Chapter 4

The discussion from the second floor suddenly ceased as Ludmila made her way down to the stairs. She paused her steps in confusion, backtracking until the voices came back, then went back down again. It appeared that the meeting on the second floor had countermeasures against eavesdropping.

Rounding the end of the stairs, she glanced at the request board as she made her way to the front desk. Once filled with jobs for Adventurers to fulfil, it was now filled with information about the guild and their new purpose, even going so far as to outline the benefits of membership. There were no prospective applicants awaiting service, however, so Ishpen and Wina awaited with bored expressions.

Ludmila unclasped her Silver tag and placed it on the counter.

“Good receptionist,” she said, “I would like to apply for an Iron plate.”

Ishpen glanced down at the offered article.

“I don’t think I’ve seen an Adventurer demoted before,” the receptionist said, “never mind multiple times. How many is this, now?”

“It’s only the second time.”

Ishpen let out a derisive snort.

“Only.”

She took the Silver plate in hand, turning to disappear into the back hall.

“How do you keep going like that?”

Ludmila looked back from the hallway entrance to Wina, who had voiced the question.

“Like what?”

“You’ve died five times…always at the same point too,” Wina said. “Anyone else would at least take a step back after having it happen in such a short period of time, yet you seem positively unflappable.”

“It’s not that I don’t think anything of it,” Ludmila replied slowly, “the feeling is a bit hard to describe. Have you ever had a long day of work, only to find that you’re actually behind where you should be?”

“…I guess?”

“It’s something like that. You end up burning the midnight oil just to catch up again because you’d trouble others otherwise, and you never know what the next day will bring. Procrastination just makes it worse.”

“Not everyone is like that,” Ishpen said as she returned to the counter. “A lot of people are perfectly happy with turning in for the night and waiting until the next day to deal with it.”

“That’s entirely irresponsible,” Ludmila furrowed her brow. “How could anyone think like that?”

“Because they don’t care?” Ishpen shrugged, “Or at least the problem isn’t big enough to them that they’d go out of their way to fix it. Merchants and tradesmen that have to uphold strict contracts with penalties attached to them might be compelled to behave properly, but a lot of vocations aren’t held to the same standards. Self-interest is the order of the day for plenty of people.”

Ludmila reconsidered Wina’s question.

“Do you mean to say that organizations that offer some leeway are prone to having people that shirk their responsibilities?” She asked, “Is it becoming a problem in the new Adventurer Guild since their needs are provided for by the government?”

“Uh...what?” Wina frowned.

“The Adventurers have ample motivation to perform,” Ishpen said. “I’m not even sure how you ended up going down that avenue of thought.”

Ludmila glanced back at Wina, who appeared to affirm Ishpen’s assertion. Looking down at the floor, she stepped back and let out a sigh.

“I guess I’ve been in that frame of mind for months now,” Ludmila said. “I’m always fixing something or figuring out how to make things work, so everything feels like a problem to me. I apologize for bringing that attitude into a casual discussion.”

The two receptionists exchanged glances.

“Ever thought about taking it easy for a bit?” Ishpen said as she placed the Iron tag on the counter. “Maybe you’re just wound up too tightly. How about a nice dinner with someone you like or something…”

Ludmila retrieved the Iron tag, slipping it into one of her belt pouches. That was definitely something she didn’t have time for right now.

“I think my current situation is manageable,” she said. “Besides, I don’t have time to ‘take it easy’. Work is still ongoing in my demesne, the summer harvest is coming, I have to keep up with training and I have other important duties. I quite enjoy it all, however – I don’t consider it a burden.”

“Are you sure about that?” Ishpen peered at her suspiciously, “You’re starting to sound like a crazy person.”

“No less crazy than the other nobles,” Ludmila said. “Corelyn, Wagner and Gagnier are even busier than I am.”

“You make it sound as if it’s a good thing.”

“It’s good to be busy.”

“There are limits,” Ishpen rolled her eyes. “Look, just try spending time with someone nice once in a while and see how it works out for you. You might surprise yourself.”

The footsteps abruptly sounded from the staircase to her right. They looked over to find the meeting appeared to have adjourned, its members making their way out of the building. Guildmaster Ainzach came over to the counter, his gaze going between the three women.

“Is everything alright here?” He asked.

“We were just chatting,” Ishpen answered. “How did the meeting go?”

“More things to do,” the guildmaster said. “Maybe it’s good that we didn’t get too many new members right away – there’s quite a bit we’ve left unaddressed. Uh…sorry if I came across a bit heavy-handed back there, Zahradnik.”

