Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 131

The door hinges gave a low groan as they folded. It was quiet enough that one wouldn’t notice without paying attention, but most of the people in the lobby turned to look at Leon’s group at the sound.

The inside was fairly calm. Mercenaries chewing bread for breakfast, adventurers chatting after pinning requests to the board, clerks at the counter stifling wide yawns—the Guild’s Area 1 branch had a leisurely air about it.

A mercenary who recognized Leon raised his voice.

“Oh, it’s the Rookie!”

It was a nickname that mixed respect and condescension for a B-ranker who had been a key contributor to the Great Vein expedition—similar to how he’d once been called “Cat” or “Sweeper” back in Blaine.

Some welcomed the arrival of a young, capable adventurer. Some envied him, saying a mere B-rank had just been lucky. Either way, no one here was shameless enough to cause trouble right in front of him.

Two familiar mercenaries waved casually at him.

“Taking on a new request right after the Great Vein expedition? Well, with your skills, staying at B-rank would just be a waste of time.”

“If you find a good job, be sure to call us in too!”

“Traveling with a cleric in holy robes? Not a bad choice for firepower, but you’ll probably get nagged a lot.”

“If it’s nagging from that young lady, I wouldn’t mind,” said one of the two, a man.

“Did you just say that for me to hear, Hank?” the other, a woman, retorted.

“O-of course not. I’ve never thought anything you’ve said was nagging, Rebecca.”

The adventurer pair seemed about to give Leon some advice before they slipped into their usual husband-and-wife quarrel. Or more accurately, it wasn’t really a quarrel—Hank was just getting verbally pummeled one-sidedly.

Elahan watched the scene with a silent smile and remarked, “The Guild’s lively. And its level seems higher than I expected, as well.”

“Ah, that depends,” Karen replied, waving her hand. “Just getting access to Area 1 is tough, and the blacksmiths’ requests are all high difficulty. To work here, you’ve got to be at least upper B-rank—and even then, most team leaders will be A-rank.”

“So naturally, the people here are strong,” Elahan added in understanding.

“Exactly. The Guild ranks its branches, and they adjust dispatched personnel based on importance and risk,” Karen explained, hinting that this information was insiders only.

Elahan had learned much at the Church’s headquarters, but her practical experience was lacking. That made the roles in the conversation clear—Karen spoke, Elahan listened. Leon also heard quite a few things for the first time, occasionally cutting in with a question.

A few minutes later, another familiar voice greeted the party.

“Oh, did I keep you waiting?”

Ryan, the Guildmaster of Area 13, emerged from behind the counter looking sheepish. That embarrassed air was likely due to the image he’d shown at the banquet.

Only a week ago, he’d met Leon in a formal atmosphere, but the success of the expedition and the relief of averting disaster had led him to drink far too much. He was sure he had been seen less as a Guildmaster and more as just another drunkard.

“No, we just got here,” Leon said, pushing the memory aside.

“Ahem! I see. Good.”

Having reached an unspoken agreement to let that night go, Ryan turned and nodded at Leon, beckoning him to follow past the counter. The three of them were led into the Guild’s VIP room, and once Leon’s group sat on the sofa opposite him, Ryan served them each a cup of jasmine tea he’d brewed himself.

“It’ll shake off the drowsiness. Have a cup.”

“Thank you.”

While they sipped, Ryan busied himself, pulling a small steel box from under his desk. Everyone knew the contents of the box, which was no bigger than a palm. Sliding a key into the lock, he opened it to reveal a golden plaque gleaming within.

The engraved letters—“LEON”—stood out vividly against the smooth surface. This gold badge was the mark of an A-rank adventurer. Unlike B-rank, it granted special treatment anywhere on the continent and served as proof that the guild regarded the bearer as a key figure.

Ryan placed it in front of Leon and said, “From this moment on, Leon, you are an A-rank adventurer.”

Leon didn’t reply right away. Instead, he reached out with his right hand. The plaque was cool and smooth to the touch.

He ran his thumb over the engraved name, then pulled a silver plaque from his coat. He had no more use for it and intended to dispose of it on the spot.

