The Maid Is Not Dead

I was a fool. So a part of me scolded myself on my way out of the Tribunal.

There I was, chasing a centuries-old fantasy instead of choosing a more practical path. The effect of Tonitrus could pass through the thickest skin and armor and was certain to prove useful in the battles to come, regardless of who was my opponent. Rejecting the sign out of mere personal distaste was the sort of childishness I could not afford. Sonus, while not as potent as a tool of war, could be utilized for subterfuge, to distract and disorient, extremely helpful for a lone entrepreneur. And yet, though I knew this, I was unable to let go of the illusions of grandeur that the late wizard Ryndell had painted in his journal.

When I had no proof he had actually managed to execute his speculative system in real life, and his notes weren't only a work of fiction. A fraud.

Nonetheless, the small but endlessly optimistic part perpetually camped somewhere by the core of my soul told me to see this an investment for the future. I had a lifetime to look for the remaining sign. My own home city held perhaps the greatest collection of Grimoires in the western continent, if not the whole world, sans the isle of Sages itself. If I ever made it back there again, I could put this magic to the test. And why couldn't I? No spell would avail me, if I lost hope of success. I was not a witch and never built my plans solely on magecraft, so passing up on Lady Mariel grand magics changed nothing for me. Was that not the case?

Surely I was not being simply an idealistic fool?

The pessimist in me begrudgingly agreed to adjourn the debate for now, wishing only to remind that without the missing last Sigil the other two only ate up my mental capacity for nothing and made a grand waste of all the preceding, backbreaking work. Even if this could change in the foggy future, it still held true today. So plagued by doubt, I headed to work.

You wouldn't have noticed it in the perpetually chilled depths under the mountain, but July had come around on the topside, and with it, my fourth month in the Kingdom of Argento. The gentle shift of seasons was hard to miss in the township, which had in the past month been invaded by a sultriness of all new intensity.

The damp air poured down from the Ursus heights and mixed with the sun-cooked pressure simmering in the ebbs of the lower land, and turned the region of Faulsen into a veritable steaming basket. Anyone accustomed to more moderate climates was soon baked to a mush inside out. Male laborers had the luxury to strip their shirts and let the mild dell wind dry the sweat on their tanned hides. Maids, however— imperial maids, in particular—were subject to the strictest of dress codes at all times and going topless was not an option.

Shepherds were not bound by similar regulations, yet young master Norn's attempt to leave for work one morning without a shirt was shut down by the landlady, and with such one-sided force that the topic became another taboo in the household, comparable to the Lindford's list. Something of a pity, as I had thought to propose a similar cooling method to Vera herself, if only to see her reaction. But the comedy value of the subject had taken a sharp dive, so I decided not to test the waters.

I knew how to read the room.

As for myself, my only real method to escape melting was to head into the dungeon early in the morning and not be in a hurry to come back. But though the dwarven halls stood from century to century unchanged and gave one the uncanny illusion of time standing perfectly still, the rest of the world knew not summer breaks. The weavers of faith, in particular, were tirelessly at work spinning their yarn, little by little, until the foretold change caught up with us.

I was eager to leave the heat as early as possible and left the house alongside the landlady that morning. If only the Guild opened its doors earlier. The air was sweltering already ere sunrise, the night hardly any less boiling than the day, and I yearned for the streets of the dead as if they were my true home now. The grasshoppers' mixed chorus in the greenery between the houses was hard on the ears, and the air between the houses was thick with humidity and flying things, bees and horseflies shooting past my brow with a ripping buzz.

"Hm. What's going on now?"

We had come to the marketplace, where the trade had yet to open, when Vera abruptly paused in her tracks. She took note of a dense crowd assembled towards the northwestern end of the long clearing. It was unusual for so many townspeople to be loitering about at such an hour. Any decent person was either already at work or getting ready, or still at sleep, and had not the time to stand about gawking at nothing.

It took a special reason to compel the locals to change their fixed routine. A word of something exceptional.

