A bald, intimidating head was glaring down at me with hostile eyes. Even with the ever-soothing Kaina sitting right beside him, there was no softening that atmosphere.
I knew this was the kind of face you had to put on to keep Treasure Hunters from looking down on you. I also knew that, as far as Gaark was concerned, he wasn't actually trying to glare at anyone. But for a coward at heart like me, being made to sit in front of that expression was enough to make me shrink into myself.
I had been abducted by the Explorer's Guild for the first time in a while.
Gaark was supposed to be absurdly busy as the Branch Chief of the Imperial Capital branch, so the fact that he'd personally come to the Clan House to drag me in didn't sit right no matter how you looked at it. And Eva — the woman who had freely let my natural nemesis, the Branch Chief, walk right through — I had a thing or two to say to her about that.
I was made to sit in the Explorer's Guild reception room, enduring a gaze that could kill Phantoms for several minutes on end.
Eventually, Gaark opened his mouth and spoke in his usual low, threatening tone.
"Klye, you bastard — I hear you caused a stir with the Gradius Count's family?"
"No… I didn't cause any stir."
"Branch Chief, that makes it sound as though you called Klye-kun here specifically to scold him."
Even though I hadn't done anything wrong — well, I had been mentally preparing to grovel — Kaina's voice chimed in with a mild rebuke.
It seemed the real reason wasn't just to lecture me. I was used to being scolded, and Gaark was used to scolding. The two of us were a matched pair in all the wrong ways.
Gaark's expression twisted with a flicker of awkwardness, and he gave a small cough.
"That's not what I meant. Gradius sent a letter of appreciation. For you and Ark."
I had no idea why they'd send me a letter of appreciation, but if it was addressed to both me and Ark, they should've gone after Ark, not me.
Unfortunately, I'm a busy man. And that wasn't a lie — it was the honest truth.
Phantom generation really did have incredible depth to it. I needed to get home and resume practice on my miniature Imperial Capital…
"Anyway, along with the letter of appreciation, a personal commission has come in for you. From Gradius himself — the noble who hates Hunters. It's a pretty dicey case, but the compensation is more than generous. I imagine he's extending it as a token of gratitude and a test of your strength. Take it."
A personal commission was a request issued under specific terms — one that named a particular Hunter or Party in its acceptance criteria.
Receiving a personal commission was proof of a Hunter's growing reputation, evidence that they were trusted and their abilities recognized.
As for the nature of these commissions, they tended to involve high difficulty with even higher rewards, and depending on the status of the client, they came with the promise of further glory. They were the kind of gig most Hunters would kill for.
When I received my first personal commission back in the day, everyone threw me a celebration. (For the record, I never actually accepted the commission.)
A formal request channeled through the Explorer's Guild. When the client was a noble, you had no choice but to handle it with extreme care. I put on a serious expression and asked the most critical question.
"So… can anyone accept it?"
"Are you out of your damn mind?"
This was a commission from a noble who despised Hunters. From the Guild's perspective, it was probably a golden opportunity to demonstrate the value of Hunters to Lord Gradius. But I absolutely, positively did not want to take it.
I could tell it was going to be beyond my tolerance just from the vague description, and for a Hunter who wanted to retire in peace, a commission from a noble was nothing but trouble squared.
I put on a show of deep deliberation and played my usual card.
"The thing is, our Party only has two members right now… It's not that I don't want to take the job or anything, but I really think Ark would be better suited for this."
Gaark let out a deep sigh at my carefully worded gambit. Behind him, I could hear Kaina suppressing a wry laugh.
But Gaark spoke in a surprisingly calm voice — far calmer than I'd anticipated.
"…You should accept this one, Klye. You haven't taken a single commission this whole term, have you?"
"Ah… the quota. Is it that time already?"
"Don't laugh it off!"
Every Hunter belonging to the Explorer's Guild was required to meet a quota corresponding to their certified Level. This could mean exploring the Treasure Hall, subduing powerful Phantoms and Monsters, or completing commissions brought in from outside. Failing to meet this quota over a continuous period meant being branded with a mark of Hunter disqualification and facing the severe penalty of expulsion from the Explorer's Guild.
That said, these quotas existed primarily to prevent people from registering their names and never actually working — so-called "name-only Hunters" — and expulsion from the Guild was an exceedingly rare occurrence in practice.
