The Adventurer's Guild was as slovenly as I remembered. It was terrible, since it meant I remembered anything about this place.
Off to the side, a gaggle of men and women were still crowded around the giant pot, doing whatever ghastly ritual it took to increase the edibility of the unnamed stew bubbling away inside. Laughter and the sounds of hands slapping against backs echoed within this hall, as though none of the world's cares could interrupt any merrymaking while the fire roared.
I wrinkled my nose, then proceeded to dodge the innumerable drunks stumbling between the door and the receptionist's counter. A thickly built man stumbled and fell into Coppelia's path. She reached out and caught him with one hand.
“Oh, thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
Then, she casually tossed him to the side, rolling him into a table occupied by a group of adventurers playing at cards.
They stared at Coppelia in shock, then realised who she'd tossed into their table and proceeded to slap the man on the back, welcoming him into their game. He obliged without a glance at the clockwork doll, a grin on his face as he received his first set of cards while still on the floor.
These people.
How did they function?
Was it even possible for them to rescue lost cats when they were permanently inebriated? Or was that the only reason they did it?
What happened when they climbed a tree and then their alcohol level dipped below the alarmingly high threshold they'd trained themselves to enjoy? Did they immediately realise the ridiculousness of searching for wayward pets as a profession and turn to banditry instead? Was the Adventurer's Guild perhaps a method of ensuring these layabouts spent their time outside searching for kittens instead of robbing innocents for crowns?”
If so … it was genius! The sort of thing I'd come up with!
I would need to make inquiries and thoroughly commend whoever came up with a way to keep these louts off the forest roads!
But not now.
No, now I had other important matters to attend to.
Ensuring my living expenses were secured without needing to dip into my farm boys-to-heroes stipend was crucial. I needed enough that I could travel to the Wovencoille without ever needing to spend a night on the road like some common outlaw.
Or worse … these people.
I paused, tore the dryad notice from the wall, then headed to the receptionist's desk.
The same young woman from yesterday was present. She sat perfectly still, not even pretending to fiddle at paperwork as she patiently waited for any of these hoodlums to do some actual work.
I slapped the notice onto the desk.
“Greetings,” said the ever smiling receptionist. “Welcome back to the Reitzlake branch of the Adventurer's Guild. I see you've torn the commission from the wall once again. Please don't do that. Other adventurers need to be able to see it as well.”
“Ohohohoho … fear not, other adventurers may continue treading my footsteps! The commission is complete. The dryad is defeated. And at great personal expense, I might add!”
I'd used my [Spring Breeze] to send a mailbox through a wall.
The fact that I now knew my delicately honed technique to punt away caterpillars could also be used to send postal infrastructure through buildings was a blight on my conscience. I expected a generous compensation package for the mental anguish.
“Oh, is that so?” replied the receptionist, no differently than if I'd commented on the weather. “To confirm, you're claiming that you defeated the dryad recently sighted in Penny Lane, responsible for two deaths and classified as a D++ rank threat?”
“She blew up a wall,” said Coppelia, pointing enthusiastically at me. “I helped a little bit. But it was all her. Especially the wall.”
“My future handmaiden speaks in metaphors. She refers to the layers of secrecy and defences the dryad had constructed in order to shield itself from the hunt. Needless to say, the monster was unsuccessful.”
“That's wonderful news! Please give me a moment.”
The receptionist opened a drawer, then retrieved an enormous stack of documents. Despite its size, she flicked through with ease, pulling out a sheet of parchment without blinking.
“Do you have evidence of the dryad's demise?”
I rifled through my bottomless pouch. Amongst the fresh crowns derived from the perfectly legally obtained sack, I plucked out a slightly warm stick.
The receptionist peered down at the dryad's twig, then at the document in her hand. She repeated this motion several times, all the while I began to tap my feet.
Finally, she leaned in and narrowed her eyes at the thing.
“Hmm.”
I pursed my lips.
