∗ ∗ ∗
“So, you want to make status cards for everyone here, yeah?” Fresco asked as soon as we entered the room.
The parlor was so elegant, it was hard to believe that it was just for meeting with adventurers. Obviously it wasn’t as sophisticated as the mansions of Oraculum nobility, but that would be like comparing apples to oranges. In my opinion, the parlors of nobility were too extravagantly decorated with expensive objects, to the point of poor taste. Meanwhile, I didn’t know how much money had been spent on this room, but on first impression, it was intentionally modest.
This was another instance of consideration. I could feel the tactfulness of whoever had arranged this room. Fresco certainly looked like a leader of ruffians, but perhaps he had a different nature.
That aside, I nodded for the moment. “Yes, that’s my request. But first, I’d like to confirm something. What is the first thing listed on status cards made by the adventurer’s guild?”
I asked because if everything was listed, everyone would be exposed as monsters. That would make getting proof of identification near-impossible. Nonetheless, aside from the Church, there weren’t many organizations whose status cards recorded every little detail. The adventurer’s guild didn’t have much call for that. Besides, creating status cards meant having to pay a proportionate amount. In the interest of balancing costs, the status cards displayed a very limited amount of information. According to what I’d heard before, most of the details were based on a self-introduction. But the most important part for adventurers—their adventuring rank—was faithfully maintained by the guild and displayed on the status card.
“Just your name and skills, basically.” Fresco said. “If you wanna know species and age and that kinda stuff, you’d need a Church-class magic tool to pull that directly outta the Divine Intellect. So we just input whatever you say in your self-introduction straight into the magic tool, and then it spits the same thing back out. It shows root skills too...but that’s private information. Not even the adventurer’s guild is allowed to look at that without permission. We have you select whether to display that stuff or not in advance, then make the status card. We’d be held responsible for it later otherwise.”
I listened closely and chuckled to myself. Maybe that sounded a little sinister. If I were to describe my reaction more neutrally, I just thought it was extremely convenient.
Anyone already familiar with our situation would realize that if all our info was pulled from the Divine Intellect, that’d be the end for the kobolds who would be classified as monsters. Skills could be precarious for me too, but every organization was careful about root skills. These could predetermine a person’s entire potential to some degree, so the majority of people disliked strangers looking at them. Status cards were frequently used as proof of identity, so these sections were generally hidden on such occasions.
Thus, I’d been reasonably confident that the adventurer’s guild would have strict measures on handling them. And if they didn’t, I’d just have to accept that there was nothing I could do about it. Well, if that ended up happening, the kobolds wouldn’t be able to get their proof of identity, and we’d have to roam about looking for some other way to get documentation.
However, status cards weren’t the only form of identification, so it wouldn’t be impossible. Status cards were extremely useful magic tools, and most anyone who wanted one would be able to get one, but sometimes the information they displayed was too accurate and could cause issues. Everyone has a few questionable things they want to hide, so there weren’t many occasions on which you had to present your status card, except for formal business.
What was used instead, then? Official documentation from the organization you belonged to, usually. Membership cards for trade guilds, certificates from a village chief, travel permits from checkpoints, things like that. There were a lot of types, but none of them exposed as much unnecessary private info as status cards.
If you wanted to enter or exit a city and had a status card, you’d need to show it. They wouldn’t necessarily deny you entry if you didn’t, but they’d spend a while investigating you. It varied from case to case, but you could be kept waiting for days or even months. The majority of people hated this prospect, so they’d begrudgingly end up showing their status cards.
Anyhow, this was definitely a lucky break for us. I responded, “If that’s the case, then I have no objections. I’d be much obliged if you could make status cards for all of us.”
“All right, got it. Hey!” Fresco hollered toward the outside. After a while, there was a knock at the door of the parlor. Two female staff members quietly entered, carrying a very large, somewhat heavy-looking object. They set the magic tool on the table with a thud. It was presumably just as heavy as it looked.
The two women who’d carried it in looked slender, but given that they worked at the adventurer’s guild, they must have had incredible brute strength. This passing thought must have shown on my face, because while neither of them were really casting any looks at me, I sensed a pressure in the air from them, which made me feel a bit nervous.
“Huh? I’m about to register cards for these guys, so get out of here,” Fresco told them. They immediately bowed their heads and left. The guild staff must have had a great deal of trust in him.
Adventurer’s guilds were fascinating organizations. Each location had its own characteristics, as they were rooted in the history of their respective towns, villages, and cities. To be more specific, they didn’t have very strong horizontal integration. It was easy to envision them as a huge organization spanning the country, but that was hardly the case. Each city’s guild was self-reliant and was more like a local public association. Therefore, this adventurer’s guild’s reach only extended to the adventurers of this city. This was due to the aforementioned history, but also because of tension with countries’ governments.
Just consider it. If an independent organization of adventurers with immense combat strength existed in their country, what would the country’s authority figures think? They’d definitely want to either destroy it or place it under their own thumb. But the adventurer’s guild loathed both options. The most expedient policy they came up with to avoid this was to not create an organization spanning the country, but to instead be more like independent vigilante groups in their own regions.
They didn’t completely lack connections across the country. They cooperated with each other in times of emergency. But this was how they operated normally. That was why adventurer’s guilds differed by city.
And Fresco was basically the dictator of this city’s guild. Maybe that was an exaggeration, but he was something similar. He didn’t rule with an iron fist, though—it was his virtues that made him a good leader. That must have been the case.