The Dark Warrior (6 page)

“So this is… I see. Then, could you show me the potion?”

Nfirea took the potion she’d taken out and raised it up to the level his eyes must have been under his hair.

Something in the atmosphere changed.

Nfirea parted his bangs, exposing regular features that made it seem certain girls would fuss over him in the future. He still looked so young, but now, a sharpness appeared in his expression. His gaze was incredibly keen for the casual tone he had taken earlier. He blinked several times, and his excitement was visible in his eyes. Then, he rocked the bottle a few times and nodded once. “Excuse me. There’s not much I can say about it at this point, so would you come this way?”

Assenting, Brita followed Nfirea to a messy room. No—it only seemed messy because she didn’t have the knowledge to understand it.

On a table were round-bottom flasks, test tubes, a still, mortars, funnels, beakers, burners, a balance, strange jars, and other various pieces of equipment. The walls had shelves full of countless medicinal herbs and ores. The whole room assaulted her nose with a singular reek that seemed like it might be harmful to her health.

The occupant of the room turned to glare at the two intruders. It was an extremely old woman. Wrinkled face, wrinkled hands. Her hair, cropped to shoulder length, was pure white. Her work clothes had even more green splotches than Nfirea’s and smelled strongly of herbs.

Entering the room, Nfirea called out to her, “Grandma!”

“What is it? What is it? I can hear you without all the shouting. My ears are doing just fine.”

Nfirea only had one grandmother. This was the woman said to be the best apothecary in the city, Lizzy Baleare.

“Look at this!”

Lizzy took the bottle as he thrust it into her hands, and her perceptive gaze was so sharp that Brita was almost compelled to brace herself. She sensed that she was in the presence of a powerful veteran.

And it wasn’t just her imagination. Apothecaries needed to use magic in the course of making medicines, so the better the reputation of the apothecary, the higher tiers of magic it indicated they could use. That meant that as the best apothecary in E-Rantel, Lizzy’s individual combat ability surpassed Brita’s.

“This… She brought it? The legendary…? It can’t be… Gods’ Blood? Hey, what is this thing?”

“Huh?” Brita blinked. That was
her
question.

“This potion…it shouldn’t exist. Where did you get it? Is it from the ruins?”

“Huh? Uh, no, I mean…”

“You’re not very good at making yourself understood, child. Just spit out what’s asked of you! Where did you get it? It’s not like you stole it, right? Hmm?”

Brita’s shoulders jumped. She felt like she was being scolded even though she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Grandma! Don’t frighten her!”

“Whaddaya mean, Nfirea? I’m not frightening her one bit. …Right?”

Nope, definitely scared
, Brita wanted to say, but of course, she couldn’t, so she swallowed hard and quit beating around the bush about how she acquired the potion. “Someone, uh, gave it to me.”

“Huh?” Lizzy’s gaze became more damning. “You think—”

“Grandma, just wait a minute. Um, Brita, who gave it to you and for what reason?”

Reaching out for the lifeline Nfirea offered, she gave a simple explanation of how she’d received it from a mysterious person in full plate armor. Lizzy’s wrinkled face grew even more wrinkly.

“…Did you know that there are three types of potions?” Despite asking the question, she didn’t wait for Brita’s response before continuing. “There are potions made just with herbs. These don’t have instantaneous effects, but basically work by enhancing humans’ natural healing processes. They aren’t terribly effective, but they’re extremely cheap.

“Next are potions made with herbs and magic. These take effect more quickly than the ones I just mentioned, but they still take some time. These are the ones you often see adventurers drinking after a battle or something when they have more time.

“Lastly, there are potions that use only magic. They’re made by infusing alchemical solutions with spells. They take effect immediately and can work just as well as spells would. Of course, you pay for it.

“This one you brought me doesn’t have any herbal sediment, so we can assume it was created entirely with magic, but…” Lizzy picked up a potion bottle full of blue liquid and thrust it at Brita. “This is your typical healing medicine. Notice the color difference? No matter what we do, they end up turning blue during the production process. But yours is red. In other words, your potion was made with some completely different process. That means that you have something incredibly rare—it may have the potential to change potion-making technology! Though I’m not sure if that makes any sense to you…”

After saying that much, Lizzy cast two spells on the potions. “Appraise Magic Item! Detect Enchantment!” Astonishment and fury registered in her expression. “Heh-heh… Waa-ha-ha-ha!”

Suddenly an almost cracked sort of laughter echoed throughout the cramped room. Lizzy looked up slowly. She had the crooked smile of a crazy person. Brita was so taken aback by the sudden change that had come over the old woman that she couldn’t move a muscle, much less speak.

“Heh-heh-heh. I knew it! Take a good look at this, Nfirea! This, this is potion perfection! This is what has eluded us—apothecaries and alchemists, anyone involved in potion making—even after all our research over the years: the ideal potion!” Lizzy’s face was flushed with excitement, and she breathed in quick gasps. She held the potion bottle out toward Nfirea, her hand clamped around it as if to say she would never let it go. “Potions degrade, right?”

“Yes, everyone knows that.” Nfirea spoke in even tones, quite a contrast from Lizzy’s state, but Brita could see a hint of excitement on his face.

She just couldn’t understand
why
they were so excited. But she could sense quite acutely that she was involved in something big. It had to be huge if the greatest apothecary in the city was getting this fired up over it.

“Potions made entirely with magic use an alchemical solution. Those are made by using alchemy on minerals, so it stands to reason that they would degrade over time! That’s why we have to cast Preservation!” She paused for a beat for effect. “Or rather, ‘had to’!”

Brita vaguely understood what Lizzy was saying and eyed the red liquid in surprise.

