The proprietor of Emberfire Hostel probably never dreamed in his wildest dreams that the back hall—which usually only drunkards and down-on-their-luck adventurers frequented—would one day be set up so decently.
Morris spent an entire afternoon having the back hall thoroughly cleaned, putting out tablecloths and candlesticks brought from their carriage, and digging up a crate of reasonably palatable fruit wine from the kitchen.
"These are the best conditions we have," Morris said, spreading his hands toward Sevein.
"Please bear with it for now, Young Master. Once we establish a firm foothold, we can acquire a proper setup."
Sevein did not mind these details; his focus was on the guests arriving tonight.
As the sun set and evening fell, the guests began arriving one after another.
The first to arrive was the president of the Emberfire City Merchant Guild, a short and plump merchant named Delvin.
He wore a silk coat that had clearly been dug out specifically for tonight. Unfortunately, the coat was quite old, with the collar slightly faded.
Delvin beamed from ear to ear, cupping his hands in greeting as soon as he stepped through the door:
"Young Master Lawrence, what a long-awaited honor!"
"I never imagined a noble lord from the royal capital would grace our humble town with your presence! Thank the grace of the God of Wealth. May gold coins and good fortune forever accompany you!"
Sevein rose to welcome him, exchanging a few polite pleasantries without putting on any air of noble arrogance.
Right behind him arrived the guildmaster of the Adventurers' Guild, a middle-aged man named Harold.
He was tall with a square face, wearing the standard leather armor of a guildmaster and carrying a longsword at his waist. As a Sixth-Tier practitioner, he was already considered peak combat power in a place like Emberfire City.
(The General Charter for Adventurers on the Continent of Veland stipulated that the post of guildmaster for any Adventurers' Guild established in a city must be filled by at least a High-Tier practitioner. This rule was taken for granted in prosperous major cities, but in a remote border area like Emberfire City, finding a Sixth-Tier practitioner to hold up appearances barely met the requirement.)
Harold was much more composed than Delvin, merely nodding slightly. "Young Master Lawrence, welcome to Emberfire City. May the God of Adventure bless you!"
Just as the guildmaster entered the inn, another guest arrived behind him.
Thornt, the commander of the city guard, was a Sixth-Tier warrior. He had shed his usual dust-and-blood-stained armor for a teal dress suit that looked practically unworn, a decorative dagger hanging at his waist.
Stepping before Sevein, he pressed his right hand against his chest and offered a solemn greeting:
"Emberfire City welcomes you, respected Young Master Lawrence. May the kingdom protect Your Lordship!"
The next few to arrive were all local merchants of modest renown and veteran adventurers from around town.
The merchants wore the best clothes they could find, while most of the adventurers had simply thrown on clean leather armor; to them, armor and weapons were far more important than formal attire.
Garland stood behind Sevein, remaining unseated the entire time.
His presence made the seated adventurers somewhat uncomfortable. The strongest adventurer present was only Fifth-Tier, so having an Eighth-Tier warrior standing right there felt like a tiger crouching at the edge of a sheepfold.
It seemed a truly formidable figure had indeed arrived from the royal capital.
Delvin, the merchant guild president, kept stealing glances at Garland, his smile growing increasingly attentive and eager.
After rounds of drinks, the atmosphere gradually livened up.
Sevein was in no rush to jump straight to business, choosing instead to talk with Delvin about Emberfire City's current trade situation.
Delvin was a chatterbox, and after a few cups of fruit wine, the floodgates opened.
"Young Master Lawrence, you've arrived at the perfect time!" Delvin said, patting his round, plump belly.
"We've just agreed to a ceasefire and trade with the Kingdom of Halen. This is a first in decades!"
"A few merchant caravans have already crossed over in recent days. Though small in scale, it's a great sign!"
"How are the conditions along the trade route?" Sevein asked calmly.
Delvin's smile stiffened for a moment.
"Well..." He rubbed his hands together.
"To be honest, it's not very optimistic. The road is clear, but the monsters along the route haven't been wiped out yet. Furthermore..."
"Furthermore what?"
"And word has it recently that gnolls are roaming the forest north of the trade route. Two small caravans have already been ambushed," Delvin whispered in a hushed tone.
"This sort of thing happened in the past as well. Whenever a caravan was raided, neither corpses nor cargo were left behind."
Thornt chimed in from the side:
"The city guard has also received reports about the gnolls. However, they are currently active only in the northern part of the forest and haven't crossed the trade route yet."