Under normal circumstances, the quota was a non-issue for any active Hunter. If you were incapacitated by serious injuries or similar reasons, the requirements could be eased. Even if you failed to meet the quota in one period, catching up in the next would resolve the matter, so many Hunters didn't even think about the system at all.
But for someone like me, who rarely took commissions at all, that制度 was a nightmare.
The contributions of the members of "Beginning Footprint" and "Mourning Specter" fed a semi-automatic stream of merit points toward me as their leader, but even that wasn't enough to satisfy the quota.
I couldn't remember what my personal quota was, but in general, the higher your Level, the more demanding the commission requirements and the longer the deadlines. I furrowed my brows and thought hard, but no matter how I racked my brain, I simply couldn't recall. Right… I probably never memorized it in the first place.
"…Which period is this again?"
"This is the third one, you idiot! Klye, you're going to get expelled!"
Each period was six months, so being in the third period meant I'd gone roughly a year and a half without doing a single thing.
Come to think of it, I did vaguely remember getting the same lecture six months ago and a year ago, too.
Kaina offered a troubled smile.
"Klye-kun hasn't been doing nothing at all, and I think we all understand that. But officially, the only ones recorded as having accepted commissions are the other Hunters, so…"
"No need to apologize, Kaina. He's the one who keeps refusing to add anyone to his Party. That's his problem."
I mean, I really haven't been doing anything.
For instance, it was Tino and the others who did the bone-collecting at "White Wolf's Den." It was Sven's crew who investigated the anomaly. I had done virtually nothing — just tossed them a few commissions — so how could I possibly claim any of that as my own merit?
Moreover, Hunter commissions almost always came with fixed compensation. If I got credit as a participant, it would come straight out of the other Hunters' pay. On top of that, I was a certified Level 8 no matter how useless I was, which meant any share of rewards or merit points I received would be substantial — taking even more away from the others.
If it wouldn't reduce anyone else's compensation, I wouldn't have minded having my name added. But I couldn't in good conscience cause that kind of trouble for people.
I, Klye Andrich, fully acknowledged that I was no good — I tossed commissions to others, borrowed money, and left all operations to Eva. But I didn't recall ever being so brazen as to piggyback on other people's work.
"If a Level 8 gets expelled for failing his quota, it'll be completely unprecedented. Think of it as an opportunity. If I don't come drag you here myself, you'd never show up no matter how much time passed."
The Branch Chief personally coming to summon me — wasn't that VIP treatment?
…I'm truly, sincerely sorry for always causing trouble.
But even so, not a shred of motivation stirred within me.
In truth, I wouldn't have minded being expelled at all. And if I were going to take a commission, I'd want something far simpler than a personal commission from a noble.
On top of that — there was the faint hope, the naïve little thought that even if I failed to meet the quota, Gaark would find some way to smooth things over. Right… what a hopeless person I am.
Could someone please commission me to build a miniature of the Imperial City using Phantoms?
"Hmm, well, things are actually a bit tied up right now…"
"Klye-kun, things are always tied up for you…"
"Hm? What project are you throwing yourself into this time?"
Gaark's cheeks twitched and his lips twisted into a smile that could only be described as menacing.
That smile… he saw right through my lie.
I glanced at the calendar on the wall. There were still about three months left in the current period.
In any case, even if I somehow ended up accepting, a commission from a noble was one where failure was absolutely not an option. There was no way I could handle it alone. I had to buy myself time, somehow, until Luke and the others returned.
I'd just been in such high spirits over my new Treasure Weapon, and now this headache of a problem had landed in my lap.
I picked up the untouched tea in front of me, downed it in one gulp, and deflected with deliberate vagueness.
"Well, there's still time, and I've got my own schedule to manage. I'll give it some positive consideration while working out the details."
"If you don't show up by the deadline, I'll come get you again. Oh, right — here's the commission document the Gradius family sent over."
"I don't need it right now. I'll come pick it up when I'm ready."
I had reliable allies to lean on. My pride was long gone, but if push came to shove, I could just grovel to Ark and take the commission together. That would work.
The Explorer's Guild's system had its loopholes. The quota could be handled. The real problem was figuring out how to dodge Lord Gradius's generously bestowed personal commission.
I was exhausted despite having done absolutely nothing. I'd go back to my room, play around with "Dancing Light and Shadow," and think hard about whether I could come up with a good plan.