Chương 46: Chapter 44 – The Royal Summons

Bodarex didn't visit Chelsea, which she found odd. Since she had been transferred over to him, he was usually there waiting for her whenever she slept, eager to talk about whatever strange thing had caught his interest that day. Sometimes it was useful. Sometimes it was nonsense. Occasionally it was both at once. Still, she had gotten used to it. Enough that waking up without another bizarre conversation with an ancient god left her feeling strangely disappointed.

Chelsea cut another piece from the slightly warmed heart on her plate, trying not to think too hard about the fact she genuinely enjoyed it now. Across the inn's dining room, Bea was loudly arguing with Edgar about whether a mimic counted as furniture or a monster while Fiona was firmly on Edgar's side. The front door swung open, letting in a burst of cool morning air. A man stepped inside wearing dark blue noble clothes trimmed with silver thread.

His posture straightened immediately as his eyes swept across the room.

"I am looking for Adriane Wixx. Do any of you know where I can find her?" Several people glanced toward Adriane automatically. Chelsea swallowed her bite first.

"What is this about?" The man's attention shifted toward her, and the confidence in his expression faltered just slightly when he noticed the horns.

"You're a demon, so I assume you are the sister to the Silver Sword that I've heard about." He cleared his throat quickly.

"I am to deliver a message to Adriane from his Royal Majesty. Unfortunately, I must deliver it to her hands only." Adriane pushed her chair back and stood.

"Alright. I'll take it." The nobleman blinked.

"Then does that mean…"

"Yeah, I'm Adriane," she replied casually, holding out her hand for the letter. The man immediately stiffened.

"V-very good, ma'am." Chelsea had noticed that reaction before. Adventurers respected Adriane. Ordinary people looked at her like they had accidentally met a dragon in human form. He handed over the sealed notice carefully, like he was afraid of doing it wrong.

"Would you like for me to read it for you?"

"No need," Adriane said as she turned and walked back toward the table, as she did she handed it to Chelsea. The poor man looked visibly relieved.

"Then that is all, ma'am. I bid you a fine day.""'I bid you a fine day,'" Bea mocked in a childish voice the second the door shut behind him.

"Is it just a summons?" Chelsea skimmed the contents.

"Looks like it says your audience is requested." She paused.

"The king's name is King Juice?" Bea immediately lost it.

"Why the fuck would you call him King Juice?" she cackled, nearly choking on her drink. Fiona covered a smile with her hand.

"His name is pronounced King 'Weece.'" Chelsea frowned down at the paper.

"That is absolutely not how those letters work."

"You're so stupid!" Bea wheezed between laughs.

"Are you sure you know how to read!?" Chelsea threw both hands up.

"It's spelled J-U-I-C-E. That spells juice." Her sister leaned halfway across the table laughing hard enough that her table shook.

"So stupid."

"You're right, Bea. I'm a fraud. You caught me. I don't know how to read." Chelsea nodded solemnly.

"Looks like I'll skip over the C-ranking job board today."

"I'll just pay that idiot with the hair to read for me," she declared.

"Totally worth it."

"With what money?" Chelsea asked, unable to stop herself from smiling. Bea's laughter died instantly. She narrowed her eyes.

"You can't do that."

"I'm sorry, Bea." Chelsea placed a hand against her chest dramatically.

"I'm too stupid to know how to access the Wixx coffers to hand out the five little silver pieces it'll take to get a decent job from the idiot with the hair." Bea glared at her for several long seconds.

"Fine," she muttered at last.

"You're not stupid."

"And?" Chelsea prompted.

"And what?" Bea shot back immediately. Chelsea folded her hands together under her chin and smiled in the most obnoxiously sweet way she could manage.

"And who's your favoritest, mostest beautiful and awesome sister in the whole wide world?" Bea physically recoiled.

"Ugh." Chelsea kept smiling. Bea glanced around the table only to find everyone openly watching now. Edgar had that faintly entertained crook of his mask he always wore when Bea suffered publicly. Fiona looked one step away from laughing again. Even Adriane had stopped pretending not to listen.

"Uh..." Bea rubbed at the back of her neck like she would rather fight a bear than continue this conversation.

"You?"

