Glory and Humility Both Equal Here

The deeds of heroes are often accompanied by poems, sung by bards – people are sometimes more familiar with heroes' stories than myths, and even nobles might tell their descendants hero tales as part of lessons on virtue.

However, where did those heroes, clad in armor etched with symbols of courage and hope, and wielding golden longswords, come from?

The answer is, adventurers.

That was a profession precisely opposite to that of a hero – they were people who hunted beasts in the forest and gathered precious materials for reward. Commoners, unable to till the land for various reasons, would take up arms and head into the forest – even the poorest would consider this wandering, insecure profession a waste of time.

Noble lords would even consider forest bandits and adventurers to be the same sort of people.

Even with tales of heroes, the transition from adventurer to hero was like someone unable to use mana suddenly becoming the goddess Allentia, the creator of worlds – it was a fantasy.

People praised heroes, and people scorned adventurers.

This was the education Fatenai had received since childhood; they told her adventurers were dangerous and disgusting things, and yet here she was, among them – even with her preparations, she found it somewhat unbelievable.

The Champagne Tavern – Fatenai traveled north from Wickel's wooden cabin. The necklace Marrison had given her was guided by mana, leading her to a giant beech tree. The beech trees in this area, requiring about ten people to embrace, were already quite magnificent, but this one stood out uniquely – adventurers had used it to build a treehouse.

A winding staircase extended from beside the thick main trunk all the way to the treehouse entrance. At first glance, it was an ordinary wooden door, lacking any particular design flair. However, pushing open the door revealed a different world within – a spacious interior. On one side was a counter with beer barrels as a backdrop, while the other side was mostly filled with long tables. In the center was a bonfire, crackling merrily. Fatenai, at least, had no idea how they managed it in this treehouse.

In the noble circles Fatenai knew, she might never have seen a "lowly" adventurer in her entire life, yet here, as far as she could see, there were only adventurers.

They wore rough clothing, mostly armor made from the hides of easily hunted animals. Each person had their own style of dress, but what remained constant was ordering a beer at the tavern, sitting by the fire to listen to a bard sing, or playing cards and gambling with friends at the long tables.

After arriving here, Fatenai wore a cloak that she had trimmed herself, formerly Wickel's. The hood was still too large for her, and she had to pull it up slightly as she walked to the counter.

"Look, who is this? A dwarf?" Fatenai cautiously tried to melt into the darkness, but the charcoal fire still cast a red glow on her exposed skin. As she approached the counter, a male adventurer leaning there drinking made a joke, putting his arm around his female companion.

The crude words and frivolous behavior made Fatenai feel that if she were purely a noble, she probably couldn't stay here for even a second.

"What can I get for you?" The tavern owner was a man with a simple, honest appearance. Despite his tall stature and hard muscles that made him seem more like a desperado, he asked Fatenai, "What can I get for you?"

Ignoring the adventurer who disgusted her, Fatenai said to the owner, "I'm looking for Marrison."

Even though Fatenai deliberately lowered her voice to a deep tone, she couldn't hide her childish voice. Feeling the surrounding gazes, she tilted her head up slightly. In that instant, she scanned the expressions of several adventurers. The surprise that appeared was not unexpected, but it seemed less intense than she had imagined.

Could there be many children among adventurers?

"It seems Marrison was telling the truth." The owner's surprise vanished the fastest. He chuckled, "A newcomer taking Wickel's place, a little girl – so, what do you need?"

The owner's words allowed her to discern friendliness, as well as malice and suspicion. Those eyes were all around her – adventurers truly had excellent hearing.

"I need the qualifications to become an adventurer," Fatenai said after a moment of silence.

As soon as she spoke, a flash of surprise again crossed the owner's eyes. However, an adventurer next to him spoke before her, "A very interesting little girl – a little girl who wants to become an adventurer, how annoying, even more so than Wickel!"

"Heh heh..." The female adventurer whose waist was being held by the man just chuckled, a flicker of pity in her eyes as she looked at Fatenai.

Fatenai frowned. She didn't understand the adventurer's meaning, and she disliked such looks even more.

