047 Support Mission

The Adventurers’ Guild of Cervantes was as lively as ever, but these days, the bustle carried an unusual edge. Most adventurers frequently cast glances toward a certain corner—a massive magical screen stood at the center of the guild’s ground floor, displaying a large, public quest. Beneath the main quest notification, related subquests refreshed irregularly.

A public quest, by definition, was open to any adventurer who met the requisite points. Such quests typically originated from large organizations or government agencies with the capacity to issue them. This time, the task dominating the Adventurers’ Guild in Cervantes was simple, bold, and clear:

Support the Frozen Front!

Issued in the name of the Northwest United Army Command of the Empire, it called upon all capable adventurers to journey to the snowy northwest, slay the beasts and elemental snow sprites that had fallen into a frenzy, and assist with the crisis. Alongside, numerous logistical tasks appeared: collecting anti-freeze potions, gathering magical scrolls, and more.

This was a grand quest the likes of which the Empire had not seen in nearly a decade, instantly drawing the attention of a great throng of adventurers. In recent days, many had flocked from all corners of the Empire toward the northwest, using cities like Cervantes—close to the frozen front—as their launching point for the journey deeper into the wilds.

Standing in a corner of the guild hall, Theresa gazed up at the giant screen, a trace of concern unconsciously settling on her features. Yet soon, that worry was replaced by doubt.

The Empire was not sending reinforcements to the northwest front, but instead had issued this enormous quest, harnessing civilian adventurers to address the crisis. In essence, was the front truly safe, or was it in danger?

If the situation was dire, surely deploying disciplined military units would be preferable to sending unorganized adventurers and mercenaries. If it was safe, why make such a grand spectacle and stir up so much commotion?

Pondering this, she could not help but sigh—she had not seen Betty or Pedia for several days. Ever since they'd brought back news of the knights from the Grey Forest, Betty had taken Pedia out, claiming they were visiting old friends. Theresa suspected they were gathering intelligence at the military headquarters. Yet days had passed, and aside from Pedia briefly returning to reassure her and Achilles not to worry, there had been no further word from either mother or son. She had no idea where they had gone or what might have happened.

As Theresa brooded, Achilles squeezed his way back through the crowd, signaling to her. They walked shoulder to shoulder out of the Adventurers’ Guild.

Once they had stepped outside, Achilles spoke. “I asked around. Apparently, it started late last year—about when our elder brother was finishing his internship at the front. Some unknown anomaly occurred deep in the ice fields, and many beasts became frenzied, far more aggressive than usual. At the same time, the Orcish Alliance entered a new struggle for leadership, making the border unstable. The military was unwilling to spare manpower to clear out the mutated beasts, so they’re letting adventurers act as the cleanup crew.”

“That’s all there is to it?” Theresa raised her eyebrows, clearly dissatisfied with the answer.

Achilles shrugged. “That’s the only information anyone will give. If we want the real story, either we go to the front and ask Father ourselves, or we wait for Mother and our elder brother to return and see what they’ll tell us.”

Clearly, Achilles did not believe the official story meant for the masses. If things were truly so simple, why would a squad of elite knights have hurried through the Grey Forest to deliver news? Why would Betty and her son linger so long at the military headquarters—or wherever they had gone—with their whereabouts so mysterious?

Theresa rolled her eyes at this, gazing up at the sky’s deep blue. After a moment’s silence, she said, “Maybe we ought to look at it from another angle. If the military is letting so many adventurers go to the ice fields, perhaps it means the danger isn’t as great as it seems—or maybe these adventurers will actually help the front line more than expected?”

“That's beside the point,” Achilles retorted, also rolling his eyes and cutting to the heart of it. “The real issue isn’t the situation—it’s whether Father is safe!”

“But we can’t get any answers,” Theresa said, spreading her hands in resignation. Sometimes, having a high-ranking identity was not such a blessing. The moment trouble arose, people of their status inevitably got drawn into the thick of it, and the secrecy level shot up with it.

The two youngsters, precocious beyond their years, conversed about grown-up matters as they rode home. At this time, Theresa was barely eleven, and Achilles only thirteen. Theresa, being a “pseudo-child,” took it in stride, but Achilles—an actual thirteen-year-old—demonstrated a remarkable sensitivity to affairs well beyond his age.

This, too, owed much to the education of the Aubrion family. Had not Pedia, at seventeen, already made a name for himself in the Cervantes City military headquarters?

Theresa and Achilles continued their odd analyses as they rode toward Maple Garden, passing through the iron gates. Across the small lake, they noticed immediately that the atmosphere at the main house was unusual. The arrangements at the entrance and the movements of the servants were far more disciplined and solemn than usual. All signs pointed to one possibility: Maple Garden had a guest, and not just any guest—a significant one.

Hurrying around the lake, they made for the main house. Before they reached the door, the chief steward had already come out to greet them. As they reined in their horses, he bowed slightly and said, “Young master, young miss, Madam and the eldest son have returned. They are accompanied by a knight. Madam has left word that upon your arrival, you are to go directly to the sunroom to meet them.”

Achilles was startled, but quickly composed himself and asked, “When did Mother and our elder brother return? How are they? Did Mother say anything about the knight’s identity?”

“Madam and the eldest son are both well. The knight is likely a senior warrior recently off the front lines.” The chief steward, once Amos’s personal guard, had retired to Maple Garden due to age and old wounds. Though he no longer set foot on the battlefield, his keen eyes remained as sharp as ever.

As he spoke, Theresa and Achilles had already rounded the corridor. At the end of the hallway, the sunroom basked in sunlight. The steward bowed once more and turned away, while the two strode toward the sunroom, their minds brimming with questions—how was Amos? What had happened to Betty and the others in these past days? Why had they been gone so long, and why hadn’t they sent any word home? Even the identity of the “senior warrior just off the front lines” intrigued the pair endlessly.

Ding-dong, ding-dong, the bells jingle—Merry Christmas and Happy New Year—wishing everyone a joyful Christmas!