"Uwaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
The man screamed as he fled.
But chasing after him was a woman dressed like a prostitute or a Dancer.
No—it wasn't just her. Several adventurers should have been in pursuit as well.
But in his panicked state, the man could think of nothing except running.
He brandished the bloodstained short sword in his grip, desperately trying to put even a little more distance between himself and his pursuers.
Perhaps if he had simply thrown the weapon away, it wouldn't have drawn so much attention. But in his current frenzy, he had no room to think of such a thing.
Right now, his head held nothing but the single, consuming urge to flee.
But in the next moment, he suddenly noticed someone running alongside him.
"Uwah!"
He hadn't realized this was one of his pursuers. It was a half-reflexive swing of the blade—driven by the lingering sensation of having stabbed someone during the earlier brawl, when his blood had been up, and above all, by the terror of being caught.
"My, that won't do."
Those words barely registered before his vision flipped upside down and a powerful impact slammed into his back.
What happened?
For one fleeting instant, he wondered. But the idea that someone had used his own running momentum and the force of his short sword swing to drive him straight into the ground—that was something entirely beyond his imagination.
The woman who did it—Vihera—hardly ever went easy on someone who had stabbed a person and then fled. The impact of being slammed down left the man unable to breathe for an instant, and the next moment he was flat on the ground, coughing violently.
"Honestly. If you're going to get into a fight, do it bare-handed. Don't go pulling out weapons."
Sighing in exasperation, Vihera waited for the rest of her group to catch up.
Since she was the only one in the party with conspicuously outstanding abilities, she had single-handedly captured the man this time.
Watching him cough, Vihera reflected on how the whole thing had started.
It hadn't been anything complicated.
The kind of trivial nonsense that starts brawls—bumping into someone while walking down the street, or a exchanged glare—had escalated into an argument between two small groups.
They were all hot-blooded young men, so naturally an argument turned into a fistfight. And when one side felt they were losing, someone—unwilling to accept defeat and fearful of being humiliated—pulled a short sword from inside his coat.
In his excited state, the man swung the blade half-impulsively and stabbed an opponent in the thigh.
The ones most shocked by this were the stabber's own companions.
Fighting was one thing, but none of them had expected their own ally to draw a weapon—not just as a threat, but to actually use it.
And so the man had fled in terror, which led to this scene.
"Honestly, spring has barely begun. Why are there so many people like this?"
"Haa... haa... haa... that's exactly because spring has barely begun," one of the adventurers who had finally caught up managed between ragged breaths.
Vihera knew full well that those words were by no means wrong.
She knew it, but still found it grating.
"Maybe I should have waited longer before taking on a public order maintenance job. Then again, maybe Byune stayed at Marina's house today because she saw this coming."
Now that spring had arrived, a large number of people who hadn't been in Gilm over the winter had flooded in all at once.
Among them were, naturally, troublemakers who would cause incidents like this one—or worse, people with genuinely problematic temperaments.
With so many people pouring in simultaneously, the number of those who stirred up trouble increased accordingly.
In terms of maintaining public order, this was probably the most demanding period of the year.
Byune, who had lived alone in the Labyrinth City Exil for years, had likely predicted as much and chose to stay at Marina's house today. Byune's usual lodgings were also at the Wheat Inn at Dusk, but still.
"For us, having someone as skilled as you alongside is a relief, Vihera-san. Plus, at least it's easier without the Red Cloth around."
"Red Cloth... huh."
Most of the Red Cloth had been killed as sacrifices to the Eyeball.
A few survivors remained, but they had lost all sense of self—empty husks incapable of acting on their own.
As far as Vihera knew, Daskar was keeping them confined in some building under house arrest.
They were, in essence, people who would never do anything of their own accord—merely living bodies that consumed food, water, and other supplies.
It was precisely because it was Daskar that they were kept alive at all. A colder lord, or one who saw no reason to sustain unprofitable mouths, would have had the soulless Red Cloth members put down long ago.
And since there had been young women among them, an even more tragic fate than death might have awaited.
Considering all that, Daskar—who kept them alive without even attempting to find a cure—was someone truly worthy of being called a good man.
"Vihera-san? Is something wrong?"
"No, it's nothing. For now, shall we take this man to the Guard Station? We can't keep holding him ourselves indefinitely."
"No need to worry about that. We've already sent a few people to call for the Guards."
"My, how thoughtful."
Vihera flashed a smile, and the adventurer felt his own cheeks burn.
It wasn't as though he was unfamiliar with women. When he had coin to spare, he visited brothels, and he'd had lovers before.
And yet, just seeing Vihera's smile was enough to provoke that kind of innocent reaction from him.
Fighting the urge to grab his head and roll around on the ground in shame, he forced himself to continue his businesslike conversation with Vihera until the Guards arrived and took the man into custody.
"There. That should take care of it. But don't overexert yourself."
