I Said Make My Abilities Average! (LN) - Volume 13 - Chapter 100

Chapter 100:

Reflection, and a New Request 

“Could you take out one of those sandbags?” Reina asked Mile one morning after breakfast, as the party got ready to set out to the guildhall to check on the day’s postings. 

“Huh?” asked Mile, puzzled. What in the world would Reina need to do with a sandbag, here in the middle of the inn, first thing in the morning? Question marks appeared over Mavis and Pauline’s heads as well. 

Mile’s confusion was one thing, but Reina seemed irritated at getting this response from Mavis and Pauline. 

“You guys…” she said, turning to the two, frowning, “if you keep thinking that we’ll have access to Mile’s storage magic forever and ever, you’re going to die.” 

“Wha…?” 

Mavis and Pauline looked taken aback at Reina’s statement. 

She had spoken calmly, without her usual anger. Instead, her expression was one of true exasperation and a hint of grief, and her words had been half-spoken and half-sighed. It was not only what she had just said but also how she had said it—in a manner so different from her usual self. 

Thus far, Mavis and Pauline had thought it only natural that if Mile was with them, they would make use of her storage magic. They had, of course, had some practice with the hardship of hunting without her when Mile was off on her fairy hunting excursion, but that amounted to no more than what might be termed enjoyable inconvenience—the kind of thing that a group of modern-day city children might face on a camping trip. It had been just enough for them to think, Man, that was tough , without forcing them to face any real deprivation or danger. Even on this last excursion, though Mile had not used her storage magic for them, she was still right by their sides, making it more like a handicap battle or a game—nothing that Reina would actually consider risky. 

Reina had spent years as a normal hunter alongside the Crimson Lightning and had faced the hardships of a solo hunter after that. By contrast, Mavis and Pauline had been with Mile since the start of their hunting careers and knew no other lifestyle. For the entire time they had been hunters, the powerful and convenient Mile had been right there by their sides. 

Only Reina, and Mile herself, seemed to realize that planning for a future in which this would always be the case was as good as building a skyscraper on a bed of sand… 

“Mile, go on down ahead of us.” 

“Huh? S-sure, all right!” 

Sensing that something was up with Reina, Mile headed down to the first floor… 

*** 

“Sorry to keep you.” 

After a long time, Reina and the others finally came down the stairs. Mavis and Pauline looked rather dejected. 

“Mile, give me a canteen and sandbags,” said Mavis. 

“Me too, if you would…” added Pauline. 

“Huh? Uh, s-sure thing.” 

As instructed, Mile hurriedly produced some canteens, sandbags, and packs from her storage. For Pauline, she brought out a backpack-style pack, and for Mavis, a shoulder bag, one which could be easily dropped in the event of a surprise attack. She loaded up each with their desired amount of weights and put the rest back into storage. 

By carrying sandbags instead of their actual luggage, they could protect against supply loss; carrying the real deal around in their packs could cause their water to dry up or food to spoil, and if anything happened and they had to abandon their bags, their provisions would be lost entirely. The sandbags had all been handmade by Mile, so while there was the cost of the materials and Mile’s labor to consider, they were still of far less value than anything else they might carry. They were just sandbags, after all. 

Reina seemed happy with this new turn of events. Somehow, Mile was able to imagine what kind of conversation the three of them had had out of her earshot. Thus, she did not feel excluded by her companions and had no need to ask them what they had talked about. 

She would leave this matter to Reina. Reina had been through enough hardships that surely she would be able to direct them here. Mile did not think herself so knowledgeable as to be able to guide them. This was something that she, especially, could not truly understand… 

*** 

“We are super late…” Reina muttered as they browsed the job board in the guildhall. Sure enough, all of the best jobs had already been snatched up by other hunters. It made sense, given how long they had spent on the morning’s discussions. 

“………” 

Under normal circumstances, Pauline would have reacted to Reina’s comments with a question like, “And whose fault is that ?!”—peeved at the idea of their losing out on potential profits. Yet today, she only stood in silence, as did Mavis. 

“Not much we can do about it now. Let’s just do some dailies or gathering today…” Mile proposed, just as a familiar voice called to them from the main job reception window. 

“Oh, the Crimson Vow, could you all come here a moment?” 

The four of them moved to the reception desk, where the clerk whispered softly, her expression serious, “You’ve got a direct request. Please go see the guild master.” 

“………” 

The four looked at one another and then nodded. 

This was by no means the first time they had received such a message—indeed, they had both accepted and refused direct requests in the past. Even their recent foray into the Empire, though it had been framed as a “special mission,” was still effectively a direct request from the princess. So then, why did they all have such serious looks upon their faces? 

A direct request meant only that a job had been offered directly to a certain party—the designation had nothing to do with the contents of the job and the level of difficulty. Sometimes the rich would issue frivolous requests to the more famous parties, just for the clout that came with saying that party had accepted their request, and other times, merchants would issue jobs directly to parties they were on friendly terms with, if they knew they were hurting for money. Thus, a direct request didn’t mean much in and of itself. Just as there were direct requests for particularly difficult jobs, there were also those for jobs that were hardly a trifle. Then again, it was rare for someone to go out of their way to issue such a request for something like goblin slaying or gathering herbs… 

Then there was the fact that a direct request was normally accepted at the reception counter or at least processed off to the side in one of the meeting rooms or cordoned-off booths. It was not usually the sort of thing one went to see the guild master about. 

“I wonder if there’s something weird about this job?” Pauline worried. 

“If it’s something stupid, we can just reject it,” Reina replied. 

“Well, we can’t decide that either way until we hear what the job is,” said Mavis. “So, let’s go see the guild master.” 

She was right, of course, and so they went… 

*** 

“An escort mission?” 

The Crimson Vow saw themselves up to the guild master’s office…a place that most normal C-rank hunters would not be as intimately familiar with as they were. Their status at this point was akin to a student who made frequent visits to a principal or headmaster’s office—a distinction reserved for those who were either exceptionally promising pupils or utter delinquents. 

The job, they had been informed, was an escort mission. Typically, one could not choose the guards based on the type of enemy one expected to encounter because there was no telling if, when, and what the travelers might be attacked by—whether it might be monsters, bandits, or something else entirely. That said, most nobles, royals, and wealthy merchants, if they expected an attack by rival factions or foreign assassins, would take their personal guard, soldiers, or mercenaries as their protection—and they certainly would not be hiring some hunters of C-rank or below. 

At least, not under normal circumstances. 

“ …An escort mission headed to an elven village? ” 

Yes. It would seem these were not normal circumstances.