The adventurer's voice was neither too loud nor too soft, audible to everyone – clearly intentional.

"Look who's here." She didn't have time to speak, because Marrison, hearing the commotion, had already pushed through the crowd towards her. The dark-faced, square-jawed man emerged from the crowd – the adventurers made way for him, their eyes still fixed on Fatenai. "Little girl, we've all been waiting for you."

"I'm very grateful for your welcome," Fatenai said, walking towards him.

There was a somewhat clear path in front of Marrison, but he didn't move forward. Instead, he waited for Fatenai to approach him – under the watchful eyes of the adventurers on both sides.

The distance was neither short nor long. The adventurers stopped their actions, their faces flushed red by the firelight, their gazes like needles – could a little girl endure such scrutiny and walk this distance as if nothing were happening?

The answer was yes. Fatenai had never feared such gazes because she had grown up under them.

Curiosity, doubt, sternness.

"What a capable girl," Marrison said as she reached him, as if genuinely admiring her.

"Thank you," Fatenai replied, seemingly believing his praise.

They moved to a corner of the tavern, somewhat secluded. It required turning a corner from the main hall – it was shielded by several decorations, forming a somewhat enclosed space, and it was also the only spot by the window. Here, Fatenai saw the adventurer with the scar she had noticed earlier. Others, at least five of them, sat at the same table, wearing large hoods that revealed only their chins.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," only one of them spoke to Fatenai, his tone stiff.

"The pleasure is mine," Fatenai replied naturally.

Fatenai sat on one side of the long table, with Marrison beside her. She looked at the food before her – the iron cups looked like discarded, poorly cast items, their shapes irregular. They were filled with beer. Besides that, each person had a plate with a piece of rye bread.

"There's a portion for you here," Marrison indicated the plate in front of Fatenai. "Wickel used to like it here a lot too."

"When did Wickel die?" Fatenai nodded to Marrison, and just as she sat down, she heard an adventurer say to her – the eyes above the scar looked at her sharply.

"Half a month ago, by the stone platform in the forest." Fatenai answered truthfully. "Sir, I believe Marrison has already informed you? Do you have any questions?"

"Don't call me sir, I'm Edmund," Edmund said. "And you? Why were you taken in by Wickel? Your tone disgusts me."

Fatenai replied, "My name is Fatenai. I'm from the Summersea Territory. As you know, people from Summersea value their reputation – although I despise it there and ran away."

"Your name is related to your destiny, that's quite interesting," Marrison interjected.

No one asked about her origins – Fatenai realized these people were not much different from bandits.

Bandits had no origins.

"It's just a name," Fatenai said to him. "So, can you tell me now what you wanted to say by having me come here?"

"We miss Wickel. He was the strongest hunter here, the only one whose deeds were sung by bards – so consider us just curious," Edmund said. "We were his friends. I heard he died saving you, so we will help you become a Forest Hunter."

"That would be wonderful," Fatenai said. "I haven't heard anything about his deeds."

"What a shame, he was a remarkable person, capable of fighting giant bears with his bare hands—his surname, Auston, came from a very famous hero of old, and his family members have always been Forest Hunters," Marrison said to her. "Of course, his lifestyle was always difficult for us to understand, after all, he was someone who truly lived in the forest."

"And you are about to become one of them, a Forest Hunter. I hope you'll get used to this kind of life," Edmund said.

It seemed as if her identity had been accepted quite naturally.

"Then how about trying this beer first? The Champagne Tavern's beer is something only adventurers can get their hands on," Marrison raised his beer. "Let's celebrate a new companion joining us."

Fatenai raised her beer with them. The surroundings were so boisterous that it made one feel as if not drinking would be a disservice to the atmosphere of the moment.

It was her first time drinking such a rough liquor—Fatenai slowly raised her beer and took a sip, while the adventurers also raised their beers.

It seemed like a moment worth commemorating.

She was a noble, yet she had ultimately escaped her life. Now, she had finally become a Forest Hunter and gained the recognition of others… everything seemed perfectly fine.