“It didn’t feel that way at all, Guildmaster Ainzach,” Ludmila replied. “If anything, I’m relieved that there’s an apparent solution to these ongoing problems.”

“Heh, you got that right,” he said. “Everything’s been moving so fast that the basics are being left behind. Supplementary training is going to have to be an ongoing thing and, even then, we’re going to be hard-pressed to keep up…speaking of which, are you sure you don’t know any Martial Arts?”

“Not that I know of, Guildmaster.”

“That’s really strange,” the guildmaster leaned on the counter, “your parents both had plenty of Martial Arts, and your brothers were picking up the same ones. You’ve clearly been trained by them as well, so it’s a mystery as to why you don’t. How long has it been since you first started learning how to fight?”

“The same time I started schooling,” she replied, “so around five or six.”

He looked up at her reply with an arched eyebrow.

“Wow, you Frontier Nobles don’t screw around,” he said. “If that’s the case, this whole thing is even more puzzling. If you’ve been training for over a decade to fight, you should have a lot of Martial Arts under your belt.”

“If it’s of any help, my parents didn’t teach my brothers any special techniques until they thought they were ready for patrol duties, though they did try once or twice before being found out and told to stop. I just started patrols last autumn, but my father and brothers were busy preparing for the annual skirmish with the Empire.”

“So you never asked your brothers how they did it?” the guildmaster said, “I feel like that’d be quite tempting.”

“Of course not,” Ludmila replied. “Rules exist for a reason.”

He stroked his moustache after her response, and a smile slowly formed.

“I think I get it, now,” he said.

“You do?”

“Yep – well, it’s no guarantee, but I have a strong feeling…I guess you’ll have to see when we get started.”

“Then I will look forward to it, Guildmaster Ainzach,” Ludmila lowered her head slightly.

“Not an ounce of curiosity, eh?”

“I wouldn’t say that I’m not curious at all, but–”

“The rules.” Guildmaster Ainzach shook his head, “I gotcha. You’re truly a daughter of House Zahradnik, you know. Duty and rules and all.”

“Is that so?” Ludmila replied with a slight smile, “I’ve had to chase my father and brothers around quite a bit for not attending properly to their administrative responsibilities.”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me,” he gave her a look. “The Adventurers that you’re teamed up with aren’t going to slowly turn into soldiers or something, are they?”

“No…why would that happen?”

“…no reason,” the guildmaster cleared his throat. “Anyways, I got a lot of work ahead of me, so I’m going to bring back some dinner from the plaza. Oh – since things are basically on hold past Silver-rank while we get things sorted out, you won’t have any training for a while. I figured you’d want to know since you’re always juggling that schedule of yours around.”

“Thank you, Guildmaster,” Ludmila replied, “I’ll be sure to take advantage of it.”

Guildmaster Ainzach vanished into the back hall, appearing again several seconds later with his coat. He nodded to her as he walked by and rounded the staircase towards the front exit.

“I should get going as well,” Ludmila told the receptionists. “I have a lot of reading waiting for me tonight.”

“Have a good evening,” Wina said.

“Don’t forget,” Ishpen called out after her as Ludmila rounded the stairs, “dinner with someone nice!”

Ludmila smiled to herself at Ishpen’s stubborn insistence, placing her hand on the sturdy wooden door of the guildhall.

Outside, the plaza was already brightly lit under its enchanted streetlamps, and the evening crowds thronged in the lanes between the colourful rows of stands. The air was filled with the aroma of food and woodsmoke, tempting her growing appetite. She absently scanned her surroundings out of habit and was in turn made keenly aware that her senses were not as sharp as they were before. The absurd reality of the ‘levels’ that Lady Shalltear had mentioned to her months ago was again demonstrating itself to her firsthand.

A part of her felt that it was entirely natural and right and expected, yet defining it in concrete terms had turned this natural thing distinctly odd. The trick she had learned to conceal her presence was no longer as effective either – dozens of people turned to glance in her direction, despite her not actively doing anything to draw it. An odd-eyed gaze drew her own attention as she left the front of the Adventurer Guild to make her way towards the central district.

“Lord Mare,” Ludmila lowered her head as he approached her from the tree he was standing under, “Were you waiting for me? My apologies if so – I wasn’t aware of it.”

