Early in the morning, I was entertaining a guest despite it being my day off.
It was a good thing I'd marked it as a day off, but I had to wonder—what would I have done if I'd been planning to challenge the Dungeon?
Sitting across the desk from me, Crate came in with a bright smile, ready to consult me about something.
"Carrying supplies down to the fifth underground floor? You want us?"
Crate, his slicked-back hair perfectly in place even this early in the morning, sipped the tea Monica had prepared and spoke.
"Indeed. It turns out supplies are dwindling faster than expected, and they've decided to send an additional shipment. So I heard you're close with Lady Alette and came to ask for your cooperation. Oh, by the way, this is an official Guild request as well. My, this tea is delicious."
Crate praised the tea, but Monica simply gave a slight bow in silence, rather than her usual manner of speaking.
(If only she'd stay quiet like this all the time. No, wait—that'd actually be even scarier.)
While thinking it was fine for Monica to just be her usual self, I still felt a bit uneasy about agreeing to help complete this request.
"Can't Crate and the others complete the request on your own? The reward would get split further, wouldn't it?"
Crate crossed his arms and spoke with a troubled expression.
"Actually, it seems Lady Marina has been running wild from the sixth down to the seventh underground floors. Albano just withdrew too, and he won't be challenging the Dungeon for a few days. The fool squanders all the money he earns on revelry, then doesn't lift a finger to work when it really matters!"
Crate slammed his fist on the table, though if I may say so—
"No, I think vacations are necessary. Besides, what about the volume of supplies? My party is..."
Inside the tent, besides Monica, Miranda was also on standby to review this request. She sat in her chair with a smile on her face, but I had no idea what she was really thinking.
Crate showed me the Guild documents.
"Tomorrow, this many consumables need to be delivered. There's escort duty along the way too, but above all, you've got a Porter, so it'll be fine, Lyle!"
He said it was all fine with a smile on his face, but our Porter was basically a downgraded mini-Porter.
We had made improvements to it, but it still couldn't handle that volume of supplies.
(Round-trip to the fifth underground floor carrying supplies. And with this quest reward... we'd be running at a loss if we cooperated)
The compensation was certainly satisfactory in terms of amount.
If you considered it as hauling cargo to the fifth underground floor, the pay was good enough to think it might be worth doing. But it wasn't a quest we should take on.
It was a quest ill-suited for us, given the large volume of cargo and our lack of support.
"Escort duty is one thing, but we can't handle it. We might manage an escort along the way, though."
At my words, Crate stood up.
"What are you saying? A party led by me, Crate, needs no escort! Just focus on carrying the cargo."
No, that was exactly why it wasn't suited for us...
While dealing with Crate's overbearing manner and refusal to listen, I managed to draw out more information.
As for why he was commissioning us—
"—So you're saying only officially commissioned parties are allowed? Actually, there are plenty of parties that would take on this kind of quest. More to the point, why did you bring a quest posting that was just hung up on the board?"
From within the Jewel, the Sixth Generation's voice came through. He sounded exasperated and irritated at the same time.
"Hey, this one's one of *those*. A hopeless type."
Not so much a hopeless type—it looked more like he was spinning his wheels.
Come to think of it, Alette had mentioned he had a strong personality too.
The narrow-eyed man had said something similar, I thought, but unlike Albano and the others, this one was troublesome in a different way.
The Third Generation spoke up.
"He'd probably work hard once he found a place to work... but bringing the quest posting here—honestly, what's the deal with that?"
But then the Seventh Generation chimed in.
"...Lyle, take this quest with just a few members. It's actually a good opportunity, isn't it? You can observe up close how other parties operate in the Dungeon. And they're a Guild-recognized party. Watching them will be educational. If they turn out to be a bad party, you can use them as a cautionary tale."
I was about to sigh, but it was true—the job was just carrying luggage with an escort.
A small party shouldn't be a problem.
(Luggage hauling would be Clara's specialty, but I want to let her rest, so that's a no. Eva and May are only thinking about playing once they get back... If I'm taking anyone, it's Aria and Miranda.)
The next time I headed into the Dungeon, I planned to seriously earn money on the seventh underground level. I'd taken a longer break to prepare for that, too.
(You have to be willing to get soaked to challenge it, so I can't proceed until the equipment is ready.)
I'd need to wear a water-repellent suit; otherwise, I'd get drenched and catch a cold.
(While I have downtime until the equipment is ready, I might as well check out other parties.)
I decided to accept Crate's request.
"Understood. However, we have prior commitments, so we can't all participate. Including myself, three of us will handle the luggage transport."
Hearing this, Crate made a troubled expression.
"Th-three people? Can you at least manage six? The luggage is going to be quite substantial."
I told him I wanted to rest my companions, rejecting his proposal.
"We have our circumstances, but we will take on the request's cargo. How about we meet at the Dungeon entrance tomorrow morning?"
"Fine. You're doing us a favor here. We'll have to be patient."
