"The young, knuckleheaded Swordsman in your party simply doesn’t have the strength for a Greatsword. Every time he swings it, he practically sends himself flying. Two swings, and he’s out of stamina, standing there panting for ages." Guard Two scoffed. "A Two-Handed Greatsword is practically a blunt weapon; it’s only useful if the impact is high enough. In the Imperial Army, Two-Handed Greatswords and lances are both mounted weapons—they rely on the momentum of a charging horse to deal devastating damage. Anyone fighting on foot who lacks the strength should switch weapons as soon as possible. If that knucklehead really wants to use a Greatsword, tell him to start with a lighter sword or a spear—a spear’s grip is closer to the center, making it easier to control than a Greatsword. Tell him to save up for some Magic Potions and body-tempering materials to boost his stamina and endurance before switching back to a proper Greatsword."
"What kind of joke is using a Greatsword against bandits? Are you all so proud of yourselves just because you can beat Rot Root Balls and Skeleton Soldiers?" Guard One cursed. "Rot Root Balls have short legs and can’t run fast. Skeleton Soldiers are stiff, brainless, and don’t know how to dodge. Do you think bandits are the same? They are living human beings with fully functioning limbs and normal intelligence! It takes you three or four seconds to swing that sword, and then you have to pant for another dozen seconds—that’s enough time to get your throat slit by a dagger a hundred times over!"
Despite being thoroughly scolded, Randall wasn’t angry in the least. Instead, he pulled a small notebook filled with handwriting and sketches from his chest pocket, took out a piece of charcoal, and diligently noted down everything the two guards said.
Clutching the notebook, he snapped to attention with the charcoal pencil still clamped between his teeth and cheerfully gave the two guards a poorly executed, thoroughly non-standard Imperial military salute.
"Thank you, sirs!" he said happily and sincerely. "I’ll head to the Alliance Hall right now to find a Heavy Armor Warrior skilled in close combat to join the party! I’ll also tell Glad to change his weapon—though whether he’ll listen is another matter... Gentlemen, is there anything else you can advise me on? Please teach me more!"
"You brat! You came over here specifically to ask for advice, didn’t you?" Guard One chuckled. "As for more advice and knowledge, you won’t be needing them for a while—and don’t go coveting our Imperial Soldier combat techniques. You don’t have the skills for them yet. Wait until you’ve mastered your own Swordsmanship and archery before we talk. Once you’re capable enough, who knows... maybe we can teach you a move or two."
"It’s a good thing you remembered to tell us before heading out, otherwise..." Guard Two trailed off. "We’re former Ederic Imperial Soldiers. We can’t help much with your usual wasteland exploration, but we do have some experience fighting humanoid enemies. You’re a fine young man—we just hope to see you come back through these gates in one piece every day."
"Go on," Guard One said. "Stop wasting time."
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! When I get back from this commission, I’ll treat you guys to drinks at the usual place!" Randall shoved the notebook back into his pocket, waving as he jogged toward the Alliance Hall inside the city.
"This kid really is something..." Guard One scoffed lightly.
"He’s a good young man." Guard Two smiled. "He greets everyone politely, corrects his mistakes, loves to learn, and is very steady in his work. If nothing else, just knowing to ask experienced people for advice before doing something already puts him leaps and bounds ahead of his peers.
"Half the hotheaded youths who registered as adventurers around the same time as him are already dead, and the ones still alive are only level one or two. He’s already reached level three this quickly. Before, you could say he was piggybacking off higher-level, older adventurers, but now he’s flying solo and acting as a party leader. He’s doing exceptionally well for himself, even managing to recruit a level four veteran to follow his orders."
"Back when he was following Wind Sword Norman, he was always running around doing chores, but whenever there was a mission, they’d refuse to take him along, claiming his level was too low." Guard One laughed. "The Mage in Norman’s party was a real fucking bastard. At first, he swore up and down that he’d take the kid along. But right before they set off, he decided he was too much of a burden and didn’t want to split the loot with another person, so he made the excuse that the mission was too dangerous for his level. The brat had worked hard to prepare for half a month, only to be left standing dazed at the city gates, with no share of the reward or the loot. When he plopped down on the steps by the gate and secretly cried in the pouring rain, I really thought he was a wimp."
"It was our shift back then, and I was the one who pulled him into the guard tower to take shelter from the rain. Honestly, I thought he was going to give up, too. But he said his dream was to become an adventurer, that he had a falling out with his family, ran away from home, and traveled all this way just to do this grueling work... You just can’t help but root for him." Guard Two shrugged.
"Dreams, huh... To still have dreams, oh to be young." Guard One nodded. "Youth is great. Not like us two old fossils, perfectly content working as gatekeepers in this godforsaken place."
"Hey, I was just as good as this kid when I was younger; his personality is a lot like mine back in the day. I almost became a cavalry captain, you know." Guard Two bragged. "If the war between the Ederic Empire and the Supar Empire had gone on for a few more years, I would hold a Military Rank by now! Who knew that after barely two years in the military, they’d suddenly call a truce, downsize the army, and focus on developing adventurers?"
"You’ve repeated that same fucking story eight hundred times already. There are no ’ifs’ and ’buts’ in life." Guard One laughed. "The fact is, it just didn’t happen. We’re both in our forties and fifties now. At our age, we should know that not everything yields rewards just because you put in the effort. It all comes down to luck."
"Being an Alliance Guard isn’t too bad, though. Even if the workplace is a bit remote and the environment isn’t the best, the Alliance is the biggest trader of magical resources. They’re filthy rich and truly generous with their pay..." Guard Two suddenly stopped talking and stared blankly at a spot in the crowd. "Uh-oh."