A similar scene was seen on the day the bounty for the alternative bridge was announced by the Guild in spring, and at that time the site for the address had also been the same: the doorstep of the church facing the plaza in the west. I suddenly smelled trouble.

Overcome with curiosity and foreboding, Vera and I parted from our standard route and went to join the mob facing the tall, oaken church door, where an evidently high-ranking official held the stage, wearing a hot sort of robe dyed in the King's earthen colors. The man was sandwiched between several grim soldiers, who with their spear-punctuated line lent mortal weight to the presentation.

At quite close to eight o'clock, the show kicked off at last. A little early, perhaps owing to the presenter's uncomfortable suit.

"Hear all! Hear all!" the official began as he unraveled a long scroll and displayed it to the onlookers. Although none had any hope of deciphering the size ant print from this distance. We could only depend on our ears. And, with a voice high and clear, the official proceeded to read aloud the following:

"By the decree of his Royal Highness, King Pellegryn of Argento, a public bounty shall be issued hence for all willing and able braves: find and slay the fell demon Mithora, the monstrous and vile lord of the living dead lurking in Baloria's halls! Whosoever accomplishes this heroic deed and produces the necessary proof of the kill shall be granted an honorary title, and altogether three hundred marks of silver in reward!"

A collective gasp of surprise passed through the assembly, like a quick summer shower.

Oh, so that was all?

It was about time they took action based on Vera's discoveries in the archive. Personally, the only thing that surprised me was how long it had taken for the authorities to make their move. Clearly enough, the King was reluctant to part with any more silver, but the glacial rate of progress in the dungeon, grown yet more lethargic as the summer drew on, had surpassed his patience. If no hero was going to step forth unbidden, a suitable motivator was needed. The King's own men had yet to rebuild from their rout and awaited reinforcements, so he sought to speed up things by other means.

But something was a bit off here. Why make the bounty public instead of submitting an open quest directly to the Guild? While it was a newsworthy affair, perhaps, the ordinary townspeople had no business approaching the dungeon unescorted, and this promise of silver should not have concerned them. But in this, it turned out, I was mistaken.

The King had chosen a path that hadn't even entered my imagination. Not my worst fears.

The official continued,

"Further, let it be known to all that with the approval of the Adventurers' Guild of Faulsen, the rank restriction formerly imposed on the dungeon of Baloria this spring has, as of this day—been lifted! The watch at the dungeon gate shall be removed to-day, and every legal citizen shall be allowed to test their mettle in its depths! To forge their own fortune and rise a hero, for the people and for their King!"

A stunned silence followed his words. It didn't seem to me that any of the people around even drew breath anymore. But that peace was deceitful and short-lived.

"What the f——?"

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Vera began to say something, but even her firm voice was drowned out in the next beat by a hundred simultaneous questions that the excited crowd heatedly cast at the King's man. Are you serious now? What does it mean to be a legal citizen? Why, it means everyone registered as a citizen in the Magister's books. Who is the Magister? What does that mean? Explain clearly! It means anyone born and raised in the country, or who had lived and worked there for longer than five years and had obtained citizenship, and who was not certifiably a slave, or financially beholden to another. Did that truly mean anyone? Did anyone who had these things and did those other things get the money and whatever else from the King's own hand? Yes, that is correct. Even if you're not a registered adventurer or have a high rank? Yes, that will not be required anymore. Anyone can go! And it's not a lie and they won't later say it didn't count, and nobody ever promised such things? Yes, this is written on an official document, signed by the King, and verified by the King's seal, and proclaimed before lawful witnesses, and the King's word was law in this country.

"Did you know about this?" I leaned over to ask Vera, although her expression alone seemed to answer the question.

"No!" she exclaimed, outraged. "I haven't heard a word! That crazy old bastard! What is he thinking!? A branch director doesn't have the authority to change dungeon ranks! Not even a king could do that! They should know! They're picking a fight with the main branch now! He can't talk his way out of this one anymore! He's going to sink the whole bureau and us alongside, and every adventurer in this country! Just to court the King's favor! Has everyone gone completely mad!?"

