Chapter 17: 17 - Ranger

“You don’t know who the Caldimores are?” Saffra asked incredulously.

“The name sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Vaguely?” Saffra rubbed her face with both hands. “They run the most powerful guild in the Kingdoms. Not him, I’m sure, I’ve never heard of a Barnaby, he’s probably from a branch family. Even so, he’s a count, and a Caldimore!”

“A count?”

“You know what a count is!” She seemed unsure. “You know what a count is.”

Vivi was doing a good job demonstrating her lack of common knowledge. She did know what a count was—sort of. If someone asked her whether a count or an earl ranked higher, she had no idea. Dukes were right below the king, right?

She waved a hand dismissively, playing the part of Vivisari. “I haven’t thought about human nobility and their titles in a long time. I’ve forgotten.”

Saffra blinked, and seemed to accept that explanation. “Oh. That’s fair.” She hesitated. “You told me to point out if you’re doing something strange, right?”

Vivi raised her eyebrows. “I’ll tell you if it’s intentional.”

“The silencing spell around us. It’s rude.”

“It is?”

“And suspicious. They’ve probably noticed.”

“Wanting privacy is suspicious?”

Saffra shrugged. “No…but yes?”

“It’s fine. I don’t care what they think.”

“If you’re trying to keep out of the spotlight, antagonizing a group of noblemen, and a Caldimore especially, isn’t the way to go about it.”

“They weren’t polite to us, so I don’t intend to return the favor.”

Saffra didn’t press the point, though seemed torn on the issue.

“A count is important?” Vivi asked, continuing the thread from earlier. “And how could you tell he was one?”

“The insignia on his lapel.” She fiddled at her neck to indicate where she meant. “A count isn’t as high up as you can get, but disrespecting nobility in general is a bad idea. It could get you thrown in a cell if they’re in a bad mood, executed in the worst of cases.”

Vivi shouldn’t have been taken aback by that, but she was. This wasn’t the fair, democratic society she was used to, she reminded herself.

“I guess not you, though,” Saffra said. “Not with your immunity.”

“My immunity?”

“From your levels.” She tilted her head when she saw that Vivi didn’t know what she meant. “I’m not sure what the real term is. When it comes to settling disputes between high-leveled people and nobility, you get an honorary rank, so that there aren’t—issues. As far as the law goes, mithrils are treated as barons, orichalcums as counts, and Titled as marquesses. If I remember right.”

That answered her question on how the ranks went. Baron, count, marquess, duke, then the king. And the High King above that, unifying the five human kingdoms.

“But in this case it isn’t even about rank. You might have an honorary legal title, maybe even higher than his, but disrespecting the Caldimore family is what’s really playing with fire.”

“They head a powerful guild, you said. Which?”

“The Wardens.”

Vivi had wondered whether she would recognize the name, perhaps as one of the competing guilds in her previous life. But it rang no bells.

“Hm. What of Vanguard?”

Saffra looked surprised. “The Party of Heroes?”

“Their guild, yes.”

“Well…nothing? I mean, the only members were the five heroes, and their craftsmen and other staff, but they’ve scattered to the wind. Since the guild can’t really exist anymore, not without an officer. I mean, you do know what happened with the Party of Heroes, right?” She blinked. “Surely.”

“I do.”

Bringing herself up in a roundabout manner hadn’t triggered a sudden realization in Saffra. Enough indicators were there to form a suspicion: extremely high-level demon mage missing for many decades narrowed a person down, and one named Vivi no less. But some things were too unbelievable, she supposed, to formulate in one’s head. To Saffra, Vivisari was a hero of legend. She might never make the connection unless Vivi hit her over the head with it.

As for her guild. In stasis, she supposed? She knew the guild existed thanks to how her affiliation appeared when checking her status screen, but anything beyond that remained a mystery. Hopefully the building still stood, and more importantly, the vault. The items inside were more valuable than even her personal stash.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

“Anyway, point being, being rude to a Caldimore, branch family or not, is maybe not the best idea,” Saffra said. “I’m just letting you know. You can do whatever you want, of course.”

Vivi intended to.

The conversation stilled as a newcomer boarded, drawing all attention his way. A longbow and a quiver hung strapped to his back, and he wore earthy tones: dark browns and greens. His hood was pulled down to reveal a thin face with stubble on his chin, a prominent nose, and blue eyes. He paused at the entrance, gaze flicking around in a way Vivi recognized as scanning for threats. His eyes lingered on Vivi, narrowing in interest, before he turned away.

A green badge was pinned to his chest. Orichalcum rank.

The greeting he received couldn’t be more different from theirs. Barnaby, followed by his band of admirers, stood from the semi-circle arrangement of sofas and made a dramatic show of welcoming him.

“Ah, now there’s one of the Kingdom’s finest!” Lord Barnaby exclaimed gregariously. “Jasper Trevane, if I’m not mistaken?”

To Vivi’s immense amusement, the ranger-adventurer didn’t even attempt a stiff level of politeness like Vivi had. He walked in, turned left, and headed straight for the side table spread with food and drink. One of the servants stepped forward as if to aid him, but he waved him away, grabbing the nearest bottle of wine to tear the cork out with his fingers.

Only after he’d downed eight deep glugs of the red liquid—holding a finger up at Barnaby in the meanwhile as if to say, ‘I’ll respond when I’m done’—did he finally drop the bottle and sigh in contentment.

