A hero's deeds often lived on in poetry. Heroes were celebrated by bards, and people sometimes knew their stories even better than they knew the myths. Even nobles would sometimes tell their descendants stories of heroes as lessons in virtue.
But where did the heroes come from—the ones in armor etched with symbols of courage and hope, wielding golden swords?
The answer was adventurers.
It was a profession that stood in direct opposition to that of a hero. Adventurers hunted beasts in the forest and gathered precious materials in exchange for payment. When commoners couldn't farm their land for one reason or another, they took up arms and ventured into the forest. Even the poorest people thought of this unsettled, insecure profession as a disreputable way to make a living.
The nobles even considered the bandits and adventurers in the forest to be one and the same.
Though stories of heroes existed, the transformation from adventurer to hero was as far-fetched as someone who couldn't use mana suddenly becoming the creator goddess Allentia.
People praised heroes, but looked down on adventurers.
That was what Fatenai had been taught from childhood. She'd been told that adventurers were dangerous and disgusting, and now she was standing among them. Even though she'd prepared herself for this, it still felt rather surreal.
The Champagne Tavern—Fatenai had traveled north from Wickel's cabin. The necklace Marrison had given her, guided by mana, had led her to a massive beech tree. The beeches in this area were about ten people around, already an impressive sight, but this one stood out among them. The adventurers had used it to build a treehouse.
A winding staircase had been built beside the thick trunk, stretching all the way to the treehouse entrance. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary wooden door, unremarkable in every way. But once she pushed it open, another world lay beyond: a spacious interior, with a counter backed by beer barrels on one side and long tables filling most of the other. At the very center was a fire pit, the flames crackling away. Fatenai had no idea how they'd managed to build one inside a treehouse.
In the world of nobles she knew, she might never have met a "lowly" adventurer in her entire life. But as far as she could see, there was nothing but adventurers here.
They wore rough clothes, most of them armored with the hides of animals that were easy to hunt. Each had their own style, but they all ordered a mug of beer at the tavern, sat by the fire to listen to a bard sing, or gathered with friends at the long tables to play cards and gamble.
When Fatenai arrived, she was wearing a cloak of Wickel's that she'd trimmed to fit herself. The hood was still too large, so as she approached the counter, she had to pull it up a little.
"Well, well, what have we here? A dwarf?" Fatenai tried to keep herself hidden in the shadows, but the firelight still reddened the skin visible beneath her hood. As she reached the counter, a male adventurer leaning there with a drink joked with her, putting an arm around his female companion's waist as he spoke.
Fatenai thought that if she were nothing but a noble, she wouldn't have lasted a second here, not with such vulgar words and shameless behavior.
"What can I get you?" The tavern's owner was a very kindly-looking man, though his tall frame and hard muscles made him seem more like a desperado. He looked at Fatenai and asked.
Ignoring the adventurer who'd put her off, Fatenai said to the owner, "I'm looking for Marrison."
Though Fatenai deliberately lowered her voice to make it sound deeper, she couldn't hide how young it was. Feeling the gazes around her, she lifted her head slightly and took in the expressions of several adventurers. Their surprise was to be expected, but it didn't seem as strong as she'd imagined.
Were there a lot of children among adventurers, too?
"So Marrison was telling the truth." The owner's surprise faded quickest. He smiled. "A newcomer taking Wickel's place—a little girl. So, what can I do for you?"
She could distinguish kindness from malice and suspicion in his words. Those gazes were all around her. Adventurers really did have sharp hearing.
"I want to qualify as an adventurer," Fatenai said after a moment's silence.
As soon as the words left her mouth, surprise flickered in the owner's eyes. But the adventurer beside her spoke before he could. "What an interesting little girl—a little girl who wants to be an adventurer. She's even more annoying than Wickel!"
"Heh..." The female adventurer with an arm around her waist only chuckled, pity flashing in her eyes.
Fatenai frowned. She didn't understand what the adventurer meant, and she didn't like that look.