Sevein nodded, then turned toward a weathered veteran adventurer.
It was an old ranger named Walker, who was said to have been active around the Whispering Forest for over twenty years.
"Mr. Walker, you've lived in this region for a long time, haven't you? How much do you know about the conditions inside the forest?"
Walker was gnawing on a roasted lamb chop. Hearing Sevein ask him a question, he immediately wiped the grease off his mouth:
"Respected Young Master Lawrence, I do know a fair bit."
"The monster levels along the outer fringe of the Whispering Forest are generally low—mostly First-Tier and Second-Tier, with the occasional solitary Third-Tier magical beast. It's very suitable for gathering magical herbs and hunting, making it a great place for Low-Tier adventurers to earn a living."
He paused before continuing:
"But the depths are a different story. When I was young, I ventured inside once. After walking for about half a day, I felt something was off."
"The levels of the monsters clearly jumped up a notch, and the woods were so dense that it was easy to get lost. I never went deep again after that."
"Have you heard of any large tribes inside the forest?"
Walker thought for a moment. "There is indeed a goblin tribe in the southwestern corner of the forest."
"They don't cause much trouble. They occasionally clash with adventurers, but it's all small squabbles. I'm not too clear about the northern area, though a few years ago some adventurers claimed to have seen kobold mine shafts over there."
"What about the gnolls?"
"Gnolls..." Walker frowned.
"I didn't hear much about them in the past."
"They only started popping up over the last decade or so, probably growing while we were at war with the Kingdom of Halen and no one was keeping an eye on this area. For specifics, you'd have to ask the guild."
Sevein turned his gaze toward Harold.
Harold set down his wine cup and spoke solemnly:
"Young Master Lawrence, to tell you the truth, the guild knows very little about the deep reaches of the Whispering Forest. The city has been short-staffed all these years, and nobody was willing to risk scouting deep inside. However..."
He hesitated briefly:
"There have indeed been some troubling rumors recently. Some adventurers claim to have found a gnoll camp in the northern part of the forest, and it's quite large. They also said..."
"Said what?"
"Said those gnolls seem to be conducting some kind of ritual, with altars, runes, and the like." Harold shook his head.
"However, these reports haven't been verified. It could just be drunk adventurers making things up."
Sevein's expression remained unchanged, but Morris noticed that the fingers gripping his wine cup tightened slightly.
The banquet lasted late into the night.
After the gathering broke up, Sevein sat alone in the back hall, a cup of fruit wine that had gone completely cold resting in front of him. Morris stood to the side, organizing the main points recorded tonight.
"Young Master, we gained quite a bit today," Morris said, flipping through his booklet.
"The trade route has immense potential, but security is worrisome; the situation on the forest fringe is clear, but the depths remain unknown; and that group of gnolls poses the greatest threat, along with that rumored 'ritual'..."
"Morris," Sevein interrupted.
"Yes?"
"Do you think the rumor about the 'ritual' is true?"
Sevein was a student of the Royal Capital Magic Academy, and academy instructors had taught him basic lore concerning gods, demons, and evil gods.
Gnolls, demons, evil gods—birds of a feather.
Morris pondered for a moment:
"There is no smoke without fire. While adventurers do love to exaggerate, the fact that several people mentioned 'altars' and 'runes' today makes it seem unlikely to be a mere coincidence."
Sevein stood up and walked over to the window.
Outside the window lay the quiet night view of Emberfire City, scattered lights flickering in the darkness far off. Even farther away was the pitch-black outline of the Whispering Forest.
Having studied at the academy for nearly ten years, he was far from ignorant of the outside world. He understood that for caravans and trade to flourish, potential threats had to be dealt with first.
"Tomorrow," Sevein turned around.
"I will go to the Adventurers' Guild to post a few commissions."
"What does the Young Master plan to do?"
"We figure out the details first," Sevein said calmly.
"If there really is a force of monsters in the forest worshipping an evil god, it might not be something I can handle alone."
"However, before reporting to my father, we need solid evidence."
He paused, then added:
"Also, have Garland walk around the city tomorrow. I need to know if there are any other notable figures in this town worth paying attention to."
By the window, Garland gave a slight nod in acknowledgement.
Morris closed the booklet and bowed slightly:
"Your servant admires the Young Master's thorough consideration."
"Stop flattering me," Sevein said flatly, turning and returning to his room.
Morris watched his back, the corners of his mouth curving slightly.
This young master was even more level-headed than his Lordship thought.
Rate on N.U.