Certainly, as Vera said, it was a suicidal maneuver in many ways. If a member of an international organization decided to abandon the core policies of said organization, then a confrontation with the higher-ups became inevitable.

Individual adventurers could be demoted and exiled, and so could entire branches be reformed or pruned. There were historical precedents to this. It did not reflect well on the workers of said branch, needless to say. Maybe Faulsen's bureau did ask for cleansing measures, but if it were disbanded entirely, then every adventurer in the region would be left without employment and would have to move elsewhere. For many poor souls, it was asking too much. If they could pack up and leave, they likely would have done that already.

And that was only the beginning of the trouble. Without the Guild and adventurers to contain the monster population or fill other labor needs, even the more prosperous portion of the citizenry would be in trouble before long. Lives were going to be lost, no question about that. Lives that could have been spared.

"It would seem his majesty has chosen to go all in," I thought aloud.

Vera frowned at me. "What do you mean?"

"The King may become the savior of Argento and his own regime by conquering Baloria and claiming the lost wealth of the dwarf nation. He would have not only the untold riches of the dungeon, but also full control over the primary trade route between the north and south. The Kingdom could become an economy that not even the Empire could treat lightly. In that event, losing the Guild and any number of peasants would be a small price to pay. His majesty could easily found an equivalent organization to replace adventurers."

I underestimated the King's pride, it seemed.

The dungeon conquest had begun only as a weekend field trip, but now he had staked the future of his land on the effort. It went to show how much he loathed losing.

But that also meant…

Vera seemed to have the same concerns as me.

"If the dungeon isn't captured in time…" she began to say.

"Then this country will collapse from within alongside the ruling house," I answered. "Thousands will die, starved to death by the lack of trade, slaughtered by unchecked monsters, or wiped out in the power struggle between the local lords, who will, like vultures, engorge themselves on the corpse of the Kingdom."

"I love how you wax lyrical about the ruin of my homeland..."

She was not laughing, but neither was I.

As if that were none of my business.

Even after all these months in Faulsen, I still consider myself an imperial citizen first and foremost, different from the natives, and blessedly detached from their problems and everything that happened in this small town and this small kingdom. Even though the Emperor was far beyond the mountains, not a step closer now than he had been in April. And all the money I had was the money of Argento's people, their food was my food, and their work was my work, and I had no special immunity to any calamity that befell them.

These rapid changes were telling me the same message I could feel in my bones: I was running out of time.

It had come clear enough to me that I was not going to clear Baloria alone in my lifetime. The support of the Guild and the other explorers was indispensable to my efforts. If the dungeon defeated its conquerors, or the conquerors defeated themselves in their rush and greed, I would share their failure. But what could be done?

Sometimes, the thought would occur to me: why did I go out of my way to race the King of Argento for the mastery of Baloria? Why not seek cooperation? I didn't need to expose my identity to him, but could quietly lend indirect support from the shadows and through the Guild. If I shared everything I'd learned so far, the map and all, success shouldn't have been beyond him, given the upcoming reinforcements.

But that his majesty should actually succeed concerned me nearly as much as his failure, if not more.

If King Pellegryn took over Baloria, manned the mountain halls, and obtained the wealth of the dwarves, it would put Ferdina in a very awkward position. I was not a soldier, perhaps, but it was the servant's duty to always consider the benefit of her lord. I had to somehow secure an advantage for my homeland and that necessitated getting through before the locals. Which meant that I had to now try even harder and faster than ever before.

Vera and I split with the crowd that continued to question the officials. We came up to the bureau, but I gave up on making the stop.

"Aren't you coming in?" Vera halted at the porch to ask.

"No," I said and kept walking. What use was there in browsing quests at a time like this?

I had secretly felt such youthful pride when I was promoted. Like I was going to places. But in one morning, my tags and record had ceased to mean anything.

Vera's voice took on a note of concern. "Hey, Lu. Are you all right?"

"I am fine," I said and didn't stop or look back.

"You don't look so fine."

"I am fine."