"Fine," Chelsea drawled.

"If you're going to rain compliments on me like that, I just have to read the job posts for you." Chelsea smiled smugly and looked back down at the notice.

"It says King Juice wants you there tomorrow at noon," she finished, making absolutely certain to pronounce it wrong again.

"Chelsea," Adriane scolded. Her tone was serious, not playful. Chelsea looked up from the letter.

"What?"

"Joking aside, he is royalty and does demand our respect." Adriane crossed her arms loosely.

"You will be going with me, so you need to be on your best behavior."

"Why am I going?" Chelsea grumbled immediately.

"Chelsea, look around this room," Adriane replied calmly. Chelsea did. Bea was still muttering insults under her breath while stealing bites from Edgar's plate. Dewey looked like he was trying very hard not to encourage her. Fiona gave her a small wave. Adriane continued, "Including me, is there anyone here more qualified to speak with the king?" Chelsea opened her mouth, then paused.

"The way you spoke to that bank guy was something else," Adriane said.

"You not only could talk to him, but spoke to him as an equal in his own profession."

"I'm a math nerd. Of course I could talk to him," Chelsea argued.

"True, but you also can increase your Charisma to higher than anyone else in this room." Adriane's expression stayed perfectly serious.

"Especially when talking to men." Chelsea closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples.

"Fine. Any idea what this meeting is about? I'd like to at least know what I'm getting myself into. The letter was super vague." Then another thought hit her. She looked over toward Dewey.

"Any idea what your Charisma is?" The large man blinked in confusion.

"No, Little Sister, I do not." He glanced toward Edgar like he might somehow know instead.

"It is a worthless stat for my class." Chelsea immediately looked toward Bea instead.

"Any idea what his and Edgar's are?"

"What does it matter?" Bea asked suspiciously.

"I don't want them to accidentally fall in love with me," Chelsea replied. Bea sat up straighter so fast her chair creaked.

"Is that a possibility?" Chelsea pointed at her own face vaguely.

"Do you want to risk it?" Bea stared at her for a moment, then looked toward Fiona. Fiona, incredibly, looked like she was actually considering the question. Bea then turned toward Adriane instead. Bea scooted closer to Edgar. She grabbed the side of his mask and tilted it toward her.

"Which one is Charisma?" she asked. Chelsea checked her own attributes briefly.

"Second to last. Starts with a C."

"The second to last one is at twenty two." Chelsea winced immediately. Bea leaned farther across the table as Dewey obediently tilted his head toward her.

"And Dewey's is... six."

"We need to go get you some sort of ring or something, Dewey," Chelsea sighed. Dewey frowned.

"Why?"

"That means the highest my Charisma is allowed to get around you is fifty-nine. And that's without talking to you." Chelsea pulled up her own status screen and stared at it with visible concern.

"Little Sister," Dewey said patiently, "I already said Charisma is a useless attribute for me." Chelsea ignored that entirely.

"Actually, now that I think about it, it may just be easier if I don't wear any of my Charisma dresses around you at all." She pointed at him accusingly.

"It's only a matter of time before the number stops being possible for you to keep up with." This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Dewey let out a long sigh.

"Worried me for a bit. Was afraid you'd make me put on an outfit like that messenger." Chelsea snorted.

"I could get myself a hat, formal gloves, and various jewelry," she said thoughtfully.

"Then I could make you my thrall and force you to wear whatever I want."

"Don't do that," Dewey replied immediately.

"Oh, I'm kidding," Chelsea said with a laugh.

"I don't want any thralls. Just the word seems weird and icky." Bea narrowed her eyes.

"You say that now." Chelsea pointed at her.

"See? This is why you keep losing access to the Wixx coffers." Bea hissed something deeply offensive under her breath. Chelsea finished the last bite of heart from her plate before pushing it away with a satisfied sigh.

"Alright, Adriane. You ready to get the day started?" Adriane grabbed an entire sausage off her plate and shoved nearly half of it into her mouth before standing.

"Le's go," she mumbled through the mouthful. Chelsea stared at her for a moment.

"Now I see why you want me to speak for you tomorrow." Adriane just smiled around the sausage while continuing to chew.