“Excuse me, but what is the 'hmm', for?”
“The dryad's branch is rather small.”
“It's supposed to be a branch?!” I said, shocked at just how poorly the dryad had died. “That is not my fault!”
The receptionist leaned in once again.
“... Hmm ...”
I threw up my arms.
“I have zero jurisdiction over the manner in which a dryad decides to wither away in their final moments! You requested a dryad to be dealt with! It is now dealt with! That the remains you choose to scavenge over like vultures to scraps is less than what you desire has no bearing on either the effort I expended or the reward I'm now due! How dare anyone in this den of debauchery claim dissatisfaction while merrymaking against the backdrop of my sweat and toil!”
The receptionist looked up. A tiny glint appeared in her eyes.
She raised a hand over her mouth and giggled.
“My apologies. The dryad's branch is fine. It is, in fact, larger than average.”
I slowly lowered my arms, though I kept my scowl on. My royal senses told me I'd still need it.
“... Excuse me?”
“It's customary for adventurers completing their first quest to receive a playful joke. This was my first time providing one. What did you think of it?”
I stared unblinkingly at her.
And then I brought my hands over my face.
Pray that my siblings live long and healthy lives, unnamed receptionist lady. Because if I become queen, I will have the last laugh.
“The dryad's subjugation has been confirmed,” she said, apparently back to being professional as she placed the twig … branch … dead dryad thing into another drawer. “Will you please present your adventurer's ring?”
As I wondered what they did with things bigger than a stick, I presented the shame of my existence on my palm. The receptionist took the copper ring and clasped it in her hands.
“[Identify] … [Imbue].”
A sprinkle of light escaped between the mage's fingertips. She nodded after a moment, offering the ring back to me with a smile.
I blinked at it.
“... Is that all?”
“Yes. I've imbued your ring with information regarding the successful completion of your commission. I'll inform the commissioning party that the request was successful.”
Slowly, I peered around the hall.
Men and women were still merrily drinking, eating, dancing, laughing, gambling, shouting, and not being useful. All of them focused on their own mirth.
None of them focused on the beautiful, new, mysterious adventurer within their ranks who'd just swept into the royal capital and defeated the rampaging dryad while they were cowering behind their drinks.
Indeed, not a single glance was spared my way.
Seeing such a scene, all I could think was—
Why not?!
This … This wasn't like the books I'd read! Any of them!
Everything from my beautiful appearance to my sudden defeat of a dryad qualified me as an exceptional mystery! I should be turning heads with every movement! I even had a clockwork doll by my side!
Why was I not being forced to utilise Coppelia to bat away a mob of drunken buffoons right now?!
It wasn't as though I desired the acclaim of these louts … but at the same time, a minimum standard of awe had to be maintained! If people weren't actively flocking to my presence, it'd give off the impression I wasn't better than them!
“I don't understand,” I said, gesturing around me. “Is this it?”
“Yes,” replied the receptionist, still smiling as she offered out the ring.
I belatedly accepted it, taking my time as I slowly placed the ring back on my finger as if it was a thing hooked out of a swamp.
That's when I saw the nearby woman drinking directly from a keg. And then I realised the truth of it.
These people weren't just inebriated.
They were utterly blacked out on their feet.
They weren't even conscious! Rather, their bodies must be moving on their own accord. They were sleepwalking drunks who were trapped in a prison of their revelry!
I felt a pang of relief.
No wonder they couldn't marvel at me. Why, they couldn't even see!
It wasn't because I'd lost my touch. No, not at all. I surely still carried my aura of royalty around me, even as I made a minimal amount of effort to hide it. These louts were simply too groggy to see it!
“Your reward,” added the receptionist, holding up a small pouch as I looked back at her. “30 gold crowns, as detailed in the commission.”
I accepted my reward far more easily than I did the ring.
The weight was noticeable all the way until I tipped the entire thing into my bottomless pouch. I carefully counted the stream of gold coins as it clinked its way in, disappointed that my [Spring Breeze] compensation fee was absent.
