Saktamburg, capital of the Gireshtal Federation.
The capital of the Gireshtal Federation, known as the “Land of Steam and Gears,” was a place that epitomized the essence of the federation.
Supported by numerous tower-like pillars, the super-massive, multi-layered city, resembling a dish stacked with tree-lined districts, emitted steam day and night while pure electric lights illuminated the streets.
At the highest point stood a brass-colored fortress-like structure, the Federal Capitol, the brain of the nation.
Beneath the “dish” where the Parliament was situated, three “plates” were aligned at the same height.
This area was crowded with central government offices and public institutions, where bureaucrats and officials from various organizations bustled about like golems. However, amidst all this, there was a slightly different corner.
In one corner of “Block Section 2-3”, eateries and taverns for those working in the area were lined up. Among them was the headquarters of the Gireshtal Federation Adventurer’s Guild.
This was a result of the city’s bold urban planning philosophy of consolidating everything necessary yet noisy and troublesome into one area. While some guild members were disgruntled at being classified alongside taverns, adventurers who frequented the guild probably wouldn’t want to walk through the bureaucratically stiff atmosphere anyway.
At the headquarters of the guild, a six-story giant box-shaped building, there was a little commotion in front of the main entrance.
“Don’t worry. It’s just a spar…”
Wilfred, a young man wearing a kimono over his adventurer’s travel clothes, swung his katana once and sheathed it.
In front of Wilfred was a muscular man in gladiator-like gear seemed to be displaying his physique, but as soon as the fight began, he took a thrust to the chest through the sheath and then a stronger blow to the wrist, causing him to drop his sword.
Onlookers (mostly adventurers who were in the guild lobby) erupted.
“Th-That can’t be…Garrett?!”
“The Garrett who picked fights with the rookies and beat them up!?”
“The ambitious Garrett who made a name for himself by hunting rookies and getting requests instead of improving his skills?!”
“Garrett, who wasn’t even top class but was incredibly strong and no one could do anything about it!?”
“You lost to someone who hasn’t even become an adventurer yet?!”
“Yeesss, let’s drink tonight!”
They praised Wilfred with loud whistling and thunderous applause.
“You really were hated…”
“Uh, shut up…”
The man crouched, giving a disdainful glance at the Mohawk-like tuft of hair, then simply muttered in exasperation.
“Geez! What a waste of time!”
He sighed.
He had come to complete the procedures to become an adventurer, but ended up in a pointless fight like this.
“Hey, you’re amazing!”
“Wanna join our party!?”
“Sorry, let’s talk about that later.”
As he tried to enter the guild headquarters, some of the onlookers followed him, making various comments and slapping his shoulders and back.
Though internally pleased, the man maintained a stoic demeanor. Being overly happy at such times would deviate from the modesty expected of a samurai. If he were to tarnish the name of the samurai, he wouldn’t be able to face his sword master and his mentor, both in swordsmanship and in spirit.
The vast lobby was filled with various people, from bureaucrats to adventurers armed with armor and helmets, with counters lined up.
Wilfred headed towards a receptionist who was about the same age as him.
“I want to become an adventurer. Is this where I apply?”
“Yes. Are you interested in registering as a new adventurer?”
The receptionist, with an impeccable sales smile, took out some documents.
“I’m a samurai. Please register me as a Samurai class.”
“Eh?”
And with Wilfred’s words, the receptionist froze, and the onlookers who had followed Wilfred burst into laughter.
“Um… registration with the guild is done by selecting from the predetermined occupational classes.”
The receptionist explained with a slightly strained expression as she tried to hold back her laughter.
“What!? There’s no class called Samurai!?”
“Yeah, there isn’t!”
A dwarf heavy warrior, holding his belly, laughed while slapping Wilfred’s back.
“Um… I believe ‘Samurai’ refers to the name of knights in the Far East region. If you mainly use swords there, it would be appropriate to register as a Fighter.”
“So, a Fighter, then… But this isn’t just any sword. It’s called a katana. It’s very important to us samurai.”
“Then I’ll proceed with the registration. If you have a Federal Citizen Card, please present it.”
“…Even to register with the Adventurer’s Guild, a Federal Citizen Card is required in the Federation?”
Wilfred took out a slightly thick plate bordered with brass metal, with his name and citizen number engraved on it.
Wilfred’s Federal Citizen Card. It wasn’t just engraved with his name, it also seemed to have some kind of token-like meaning, as it was often required when receiving public services in the federation.
“Mr. Wilfred Bryce, correct?”
The receptionist confirmed the citizen card, then inserted it into some square artifact, retrieved it immediately, and noted down the number on the application form.
“I will be your assistant today. I am Catherine Arkwright, a managing officer at the Gireshtal Federation Adventurer’s Guild headquarters. Nice to meet you.”
With odd-colored eyes of flame and ashes, and beautiful tangerine-colored hair, she smiled enchantingly.