"Well, aren't you the most pleasant person I've spoken to in some time," the merchant guild representative complimented. The man leaned back comfortably in his chair as he spoke, fingers resting across the front of an expensive vest that strained slightly against his stomach. His office smelled faintly of parchment, ink, and whatever heavy oil he had slicked into his mustache.

"Likewise, Mr. Grafft." Chelsea offered him a warm smile.

"It isn't often that I get to speak with someone at your level of business and sheer experience." Adriane, seated beside her, gave Chelsea the smallest sideways glance. Chelsea ignored it completely.

"Oh, please, Miss Wixx, enough flattery." The man's grin widened anyway.

"What can I do for you today?"

"To the point. My kind of man," Chelsea replied lightly. Mr. Grafft was, in fact, very much not her kind of man. He was somewhere in his fifties, carried himself like a king in his own office, and had the sort of confidence that came from being rich enough nobody told him no anymore. Fortunately, men like that were usually predictable. And predictable was manageable.

"I am looking at joining the merchant's guild and investing a portion of my family's wealth into various businesses here in Junstruce. Would you be able to help me with those things?" The moment she mentioned the Wixx family wealth, the man was at full attention.

"Of course. Of course." He folded his hands together eagerly atop the desk.

"You will need to pass the examination to be allowed entry into the guild. Additionally, there are guild dues to be paid based on your ranking within the guild." Chelsea nodded once for him to continue.

"You seem well-read, Miss Wixx, but please allow me to ask." His tone shifted into something politely condescending.

"You come from a family of adventurers, which are not well known for their knowledge. How is your arithmetic?" Chelsea kept smiling.

"Well enough to pass any test." It still surprised her how low the educational standards in this world seemed to be. Even basic arithmetic apparently counted as specialized knowledge. Honestly, the prince she had met shortly after arriving, Broderick... or Brody... something like that, might have been the only person she'd met so far who genuinely seemed interested in expanding education and infrastructure beyond "good enough."

"How much are guild dues?" she asked.

"For ranks F and E, it is five silver per month. For D it would be fifty silver. C is one gold, B is five gold, and A is ten gold per month." Chelsea resisted the urge to whistle.

"Interesting. What does each ranking do?"

"Various things. F-grade merchants can join our employment program, where we help them find positions at guild-associated businesses. It allows them to gain experience and learn a trade." He gestured vaguely as he explained.

"To start a business with official guild support, one would need to be E-grade or higher. The higher ranks gain access to additional guild resources. Advisors, investments, business partnerships, loans, both receiving and lending, and so forth." Chelsea leaned back slightly in her chair.

"Can I take the exam now?" Mr. Grafft blinked.

"Well, yes…"

"Chels, do we have time for this?" Adriane asked. Chelsea looked toward her. Adriane did not seem annoyed exactly, just cautious. Their day had already started filling up quickly. Before Chelsea could answer, Mr. Grafft stood from his desk.

"I believe so." He walked over toward a tall cabinet against the wall and pulled out a thick stack of papers.

"It will be five silver for the examination. Let me grab a licensed proctor. One moment." He cracked open the office door and muttered something to someone outside. Chelsea glanced around the room while they waited. The office was decorated in the way rich people always seemed to decorate offices. Large shelves full of books that may or may not have ever been opened, polished wood furniture, expensive rugs, and several framed documents meant to look impressive to visitors.

"So, Miss Wixx," Mr. Grafft continued as he returned to his seat, "have you ever owned a business before?"

"Yes, actually." Chelsea folded her hands in her lap.

"It was a specialty drink shop. We primarily sold one type of drink. Due to its location and the weather conditions, we would continuously sell out of product within a couple of hours." Mr. Grafft looked genuinely interested now.

"Impressive."

"Unfortunately, it was seasonal, so we'd have to close for the other three seasons of the year." The office door opened again, and an elderly woman stepped inside carrying a writing board under one arm.

"Very curious," Mr. Grafft said.

"What sort of drink was it?"

"I don't know if you have it here. It's called lemonade."

"Lemonade?" He frowned thoughtfully.

"I don't believe I've heard of it." He looked toward the older woman. She shrugged once.