“I don't suppose that first time commissions come with additional pay as well as jokes?” I asked dryly.
“No, I'm afraid not. But if you'd like to pursue more work, I can offer you a range of new commissions. A fresh batch of requests for finding lost cats has recently arrived.”
The receptionist smiled politely at me.
She enjoyed this.
I could tell.
“I just defeated a dryad,” I said, keeping my tone resolutely business-like. “Why would I need to find lost cats?”
“Under the Guild Code, I'm only permitted to suggest commissions suitable for your current rank.”
“You cannot possibly tell me that the only commissions available to newly inducted adventurers are finding lost pets.”
“There are commissions for finding lost fruit slimes as well. As they are monsters, the rules of pet ownership do not apply to them. However, the rewards are the same.”
I knew that the receptionist could read enough of my expression to not require my reply. Still, she said nothing, patiently waiting for me to voice my next complaint.
Such … Such a powerful adversary!
Working as a receptionist in the Adventurer's Guild was beneath her. Someone with this level of ability to cause grief without words was born to grace the court of nobility!
“Very well … and if I requested to do a commission which wasn't finding lost cats or fruit slimes, would I be required to sign that ridiculous waiver again?”
“Yes.”
“Will I have to do that every time?”
“So long as you undertake a commission which surpasses your current rank—yes.”
I clicked my tongue. Few people made me do that. But this receptionist not only faced my displeasure without blinking. She did it with a smile.
I made up my mind.
The next time I returned to the royal capital, I would offer her a position on my personal entourage. If I didn't hire her, someone else would.
“That is absurd. Adventuring as a profession is a means of inventing new and creative ways to die. The adventurers in your hall are currently attempting to kill themselves by directly ingesting alcohol from kegs. Why is any level of bureaucracy required before undertaking a commission?”
The receptionist glanced at the two figures currently competing to see who would die first from alcohol overconsumption.
“They also signed a waiver.”
I gave up.
I had the will, but not the time to explain the absurdity of the Adventurer's Guild to one of their receptionists. Why should I? I was here for crowns, not hassle.
No, I'd allow the next lout to enter through that door to deal with this organisation's eccentricities. I had places to be. Multiple places. But the world wasn't gifted with two of me.
A shame. A single conversation between myself and I would open doors to fields of philosophy that had yet to be invented. And perhaps that was for the best.
The world wasn't ready for two of me. Lady Lucina Tolent wasn't even ready for one.
“I leave you to your bureaucracy,” I said, waving in the general direction of the receptionist as I made for the door. “Meanwhile, I shall depart to save the kingdom, and no amount of paperwork will stop me.”
Suddenly, I heard the receptionist giggle. I slowly turned around.
“What is it?” I asked, feeling apprehension that not even my tutors could instil on me. “Have I missed another joke?”
“Perhaps.”
The reception smiled and clapped her hands.
“I no longer need to advise you to only save lost cats. Congratulations, you've risen to E-rank!”
“...............”
Incredible.
Despite the sounds of adventurers earning a spot in tomorrow's obituary for the most absurd reason imaginable, all I could hear was the sound of a faint din consisting of this receptionist's words echoing inside my head.
“I don't understand,” I said simply. “Is this another jest?”
“Not at all. You're now E-rank. I assigned the new rank to your ring. Congratulations!”
I tapped my ears.
Absolutely nothing about how this organisation operated made any logistical sense to me. I accepted this. Peasants were poor and adventurers were insane. That was normal. That was the way of things.
And yet they still managed to confound me.
That, certainly, was worth some acknowledgement.
“I still don't understand. Are you claiming that I'm now E-rank?”
“Yes.”
I watched her for signs of deceit.
There were none.
And that horrified me.
“Are you … Are you claiming that all it takes to rise in the ranks of this pit of alcoholism is the disposing of a single dryad?”
