Chapter 124 : Chapter 124
Chapter 124
To state the conclusion first: Aquila Reschenhardt failed to find an archer to form a party with him.
Why?
Because Levlorne—after publicly declaring in front of the Adventurers’ Guild that he hailed from the Eternal Valley—had personally approached every adventurer who tried to recruit him.
He told each of them that he would be forming a party with the person he met that morning.
Thus, should any young man appear seeking to fill the archer’s position, that seat belonged to Levlorne. And if anyone dared accept such an offer, they would have to duel him.
He had effectively hammered it into the public consciousness that the party slot of the youth named “Quil” was his.
All of this had occurred while Aquila was repairing magic tools and speaking with Lexenbert Fad Reschenhardt.
As a result, the declaration of a descendant of High Elf blood newly appeared in stagnant Banahan had circulated throughout the city at least three times before evening even fell.
Even an adventurer who had just returned from the Black Forest Dungeon and was merely attempting to wet his throat with alcohol learned the news before he could even sit down.
“…Ah. Your name is ‘Quil,’ correct? I am indeed seeking a party, but I am not strong enough to defeat someone from the Eternal Valley. I am sorry.”
The man bowed awkwardly.
Then, as though worried Levlorne might overhear, he glanced about nervously before hurrying away.
Watching his retreating back, Aquila could not even manage a hollow laugh.
It had not yet been an hour, and including this latest refusal, he had already been rejected seven times.
Every single one of them had mentioned Levlorne.
At first, Aquila had known nothing of Levlorne’s interference.
He had only stepped outside in the evening.
Even after hearing the full account from the third person who rejected him, he had not considered it particularly serious.
How many adventurers filled Banahan? How competitive were those who had rushed here to clear the dungeon?
And even if Levlorne challenged them to a duel, Aquila had intended to step in and stop it.
He had no intention of tolerating such high-handed behavior.
However—
‘No, even if it were mere bravado, they could at least accept the offer first. Not a single one even says it aloud—they just flee?’
Of course, “Quil” was little more than a novice adventurer registered that very morning.
If someone from the Eternal Valley insisted the position belonged to him, it was understandable that no one saw the benefit of choosing Aquila over Levlorne.
They knew nothing about Aquila.
Still, to think that not even one person would muster the audacity to accept the offer!
Aquila stood frozen, lips twitching.
“…The gentleman who just declined was the last. I do not believe there is anyone else to approach.”
Heinen exhaled and cast him a sidelong glance.
They had obtained the list of adventurers currently recruiting from the Guild, and that had been the final name.
Ding!
[Note from Joreumi: Pff.]
Aquila’s eyes shifted slowly toward the familiar notification.
Perched upon Porzelin’s shoulder, the Great Spirit flicked its ears and stared at him with round eyes.
‘…It only speaks at times like this.’
When they first arrived in Banahan, it had wandered off on its own. When they encountered Ark Batchel, it had remained silent as though dead.
Aquila’s gaze narrowed.
Ding!
[Note from Joreumi: G¡ve up.]
“Give up? Hardly.”
The small, deer-like form left Porzelin’s shoulder and floated before Aquila’s face, circling repeatedly.
Ding!
[Note from Joreumi: PaⓇty w¡th h¡m.]
“I said I am not forming a party.”
Aquila waved his hand through the air to shoo it away.
Ding!
[Note from Joreumi:＼◎∇◎↗ Stubb⊙rn.]
Evading him effortlessly, the Great Spirit settled triumphantly atop Heinen’s head.
Aquila glared at it silently.
“…You have come here again.”
Heinen, receiving the misplaced glare, awkwardly adjusted his hair rather than brushing the being away.
Aquila rarely failed to conceal his expression—except when facing that shaggy-haired Sword Master, and this Great Spirit.
Porzelin cleared his throat, perhaps attempting to ease the tension.
“Ahem. What shall we do? It appears no one wishes to join our party.”
“…I would like to ask how such cowards manage to call themselves adventurers.”
Aquila muttered, still stiff-faced.
“It is understandable they feel burdened by someone from the Eternal Valley. They have come here to step into the dungeon at least once, and they likely do not wish to offend such a figure in the East.”
Had this been the Central or Western regions, adventurers might have reacted differently.
