During the Edo period, the Japanese people appeared much older when compared to people of the same age today. It’s not like there’s accurate data, or photographs, so there is no way to verify this. The life expectancy data doesn’t help either, since the high infant mortality rate lowers the mean. The infant mortality in 1899, when we do have data from, was more than 15%. In other words, only about eight out of ten people lived past the age of five. That was in the 32nd year of the Meiji period. These numbers would not have been better back in the Edo period.
In 1891 (24th year of Meiji), life expectancy was about 44 years. It’s worth noting that the life expectancy of a particular year is not the mean of the age of people who died that year, but the average lifespan of the people born that year. Which meant that, if they were born in 1891 in Japan, men would live 42.8 years and women would live 44.3 years on average.
So did no one live past the age of fifty? Of course, some people did. There were always people who lived longer lives than expected. However, it’s also true that they didn’t live as long as modern-day people in Japan. At age fifty, one was considered to be of old age. In the example of Natsume Soseki, who has relatively well-preserved photographs... How old does he look in his famous portrait? The one used on an iteration of the 1000 yen bill. By the way, he passed away at the age of 49.
Back to the Edo period. First of all, the health of the average person was inferior to today. Foods that build strong muscle and bone were hard to come by. Everyone worked hard labor without any skin care products or makeup. Who knows how true this is, but there is even a theory out there that people in the Edo period looked two decades older, when compared to someone of the same age in modern day. Considering this, maybe it’s not too outlandish that I thought this 21-year-old soldier was in his mid-forties.
“How wonderful, Master Hermit. You must live much longer than us, I’m sure.”
“...We’ll see about that.”
I decided to give a vague response. If the life expectancy of these people was forty years, mine was double that. I didn’t think that’s something I wanted to bring to light during small talk.
“Then, please enjoy your stay in Lishua.”
The soldier accepted our papers, and held up his lance for us. What a nice young man.
“It seems you’ve been wandering deep into your thoughts since earlier,” Tiamat said, as we were walking down the main street.
“Yeah, like that soldier’s age...”
“About how he looked older than you?”
“Something like that...”
Of course I had a few thoughts about it. I was a resident of the modern-day real world, and he’s in a fantasy world. I guess the only difference between us was how progressed each of our societies were. Still, I couldn’t brush off the fact that the person I had just spoken to expected to die twice as early as I did.
“Hm. Since he looks that old at twenty or so, you don’t think the women will be lookers, either.”
“Wait. Wait wait wait wait! That’s not right! How did you reach that conclusion!?”
“Hm?”
The dragon crooked its neck. It was not cute.
“I have a fiancée!”
“You know. A side chick. Or Resort Lovers.”
“Nasty! And I don’t get the second one!”
“A hit single from 1989.”
“How the hell...!?”
At the time, I was three years old.
“A song that epitomizes the height of the economic bubble. The phrase ‘Resort Lovers’ became less and less used in Japan after the bubble burst. Now it’s obsolete...”
“Who asked you for the trivia...?”
This dragon really does know a lot of crap. I guess this is an example of the useless knowledge implemented in her. So utterly useless.
“Don’t sweat it. We’re not of this world, anyway. No good will come from being sentimental here.”
This little... Did she only make the absurd proposal to get my mind off of the aging thing? I wasn’t expecting that.
“...I owe you one, Tia.”
“Make sure to include some interest when repaying it.”
“All righty.”
Just as in numerous fantasy stories, the city of Lishua hosted an Adventurers’ Guild.
“Naturally. Titles aside, the formation of unions by those in the same industry are historically inevitable.”
Tiamat had a good point. Whether you’re an adventurer, or handyman, or Mr. Fix It, or whatever, trying to earn contracts on your own was no easy task. Especially when advertising (in our modern sense of the word) was nonexistent. People could barely advertise their occupation to those in town. Those with their own shop or office space could bring in customers by putting up a sign, but I’m sure that’s unattainable for most. On the other hand, that’s why a sign for a business guaranteed a certain level of trustworthiness.
“They couldn’t get contracts on their own, so they formed a guild to make that process easier. Yep, seems like a natural course.”
“If the guild had formed naturally, you’d be right on the mark,” Tiamat said with sarcasm, as she slapped her tail against the ground.
Our first destination: the Adventurers’ Guild. Of course, we weren’t here to register as guild members, nor to look for any contracts.
“Guess you’re right.”
I shrugged. There was no way that an occupation like an adventurer would hold a vital part in society. Exploring dungeons, defeating monsters, gathering herbs, guarding travelers... It’s only in the world of fiction where people can make a living doing these kinds of things. The first is out of the question, and if someone with a certain level of strength is required to handle any of the other tasks, it’s already serious enough that a government agency, local or national, should be doing something about it. Each of them represents the presence of a threat close to civilization. Not something you’d want to trust a band of lawless fighters with.
“I suppose it all starts with what an adventurer really is,” said Tia. Were they mercenaries? Speculators? Private eyes? Jacks-of-all-trade?
“In any case, there’s not much demand for them.”
With a chuckle, I opened the door to the guild. There were a few sets of tables and chairs in the large hall, and there was a bulletin board on the wall, surely for posting quests on. At the far end of the hall was a reception counter. A few groups were hanging out in the hall who must have been parties of adventurers. They were giving us less than friendly glances. I couldn’t deny that we were eye-catching: a man much taller than this world’s average walking in with a human-sized dragon. At this rate of clichés, I expected a thug or two to come up to us ready to start a fight. Sadly, all they did was watch. I had no desire to be the object of voyeurism, so it was just awkward. We approached the reception counter.
“Excuse me...”
“Are you here to file a quest? Or to register as a member?”
A female employee greeted us with a gentle tone and friendly smile. A model receptionist. She appeared to be in her early forties... so she must have been in her early twenties.
“Well, neither, actually. We just have a few questions.”
“What might they be?”
She crooked her neck. A cute gesture unbecoming of a woman in her forties, but I then remembered that she must be in her twenties. The reality in front of me wasn’t clicking with my preconceptions.
“We want to know how this guild came to be.”
“I see...”
She wore a puzzled expression, and I couldn’t blame her. There must not be too many people that come in and ask such a thing. Not that I would expect the receptionist to be able to tell us the whole story, anyway. Not so much from any lack of authority, but rather from the lack of knowledge. I would love to have her show us to someone higher up who’d know. Now, how to put it...
“Lass. We are traveling Hermits. We are quite interested in how things are in the lower realm. That includes this guild. Won’t you call the Guild Master for us?”
Tiamat came to the rescue, having seen that I was struggling.
Wow. Way to wave the Hermit title in her face. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more reserved... I thought, as I am Japanese, and we Japanese believe humility is a virtue.