“F-rank is designated solely for new or unproven members. A dryad is far beyond the accepted limit of an F-rank adventurer. Moreover, I've confirmed with the Rolstein branch your role in the conclusion of the Withering. Although your actions preclude your time as an adventurer, it does not diminish your capabilities. As a receptionist, I have special jurisdiction to offer promotions to E-rank as and when I deem it appropriate to do so.”
I blinked at her, aghast.
“Why would you not inform me of this immediately?!”
“You did not ask.”
This woman!
Her supreme lack of assistance made her truly destined for the court!
… Indeed, now came her most noble smile yet!
“Additionally, you now have access to better mercantile rates, as well as increased access to our adventuring services! Would you like to see what special offers and time limited wares are currently available in our E-rank exclusive in-house shop?”
And so the cobra raises its head!
This … This guild!
They only saw me as a promising source of crowns!
The outrage! The utter shamelessness! They wished to promote me only to squeeze me dry like a wet towel!
… It was the other way around! Not even the fact that the Adventurer's Guild was already bending over backwards for me could mask the indignation I experienced at such a blatant attempt on the 30 gold crowns they just delivered me!
Was this it? Was this truly it? The famed Adventurer's Guild, renowned across the continent for developing the ranking system now adopted by all—and all it took to rise from F-rank was to hurl a mailbox into a wall?!
“Pfft … pffhhht … ppfffttthhhttt ...”
Behind me, Coppelia had her palm to the wall, supporting herself as she slowly began dying of laughter.
“Aha … ahahah ... E-rank … ! Now you can … ahahah … now you can sell whatever junk you pick up from the ground for more crowns … ahahaha … isn't that wonderful … ?”
The exasperation I felt was unrivalled.
Indeed, the more I looked between my future handmaiden's clumsy attempt at stopping her amusement from leaking, and the wide smile of a receptionist who clearly believed she'd just done me a sensational courtesy, the more I came to one swift and absolute conclusion—
I should have just rescued cats instead.
The Adventurer's Guild was as slovenly as I remembered. It was terrible, since it meant I remembered anything about this place.
Off to the side, a gaggle of men and women were still crowded around the giant pot, doing whatever ghastly ritual it took to increase the edibility of the unnamed stew bubbling away inside. Laughter and the sounds of hands slapping against backs echoed within this hall, as though none of the world's cares could interrupt any merrymaking while the fire roared.
I wrinkled my nose, then proceeded to dodge the innumerable drunks stumbling between the door and the receptionist's counter. A thickly built man stumbled and fell into Coppelia's path. She reached out and caught him with one hand.
“Oh, thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
Then, she casually tossed him to the side, rolling him into a table occupied by a group of adventurers playing at cards.
They stared at Coppelia in shock, then realised who she'd tossed into their table and proceeded to slap the man on the back, welcoming him into their game. He obliged without a glance at the clockwork doll, a grin on his face as he received his first set of cards while still on the floor.
These people.
How did they function?
Was it even possible for them to rescue lost cats when they were permanently inebriated? Or was that the only reason they did it?
What happened when they climbed a tree and then their alcohol level dipped below the alarmingly high threshold they'd trained themselves to enjoy? Did they immediately realise the ridiculousness of searching for wayward pets as a profession and turn to banditry instead? Was the Adventurer's Guild perhaps a method of ensuring these layabouts spent their time outside searching for kittens instead of robbing innocents for crowns?”
If so … it was genius! The sort of thing I'd come up with!
I would need to make inquiries and thoroughly commend whoever came up with a way to keep these louts off the forest roads!
But not now.
No, now I had other important matters to attend to.
Ensuring my living expenses were secured without needing to dip into my farm boys-to-heroes stipend was crucial. I needed enough that I could travel to the Wovencoille without ever needing to spend a night on the road like some common outlaw.
Or worse … these people.
I paused, tore the dryad notice from the wall, then headed to the receptionist's desk.