But Banahan bordered the Washerd Forest.
To offend one descended from High Elf blood risked attracting the notice of others from the Eternal Valley.
Aquila finally tore his gaze from the Great Spirit.
“They pay no heed to one who has left the Valley. And…”
He recalled Levlorne’s severed ear.
With that ear gone, Levlorne had likely forfeited the right to enter the Eternal Valley.
That insular race was sensitive to such outward signs.
Aquila’s lips parted briefly, but he shook his head instead.
“Forget it. I did not expect him to stoop so low.”
He clicked his tongue.
“Then what shall we do? I, too, would prefer not to form a party with them…”
Porzelin nodded in agreement.
Throughout the day, they had endured questioning looks—why seek another archer instead of the one from the Eternal Valley?
But they could only think in return:
How could they form a party with those who ambushed them in Denimarad and sent them here?
Moreover, the black-haired youth’s strength.
If he drew his blade, neither Heinen nor Porzelin could withstand him.
They were free to roam only because he allowed it.
For reasons unknown, he did not seem intent on harming them.
Rather, he appeared to desire something from them—more precisely, from Aquila.
Yet they swallowed their questions, waiting for the day Aquila would speak first.
“…Shall we return to the Guild and ask whether anyone new has registered?”
Porzelin asked carefully.
After a moment of thought, Aquila shook his head.
“No. There is one more person.”
“Who?”
“Follow me.”
He beckoned them and strode ahead.
Heinen and Porzelin exchanged puzzled looks before hurrying after him.
***
“…Therefore, we would like you to join our party.”
Inside the inn room, Aquila placed his interlaced hands upon the table.
“Pay no attention to what that one from the Eternal Valley has said. If he comes to challenge you, I shall stop him. You need only enter the dungeon with us.”
“Um, well…”
“And simply aim for the target and shoot accurately. You have entered before, so you know how large the target is. The chance of missing is slim. It will move once I enter, so that may complicate matters—but if you aim for the left heart where the core resides—”
“Excuse me!”
The man leapt to his feet, interrupting Aquila’s calm explanation.
“W-why are you asking me?”
The man wore white cloth wrapped around his head like a turban, a few golden strands peeking out beneath.
Ridim, whom they had met that morning, stared in panic.
“Yes, we were curious after hearing what that person from the Eternal Valley declared! But why approach us instead of him…?”
Ridim stammered on.
Yet Aquila’s expression did not change.
“That is because you are an elf.”
“…Pardon?”
“What?”
Heinen and Porzelin turned in shock.
“Oh my…!”
Bejiana covered her mouth.
“H-how did you—?”
Ridim stepped back.
His reaction confirmed the truth.
“That style of turban. Elves often wrap their ears that way when outside the East.”
As Aquila spoke, Ridim reflexively pressed his palms over his concealed ears.
“…Oh my goodness! This is the first time someone not from the East has noticed!”
Bejiana murmured.
Aquila inhaled softly, then bowed his head.
“If you intended to conceal it, I apologize. I understand it is rude, even if I have my reasons.”
“N-no, it is fine. As Bejiana said, this is the East. Those who would know already know…”
Flustered, Ridim hurried to reassure him.
“You are the last person I could think to ask. I assumed, as an elf, you would know how to handle a bow.”
“That is rather a generalization… Not all elves are masters of archery.”
“You cannot shoot?”
Ridim blinked.
“I can shoot, of course—”
“Then that suffices.”
“Then that—no, it does not!”
Ridim sprang up again.
“I may be an elf, but I am not stronger than someone from the Eternal Valley! I do not know your circumstances, but this morning you seemed close with Mr. Ark. Could you not simply enter with them?”
“Yes.”
“Wh—why?”
Ridim faltered.
Aquila’s dark gaze fixed upon his clear golden eyes.
“You have heard the news from the Central region. That I was ambushed. That I disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“He was responsible.”
Ridim and Bejiana blinked.
“Who?”
“Ark Batchel.”
“…What?”
As they stared blankly, Aquila straightened and lifted his chin.
The Great Spirit flashed with light and flew to settle upon his shoulder.
“I will explain from the beginning. There is no one else left to ask.”
And thus, Aquila began recounting how he had come to the East.