The establishment they were kind enough to bring me to wasn’t quite a nightclub, but a flashy tavern with plenty of staff. This was my first time visiting such a place downtown, and I had no idea where I should focus my eyes. Instead, they just kept darting around.
However, the rest of the members of Nachtlibelle seemed to be regulars, and shortly after they put in some food orders, we were brought beers.
“In that case, let’s give a big welcome to Wim Strauss! Cheers!” Hans was the highest ranked among us, so he took the lead as we clanked our mugs together.
“Cheers, guys!”
“Cheers!”
“Woohoo!”
I was the last to lift my mug. “Ch-cheers…”
Damn it, I was too late! Everyone else is already drinking!
“Cheers, Wim.” Abel was sitting diagonally across me, and offered me his glass. I bumped my glass against his.
To be honest, I had agreed to join out of a vague admiration of such gatherings. Since I never really found myself in these situations, I didn’t really know what to talk about. So, I watched the food, licked my lips, and listened to everyone else.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much I could eat. The fried food and meat dishes were all covered in various sauces, and some had gotten on the potatoes served as sides. I wasn’t a big fan of food like this. Instead, I preferred simple dishes consisting of nothing but cooked ingredients.
“Don’t worry and just eat up, Wim!”
With those words, I couldn’t push off eating any longer. Abel cut me a piece of a sausage combined with half an egg covered in salad dressing. Just imagining the complex flavors and acidity this dish was bound to have was enough to have me shrinking backwards.
However, I couldn’t do that. Resisting for no reason would only ruin the mood. So, I steeled my resolve and shoved the whole thing in my mouth with one go.
“Huh…?” I could eat it as well as any other dish. It wasn’t tasty, but wasn’t repulsive either. “It’s really tasty.”
“Right?”
The food had been the obstacle holding me back. With that cleared, I was now able to turn my attention to the conversation around me. Most were talking about their lovers or families. The rest were discussing old times or cracking each other up with inside jokes.
Hans was kind enough to talk to me.
“Wim! I heard you and Heidemarie are from the same hometown.”
“Y-yes, we’re both from Lorlifeld.”
“That’s a long ways away, isn’t it? You did well to make it here in one piece.”
“Thanks, but, um… Coming here had just always been a dream of mine.”
“Just like any other man! We all want to become heroes, after all! The stories of adventuring I read as a kid are what brought me here today!”
“I see… Um, I like to read too.”
“You do? I bet you like to read about heroes too!”
“Y-yes, I dabble in the genre.”
“Just a single sword is enough to get any man up in the world! You’ve got something on your hip too, right? I’ve never seen you use it, though.”
“Um, it’s a machete, a blade that’s really easy to handle.”
Hans chuckled. “So, you do have a blade! But if you’ve got a sword on you, why’d you choose to be a support caster and not a swordsman?”
“That’s, um…complicated. Swords are used for close-range combat, so they mesh well with the skills of support casters.”
W-wait. Were we actually having a proper conversation? Is this what that felt like? Hopefully I can say something thoughtful!
“I heard from Monica that ya originally wanted to be a sorcerer.” Mark was listening in and joined the conversation.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You don’t seem like the type to get all worked up about the heroes in the stories. I bet ya always preferred the mages by their side, didn’t you?”
He was absolutely right. “Yes, I suppose. So, um, you understand how I feel then?”
“There’s plenty of mages out there who feel the same! At the end of the day, it’s all about your childhood dreams.”
Swordsmen probably weren’t aware of it themselves, but out of all the occupations centered around magic, mages were probably the most admired. If swordmen were the stars of abenteurers, mages were the stars of the magic world. The fact that all skills that used MP were called “magic”—a word derived from “mage”—proved that.
Historically, only the offensive spells used by mages were called “magic.” Back then, the abilities used by swordsmen—a subset of the warrior occupation—were known as “swordskills,” while the healing spells of priests and priestesses were known as “miracles.” There were tons of other subsets as well, but as these skills were further analyzed, it eventually became apparent that they all consisted of the same fundamentals. Thus, all uses of MP by all occupations were simply lumped together as “magic.”
“I, um, always loved witches and wizards. Rather than fighting, I wanted to do things like transform a princess and give her a beautiful dress. Wait, what was I talking about again? Um…”
“Like in Cinderella?”
“Yes, exactly!” It was kind of embarrassing saying that out loud, but I guess gloomy guys like me usually had similar tendencies—not that I knew this was a particular inclination, since I didn’t have any friends.
“Um, this is kind of embarrassing, but when I was a kid, I thought there was a witch occupation. Like the kind that fly around on broomsticks.”
This earned a hearty laugh. “That’s adorable!”
“That turned into a dream of becoming a mage, so I did a lot of research of my own when I was little.” I wasn’t confident that this story was interesting, but I could tell Mark and Hans were listening and actively trying to invite me into their circle. It made me feel like I had more experiences and knowledge I could talk about, so I tried bringing them up.
I don’t know what they thought of me. Maybe I bored them. But still, I was happy to get the chance to speak.