Just as Leon gathered Aura in his hand, Karen’s voice stopped him.

“Ah!”

Loosening his grip, he looked back at her and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, but... It seems like a waste.”

“A waste?”

“Well, it’s a memento, in a way—proof you were once a B-ranker. Why not give it to me instead of destroying it?”

For some reason, Elahan bit her lip with a faint look of regret as if realizing she was too late.

“Sure, why not.”

Leon handed her the silver plaque without much thought, and Karen tucked it away carefully as though it were a treasure.

Ryan, after a brief pause, said, “Congratulations. Few people earn A-rank at your age. In my branch, I’ve never seen it.”

“Is it that rare?”

“Unless there’s a special reason to start at B-rank or higher, climbing from the bottom to A-rank is difficult. Well, setting the youngest record—now that’s reserved for someone who’s truly, truly remarkable.”

Karen leaned forward at that, asking, “Just how young is the youngest record?”

“Sixteen—he took down a mutant ogre alone.”

Both Leon and Karen’s eyes went wide. Not just an ogre, but a mutant, and at sixteen? At that age, the body wasn’t even fully mature. That kind of feat went beyond talent and effort—it was outright madness.

Only Elahan remained composed as she listened and asked, “What’s that monster doing now? Still alive?”

“Very much so. Watch your mouth around him. Among active S-ranks, he’s one of the most dangerous.”

“I feel like I know who you’re talking about.”

Ryan gave a wry smile and changed the subject. Apparently, the youngest-record S-rank didn’t have the best temperament. He turned to Elahan, sitting beside the two.

“From those robes, you’re clergy, right?” he asked Elahan, then turned to Leon. “An interesting choice of companion, Leon.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Elahan said to Ryan.

Since leaving the church, the Saintess had dyed her silver hair brown. Elahan smiled sweetly as she thought that this was the perfect time to give the false identity Irexana had arranged.

“I’m Ella, fifty-second Holy Iron Inquisitor.”

“What...?” Ryan was struck speechless by the introduction. “A Holy Iron Inquisitor? You’re not joking?”

“I’m serious. I have documentation to prove it. I’d like to request my adventurer registration be handled as quickly and quietly as possible.”

“Let’s see it.”

His expression turning serious, Ryan carefully examined the documents Elahan handed over, page by page. Even after finishing, he started again from the beginning. Her claim was just that hard to believe.

It wasn’t until he’d reviewed them three times and found nothing amiss that he looked up at the three of them, his face aged as if by ten years, saying, “You guys only ever bring me complicated work.”

“Will it be possible?” Leon asked.

“Of course. I’ll issue it right now. No matter how I try to repay the debt I owe the Holy Church, it’ll never be enough.”

“However,” Ryan added, “To register at A-rank will take a bit of processing. It’ll be three or four days at least. Is that all right?”

Elahan answered, “It doesn’t have to be A-rank. With the title of Holy Iron Inquisitor, I won’t be treated lightly even at B-rank.”

“That’s true.”

With that, Ryan pulled a blank silver badge from his desk drawer, took out a dagger, and engraved the letters “ELLA” into it. By coincidence, it was the very “special case” he’d been talking about earlier playing out before his eyes. He must have caught the same thing, because he smirked faintly as he handed the badge over.

“Thank you for making the accommodation, Guildmaster,” Elahan didn’t forget to thank Ryan.

“I should be the one saying that. Having a Holy Iron Inquisitor with us is the same—if not bigger—than having a thousand troops.”

Even the Guildmaster found it noteworthy to have a Holy Iron Inquisitor register with his Guild. If Elahan’s true identity were ever revealed later, Ryan might tell the story of this day for the rest of his life.

Hero and Saintess—serving tea with his own hands to two living legends—this very room could become a tourist spot someday.

Let’s hope not, Leon thought, feeling an odd sense of embarrassment. Having his everyday life immortalized like that would be mortifying.

Then El-Cid butted in.

—If you just went around causing chaos like me, everyone would censor the records for you.