Lord Mare clutched his staff as he looked up at her, the sheen of his golden hair catching the lamplight. He was quite short, standing around the height of her waist, and she was never sure whether it was more rude to keep looking down at him, or kneeling to talk to him as if he were a child. Granted, he was a child, but, at the same time, he was a prominent member of the Royal Court.

“It’s alright,” he said. “It wasn’t long. Um…sorry.”

He turned his gaze downwards, poking at a loose cobblestone with the end of his staff.

“If you’re apologizing for what happened, my lord,” Ludmila said, “I don’t feel any differently than any other time. I’m not holding anything against you for it.”

“I-is that so?”

He closed his eyes and let out a small sigh, then looked up at her again.

“Then…there’s something I’d like to ask if you don’t mind…”

Ludmila looked around them. Lord Mare had a request for her?

“How may I be of service, my lord?” She said, “Actually…if this is something that needs to be discussed at length, would you like to join me for dinner?

“Will that be okay?” He looked up again, “I-I don’t want to be a bother or anything…”

“It’s perfectly fine, my lord,” Ludmila smiled. “In fact, someone recently advised me to have dinner with someone nice. I’ve had fresh ingredients shipped in from Warden’s Vale, so our meal will have the same sort of stew that you had the last time you came to visit my demesne.”

Lord Mare nodded, and they made their way towards the central district.

『Mrs. Ro’eh, Lord Mare will be joining us for dinner this evening.』

Ludmila cast her voice in the direction of the manor, yet, despite having done it on multiple occasions, she was always curious whether it successfully reached its recipient or not. If what she understood of it so far held true, there was no reason why it wouldn’t. Because the ability did not facilitate a reply, however, there were always doubts as to whether it had been received.

“Is Lady Aura present in the city, my lord?” She asked, “Perhaps she would like to join us as well.”

“Big sis went to do her rounds,” Lord Mare answered. “I sent her on her way just before you came out of the Adventurer Guild. She usually orders something later at night.”

“I see…well, I guess it’s just the two of us, then.”

“Un.”

Though carts and wagons still made their way through the streets, most of the city folk gathered in plazas, taverns and homes for their evening meal at this hour. With the lull in the city’s bustling traffic, they found themselves crossing into the central district in short order.

“So, how have you been doing recently, Lord Mare?” She asked as they strolled along at a more relaxed pace.

“M-me?” He seemed surprised that she had asked, “Uh…okay, I guess?”

“You must be quite busy with your duties taking care of the territories, the Demihuman Quarter and the Adventurer Guild.”

“It’s busy, but I like it,” Lord Mare smiled. “It’s good to have something to do.”

“I keep telling people that,” Ludmila smirked, “but they always tell me to relax instead.”

“Really?” He frowned, “Lord Ainz sometimes says that to us. That we should rest properly and take breaks.”

Maybe it was just the difference between a vassal’s mindset and that of everyone else. Duty and responsibility were contingent on recognition and trust; a sign of strengthening ties between liege and vassal. Being able to carry them out in a satisfactory manner was a joy in itself, and treating them frivolously or outright disregarding them was a betrayal of the bonds between a noble and their liege. Perhaps that was why she and her friends couldn’t help but react so vehemently when faced with the scions of House Fassett.

The powerful vassals that came with the Sorcerer King might be strange in many ways, but in this aspect, at least, they appeared to be the same. Still, it was admirable for children like Lady Aura and Lord Mare to show such maturity.

“Maybe His Majesty is concerned for you, my lord,” Ludmila said. “It’s apparent that he depends on you a great deal, but both you and your sister are still growing up…he might be worried about that.”

“M-maybe,” he replied, “but whenever I try saying that to big sis, she still doesn’t let me sleep in…”

“Lady Aura probably has the right of it,” Ludmila smirked. “There is a point where it becomes excessive.”

The two footmen standing at the entrance to the manor yard saluted as they approached. Once Terrence and Rodney were fully used to working with the Undead, she experimented with dividing yard security into two shifts. With one Human and one Death Knight on each shift, the ones not watching the manor would be free to conduct business in the city, see to deliveries from Corelyn Harbour, and take care of the various other tasks that were usually assigned to footmen.

Though she had only tried it a few times so far, pairing them up this way reportedly worked quite well, providing both a Human for interactions with others and making on-the-spot decisions, while the Death Knight had more than enough strength to handle most of the heavy lifting. It was her hope that one day, the Death Knights would be able to function just as well at the things that Human footmen currently held an advantage in, but their close-mouthed nature made them seem like they preferred things the way they were.

That being said, they got along quite well with the rest of her household, so she still wanted to see if that relationship could be extended to others.