The same young woman from yesterday was present. She sat perfectly still, not even pretending to fiddle at paperwork as she patiently waited for any of these hoodlums to do some actual work.
I slapped the notice onto the desk.
“Greetings,” said the ever smiling receptionist. “Welcome back to the Reitzlake branch of the Adventurer's Guild. I see you've torn the commission from the wall once again. Please don't do that. Other adventurers need to be able to see it as well.”
“Ohohohoho … fear not, other adventurers may continue treading my footsteps! The commission is complete. The dryad is defeated. And at great personal expense, I might add!”
I'd used my [Spring Breeze] to send a mailbox through a wall.
The fact that I now knew my delicately honed technique to punt away caterpillars could also be used to send postal infrastructure through buildings was a blight on my conscience. I expected a generous compensation package for the mental anguish.
“Oh, is that so?” replied the receptionist, no differently than if I'd commented on the weather. “To confirm, you're claiming that you defeated the dryad recently sighted in Penny Lane, responsible for two deaths and classified as a D++ rank threat?”
“She blew up a wall,” said Coppelia, pointing enthusiastically at me. “I helped a little bit. But it was all her. Especially the wall.”
“My future handmaiden speaks in metaphors. She refers to the layers of secrecy and defences the dryad had constructed in order to shield itself from the hunt. Needless to say, the monster was unsuccessful.”
“That's wonderful news! Please give me a moment.”
The receptionist opened a drawer, then retrieved an enormous stack of documents. Despite its size, she flicked through with ease, pulling out a sheet of parchment without blinking.
“Do you have evidence of the dryad's demise?”
I rifled through my bottomless pouch. Amongst the fresh crowns derived from the perfectly legally obtained sack, I plucked out a slightly warm stick.
The receptionist peered down at the dryad's twig, then at the document in her hand. She repeated this motion several times, all the while I began to tap my feet.
Finally, she leaned in and narrowed her eyes at the thing.
“Hmm.”
I pursed my lips.
“Excuse me, but what is the 'hmm', for?”
“The dryad's branch is rather small.”
“It's supposed to be a branch?!” I said, shocked at just how poorly the dryad had died. “That is not my fault!”
The receptionist leaned in once again.
“... Hmm ...”
I threw up my arms.
“I have zero jurisdiction over the manner in which a dryad decides to wither away in their final moments! You requested a dryad to be dealt with! It is now dealt with! That the remains you choose to scavenge over like vultures to scraps is less than what you desire has no bearing on either the effort I expended or the reward I'm now due! How dare anyone in this den of debauchery claim dissatisfaction while merrymaking against the backdrop of my sweat and toil!”
The receptionist looked up. A tiny glint appeared in her eyes.
She raised a hand over her mouth and giggled.
“My apologies. The dryad's branch is fine. It is, in fact, larger than average.”
I slowly lowered my arms, though I kept my scowl on. My royal senses told me I'd still need it.
“... Excuse me?”
“It's customary for adventurers completing their first quest to receive a playful joke. This was my first time providing one. What did you think of it?”
I stared unblinkingly at her.
And then I brought my hands over my face.
Pray that my siblings live long and healthy lives, unnamed receptionist lady. Because if I become queen, I will have the last laugh.
“The dryad's subjugation has been confirmed,” she said, apparently back to being professional as she placed the twig … branch … dead dryad thing into another drawer. “Will you please present your adventurer's ring?”
As I wondered what they did with things bigger than a stick, I presented the shame of my existence on my palm. The receptionist took the copper ring and clasped it in her hands.
“[Identify] … [Imbue].”
A sprinkle of light escaped between the mage's fingertips. She nodded after a moment, offering the ring back to me with a smile.
I blinked at it.
“... Is that all?”
“Yes. I've imbued your ring with information regarding the successful completion of your commission. I'll inform the commissioning party that the request was successful.”
Slowly, I peered around the hall.