"Then it looks like I may open a new business soon," Chelsea said with a small laugh. Mr. Grafft chuckled politely, though Chelsea could practically see the calculations starting behind his eyes already.

"Indeed." He gestured toward the older woman.

"Miss Wixx, this is Esmerelda. She will be your proctor for the examination. I will excuse myself. It was a pleasure meeting you both." He gave a short bow of his head before letting himself out of the office. The older woman watched the door close behind him before looking back toward Chelsea.

"Wixx?" she asked, shuffling through papers.

"Any relation to the Silver Sword?" She asked offhandedly. Chelsea gestured toward her sister sitting beside her.

"She's right here." The older woman's eyes widened so fast Chelsea worried for a second she might actually faint. A tiny, startled squeal escaped her before she clamped both lips shut. Chelsea continued as though this were completely normal.

"I was told there would be a five silver fee for the test? Here you go." She held the coins out casually, despite the fact she was currently seated beside one of the most famous adventurers on the continent.

"Ah," was all Esmerelda managed.

"Miss Esmerelda?" Chelsea prompted gently, still holding out the silver.

"Can I take the exam now?"

"Ah, uh, yeah. Uh, yes. Yes, of course." The woman hurriedly accepted the coins and sat down across from Chelsea. Her posture straightened immediately afterward, like she had suddenly remembered she was conducting official guild business in front of Adriane Wixx. She placed the stack of papers facedown in front of Chelsea along with a quill and small bottle of ink.

"You will have four hours to complete this. Your initial rank will be based on the accuracy of your answers and the amount of time it took to complete the exam." As she explained, her eyes kept flicking toward Adriane. Unfortunately for her nerves, Adriane smiled politely back. Esmerelda visibly blanched.

"When you are ready," she said quickly, grabbing a small hourglass from the desk, "your time will start when you flip over the exam." Chelsea looked sideways at Adriane.

"You know how you're really good at fighting and adventuring?" Adriane nodded slowly.

"Yeah? What about it?" Chelsea tapped the top page lightly with one finger.

"This is what I'm really good at." That got a small smile out of Adriane.

"Then go ahead," she said.

"Miss Esmerelda, out of curiosity, how long is that hourglass before it needs to be flipped?"

"Twenty minutes." The older woman paused.

"I've never been asked that before." Chelsea smiled faintly.

"Can you tell me how many questions are on here?"

"I cannot," Esmerelda replied, settling slightly now that they were discussing familiar territory.

"But I can tell you there are some questions that have options that could be the correct answer. You choose one." Chelsea's eyebrows lifted.

"Multiple-choice section? Yes, please." She dipped the quill carefully into the ink bottle and took a slow breath. Esmerelda flipped the hourglass the moment Chelsea turned over the first page. Chelsea immediately had to stop herself from laughing. The opening section was painfully easy. Simple addition. Not even large numbers. She worked through the first page in less thirty seconds, the quill scratching steadily across the paper.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Esmerelda shift slightly in surprise when Chelsea turned the page already.

"Uh," the woman started before catching herself. The next section added subtraction. Chelsea kept going. By the third and fourth pages, the problems became marginally more complicated. Combined operations. Larger sums. Still nothing difficult. Honestly, elementary school children back on Earth would've demolished this exam. Though, to be fair, those children usually knew how to read. That thought made her pause briefly. How did illiterate people take this test? Did someone read the questions aloud to them?

She made a mental note to ask later while continuing to work. Eventually she reached what she assumed was probably considered the D or C-rank section. Currency conversion. Copper into silver. Silver into bits. Multi-step conversions involving several coin types at once. One question asked her to convert three gold and forty-five silver into bits. Chelsea quickly scribbled out the conversion on the side before circling the final answer clearly enough that even someone offended by her handwriting could understand it.

The percentages section afterward was honestly easier. Finally, she reached the multiple-choice pages. Word problems.

"If you butchered a hog and the hog weighed..." Chelsea smiled slightly as she worked. This part at least felt like someone had attempted to make the math practical instead of just random numbers on a page. Then she hit a problem where none of the answers matched. Her quill stopped. Chelsea frowned. She redid the math carefully. Same answer. She checked again. Still wrong. Or rather, their answer choices were wrong.