Hearing that, the Fourth Generation grew irritated.
"Patient? Hey, what's this guy talking about? We're the ones being patient! Lyle, refuse this request immediately!"
But here, the opinions of the Successive Heads diverged.
The Sixth Generation, too.
"Refuse it. There's no point helping someone like this."
However, the Fifth Generation's opinion was different.
"No, we're participating. The dungeon is only open down to the fifth floor, so there won't be many Monsters. If anything happens, Laiel can handle it. That knight Alette—there were a few issues with her, but it wouldn't hurt to confirm that for ourselves."
The Third Generation agreed with the Fifth Generation.
"True. We'll all be in the same Guild from now on, so it's not a bad idea to know what doesn't work. Still, I'm curious why the Guild accepted them in the first place."
The Seventh Generation, in a rare display, summed up everyone's opinions.
"Then, with the majority in favor, it's approved."
The Fourth and Sixth Generation let out frustrated voices.
"...Just don't get involved and you'll be fine."
"I said there will absolutely be problems, and..."
While listening to Jewel's voice, I went over the finer details with Crate.
After Crate left my tent,
I called out to Miranda and Aria.
I told them about the sudden request and that I'd prepare additional compensation if they would join.
Of course, if they refused, I planned to go alone.
Aria clearly looked reluctant, yet for some reason, she seemed a little happy.
"Mmm, I really don't want to... But if you're asking, I guess I have no choice."
Miranda, having overheard the conversation, shrugged both shoulders in resignation.
"It's fine. I've had a long break anyway—my body's starting to get stiff."
Meanwhile,
Monica pulled supplies out of her skirt and assembled another Mini Porter.
Muttering complaints the whole time.
"...Seriously, me not participating... I've only gone once, and now I can't even test out the repertoire I came up with for the Dungeon... Dammit, that slicked-back-hair bastard..."
Watching Monica furiously assemble the Second Generation's Mini Porter, I—
"You'll be back in a day anyway. Until then, have the modification parts for the Mini Porter ready. I'm counting on you, Monica."
When I offered that blatant praise, Monica looked at me with a condescending expression.
"Ha! High-performance Monica doesn't come cheap enough to fall for such obvious flattery. How about you try saying something like 'come slip into bed with me once in a while' as a reward?"
Even as she said that, Monica continued assembling the Mini Porter at an even faster pace than before.
Seeing that, Aria muttered under her breath.
"...She's obviously falling for it. What a cheap girl."
But then Miranda pointed at Aria with a grin.
"Take a look in the mirror, Aria."
—and so they shared a laugh.
After entrusting Monica with the additional Mini Porter and the modification work, I walked through the town.
The town had developed considerably—the districts were well-organized, and wide roads now ran through it.
The Successive Heads observed this.
"You ought to see this technology up close. Who cares about crepes?"
The Fourth Generation's complaints had been getting worse for a while now.
(It's not "crepe," it's "Crate"... Well, whatever.)
As I walked on, I spotted an unfamiliar group working near the town's entrance.
(What's that about?)
When I got closer, I found several mages, Guild staff, and a craftsman-looking man deep in discussion about something.
A Guild staff member was saying.
"Then, we'll place this facility here. We'll also prepare a lookout post, so please proceed with the work accordingly."
A mage replied.
"We'll handle most of it on our end. The fine details up to the final touches — let's leave that to the slaves."
Hearing the word "slaves," I looked at the people working.
A craftsman-like man spoke up.
"Leave it to me. I brought plenty of healthy ones."
The slaves I imagined were people forced to work in ragged clothes, emaciated and miserable.
I'd heard that slaves were sold in Baim, but I was wondering if this was what that actually looked like when—
From the Jewel, the Third Generation's voice came.
"Well, this is pretty much reality for you."
As I listened to his resigned mutter, I turned to the Guild staff member who had finished speaking and was now walking toward me.
"S-Sorry?"
"Hm?"
"Um, these people are slaves, aren't they?"
The staff member put a hand on his chin, looked at me, and then… laughed.
"Oh, is that what you're wondering about? My apologies. Not many people in Baim ask about that sort of thing. Yes, they are indeed slaves."
The staff member gazed toward the slaves.
I followed his gaze.
There, I saw—
"So, I wonder what's on the lunch menu here?"
"Still, it's only during winter, but the pay is good this time around, so I can't complain."
"I want to go play, but I don't have the money..."
A craftsman-like man shouted at the slaves, who were grumbling complaints as they worked.
"You lot! Get to work faster! I want to go play too! The one who works the hardest gets drinks on me at the tavern. Put your backs into it!"
But the slaves…
"Drinks, huh…"
"I'd rather have women."
"This site supervisor is a bit stingy, isn't he?"
I watched the slaves.
(What is this?)
That was my honest impression. In stories, there are slaves who are treated terribly, and the protagonist of the story rescues those slaves.
But the scene before me was different.