Are you telling me that’s something you’re proud of?

—My achievements were too great for people to believe, so it’s only right to tone them down for the record, don’t you think?

Be honest, how thick is your skin? And is it made of adamantium, or something? No human can be this shameless.

While the former and current Hero bickered, the others continued chatting in a warm, friendly mood—about the latest rumors in Jugend, who might win this year’s Jugend Steel, when mining operations would resume.

After a few topics, Ryan got to the point.

“You’ve got three in your party now, Leon. And you’ve advanced to A-rank. Have you thought about settling anywhere?”

“No,” Leon answered firmly. “I intend to keep traveling the world for now, so I haven’t considered settling yet.”

“I see,” Ryan nodded without much reaction. “Young folks are like that. Adventure over stability, travel over vacation. We old men can’t keep up with that pace.”

“You don’t seem that old to me,” Leon said.

“Just enough to keep my own house safe, at least.” Letting the compliments go in one ear and out the other, Ryan asked, “You’re planning to leave Jugend, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Have a destination in mind?”

When Leon didn’t answer, Ryan smiled knowingly and said, “Then I’ll do you one last favor. You can ask me one more question.”

Considering the offer for a moment, Leon said, “Could you tell me which regions have been the most turbulent lately?”

“Now that’s an unusual request.”

With an intrigued look, Ryan rose from his seat. It wasn’t often he had a chance to do a favor for both a young A-rank rookie and a Holy Iron Inquisitor.

Though Area 1 and Area 13 were different jurisdictions, a Guildmaster’s authority carried to any branch. After spending ten minutes in the records room reviewing recent incidents, Ryan returned with three documents.

“As you asked—one’s nearby, one’s a bit farther, and one’s very far.”

Indeed, they were as described. Leon, Karen, and Elahan leaned in together to read the three requests in turn.

“Imperial Public Order Corps”

“Western Great Desert Dispute Mediation”

“Eastern Strait Pirate Suppression”

The closest to Jugend was the Clyde Empire. Farther but still reachable was the Western Great Desert. The most distant required crossing over half the continent—the Eastern Strait.

“Personally, I can’t recommend the Clyde Empire,” Ryan said. “Since the Mad Emperor took the throne, the Empire’s a mess. Local nobles have turned into warlords with private armies, and they’re busy brawling with rebels or rioters, anytime, anywhere.”

“Is it that bad?” Leon asked.

Ryan nodded gravely and continued, “The Great Desert is a chronic issue. The clashes between nomads and native beastkin have gone on for generations, and whenever fighting escalates, the Guild gets called in to mediate.”

“And the Eastern Strait?”

“About the same. But in that case, some brazen pirates sank a ship carrying a member of royalty, so it has turned into a huge uproar.”

“I see...”

A royal was killed by some mere pirates. To erase that humiliation, they’d need the corpses of thousands—maybe tens of thousands—of pirates. If the kingdom had issued a mass guild summons over it, there would almost certainly be a military clash on the scale of war.

Leon considered the factors carefully. The distance to each location, the severity and scale of the events, and the presence of organizations and personnel they could cooperate with.

Clyde Empire, huh...

In spite of himself, he thought of Lyon. He was the prince who’d been deposed by the Mad Emperor and purged, fleeing to the academy with only a single retainer.

Leon’s feelings were complicated, with a mix of mild regret and satisfaction. That last victory had nearly erased the three years of jealousy and inferiority he’d held, but they had never been close enough for purely good feelings to remain.

By now, Lyon and Chloe are probably gone from the Academy. I wonder if they’re doing all right.

Leon’s social circle had always been small. Those two were the only “acquaintances” from his academy days. The memories were bittersweet.

He clicked his tongue softly and turned his gaze back to the papers. This wasn’t a decision to make for personal reasons.

Even if Lyon and Chloe were leading a rebellion against the Mad Emperor, the imperial capital’s mark on the map was still too heavy for him to take on.

“Let’s go with this one.”

Leon picked up one of the requests.

“Western Great Desert Dispute Mediation”

The Hero party’s next destination was decided.