word, I kicked his shin again. This time, Jeremy dodged smoothly as though he'd expected it. Damn.
"I have no intention of insulting you, my lord. If Lord Paimon walks steadily toward his ideals, skipping not a single step like a camel... then Lord Dantalion simply looks like he's letting the flow of time carry him along."
"Isn't that just a roundabout way of saying I'm unreliable?"
"Ah, yes, you're completely unreliable, of course."
Jeremy laughed.
"But my lord. A life devoted to pursuing ideals wears down those around you. It's like a blazing fire — it makes those drawn to it burn with passion, while simultaneously consuming them and reducing them to a handful of ash... Lord Dantalion's life is far removed from that kind of fire."
"Hm."
I took a disinterested swig of my beer. I couldn't make sense of what he was saying, but since it wasn't an insult, I let it slide.
"The talented people who gather around Lord Dantalion must have found a sanctuary in your characteristic looseness, my lord. In a world full of nothing but thorns, that kind of sanctuary is, at the very least, quite precious to someone."
After that, the conversation came to a halt. Jeremy simply smiled and kept looking my way, and for some reason, his gaze made me uncomfortable, so I sipped my beer.
"Hey. Mind if I join you?"
That was when an adventurer came up to our table.
He was a man dressed in fine leather armor. At a glance, he gave off the impression of being a sturdy adventurer. The man wore a friendly smile as he asked for our understanding.
"Yes, what business do you have with us?
I replied with a business smile. In truth, I could switch my expression in half a second anytime, anywhere.
"I'm currently looking for party members," he said.
The adventurer fellow sat down in a chair and spoke.
"You lot seem quite capable. How about it? Want to form a party with me?"