“What’s inside here is your start-up capital.”
Everything inside had been produced by the Administrator, who had specifically carved out the time to manufacture it through the Integrated Industries System.
Among the contents were even hard-currency items like ultra-high-purity red gold ingots — they didn’t have any of the local Ursus currency, so this was the only way they were going to be able to trade for what they needed.
“Stay in contact at all times once you’re over there.
If you run into any kind of emergency, pull out immediately — don’t hesitate.”
“No matter what happens, your safety comes first.
Understood?”
The Administrator’s expression was deadly serious — so much so that even Saito found himself sobering up right alongside her.
“I got it.
Don’t worry.”
Saito gave the inside of his coat pocket a couple of pats.
Tucked away in there were the high-purity Originium crystals the Administrator had specifically prepared for him, kept on hand for any unexpected need that might arise.
So long as he had these things on him, then short of walking face-first into the Ursus military, Saito basically wasn’t going to run into any real trouble.
“Alright then, I’m about ready to head out.”
“Mm.
Come back soon.”
The Administrator gave a nod, planted right there at the main gate of the No.
7 Mining Site, and watched that battered, scar-laden snowmobile recede the whole way into the distance.
Only once it had vanished into the vast white horizon did she slowly turn around and head back into the mining site.
…
…
Vyshegrad — an extraordinarily remote Ursus town, located off in the northeastern reaches of the Ursus Frozen Plains.
It wasn’t large in scale; its primary role had been to serve as a hub linking together the surrounding mining sites and villages, and at one point it had even counted as something like a half-decent transportation junction.
So besides the local residents, you used to be able to see plenty of transient population drifting through this town as well.
But following a single document handed down from Saintsteed Fortress, a great many of the mining sites across the Frozen Plains had been abandoned or shut down.
In the span of just a few short months, less than one part in ten remained of the bustle that Vyshegrad had once known.
The straight-line distance between this town and the No.
7 Mining Site came to nearly a hundred-some li.
Even though the snowmobile beneath Saito had been specially modified by the Administrator and far outstripped any ordinary small-scale snow vehicle in terms of speed, the trip from the mining site to Vyshegrad still took him well over an hour.
In this very moment, he felt a profound gratitude for the appearance of the Administrator and the System in his life.
Without the two of them, Saito couldn’t even begin to guess how much work it would have taken him just to track down this human town in the first place.
And, as a matter of course, the very instant Saito came rolling up to the town’s entrance astride his snowmobile, he immediately drew the attention of the local residents. This story is hosted at g.com.
Before long, a tall, powerfully-built Ursus with a thick, dense beard came striding over from off to one side.
He was wearing a somewhat bulky coat, and pinned on his shoulder was an epaulette bearing the figure of a Twin-headed Grypheon — by the look of him, he had to be one of the soldiers posted there on guard duty.
He came to a stop in front of Saito’s vehicle and looked the never-before-seen outsider up and down from his commanding height, his eyes carrying a hint of scrutiny mixed with a touch of surprise.
“Who are you?
Where’re you from?”
His attitude could hardly be described as courteous, his dull tone carrying a slight note of impatience underneath.
Saito’s appearance had clearly brought him a heap of unwanted extra trouble.
“The name’s Saito.
I’m from Shangshu, in Yan.”
“A Yan-er?”
The NCO’s expression filled with bewilderment, and he gave Saito’s features another good once-over.
After comparing them over and over against what he had in mind, well — Saito did seem to roughly match his general impression of the Yan people.
It was just that at this point in time, forget about Yan-ers — there weren’t all that many living souls of any kind willing to come anywhere near Vyshegrad anymore.
“What did you come here for?”
The Ursus NCO’s expression turned grave on the spot.
Even though he’d spent the better part of a lifetime working in this very place without ever running into any incident worth so much as mentioning, when it came to keeping up appearances on the job, that still had to be done.
