The Adventurer’s Guild wasn't all that different from the ones in other cities. If I had to pick a defining feature, though, it would be the sheer number of young faces. There were quite a few adventurers around our own age. I guess if you spend your childhood whack-a-moleing Slimes, wanting to become an adventurer is a natural progression.
Glancing over the request slips, I saw a wide variety of tasks. The vast majority were for work inside the dungeon. Some even requested the gathering of specific plants that only grew on certain floors. Other cities had dungeon-based gathering requests, of course, but never in these quantities. It was a great environment for dungeon explorers. Specialists in dungeon exploration rarely take on specific requests, which often means their adventurer ranks lag behind their actual abilities. In Aingurna, however, that didn't seem to be a concern.
Now then, first we had to give our greetings for our affiliation transfer.
As I looked toward the reception counter, I noticed a rather peculiar sight. Multiple lines had formed, but there was one single window where nobody was waiting. I wondered why. Was it reserved for special requests?
As I stood there wondering, my eyes met perfectly with a woman sitting at the empty window looking bored. Judging by the pointed ears on top of her head, she was a beastfolk, but...
"Oh, a face I haven't seen before, nya. Are you a rookie, nya? Why are you just standing there, nya? If you have business, come over here, nya!"
...Nya?
Wait, do beastfolk actually use sentence endings like that?
No, that couldn't be right. I’d met a few beastfolk before, but none of them had ever tacked a "nya" onto the end of their sentences.
The people waiting in the other lines were watching us with wry smiles, which made me a little uneasy. But since she had clearly called out to us, it would have been awkward to avoid her.
After a quick exchange of looks, we headed toward the window where the beastfolk woman waited.
"Welcome, nya. What's your business, nya?"
"Um, we’re here to give our greetings for an affiliation transfer."
"Oh, how diligent, nya~! In that case, let me see your adventurer’s plates, nya."
Following her instructions, Halfa, Lowell, and I presented our plates. The woman with the pointed ears took one look at them and gave us a broad grin.
"Oho! You’re pretty impressive, nya! Even here in Aingurna, there aren’t many your age with this rank, nya."
Since our ranks hadn't increased back in Garond, we were all still C-Rank. Even so, it seemed reaching that level at my and Halfa’s age was quite rare, though in this city, the evaluation was merely "pretty impressive." As expected of a city inside a dungeon—the average quality of adventurers was clearly higher here.
"Is that... thing I can't quite identify over there your tamed monster, nya?"
"Wafu! Wafu!"
"Don't get so angry, nya. Do you not like that I didn't know what you were, nya? In that case, hmm... you’re a Horn Dog, nya!"
"Wafu! Wafuuuuu!"
"What are you saying, nya? I don't understand you at all, nya!"
The receptionist was trying to verify the tamed monster registration, but for some reason, she had ended up in a shouting match with Shiroru. I had my doubts about whether they were actually communicating, but I figured I should probably step in regardless.
"This is Shiroru. He’s definitely a tamed monster."
I picked Shiroru up and gave his back a few light, soothing taps. I sent a thought telling him to behave, and he sent back a sense of reluctant consent.
"Nya. He’s wearing a Tamed Monster Mark properly, nya~? Then it’s no problem, nya. So, is the girl over there not an adventurer, nya?"
By "the girl over there," she meant Spira. She hadn't registered with the guild yet. Back when she was a half-spirit, she hadn't planned on doing any adventuring, but I thought this might be a good opportunity to get her registered.
"Nnya? Aren't you a Forestfolk, nya? Nya-nya-nya?"
The woman must have noticed something, because she began to stare intently at Spira, observing her.
She was sharp.
Spira’s appearance was almost identical to a Forestfolk, but she was actually a spirit—originally a spiritual body without a physical form. She was currently materialized, so she could be touched, but the receptionist seemed to sense that something was off even if she couldn't pinpoint her true identity. That was to be expected, really. In fact, the fact that she realized Spira wasn't a normal Forestfolk meant she was likely no ordinary person herself.
Someone with a clear ego and a stable form like Spira is a high-level spirit. They are beings of immense power who normally never show themselves to humans. In Spira’s case, she had only recently transitioned from a Forestfolk to a spirit, so she didn't have that much power yet. Regardless, it should have been incredibly difficult to see through her disguise.
Now, what to do?
The woman clearly sensed Spira wasn't just a normal Forestfolk, but she didn't have any proof. I figured we could just insist she was a Forestfolk and push the registration through. Besides, registration usually only required signing a consent form, so her race shouldn't have mattered anyway.
It was just as I was weighing our options that a new voice cut in.
"Rache-san? What are you doing out here? Back to work!"
A beastfolk woman with round ears appeared out of nowhere and firmly grabbed the shoulder of the pointed-eared woman—apparently named Rache.
"Buffy!? No, wait, nya! I am working, nya! L-Look. These adventurers are here for a new registration, nya."
"I see. Indeed they are. However, that is the work of the receptionists, not the work of the Guild Master!"
...Eh!?
I’d been thinking it might be a good idea for Spira to register, but I hadn't said it out loud. Was Rache just making things up to get out of trouble? Or more importantly... what was that about a Guild Master?
If I took the woman called Buffy at her word, it meant Rache was the Guild Master. But could that be right?
Usually, the position of Guild Master was held by retired high-rank adventurers who had the clout to keep the younger, rougher adventurers in check. Even at a generous estimate, Rache didn't look a day over her late twenties. It seemed a bit early for her to be retired, though it wasn't unheard of.
As I processed this, the argument continued.
"In the first place, deciding the Guild Master with a coin toss was stupid, nya! That decision was unfair, nya!"
"I think it was stupid too, but you were the one who suggested it, Rache-san. Take responsibility for your own ideas!"
"No, nya~! I hate paperwork, nya! It makes my brain melt, nya~!"
"Yes, yes. I’ll cast First Aid on you later."
"That’s not the problem, nya~!"
The presumed Guild Master, Rache, wailed and ranted about her hatred of work for a while, but Buffy didn't pay her any mind. Eventually, Rache slumped her shoulders in defeat and was dragged off toward the back corridor. She looked incredibly pathetic as she went.