In the northern kingdom of Hervor, mostly made up of snowy mountains, there was a city named Ahilant.
A city built in a plain area that boasted a somewhat mild climate in a place where the concepts of spring, summer, and autumn didn’t exist.
A river that never froze year-round. Dense coniferous forests. Hot spring water flowing when you dug into the ground. It was literally a blessed region.
Naturally, many people gathered there, and Ahilant gradually grew, eventually becoming one of the largest cities in Hervor.
Though it wasn’t as large as the capital, Bern, it was still among the top four.
As the great city it was, the resident population was incomparable to other cities, and the number of passing merchants and travelers was countless.
A city that looked like it was painted?
However, the stronger the light, the darker the shadows. Being a bustling metropolis didn’t only bring positive connotations.
Active comings and goings meant that it was difficult to properly identify who was passing through, making it hard to filter out dangerous individuals. The larger the resident population, the more it meant that the number of villains could only increase.
The security in Ahilant was not very good.
The commercial district and residential areas, where most crowds gathered, were relatively safe, but shady back alleys were openly infested with the poor and thugs, turning them into crime havens.
If an outsider accidentally set foot in such a place, they might wake up in a brothel or slave market the next day.
In one corner of those back alleys, there was a pub named ‘Claw Roost.’
A small pub frequented by lowlifes, members of violent organizations, and drunks who couldn’t stop drinking even after becoming poor.
Creek!
With the sound of a rusty hinge squeaking, the wooden door, stained with knife marks and dried blood, slowly creaked open.
Claw Roost welcomed its new visitors.
“Hmm…? What’s that?”
A drunkard snoozing face-down on the table stirred, raised his head, and looked at the two visitors entering through the door.
A black-haired girl in a thick bear fur cloak with a hood pulled up, accompanied by a heavily armored… armored…?
…
What the heck is that little brat? No fear at all. Does she even know where she’s walking into?
The drunk shook his head and chuckled.
The girl looked like she wasn’t even twenty yet, and her pretty face peeking out from under the hood didn’t match this grimy back-alley pub at all.
Seeing such a girl come to this place without a guardian meant she was surely a wandering traveler who had never heard of the notorious reputation of Ahilant’s back alleys.
If left alone, the chances of her being found in a brothel the next evening seemed high.
Of course, whether the budding traveler became a prostitute or not had nothing to do with him.
Instead of warning her about the dangers of the place, the drunk just grinned, feeling like another bottom-dweller had joined the ranks, and continued to gulp down his own bottle of booze.
Serves her right. She crawled in here alone, so whatever happens to her…
“Excuse me, I’d like to order something.”
…Isn’t it her own fault if something happens? One of them will probably end up done for by tonight.
He didn’t even realize how twisted and warped his thinking was.
=====[Hilde]=====
Ugh, it stinks really bad.
As soon as I opened the door, I was hit with the pungent odor typical of a shabby pub, and I barely managed to suppress the urge to cover my nose while grimacing.
The smell of sour vomit and blood permeated the floor. The stench of unwashed drunks. And the potent, sharp aroma of harsh alcohol.
Having gotten somewhat used to bad smells from my isekai adventurer life, it was a blessing. If I hadn’t been, I would’ve surely vomited the moment I took a breath.
If that happened, I would surely attract all the attention in the room.
Well, considering that the people holed up in a back-alley pub in broad daylight were all drunks wasting their lives on alcohol, it wouldn’t be too much of a problem even if I did draw attention.
With just a glance around the pub, the only ones awake seemed to be a cheerful-looking loony and the pub owner.
The other four men were either drunk or passed out, completely ignoring the arrival of any new patrons.
Great, no real threats here.
I sighed in relief and walked over to the pub counter, plopping down on a chair positioned there, and stated my business to the pub owner.
“Excuse me, I’d like to order something.”
“…Ah, yes. What would you like, customer?”
The pub owner, who had been looking at Friede with a questioning gaze, seemed to finally notice me and looked down as he casually spoke to me.
Good job on the helmet performance.
He hadn’t even recognized my existence until I spoke. And even after spotting me, he treated me like a regular customer, not even glancing at my prominently displayed cleavage.
His reaction indicated he couldn’t even conceptualize the notion of a ‘helmeted lemon-haired knight’ looking directly at him.
Once again, I was glad I had gone through the trouble of digging through the banks beneath the Rhine River to acquire my helmet beforehand.
If assassins or thieves had seen me, they would have been gnashing their teeth in envy, like wild dogs drooling and staring wide-eyed.
“Customer?”
“Aah, yes. So…”
Prompted by the pub owner’s urging, I hesitated slightly, recalling the phrases from the original story.
“One bottle of Svarti Brennivín. Three pieces of unfermented Haukartl. Two plates of smoked meat, please.”
Then, placing three silver coins on the counter, I echoed the words from my memory.
“Hmmm…”
The pub owner squinted at me, observing intently. His expression was plainly suspicious. Yet he was still pocketing the silver coins with his hand.
“That’s quite a peculiar order. ‘Unfermented’ Haukartl, is it…?”
“Fermented food doesn’t suit my palate.”
It was certainly a strange order.
Haukartl was originally a fermented food made by drying shark meat. Asking for unfermented Haukartl was akin to asking for fries without being fried.
“Uh… we don’t really have a dish like that, but I do have ingredients that could create a similar taste… I’m not sure if it would suit your palate. Would you like to give it a try?”
The pub owner, smiling awkwardly as if he were in a tight spot, pointed toward the storage room behind thecounter.