Men and women were still merrily drinking, eating, dancing, laughing, gambling, shouting, and not being useful. All of them focused on their own mirth.
None of them focused on the beautiful, new, mysterious adventurer within their ranks who'd just swept into the royal capital and defeated the rampaging dryad while they were cowering behind their drinks.
Indeed, not a single glance was spared my way.
Seeing such a scene, all I could think was—
Why not?!
This … This wasn't like the books I'd read! Any of them!
Everything from my beautiful appearance to my sudden defeat of a dryad qualified me as an exceptional mystery! I should be turning heads with every movement! I even had a clockwork doll by my side!
Why was I not being forced to utilise Coppelia to bat away a mob of drunken buffoons right now?!
It wasn't as though I desired the acclaim of these louts … but at the same time, a minimum standard of awe had to be maintained! If people weren't actively flocking to my presence, it'd give off the impression I wasn't better than them!
“I don't understand,” I said, gesturing around me. “Is this it?”
“Yes,” replied the receptionist, still smiling as she offered out the ring.
I belatedly accepted it, taking my time as I slowly placed the ring back on my finger as if it was a thing hooked out of a swamp.
That's when I saw the nearby woman drinking directly from a keg. And then I realised the truth of it.
These people weren't just inebriated.
They were utterly blacked out on their feet.
They weren't even conscious! Rather, their bodies must be moving on their own accord. They were sleepwalking drunks who were trapped in a prison of their revelry!
I felt a pang of relief.
No wonder they couldn't marvel at me. Why, they couldn't even see!
It wasn't because I'd lost my touch. No, not at all. I surely still carried my aura of royalty around me, even as I made a minimal amount of effort to hide it. These louts were simply too groggy to see it!
“Your reward,” added the receptionist, holding up a small pouch as I looked back at her. “30 gold crowns, as detailed in the commission.”
I accepted my reward far more easily than I did the ring.
The weight was noticeable all the way until I tipped the entire thing into my bottomless pouch. I carefully counted the stream of gold coins as it clinked its way in, disappointed that my [Spring Breeze] compensation fee was absent.
“I don't suppose that first time commissions come with additional pay as well as jokes?” I asked dryly.
“No, I'm afraid not. But if you'd like to pursue more work, I can offer you a range of new commissions. A fresh batch of requests for finding lost cats has recently arrived.”
The receptionist smiled politely at me.
She enjoyed this.
I could tell.
“I just defeated a dryad,” I said, keeping my tone resolutely business-like. “Why would I need to find lost cats?”
“Under the Guild Code, I'm only permitted to suggest commissions suitable for your current rank.”
“You cannot possibly tell me that the only commissions available to newly inducted adventurers are finding lost pets.”
“There are commissions for finding lost fruit slimes as well. As they are monsters, the rules of pet ownership do not apply to them. However, the rewards are the same.”
I knew that the receptionist could read enough of my expression to not require my reply. Still, she said nothing, patiently waiting for me to voice my next complaint.
Such … Such a powerful adversary!
Working as a receptionist in the Adventurer's Guild was beneath her. Someone with this level of ability to cause grief without words was born to grace the court of nobility!
“Very well … and if I requested to do a commission which wasn't finding lost cats or fruit slimes, would I be required to sign that ridiculous waiver again?”
“Yes.”
“Will I have to do that every time?”
“So long as you undertake a commission which surpasses your current rank—yes.”
I clicked my tongue. Few people made me do that. But this receptionist not only faced my displeasure without blinking. She did it with a smile.
I made up my mind.
The next time I returned to the royal capital, I would offer her a position on my personal entourage. If I didn't hire her, someone else would.
“That is absurd. Adventuring as a profession is a means of inventing new and creative ways to die. The adventurers in your hall are currently attempting to kill themselves by directly ingesting alcohol from kegs. Why is any level of bureaucracy required before undertaking a commission?”
The receptionist glanced at the two figures currently competing to see who would die first from alcohol overconsumption.