She looked up briefly at Esmerelda, who was pretending very hard not to stare directly at her progress. Chelsea flipped to the back pages of the exam. Blank. Good enough. She rewrote the entire problem step-by-step just to make sure she hadn't missed anything. Once again, she arrived at the same number. Forty-five thousand three hundred. Chelsea shrugged. Apparently the test was wrong. She flipped back to the question, wrote the correct answer neatly beneath the existing choices, and circled it.

The second-to-last question had the exact same issue. At that point she became mildly suspicious it was intentional. Maybe they wanted to see whether people would blindly pick the closest answer instead of trusting their own math. Unfortunately for the exam writers, Chelsea had spent most of her academic life arguing with teachers over grading rubrics and legitimate textbook errors. She corrected that answer too. The final problem was simple. Nothing beyond what she had learned around seventh grade back on Earth.

Honestly, pre-algebra had been significantly harder than anything on this entire exam. Chelsea finished writing the last answer and finally glanced up. The hourglass was only about two-thirds empty. Chelsea shrugged and went back through the test one more time. Slowly this time. She checked each section carefully, tapping the feathered end of the quill lightly against the desk as she reviewed her work. Addition. Subtraction. Milultiplication and division. Currency conversion. Percentages. Word problems.

Everything still checked out. Including the two questions the test itself had gotten wrong. Chelsea flipped the exam facedown before the last of the sand finished falling and slid the papers neatly across the desk.

"How long will it take for me to get my results?" she asked. Esmerelda looked at her with the same stunned expression she'd worn earlier while staring at Adriane. Only now it was directed entirely at Chelsea.

"Grading takes four proctors," the woman said slowly.

"I will be one of them. Let me take this to the others. You should have your results back soon." She stood carefully, clutching the test like it might explode.

"So like ten minutes? An hour? Three?" Esmerelda blinked.

"We have a test key, so no longer than twenty minutes." Chelsea nodded.

"Oh. Nice." The older woman still looked vaguely dazed as she exited the office. The door clicked shut behind her. For a moment, the room went quiet. Then Adriane leaned back slightly in her chair and crossed her arms.

"So," she said, "how hard was it?" Chelsea tilted her head back and forth thoughtfully.

"Think of how hard killing an E-rank monster would be for you." Adriane snorted softly.

"That's pretty easy."

"Exactly." Chelsea slumped farther into her seat.

"I'm actually really disappointed. When he said there was an exam, I got excited." She gestured vaguely toward the closed door.

"That's all stuff I worked on when I was... I dunno, eleven?" Adriane looked at her skeptically.

"The first page was stuff a six-year-old could do," Chelsea continued.

"Actually..." She straightened up slightly.

"I wonder how fast you could do it." Adriane narrowed her eyes immediately.

"No." Chelsea pointed at her.

"I should make you take the exam just like I had to take the adventurer assessment."

"No thanks," Adriane replied without hesitation.

"I'm perfectly happy not having to do this stuff."

"No, no, we're waiting anyway." Chelsea scooted her chair closer with entirely too much enthusiasm.

"Let me see where your skill is." Adriane groaned quietly.

"Six plus seven?"

"Chelsea. Seriously?"

"Six and seven make..." Adriane rolled her head to the side dramatically before holding up both hands.

"Fine." Chelsea watched carefully. Adriane raised six fingers first, then started counting upward on the other hand one finger at a time.

"One... two... three..." she whispered under her breath. Chelsea felt something in her chest tighten unexpectedly. Not because Adriane struggled with it. Because this was the first time she'd ever seen Adriane look unsure about anything. The legendary Silver Sword. The terrifyingly competent adventurer everyone else treated like a living myth. And here she was quietly counting on her fingers with complete seriousness.

"Uh..." Adriane glanced up uncertainly.

"Is it thirteen? Chelsea immediately threw her arms around her. Adriane made a startled noise as Chelsea hugged her tightly across the chair.

"Yes," Chelsea said warmly before kissing her on the cheek.

"It's thirteen. Awesome job." Then she just stayed there hugging her. Adriane huffed a quiet laugh against her shoulder.

"I'm sure that's an easy question for you, isn't it? Chelsea tightened the hug slightly.

"Doesn't matter."