I nodded. I received the response I wanted.
“Sure. It’s fine if my companions join too, right?”
“Of course.”
Saying it would be fine, the pub owner quietly opened the door to the storage room.
I followed behind the pub owner into the storage room with a wary eye, glancing around at Friede, who looked full of caution.
We passed through the first-floor storage filled with bottles and bags of food, then he opened a hidden door built into the floor and led us down stairs until we finally arrived at a secret rendezvous point.
And finally, at the metal door of the secret room:
“Welcome. Allow me to greet you once more.”
The pub owner turned toward us, revealing a hidden demeanor and formally greeting us.
No, he was no longer just a pub owner.
“Welcome to the Shadow of the Eagle. It’s been quite some time since we’ve had a guest here.”
A stocky physique well-trained and concealed beneath loose clothing.
The smell of alcohol masked it, but a faint scent of blood still lingered.
And a profession’s instinctive gaze, scanning for weak points in our bodies, deliberating on how to kill us in one blow.
There stood an assassin, meticulously trained.
A member of the information organization and assassination guild ruling the underworld of the kingdom of Hervor: Shadow of the Eagle.
“Thank you for the hospitality.”
I smiled, appreciating the satisfaction of confirming my knowledge was spot on.
“Shall we go in now?”
“By all means.”
The assassin nodded slightly and knocked twice on the iron door of the reception room, allowing us inside.
◆◆
The inside of the iron door was dark.
In the dimly lit enclosed space, there was only a single desk with a candlelit on it, two chairs, and a storage similar to a wardrobe attached to the wall.
It resembled an old confession booth in a shabby church, minus the cross decorations.
It was undoubtedly a grim, eerie place.
Only a total lunatic, someone whose mind was tightly wound around thinking about the many ways to kill people for 24 hours, would utilize such a space as their personal study.
“Hmmm, are you guests?”
This is exactly what such a person would look like.
A man in entirely black attire, with even a mask of a black eagle covering his face, looked up from some unknown documents he was writing.
He was definitely a crazy person.
In such a dark space, wearing a mask like that meant he could hardly see anything. Even the concept of style had crossed the line.
“Please, have a seat.”
“Sure.”
I sat down as he instructed. There was only one chair left, so I set Friede beside it.
“What brings you to our guild? Are you looking to buy information, or to sell it?”
“Neither, actually.”
“Hmmm… then is it related to ‘that side’? That’s somewhat unexpected, you don’t seem like you’d have any connections with ‘that side.’”
His voice lowered a bit.
The fact that the information guild ‘Shadow of the Eagle’ dabbled in assassination was a closely guarded secret. It had been ages since a guest aware of that had visited.
“That side isn’t it.”
Of course, unlike his assumption, I was not here to specifically request an assassination.
“Yes…?”
The man tilted his head in confusion. With neither information to buy or sell, he seemed puzzled as to why I would come here.
I gulped nervously. If I spoke carelessly, it might lead to all the assassins in the Ahilant branch targeting us.
“I have something to convey to the Master. I don’t mind sending it in writing, but I believe meeting in person is safer.”
“…Our guild chief is not someone you can meet just like that.”
The man responded coldly, glaring at me from behind his mask. His tone was steeped in an ominous air.
“……!”
Perhaps reacting to that coldness, Friede, who was instinctively reaching for her sword to unsheath it, barely managed to restrain her arm after seeing me sit calmly.
…Phew. That got close to a murder incident.
I inwardly sighed in relief. Thank goodness I had warned Friede about the nature of this place beforehand; otherwise, it would have turned into a bloodbath in the pub.
“I understand that it’s difficult to meet someone like that.”
Surely, it wouldn’t be easy. Given the guild master’s identity, meeting him in the first place was almost a miracle.
“But…”
I took a moment, quietly mumbling, and then flashed a hint of a confident smile toward the man.
Then I spoke.
“Umbra est una cum omnibus quae sub sole sunt.”
The shadow is one with all that is beneath the sun.
The unnecessarily stylish secret phrase quoted from the original novel.
“…Nemo parvas tenebras effugere potest.”
No one can escape the trivial darkness.
That one line seemed to catch him completely off-guard, as he flinched momentarily, then replied in a hesitant tone.
“How do you know that… Are you… from ‘above’?”
His tone became noticeably more respectful. It seemed he thought I was associated with a higher-ranking member of the organization.
According to the setting, only they were supposed to know the secret phrases I had just quoted.
“I don’t need to disclose that. But, I think I need to meet the ‘Master.’ Can you pass that message along?”
I dodged his question with ambiguity, smiling as if hiding a secret that I couldn’t share with anyone, before reiterating my request.
“So, there is someone who wishes to meet the ‘Fortunate One’ regarding information on the ‘First.’ You can tell him that much. Please take care of it.”
This was a message that didn’t exist in the original storyline.
Of course, it was a message I had just come up with.
A secret message for the guild master of the Shadow of the Eagle.
“I know your identity. Lucky one, Argantir. I possess information about your brother, Heid, so if you’re curious, come meet me.”
That was the meaning behind the message.
Indeed.
In the public eye, Argantir, the second prince of Hervor, was known as a weak and gentle man, a lucky one who had accidentally inherited the throne.
But his true identity was that of the head of the information and assassination guild ‘Shadow of the Eagle,’ which manipulated the underworld across the kingdom of Hervor.
His naming sense and taste for code words were atrociously lame. He had likely created this organization at the cusp of turning fifteen, so in his own way, he might have fancied it to be cool.
