Jorjok

Arthur stopped in his tracks, thinking of Aivor.

The food stall owner had left a very deep impression on him with yesterday's lunchtime "appetizer."

That sweetness, that sourness.

Just remembering it made Arthur's teeth ache.

Most importantly, there was the man's enthusiasm.

To be honest, under normal circumstances, Arthur found overly enthusiastic people a little hard to handle.

When facing an enemy, Arthur could kill without hesitation or play along while hiding his intentions. But in an ordinary encounter with an enthusiastic stall owner like Aivor, a warm greeting alone made Arthur feel he ought to buy something.

It wasn't expensive, admittedly, but it really didn't taste good.

Yet if he didn't buy anything, he felt a little guilty.

In short, he was deeply conflicted.

Arthur often comforted himself with the excuse that "people are full of contradictions."

But when faced with this sort of "conflict"-or awkwardness-the outstanding Medium whom people respectfully called a master first stood outside his front door and confirmed that there was no food cart at the street corner. Only then did he jog down Kirk Street and reach West Merck Avenue.

Standing at the intersection of Kirk Street and West Merck Avenue, Arthur glanced back. When he still saw no sign of Aivor's food cart, he finally let out a long breath and set off in a relaxed mood toward the Jorjok Swordsmanship Club he remembered from his predecessor's memories.

His predecessor had loved swordsmanship. Although he had possessed no outstanding talent, he had known the swordsmanship clubs of South Los like the back of his hand.

He had known not only the dozen or so famous swordsmanship clubs in the Shire District, but even the few rundown ones in the Old District that could go out of business at any moment.

Arthur, however, had not chosen any of those.

He had gone straight for the most famous one: the Jorjok Swordsmanship Club.

Hidden gems might exist, but the Jorjok Swordsmanship Club's third-place finish in the previous Swordsmanship Tournament was a substantial credential.

Most importantly, he didn't have to go to any trouble to find it.

Arthur stood outside the entrance, taking in the entire Jorjok Swordsmanship Club.

The club occupied an entire three-story building near the beginning of West Merck Avenue. Stones of varying sizes covered the exposed brick walls, giving it a sturdy, dependable appearance at first glance. A wooden sign hung between the first and second floors, clear of the cross-framed casement windows. The name "Giorgio" appeared in large block letters, while two lines of small, ornate script at the end of the sign added "Swordsmanship, Jousting, and Tournament (Melee) Club."

Arthur knew about jousting and tournaments.

His predecessor's memories held a great longing for both events.

The thirty-man tournament matches of old, in particular, had remained an obsession for his predecessor, who would occasionally declare, "I could win glory like Marshall's too!"

Even when told that Marshall had been one of the greatest knights of his age, his predecessor had not been intimidated in the slightest. He had still believed he could become the man's equal, or even surpass him.

Arthur found that optimism quite admirable.

Unfortunately, with the fall of the Sacred Empire and the advent of gunpowder, both events had long since lost their former glory. Once, a man could hardly call himself a knight unless he had won three consecutive jousts or knocked an opponent's teeth out in a tournament. Now, those events had been folded into swordsmanship clubs, no longer even worthy of mention.

Arthur didn't particularly care.

He knew that if South County had not maintained its tradition of Swordsmanship Tournaments, with their generous prizes, even swordsmanship clubs might have disappeared.

The reason was simple: flintlocks were too useful.

They were not only convenient, but powerful too.

To sum it up in one sentence-

Times had changed!

With that reflection in mind, Arthur pushed open the doors of the Jorjok Swordsmanship Club.

The wooden doors were heavy, and to Arthur's surprise, they bore marks left by blades. Looking closer, he realized that the thick doors had two layers: shields that had once seen use were fitted onto the original wooden doors. Combined with the stones covering the brick walls, they immediately made Arthur think of a castle.

His next thought was that the owner of the Jorjok Swordsmanship Club had a considerable head for business.

At the very least, he knew how to package his establishment.

And indeed, that proved to be the case.

As Arthur pushed open the doors, a woman in a modified Autumn Hunting Attire approached him.

Traditional Autumn Hunting Attire consisted of trousers, boots, a vest-like hunting underlayer, and a long coat. The woman before him, however, wore only the indoor ensemble. Not only had she dispensed with the coat, but the vest was gone too, leaving Hunting Outfit trousers, round-toed leather boots, and a shirt one size too small. The tight shirt showed off her figure, while the Hunting Outfit trousers raised her waistline. The outfit made her legs look longer and her waist slimmer.

Most importantly, even when she looked down, she couldn't see her feet.

Combined with her pretty face and sweet voice, it was enough to win a guest's goodwill immediately.

"Sir, is this your first visit to Giorgio? Would you like me to show you what we offer?"

"Thank you very much."

Arthur smiled and nodded, and the receptionist immediately launched into an enthusiastic introduction.

There was nothing unusual in her expression, which confirmed to Arthur that only he could smell that odor.

"We have four floors in total. The three aboveground floors are for swordsmanship, dining, and relaxation, respectively. In the basement, you can practice shooting, jousting, tournament combat, and so on. Jousting and tournament combat do cost extra, however, on top of the membership fee."

After giving him the general overview, the receptionist told Arthur her name and moved on to the main point.

"We offer standard and VIP memberships."

Arthur didn't interrupt, signaling with his eyes for her to continue.

"A standard membership costs 20 sol per month and gives you access to all our aboveground facilities."

"A VIP membership costs 45 sol per month. In addition to access to both the aboveground and underground facilities, you receive personal instruction from a coach."

As she spoke, Amy discreetly studied Arthur.

Only after finding no shock, hesitation, or unease on his young, handsome face did she breathe a small sigh of relief.

The Jorjok Swordsmanship Club was not cheap.

Especially after taking third place in the previous Swordsmanship Tournament, the Jorjok Swordsmanship Club's fees had risen sharply.

Monthly fees of 20 or 45 sol were already beyond the means of an ordinary household.

Only the well-off middle class, merchants, and nobles could afford them.

But how many such people were there?

Even with those people concentrated in the Shire District, there were still too few. The wealthiest merchants and nobles had their own swordsmanship instructors and would never come to the club, leaving only the well-off middle class. Yet those seemingly comfortable middle-class households were also the most financially precarious.

Over the past year or so, Amy had already seen quite a few prosperous middle-class families go bankrupt.

One sea voyage, one storm, could leave those apparently comfortable families out on the streets.

Looking at Arthur, Amy hoped he would never suffer such a fate.

Aside from Arthur's youth and good looks making Amy feel that he shouldn't have to endure such tragedies, she also hoped to earn a commission.

In addition to a base salary, the owner of the Jorjok Swordsmanship Club offered generous commissions. Those commissions were precisely what drove the club's receptionists to work ever harder.

Amy was one of them.

To make her pitch more convincing, the young receptionist immediately added another point.

"Our coaches are all swordsmen with dozens, even hundreds, of real fights under their belts!"

"During the Seven-Year War, they would all have been elite soldiers!"

Arthur smiled at that.

It was a friendly smile, not a mocking one.

After all, elites were exactly who he fought.

Hadn't he chosen the renowned Jorjok Swordsmanship Club precisely for its powerful swordsmen and the advanced swordsmanship they possessed?

As for Amy's little ulterior motive?

That was only human nature.

Hadn't he come with an agenda too?

It was, by its very nature, a mutually beneficial transaction.

Of course, certain things still needed to be settled up front.

With that in mind, he asked-

"They're that good? Then could I give it a try?"