Just inside the gate, Terah stood awaiting them.

“Good evening, Lord Mare. Lady Zahradnik,” the housekeeper lowered her head.

“I take it that you heard me, then, Mrs Ro’eh?” Ludmila was too curious not to ask.

“Yes, my lady,” Terah replied. “It appears that we don’t even need to consider hiring a page.”

Was she just putting a page out of a job? Considering that the demand for skilled labour was ever-increasing, it was probably better that way.

Realizing that she was keeping Lord Mare waiting, she walked ahead and into the door, where Aemilia awaited her.

“P-pardon the intrusion…” Lord Mare said as he stepped across the threshold.

Working off her soiled boots, Ludmila turned her head at the strange set of words.

“Is that a mannerism of some sort, my lord?” She asked.

“Yes,” Mare nodded, then tilted his head. “What did it sound like to you?”

“I heard ‘pardon the intrusion’.”

Lord Mare furrowed his brow.

“Is that not correct, my lord?” Ludmila asked.

“S-sort of?” He answered, “It’s not the whole meaning though…if you use it in a different situation, it means something else.”

“I see,” Ludmila said. “That’s actually quite a common thing to have happen. The meaning of speech is contingent on one’s understanding of language. Those unlearned in the language that’s actually being spoken will only hear the direct meaning, and only if the concept exists in the awareness of the listener.”

Ludmila led Lord Mare through the corridor, pausing when they reached the corridor.

“I believe dinner is still being prepared, my lord,” she glanced at Aemilia, who nodded. “Would you like to wait in the courtyard or the drawing room?”

“The courtyard is fine…what you said just now, about language: does that mean that no one hears exactly what is being said?”

“If two parties in a conversation speak the same language, they will hear exactly what is being said – down to accents and quirks of speech. If a different language is being spoken and the recipient does not understand it, then it would be as you say: they’ll only understand what is being said, without any nuance or additional meanings.”

“So you can’t actually hear what Shalltear sounds like, because you don’t know our language…”

“That’s correct, my lord,” Ludmila said. “Her speech comes across to me as highly refined and elegant, but I’m unaware of any accent that she might have.”

“That’s interesting…and weird?” Mare frowned.

“Weird, my lord?”

“I-it’s nothing,” he said hurriedly. “I just wondered why the people here – the nobles and merchants especially – receive her so well. I guess I know the reason why now. Big sis always gets annoyed when Shalltear is seen as a high-class lady while she’s treated like a kid. A part of why she likes talking to you is for that reason – because you treat both her and Shalltear the same way.”

“That should be the case for most nobles: as long as they understand who one is, they will act with the appropriate decorum. If proper introductions are made, even non-nobles should have a sense of proper conduct between their relative stations.”

“We only do that on formal presentations to Lord Ainz,” Lord Mare said. “Anywhere else, it sounds uh…”

“Conceited?”

He nodded.

“Someone who did that unnecessarily would be insufferable, I agree,” she nodded in return. “Usually it’s not required, as important meetings are informed in advance, and the people that you regularly interact with already know who you are. Still, it’s safer for both parties to understand who they are dealing with so they can make the appropriate considerations. Rather than a trapping of conceit, it is a courtesy extended: with a simple introduction, you can set the tone for a discussion, saving time and embarrassment. That is, of course, if both sides appreciate the same social graces.”

“Hm…this is complicated…”

“I suppose a simpler way to look at it is how important you feel that what you’re doing is,” Ludmila said. “For instance, if you are on an open errand for His Majesty, then you’d want the other party to know that you are representing His Majesty and not just yourself. Otherwise, they might not act appropriately, and unfortunate misunderstandings may arise as a result. Conversely, if it’s just something that you’re doing for your own interests, there’s no need to say so unless the other party is blowing things out of proportion. Sometimes people will ask you, just to be sure.”

“Do all Humans act like this?” Lord Mare asked.

“Nobles surely do, my lord,” Ludmila answered, “as do most merchants and craftsmen who deal with the nobility. It can vary quite a bit beyond that, but the relevance of one’s responsibilities – or who they represent – should be reflected in relevant interactions. From the handful of Dwarf merchants I’ve seen so far, I think that you might be able to extend this thinking to any race with similar social constructs.”

“I-I see…well, thanks for explaining.”

“It is my pleasure to be of assistance, my lord,” Ludmila lowered her head. “Now, I must excuse myself to prepare for dinner. If there’s anything you require, please let Mrs Ro’eh know.”