They were just ordinary men, dressed normally, doing their work in a normal fashion.
A Guild staff member explained to me with a laugh.
"Well, in a sense, they're like adventurers. What they're providing is labor and time, though. During this season, farmers don't earn much, so some people become slaves to find work. Once spring arrives, they head back, though."
The Third Generation said:
'Isn't that just seasonal migrant work?'
"Why are they slaves, then?"
When I asked that, the Guild staff member scratched his cheek with his fingertip and said.
"Well, there's a strict screening process for buying slaves. The biggest reason is probably that slave dealers and people who handle slaves for work are more reliable when it comes to securing food, clothing, and shelter, and they pay more consistently than people who are just desperately looking for workers. A lot of people who go bankrupt end up becoming slaves, but if they have a useful skill, they'll fetch a high price. Apparently, if you can read, write, and do arithmetic, you can get plenty of work."
In other words, slave dealers and people who handled slaves for work had passed stricter screening processes than ordinary job postings, so you could rely on them more.
(…Well, when you think about it, providing food, clothing, and shelter is just obvious. You need them to work, after all… But still, something feels off…)
While I was wrestling with my confusion, the Guild staff member spoke up with a laugh.
"Oh, were you maybe imagining cute slaves or something? Let me be blunt — cute slaves are cheap. Everyone's looking for men as labor, that's just how it is. And if a beautiful woman has become a slave, you actually need to be more careful. There have been cases where a man hired a woman who'd fallen into slavery and ended up having everything stolen from him."
The Guild staff member said that if I was looking for women, I should just visit a brothel, and walked away.
I had a feeling I'd just learned more about the slave trade than I ever wanted to know.
(…Is there really no protagonist out there who saves poor slaves? I really wish I hadn't learned any of that…)
The next day.
Still reeling from the shock of learning the harsh reality, I was hauling cargo alongside two Mini Porters.
I'd forced as much luggage onto the Mini Porters as they could carry, but it still wasn't enough, so I was shouldering the rest myself.
What I was carrying was precious medicine and related supplies.
Crate's party was guarding us from the front and rear as we moved along, but…
"Aren't we slow? No, we definitely are slow, right?"
Both Aria and Miranda were exasperated by our progress, which was far slower than either of them had expected.
Miranda pushed her hair back and said.
"They are strong and reliable, I'll give them that. Full metal armor, well-rounded party members. But their movement speed is ridiculously slow. Lyle, want to try using your Skills?"
At her words, I shook my head.
"There's no point teaching them a Skill that would cover their weaknesses — it'd just cause problems if I did."
Crate's party moved extremely slowly, but their equipment was well-maintained, and in terms of party member balance alone, they were an excellent group.
The frontliners were heavily armored, bearing large shields along with spears, axes, and maces. The members standing behind were reserves, one of whom was also heavily armored.
The remaining two carried bows and arrows, and one of them held a staff. The archer's metallic equipment stood out just as much, and the mage's gear looked equally heavy.
With three in front and three in back, the party advanced in a protective formation, surrounding their support members.
The Fifth Generation watched this and remarked.
"In a sense, they've got the right idea. Sure, metal armor has its drawbacks, but they hardly ever get hurt."
Indeed, when Crate's party made contact with Monsters, they mostly ignored the enemy's attacks and simply overwhelmed them with brute force.
This was a party that had poured extreme amounts of money into their equipment, specializing solely in attack power and defense.
Aria looked at Crate's party's gear and muttered.
"That's almost entirely Mana Tools, isn't it? And it feels like all of them have offensive or defensive Skills attached too."
Aria stood with her hands on her hips, resting a short spear over her shoulder, looking thoroughly exasperated.
Miranda, meanwhile, studied the supporting members.
"They're faithful to the basics, I'll give them that. But just..."
Right then, Crate's voice rang out.
The second underground floor.
They were just moments away from the room containing the entrance to the third underground floor...
"All right, that's time! Let's take a break in a nearby room!"
He lifted the visor of his helm and cheerfully gave that order to his companions with a smile on his face.
The Sixth Generation was dumbfounded.
"Seriously? There's a bigger room just a little further ahead? Couldn't they hold out just a bit longer and make it there?"
The Seventh Generation spoke up, sounding bored.
" There are limits to being inflexible. "
The Fourth Generation had said.
"…Lael, you really shouldn't imitate this kind of thing."
I say, looking at Aria and Miranda, who are similarly exasperated.
"Let's follow the leader's instructions. Actually, we're only here as baggage carriers, so… yeah, sorry about that."
Aria lets out a sigh.
"It's fine. Today's, you know. It's the first time I've been glad Lael is the leader."
Isn't that pretty harsh? As I'm thinking this, Miranda chimes in with a smile.
"Ah, I agree with that."
I look at the two of them, sharing a laugh.
(Wait, am I really that harsh?)
I'd always thought I was more reasonable than Crate, but now I was starting to feel seriously anxious about it.