“This! This potion—this potion! It won’t degrade! In other words, it’s a perfect potion! No one has ever been able to produce one! According to legend, a true healing potion signifies blood of the gods. This story has been told for ages!” The potion shook in her hand and the crimson liquid sloshed. “Of course, it’s only a legend, and apothecaries even joke with one another that the gods themselves must have blue blood, but…” She paused for a moment to stare at the bottle clasped tightly in her trembling hands. “This potion must be true Gods’ Blood!”

Lizzy wheezed, out of breath. Nfirea rubbed her back. Brita was speechless. The silence the three of them created was broken by Lizzy. “…And I think you’re here to inquire what the effects of this potion are. This is equivalent to a tier-two healing spell. Without adding value for rarity or anything, it would fetch eight gold pieces. Factoring in added value, the price goes so high that it’s possible people might try to kill you for it.”

Brita’s whole body shivered. Even just the value of its effects was worth quite a lot to an iron-plate adventurer like her. That added value, though, was a problem. She even felt like Lizzy, with her perceptive eyes, was waiting for a chance to jump her.

But she still didn’t understand everything. How could that mysterious man in the full plate armor give a potion like this to her as if it were nothing? What in the world did his face look like under that helmet?

Countless questions assailed Brita, and Lizzy added one more. “You wouldn’t be interested in selling that to me, would you? I’ll make it worth your while. How does thirty-two gold pieces sound?”

Brita’s eyes widened even more.

To Brita, it was an incredible fortune. A family of three could probably live modestly on that for three years.

She couldn’t make up her mind. She knew the potion was ridiculously valuable. So was selling it here for thirty-two gold pieces the right move? The chances she would acquire another one were extremely low.

But if I turn her down, will I make it home in one piece?

Picking up on Brita’s indecision, Lizzy shook her head—it couldn’t be helped. Then she made an alternative suggestion…

The next morning, Momon/Ainz pushed open the door to the guild once more. When he entered, he saw the desk at the back. Behind it were three smiling receptionists assisting adventurers. There was a knight in full plate armor, an agile-looking guy in light armor carrying a bow and arrows, someone wearing priestly garb with the sigil of a god, a magical magic caster in a robe holding a staff—there were all sorts of adventurers.

On his left was a big door and, on his right, the board. There were several sheets of parchment posted that hadn’t been there yesterday. Naturally, there were adventurers clustered around them as well. A team was conferring with one another in front of one of the parchments. With a bad feeling about that scene and the posting, he headed toward the reception desk.

Ainz felt the room’s eyes gather on the plate around his neck and then lap up and down his body, taking in his appearance. It was the same vibe he’d gotten at the inn the previous day.

He observed the other adventurers back from the corners of his eyes. Their plates were silver and gold. Not a single copper. Feeling a bit like he was playing an away game, he stepped up to the counter.

It seemed as though a team had just finished, so there was a receptionist open. He stepped in front of her and said, “’Scuse me. I’m looking for work…”

“Oh! Then please select a sheet of parchment from the board and bring it over.”

As Ainz acknowledged her, he was assailed by the feeling that the sweat glands he’d lost had now returned. He arrived in front of the parchments and swept his eyes over them. Then, he nodded firmly.

Yup. I can’t read.

One of this world’s laws was that foreign languages would be translated, but that didn’t extend to the written word.

Last time, the receptionist lady had done everything for him, so he assumed it would work the same way this time.
That was naive.

Aah!
He wanted to scream and roll around on the floor, but then his mind settled down. Feeling grateful for the changes in him since taking on his new body, he racked his brains.

The literacy rate didn’t seem terribly high, but it would still be embarrassing to not be able to read in a place like this, and it could only end with him in the disadvantageous position of being looked down on. He’d given all his items for reading foreign characters to Sebas and had sneered at the idea of acquiring spells for that back in his
Yggdrasil
days—“I have scrolls, so that magic is pointless.”

He felt like a fool. He’d known he couldn’t read the writing in this world, so why had he neglected to come up with a plan? But there was no use crying over spilled milk; what’s done was done. Narberal couldn’t read the characters, either.
Checkmate, the end.

Those were the thoughts going around in his head, but the ruler of Nazarick couldn’t knowingly embarrass himself. He made up his mind, took down a piece of parchment, and strode back toward the desk.

“I’d like to take this job.”

The receptionist looked over the sheet that he’d thrust at her rather too firmly and her expression became awkward. Then with an embarrassed smile, she said, “I’m sorry. This is a request for mythril-plate adventurers.”

“I know. That’s why I brought it over.”

Hearing the quiet dignity of his voice, something doubtful appeared in the receptionist’s eyes. “Uh, um…”

“I’d like to take that job.”

“Huh? Uh, I mean, I see what you mean, but it’s a rule—”

“It’s a stupid rule. I can’t believe I have to keep grinding out these crummy, easy jobs until the promotion exam.”

“But your failure could result in the loss of many lives.”
Not to mention the reputation of the guild that so many adventurers worked so hard to cultivate
, her hard voice implied.

“Hmph.” The expressions of the adventurers in the vicinity grew hostile to match the receptionist’s. Here was a newbie mocking the rules they’d all diligently followed.
It’s only natural for them to be upset
, he thought. It didn’t particularly bother the undead Ainz, but the vestige of office worker Satoru Suzuki inside him was bowing apologies with all his might.

What Satoru Suzuki hated were people who turned down proposals without listening to explanation—and without even bothering to suggest an alternative—and whiners with no common sense. Ainz was currently a textbook example of the latter—those eminently punchable jerks.

But he wasn’t going to back down so easily. Really, he’d meant to, but he needed to push things to a certain point first, so he played his trump card.

“The woman behind me, Nabe, is with me. She can use tier-three magic.”