“They also signed a waiver.”
I gave up.
I had the will, but not the time to explain the absurdity of the Adventurer's Guild to one of their receptionists. Why should I? I was here for crowns, not hassle.
No, I'd allow the next lout to enter through that door to deal with this organisation's eccentricities. I had places to be. Multiple places. But the world wasn't gifted with two of me.
A shame. A single conversation between myself and I would open doors to fields of philosophy that had yet to be invented. And perhaps that was for the best.
The world wasn't ready for two of me. Lady Lucina Tolent wasn't even ready for one.
“I leave you to your bureaucracy,” I said, waving in the general direction of the receptionist as I made for the door. “Meanwhile, I shall depart to save the kingdom, and no amount of paperwork will stop me.”
Suddenly, I heard the receptionist giggle. I slowly turned around.
“What is it?” I asked, feeling apprehension that not even my tutors could instil on me. “Have I missed another joke?”
“Perhaps.”
The reception smiled and clapped her hands.
“I no longer need to advise you to only save lost cats. Congratulations, you've risen to E-rank!”
“...............”
Incredible.
Despite the sounds of adventurers earning a spot in tomorrow's obituary for the most absurd reason imaginable, all I could hear was the sound of a faint din consisting of this receptionist's words echoing inside my head.
“I don't understand,” I said simply. “Is this another jest?”
“Not at all. You're now E-rank. I assigned the new rank to your ring. Congratulations!”
I tapped my ears.
Absolutely nothing about how this organisation operated made any logistical sense to me. I accepted this. Peasants were poor and adventurers were insane. That was normal. That was the way of things.
And yet they still managed to confound me.
That, certainly, was worth some acknowledgement.
“I still don't understand. Are you claiming that I'm now E-rank?”
“Yes.”
I watched her for signs of deceit.
There were none.
And that horrified me.
“Are you … Are you claiming that all it takes to rise in the ranks of this pit of alcoholism is the disposing of a single dryad?”
“F-rank is designated solely for new or unproven members. A dryad is far beyond the accepted limit of an F-rank adventurer. Moreover, I've confirmed with the Rolstein branch your role in the conclusion of the Withering. Although your actions preclude your time as an adventurer, it does not diminish your capabilities. As a receptionist, I have special jurisdiction to offer promotions to E-rank as and when I deem it appropriate to do so.”
I blinked at her, aghast.
“Why would you not inform me of this immediately?!”
“You did not ask.”
This woman!
Her supreme lack of assistance made her truly destined for the court!
… Indeed, now came her most noble smile yet!
“Additionally, you now have access to better mercantile rates, as well as increased access to our adventuring services! Would you like to see what special offers and time limited wares are currently available in our E-rank exclusive in-house shop?”
And so the cobra raises its head!
This … This guild!
They only saw me as a promising source of crowns!
The outrage! The utter shamelessness! They wished to promote me only to squeeze me dry like a wet towel!
… It was the other way around! Not even the fact that the Adventurer's Guild was already bending over backwards for me could mask the indignation I experienced at such a blatant attempt on the 30 gold crowns they just delivered me!
Was this it? Was this truly it? The famed Adventurer's Guild, renowned across the continent for developing the ranking system now adopted by all—and all it took to rise from F-rank was to hurl a mailbox into a wall?!
“Pfft … pffhhht … ppfffttthhhttt ...”
Behind me, Coppelia had her palm to the wall, supporting herself as she slowly began dying of laughter.
“Aha … ahahah ... E-rank … ! Now you can … ahahah … now you can sell whatever junk you pick up from the ground for more crowns … ahahaha … isn't that wonderful … ?”
The exasperation I felt was unrivalled.
Indeed, the more I looked between my future handmaiden's clumsy attempt at stopping her amusement from leaking, and the wide smile of a receptionist who clearly believed she'd just done me a sensational courtesy, the more I came to one swift and absolute conclusion—
I should have just rescued cats instead.