“Alright,” the adventurer said, turning to the group of noblemen. “I’m ready to kiss my legally mandated ass, since Mae said one more incident and I’ll be out on mine. So, one at a time, ladies, I’m sure you can’t wait to start hurling your titles at me.” He gestured with the wine bottle at Barnaby, sloshing some of the red liquid onto the carpet. “You first, ringleader. Gotta be someone important, since you’ve got a White Glove attending you.”

White Glove? Jasper’s eyes had flicked to the maid as he used the term, but the woman hadn’t reacted. She stood to the side, hands clasped in front of her apron, posture ramrod straight, face smooth and green eyes calm.

Lord Barnaby Caldimore’s smile had frozen. “I heard you were a character,” he said, the boisterous cheer strained. “I suppose it takes a certain personality to reach the heights you have.”

“Oh? Ass kissing of my own? Do go on.” He took another drink.

“Lord Barnaby Caldimore,” the nobleman said, inclining his head respectfully. “A true pleasure indeed.”

Jasper wiped his mouth, his eyebrows raising. “Caldimore. Guess that explains the Glove, when you’re just some count.” He returned the bow, and even Vivi could tell it was several degrees too shallow.

Barnaby didn’t respond to the dismissive remark about his rank. “Orichalcums always have the most fascinating stories. Care to join our table?” The offer didn’t sound genuine at this point.

“Maybe after I catch up.” He waggled the bottle, spilling more onto the carpet.

Barnaby eyed the growing red stains, but once more didn’t comment. His tone was stiff when he said, “I see. I look forward to it.”

Jasper dropped into one of the chairs separated from the main group, and apart from Vivi and Saffra as well. She caught him peeking out of the corner of his eye at her, and, seeing her looking, he waved a lazy hand and winked.

Vivi ignored him. “White Glove?” she asked Saffra.

Saffra jumped, having been as absorbed in the exchange as Vivi. “Um. They’re—maids and butlers. Is she really one? She does seem…serious.” Her gaze drifted over, now extremely interested in the maid.

“They’re more than that, I take it,” Vivi prompted.

Saffra tore her eyes back. “If she’s actually a Glove, she’s at least mithril rank. I think. The White Gloves are some of the best bodyguards in the world. And they can run an entire estate’s staff too. Everyone in the world wants one. They’re stupidly expensive. Even if he is a Caldimore, I’m surprised he hired one. Is there a reason?” Her attention drifted away from Vivi, lips pulling down into a frown as she studied him. “I can only imagine he’s expecting an assassin, or something crazy like that. Or he’s just paranoid. I guess when you’ve got more gold than a dragon, even Gloves aren’t expensive. He is a Caldimore.”

“Mithril rank doesn’t seem very strong, all things considered.”

Saffra paused, then snorted. “To you. But I guess you’re right, in the grand scheme of things. But she’s at least mithril. That’s what a Glove’s graduation requirement is.” She squirmed in her seat, cheeks coloring slightly. “I think. You do know I’m basically a nobody, right? I only know about this stuff in a general sense.”

“More than I do.”

“That’s not saying much.” Saffra cleared her throat, realizing the retort might be perceived as rude, and she was clearly trying to put on her best behavior. “But yeah, who knows what her level is. Also, she’s a bodyguard and a servant. It’s her entire class to protect people. She should be able to fight well above her level if it’s in defense of her client. Honestly,” she murmured, looking at the ranger. “I wonder who would win between the two of them?”

Oh? Her class gave that much of a boost, since it was so specialized? Enough that a mithril might win against an orichalcum?

Vivi had to admit, she was fascinated by the idea. She’d been making efforts not to stare at the maid, already interested in her outfit and prim demeanor even before she’d been revealed as some super-elite member of a combat-maid organization. She’d always loved the idea of combat-butlers, hence why her personal assistant in Seven Cataclysms had been one. Combat-maids were, naturally, equally as cool.

Once more, she wondered what had happened to Winston. She desperately hoped he was alive, and not just because he had been seriously upgraded—he had to be the equivalent of a Titled, assuming he was kicking around. Personal Assistants hadn’t had levels, per se, following a different progression scheme to better suit the game’s mechanics, but he’d been more than capable of protecting the manor from assailants, or aiding her in an admittedly limited manner in combat.

She wondered if he’d found someone else to serve, or had moved on in a different way. It would be understandable, seeing how it had been a century. A strange sense of melancholy passed across her. Would it be hoping for too much that when she showed up in Meridian, he would be there, watching over the manor after all these years?

“Who’s the ranger?” Vivi asked.

“Jasper Trevane. I mean, I wouldn’t have known that, I’ve never seen him, and I only kind of recognize the name. He’s a poison specialist I think? Coats his arrows. From the Central Kingdom. Not the most famous, but he is orichalcum. I can’t remember what guild he’s in, or which party.”

Despite calling him ‘not the most famous’, Saffra was sneaking admiring looks at him. Seeing how the man had almost polished off that bottle of wine already, Vivi couldn’t help but feel like she could choose a better role model.

He did have a rugged sort of handsomeness, Vivi supposed. And she would be lying if the sarcastic attitude from earlier hadn’t entertained her. She had mixed feelings on him overall, but if she’d had a trace of interest in romance, her gaze might have lingered.

Pausing, she realized said rugged handsomeness might be why Saffra’s attention kept flitting over to him. Vivi’s eyes narrowed. He was at least three times her age. That better not be why.

“You requested lessons, yes?” Vivi asked.

That had Saffra’s gaze snapping back, her eyes widening, and her head bobbing rapidly. There was a clear winner between ‘magic lessons’ and ‘interesting orichalcum-rank’, and it wasn’t close.

“Let’s start from the beginning, then. Show me your channeling capacity.”