The adventurer had spoken at just the right volume for everyone to hear. He'd clearly done it on purpose.
"Look who's here." Before she could speak, Marrison, having heard the commotion, had already made his way through the crowd toward her. The square-faced man, with his ashen complexion, emerged from the throng. The adventurers made way for him, their eyes still fixed on Fatenai. "Little girl, we've all been waiting for you."
"Thank you for welcoming me," Fatenai said, walking toward him.
There was a fairly clear path in front of Marrison, but he didn't continue forward. Instead, he waited for Fatenai to come to him, under the watchful eyes of the adventurers on either side.
It wasn't a long walk, but it wasn't a short one either. The adventurers all stopped what they were doing. The firelight flushed their faces red, but their gazes were sharp as awls. Could a little girl make it all the way across without letting those stares bother her?
The answer was yes. Fatenai had never feared such looks. She had grown up beneath them.
Curiosity, doubt, severity.
"What a remarkable girl." Marrison watched her reach him and spoke as if he meant it.
"Thank you." Fatenai seemed to believe his praise.
They went to a corner of the tavern, a secluded spot around a turn from the main hall. A few decorations screened it off, creating a somewhat enclosed space. It was also the only place beside a window. There, Fatenai saw the scarred adventurer from before. At least five others sat at the same table, wearing enormous hoods that revealed nothing but the tips of their chins.
"I'm glad to meet you," one of them said to Fatenai, his tone stiff.
"Likewise," Fatenai replied naturally.
Fatenai sat on one side of the long table, with Marrison beside her. She looked at the food in front of her. The iron mug looked like a defective casting, its shape irregular. It was filled to the brim with beer, and everyone had a plate with a piece of rye bread in front of them.
"This is your share." Marrison pointed at the plate in front of Fatenai. "Wickel used to like it here, too."
"When did Wickel die?" Fatenai nodded to Marrison. She had only just sat down when the adventurer asked her the question. The eye above his scar fixed sharply on her.
"Half a month ago, by the Stone Platform in the forest." Fatenai told him the truth. "Sir, I believe Marrison has already told you. Is there something you doubt?"
"Don't call me sir. I'm Edmund," he said. "And you? Why did Wickel take you in? The way you talk makes me sick."
"My name is Fatenai. I'm from the Summersea Territory. You know, people from Summersea care a lot about their dignity—though I hated it there and ran away."
"Your name has an interesting connection to your fate," Marrison interjected.
No one asked her what her past had been. Fatenai realized that these people weren't much different from thieves.
Thieves had no past.
"It's just a name," Fatenai said to him. "So, can you tell me what you wanted to talk to me about?"
"We miss Wickel. He was the strongest hunter here, the only one whose deeds a bard ever turned into a song. Just think of us as curious," Edmund said. "We were his friends. I heard he died saving you, so we'll help you become a Forest Hunter."
"That's wonderful," Fatenai said. "I haven't heard any stories about him."
"That's a shame. He was an impressive man, able to fight a giant bear with his bare hands. His surname was Auston, and his ancestors included a famous hero. His family had always been Forest Hunters." Marrison spoke to her. "Of course, we never understood his way of life. He was a man who truly lived in the forest, after all."
"And now you're about to become one of them—a Forest Hunter. I hope you get used to that kind of life," Edmund said.
He seemed to accept her new identity as if it were perfectly natural.
"So, how about trying this mug of beer first? The beer at the Champagne Tavern is only for adventurers." Marrison raised his mug. "Let's celebrate the arrival of a new companion."
Fatenai raised her beer along with them. The place was so noisy that it felt as if refusing a drink would ruin the moment.
She'd never drunk such a rough brew before. Fatenai slowly raised the mug and took a sip, while the adventurers all lifted their own beers.
It seemed like a moment worth remembering.
She was a noble, yet she'd ultimately fled her old life. Now, at last, she had become a Forest Hunter and earned the acceptance of others... There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it.
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