Helping with Adventurer Party Management - Chapter 103

When we arrive at the Count’s castle, we undergo an inspection of our belongings in what appears to be a security room inside the castle gate.

Jilboa’s inspection is completed quickly, but I am subjected to a meticulous search, including having my hair checked to ensure I am not hiding any concealed weapons or poison needles.

On the bright side, the thoroughness of this inspection suggests that we will definitely have an audience with the Count. I have to believe that to keep myself sane.

After the general inspection, we are shown to a waiting room. Given our status, we are not directed to private rooms but rather to a large common room where people awaiting their turn gather.

The waiting room is furnished in a calm, elegant manner, resembling a series of connected guest rooms in a large mansion. It is likely that several rooms were originally separate but have been joined by removing the walls.

As we sit on the soft sofas, a servant offers us drinks. Neither Jilboa nor I are bold enough to request anything in enemy territory, so we politely decline.

In the waiting room, besides us, there are several other groups of well-dressed individuals, each waiting in a similar idle manner. Although we do not know each other, we subtly glance at each other’s attire and decorations, trying to gauge each other’s status and power.

I am reminded of the waiting rooms at weddings in my previous world or at a large corporation’s reception area during business meetings.

Soon, an officer calls out names, and those called proceed one by one. Based on the time it takes for each group to be seen, it seems that each audience lasts about 10 to 15 minutes. Given that an audience is usually a formality after practical arrangements have been made, this duration seems appropriate.

We, who are pushing our way in without proper background work, are the odd ones out. Our status is not particularly high, so we are overtaken by several groups that arrived after us. What should have been a morning appointment stretches into the afternoon by the time our turn arrives.

The officer announces, “The Sword Fangs Legion, Jilboa and his attendant, please proceed.”

I follow behind Jilboa, carrying a box. Noble people do not carry their own belongings, so my role is to carry the luggage as Jilboa’s attendant. This is the only way we can have the audience.

Guided by the officer, we enter the audience chamber for the first time in my life. The chamber resembles a cathedral more than a castle.

A red carpet runs down the corridor, flanked by columns adorned with sculptures. Light filters through stained-glass-like windows in the ceiling.

Knights in plate mail, holding shields, stand as sentinels with their backs to the columns, ensuring that no one has any intention of harming the Count. It’s likely that additional security and magical protections are in place, hidden from view.

At the end of the carpeted corridor, raised on a platform, sits the ruler and owner of the city, Count Lund.

The pedestal is decorated, but Count Lund’s attire is even more elaborate. His clothes and shoulders are adorned with sparkling decorations, some of which emit a dull light—likely magical items.

He appears to be in his sixties. His hair and beard are streaked with gray but still full, and his nose is broad and sharp, resembling an eagle’s beak. His thick eyebrows and cold eyes give him the face of a ruler, which is my impression.

We follow the officer’s lead and advance to about 15 meters from the Count’s pedestal. There, we kneel on one knee and bow our heads, waiting for the officer’s signal.

After a while, a clerk who has been standing next to the Count addresses us.

“Sword Fangs Legion, Jilboa, state the purpose of your audience.”

“Yes,” Jilboa responds and gives me a signal with his eyes. As I hold up the box, Jilboa says, “We would like to present this.”

After being relayed through several of the Count’s clerks, the box is moved closer to the Count.

“The Count inquires what this is,” the clerk says, as the Earl mutters something in his ear.

“Yes. This is a protective shoe, a completely new type of shoe that provides strength and protection to the feet akin to magic without using any actual magic. We wish to present this to the Count,” Jilboa explains in one breath. Meanwhile, the clerk opens the box.

The timing is perfect. I’m glad we slipped the bribe beforehand.

The shoes removed from the box are adorned with silver and gold and feature wings from a griffon. The toes are made from the leather of a Lesser Fire Dragon, and the soles are equipped with non-slip light silver mithril. The surface of the shoes is polished with the finest oil, and they are scented with a floral aroma from a scent bag.

These shoes, as I would describe them, are gaudy and in poor taste, but they look expensive—our gift to the Count.

It is truly a struggle to have these made in the limited time before the audience. From gathering materials to manufacturing, I push my connections with Swiberry’s father and Gorgoro to their limits.

But it seems it is worth it.

After the clerk whispers to the Count, he speaks in his unexpectedly deep voice for the first time, saying, “Very well. This is admirable.”

“Yes. Thank you very much,” Jilboa responds while still kneeling, and I remain silent, listening.

Our audience ends there.