“As a matter of fact, I’m a Catastrophe Mess——”
Going off the cover story the Administrator had patched together for him beforehand, the four characters of ‘Catastrophe Messenger’ had barely gotten three of them out when the Ursus NCO in front of him underwent another sudden, dramatic shift in expression.
The way he was now looking at Saito was the look of a man who had just swallowed a fly.
A Catastrophe Messenger was a profession of considerable importance on this land.
Their kind walked the breadth of Terra, using their accumulated learning and experience to warn people of impending Catastrophes.
But by the very same token, the appearance of a Catastrophe Messenger in any given area more often than not meant that there was a real possibility of a Catastrophe striking somewhere nearby.
So the sour look that had settled onto the Ursus NCO’s face wasn’t actually being put on for Saito’s sake.
“Tch.
Real rotten luck, this.
If things keep going like this, we may as well stop Ursus expletive living altogether.”
The NCO muttered the curse under his breath, his tone overflowing with complaint — but he still made the effort to keep his emotions reined in, and managed to squeeze out an ugly-looking smile in Saito’s direction.
“If you’d be so kind as to wait just a moment, honored sir — I’ll head off right now and go notify the mayor.”
“That really won’t be necessary.”
Saito waved his hand over and over.
He wasn’t here to make trouble — clearly, the fewer people who knew about his arrival, the better.
“You may have misunderstood me.
My purpose for coming here is simply to trade some supplies with the townsfolk.”
Saito gave the cargo crate behind his snowmobile a little shake.
The heavy, weighty thud of it left the NCO momentarily zoning out — but the moment it clicked in his head what Saito had just said, this strapping, burly Ursus visibly let out a long breath of relief.
“Long as there’s no Catastrophe, then it’s all fine by me.”
The NCO’s expression slid right back into that mildly impatient look from before.
This fellow was practical to a fault, really — since none of it had anything to do with him personally, then whether it was a Catastrophe Messenger or any other kind of messenger, from here on out they were all getting the same treatment.
“Just routine procedure, though — I’ll need to do a quick check on your goods.
That’s not a problem, is it?”
Even though his mouth was still going through the motions of asking for Saito’s permission, the NCO’s hand had already come to rest on top of Saito’s crate.
And Saito, who had long since known a situation like this might come up, took a few quick steps forward, planted himself right in front of the NCO, and — with a discreet, well-concealed motion — slipped a piece of red gold the size of a watermelon seed straight into the man’s palm.
The Ursus NCO’s eyes went wide.
He clearly hadn’t expected this self-proclaimed Catastrophe Messenger of a stranger to be such a generously free-handed spender.
The hand clutching that little gold seed hung suspended there in mid-air, and for a moment, he had no earthly idea what to do with it.
But very quickly, he figured it out for himself.
“Sir — I’m not that kind of man.”
The Ursus NCO took a step backward, his face the very portrait of upright righteousness, and stretched out a finger to point at Saito’s crate.
“As one of Vyshegrad’s guardians, I really must conduct an inspection of your goods.”
With that, he reached out and popped open the crate, then — with motions as light as a dragonfly skimming the surface of water — gave its contents a few cursory flips with his hand before clapping the lid right back down again.
Whereupon, once more, he turned his gaze back toward Saito.
“Thank you so very much for your cooperation, Mister Saito.
Everything looks to be in order here.”
This whole performance, start to finish, took no more than thirty seconds, all told.
Saito’s hand — the one he’d used to slip the man the gold seed — hadn’t even been pulled back yet, and this Ursus NCO had already wrapped up his ‘inspection’ and was clapping him on the shoulder with a face full of warm cordiality.
Even more striking still, the expression on his face had completely transformed from the cold detachment of moments before.
That somewhat rough-hewn face of his was now plastered, in this very moment, with fawning eagerness and warmth.
Arrogant first, deferential after — the sort of thing that just makes you want to laugh in spite of yourself.
____
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