"Thank you very much, Marina-sama."
The man whose wound had been healed by Marina's Water Spirit Magic bowed and left the room.
Marina watched him go, then surveyed her surroundings.
Several mages were each using their own Recovery Magic to treat the injured.
And not just Recovery Magic—many were tending wounds with medicinal herbs as well.
Mages were already scarce to begin with, and those among them who could use Recovery Magic were rarer still.
Because of that, plenty of people relied on medicinal herbs and potions for minor injuries.
In fact, the man Marina had just treated had lost control of his tools during the Expansion Construction and suffered a deep gash from a carpenter's implement.
In this case, though, the more remarkable thing was Marina's own skill—her Spirit Magic had healed a wound that serious in a matter of moments.
"Still, the injured just keep coming."
"That can't be helped. Not with this many people all working at once," a woman replied, having just finished treating a minor injury with medicinal herbs.
"True. But not all of them are work-related, are there? There's the hot-blooded young ones getting into brawls too. Like the one just carried in—stabbed in the leg with a blade."
"Ah, those kinds... well, it's inevitable, I suppose. When this many people flood in all at once, troublemakers are bound to get mixed in."
The woman's expression soured as she said it.
For her, treating injuries sustained during the Expansion Construction was one thing. Treating wounds from pointless brawls was another entirely.
And it wasn't just a matter of preference—the simple fact that medicinal herb stocks were limited was a real concern.
If those supplies were squandered on brawlers here, what would happen when a genuine emergency demanded them and the shelves were bare?
That worry clearly weighed on the woman's mind.
It wasn't something that affected Marina directly, since she healed through Spirit Magic.
That said, Marina's Spirit Magic wasn't entirely without cost, either. The magical power she channeled to the Spirits was finite, and there was always the chance they might grow bored of healing.
"The Guards and the adventurers on public order maintenance requests are doing their best. Those kinds of people won't vanish entirely, but their numbers will definitely go down."
Not "vanish" but "go down"—at that deliberate phrasing, the woman listening wore an openly displeased look.
Her honest feeling was that she'd rather not have to treat those sorts of people at all.
"True. If their numbers would at least—"
Before she could finish, more young men arrived—fresh from yet another pointless brawl—and the woman suppressed her irritation and set to work.
Marina's house, the garden.
It had been arranged into a space where one could comfortably pass the time even without Marina there.
Spring had arrived, but it was still a bit too cold to sit outside and leisurely enjoy tea.
If it were only Elena, she wouldn't have minded. But Ara, Byune, and the others were present as well.
So Marina had arranged the garden into a remarkably comfortable environment.
"Lady Elena. A letter from a messenger of Count Bureau's Family."
Ara, returning to the garden, placed a letter in Elena's hands.
It was firmly sealed with wax, marking it as a formal correspondence.
"Count Bureau, hmm. But this won't be from him personally."
Elena set her teacup down on the table, used a knife to slice open the envelope, and scanned the letter.
"As I thought."
"It wasn't from him personally?"
"No. A relative of Count Bureau. Apparently they wish to meet me... though I wonder what to make of that."
Just as many people had come seeking work with the arrival of spring, the number of nobles had swelled considerably as well.
They were agents dispatched by nobles who had learned that Gilm was expanding, growing from a town into a city.
Those from territories close to Gilm had already arrived last year. The ones coming now were either from far away, or else from nobles who were simply poor at gathering intelligence.
Count Bureau, who had sent the letter, held a territory distant from Gilm. He had been unable to dispatch a suitable representative last year, and his envoy had likely only just arrived with the spring thaw.
As a noble belonging to the Noble's Faction, his envoy had presumably requested a meeting because Elena—daughter of Duke Kerebel, who led the Noble's Faction, and bearing the alias Princess General—was the very symbol of the faction.
"Count Bureau isn't known for any unsavory rumors. Wouldn't it be worth meeting with him?"
Belonging to the same faction, Ara was naturally familiar with Count Bureau.
He was, unusually for the Noble's Faction—having to phrase it that way was something Ara found deeply regrettable in itself—known for governing well, and his territory was said to be quite prosperous.
Had he been the sort of noble who ruthlessly exploited his people, Ara would never have recommended the meeting, given the potential for fallout on Elena.
Elena considered this for a moment, then nodded.
"I would have preferred to meet with Count Bureau himself. But understood. If Ara recommends it, I'll meet with him. Please coordinate with the other party and arrange a time."
"Understood. I'll see to the preparations at once."
Ara bowed and left the garden.
Elena watched her go, then raised her teacup to her lips once more.
In the garden, Byune was playing with Ielo. Elena watched the two of them with a soft smile.
"Hehe. Now that spring is here, everyone is growing more active again. I wonder what this year will bring."
Something was bound to happen this year too—she was certain of it.
Murmuring as though she held that very conviction, Elena gazed up at the sky with a look of quiet delight.