That was how Shiori became an adventurer. She searched for lost items and picked medicinal herbs. She did not balk at taking on the client requests that other new adventurers tried to avoid: boring jobs that were a lot of trouble for very little pay. Through that work, she steadily gained rewards and marks for experience.
With the quality of her character and her conscientious work style, she achieved a certain measure of trust, and parties began inviting her to join them. They were temporary positions, making up numbers or filling vacancies, but even in that, she gained definite recognition. To make up for being useless in battle, she undertook all routine tasks during the expedition, and worked to the best of her ability to contribute to the party.
After a few months, rumors had spread to the point that even the Guild was aware of them. If you had her with you, even camping would prove comfortable. And in addition to having a pleasant camping experience, if Shiori was with you, your success rate would increase. Any party that wanted to improve its results even slightly actively worked to hire her. The cozy camp environment she prepared with her magic, and all the little signs of care she showed, definitely increased morale. Having found her own unique means of survival, Shiori steadily gained marks for experience and increased her level. In recognition of her efforts, she was promoted to D-rank.
Then, about a year and a half after Shiori had become an adventurer, she was invited to join a party called Akatsuki, the name being a word for “dawn.” And they wanted her to become an official member. The party was comprised of D-rank adventurers who were aiming to become C-rank, but their recent results hadn’t been very good. They had their minds set on gaining Shiori’s abilities.
With no experience working in a fixed party, and knowing how little magical power she had, Shiori seemed quite conflicted. But the ardent invitations, and, most likely, her own desire for a place where she belonged, made her decide to join the party.
The problem Akatsuki had was the lack of balance in their party composition. It was the reason for the slump in their results. When they were E-rank, they’d only taken on quests where brute-force attacks worked, or ventures that could be completed within a day. Because of this, even their skewed party structure, with four out of five of them being vanguards, hadn’t posed a problem. However, when they became D-rank and the number of quests that required a few days’ worth of camping or complex decision-making skills increased, everything gradually grew more difficult for them.
That was when Shiori and her ability to provide appropriate support joined the party, and everything changed. The fatigue they built up didn’t carry over into the next day, and since they could expect to recover well, they were better able to handle a little overexertion. The party’s completion rate rose. They gained marks for experience, and the acquisition of the scores necessary for promotion progressed smoothly.
Shiori, who had no relations, had found a place where she belonged. When she began showing signs that she had become particularly close to the magic swordsman in her party, those who had been watching over her, including Zack, felt relieved.
But three months later, strange things began to happen. The first to notice was a herbalist physician who worked in the same branch she did.
There’s a difference in the quality of their equipment, he thought.
As Akatsuki’s recent results had been good, they appeared to be prospering. The party members had bought replacements for their equipment. It was all quite impressive compared to what they’d had a few months earlier. Shiori was the only one who had the same gear as before. Perhaps it was that she wasn’t particular about her equipment. Or, perhaps...
He knew that, unlike the vanguards, who confronted adversaries directly, the equipment needs of those in the rear guard tended to be addressed later. The visible difference between Shiori and the woman who was also a rear guard was troubling, but sometimes rewards were divided differently with newcomers, so he felt he couldn’t really say anything. A slight uneasy feeling nagged at him, but on that occasion, he didn’t pursue it any further.
After that, however, things gradually grew worse. Shiori slowly stopped appearing at Akatsuki’s post-expedition banquets, and the sight of them celebrating without her gave others the sense that something wasn’t right.
Soon, the long-standing members of the party had been promoted to C-rank, but Shiori remained D-rank. Looking at the way they’d flourished after Shiori had joined them, it seemed obvious that her contributions had had an impact. In spite of that, her assessments were low.
Around six months later, people began to notice Shiori’s party members treating her cruelly, with no regard for who might be watching. The bizarre nature of their relationship became conspicuous, and people began to wonder if Shiori was being exploited. She followed after her party members with an expression as vacant as a doll’s. Her equipment was so worn out it couldn’t possibly serve its purpose. Such were the rumors that began to circulate in whispers.
Weren’t their good results a direct consequence of what Shiori had done for them? If that were so, then why did they treat her that way? More than a few people went to voice their opinions to the Guild, but Ranvald Lumbeck, the Master at the time, took no notice of them.
“To prevent iniquity in the receipt of rewards,” said Ranvald, “the division and distribution of them is handled by the Guild. Akatsuki is the same as everyone else in this respect. There is no question that Shiori is receiving her share of the rewards. On the subject of her lack of promotion, that decision was based solely on the fact that she does not contribute as much as the others.”
Once he’d given that statement, he’d refused to engage any further. And it was true that whenever they came back from completing a job and their marks for experience were assessed, Shiori’s scores were exceedingly low.