The mornings in the royal capital were far noisier than in Rastera. In front of the guild bulletin board, Rock spotted a single posted notice. *Skeleton Extermination – Temporary Party Recruitment. Seeking one porter. Daily wage: five silver coins.* *(Five silver coins... That's three days at the inn.)* Not bad. Rock peeled the notice off the board and headed for the reception desk. The receptionist checked Rock's adventurer card. She glanced at the skill field listing "Wooden Puppet" and furrowed her brow for just a moment. But she said nothing. Receptionists in the royal capital were well-trained. "[calm] I'm here about the posting. The skeleton extermination." "[professional] Yes, we've been expecting you. The party leader, Glenn-sama, is waiting inside." He was seated at a table in the back of the guild. Swordsman Glenn. He looked to be around twenty-five years old. His shoulder-length blond hair was tied back, and his muscular frame was fitted with a silver breastplate. A meticulously maintained longsword gleamed on his back. Two companions were already seated at the table—a young mage and a female archer. As Rock approached, Glenn looked up. "[cold] So you're the Puppet Master." His gaze shifted to the wooden puppet on Rock's back. A ninety-centimeter partner with a crudely painted smile. "[casual] Yes, I'm Rock. Pleased to meet you." Glenn merely glanced at Rock's outstretched hand and did not take it. "[blunt] The porter stays in the back and watches the luggage. Don't come forward. And don't use that puppet in combat. Understood?" It was an order. A sharp pang struck deep in Rock's chest. But he kept it from showing on his face. He was used to it. "[resigned] ...Understood." The young mage let out a small laugh. The female archer didn't even look at Rock's face. *(Well, I'll manage somehow.)* Rock gave his puppet a light pat on the shoulder and took his place at the very rear of the party. --- The abandoned mine ruins lay northeast of the royal capital, half a day's journey by carriage. The tunnels, once a source of iron ore, had long since been mined out and left to decay. A musty wind carrying the scent of bones blew from the dim entrance. Skeletons—ambulatory bones animated by residual mana in corpses. Danger rating: D-rank. Individually, they weren't much of a threat, but in groups, they were trouble. "[firm] Standard triangle formation. I'll take the vanguard. Mage, center. Archer, support from the rear. Porter, you're at the very back watching the luggage." Glenn issued his instructions curtly. Rock lowered the wooden puppet from his back and set it beside the luggage. It wasn't allowed to join the fight. The puppet's face gazed up at Rock vacantly. *(Sorry.)* He apologized in his heart. From deep within the tunnel came the clattering sound of bones scraping together. The first skeleton crawled out of the darkness. Its empty eye sockets held a faint blue light. In its hand was a rusted sword. Its jawbone clacked noisily. "[shout] Here they come! Vanguard, ready!" Glenn's longsword traced an arc. The skeleton's bones shattered and scattered. But another immediately appeared to take its place. Then two more, three more— The battle began. But... the formation was falling apart. Glenn was so focused on the enemies in front of him that his flanks were wide open. The young mage was absorbed in his incantation, completely unaware of the skeleton closing in from the right. "[urgent] On your right!" At Rock's voice, the mage spun around. He unleashed a fireball just in the nick of time. The skeleton blazed and crumbled. "[sharp] I told you not to act on your own!" Glenn roared. But Rock's body was already moving. He drew his shortsword. With a glance, he signaled the wooden puppet—*guard the luggage*. The puppet raised its club and took a small defensive stance. Rock moved forward. *(He told me the porter stays in the back... but I can't just leave them.)* He drew the skeletons' attention and evaded their attacks. He didn't press the offensive himself, only skirmishing just enough not to hinder his allies. It was plain, unremarkable work that would escape anyone's notice. But—it bought the mage enough time to finish his incantation. The archer's arrows pierced precisely through the skeletons' eye sockets. In front of the luggage, the wooden puppet also brandished its little club, keeping the enemy in check. The ninety-centimeter doll smacked the bony hands trying to claw up from the ground, forcing them back down. It was a ridiculous sight. Yet the puppet was carrying out its duty with utter seriousness. Glenn clicked his tongue. "[angry] That's why I said not to bring the puppet user into combat—" Still, the battle line somehow held. Catching his breath, Rock felt a vague unease about his own actions. *(For a mere porter, I overstepped.)* But—if he hadn't moved, the mage might have been injured. *(Which was the right call?)* He had no answer. --- The final phase of the battle. The skeleton horde had gathered in a large cavern deep within the mine. There were roughly twenty of them. In the center stood a specimen a size larger than the rest—the leader. "[confident] I'll finish this with my swordsmanship." Glenn readied his longsword and charged alone into the heart of the swarm. "[scared] You idiot, wait!" He was a beat too late. Glenn slashed at the leader skeleton—but before his blade could connect, the surrounding bones all moved at once. He was surrounded. "[desperate] Link Field—!" Rock tried to send mana to his puppet. But— *(Too far!)* Glenn was over fifteen meters away. Outside the range of Link Field. Even if he sent the puppet running, it wouldn't make it in time. Rock prepared to leap in himself, shortsword at the ready. —CLANG!! Glenn's longsword was knocked away by a bone sword. His breastplate shattered. A bone blade slashed deep into his shoulder. Blood sprayed. Glenn was slammed to the ground. "[shocked] Glenn-san—!!" The mage and archer froze in terror. "Retreat!!" Someone shouted. Gritting his teeth, Rock ran to where Glenn had fallen. He grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him. Blood soaked into Rock's clothes. The horde of bones closed in. The wooden puppet held them at bay with its club—the ridiculous clack-clack-clack of wood striking bone now sounded desperately frantic. Rock couldn't reach him in time. His own limits were thrust before him in stark, undeniable clarity. --- By the time they returned to the guild, it was already evening. Glenn's party was giving their report in front of the reception desk. Glenn's shoulder was heavily wrapped in bandages, and his complexion was poor. As Rock approached, all three of them turned their gazes on him at once. "[cold] It's because the puppet user did something unnecessary." Glenn spoke in a low voice. "[surprised] ...Huh?" "[accusing] A mere porter came forward and broke the formation. And your puppet was scurrying all over the place—that's why our coordination fell apart." The female archer looked at Rock with cold eyes. "[defensive] But I—" "[cutting] And as a result, the quest is a failure. Glenn-san is seriously injured. Who do you think is to blame?" The young mage spat the words out. Rock felt his throat tighten. *(No. Because I moved, you didn't get hurt. The formation was a mess from the start—)* But the words wouldn't come. The fact remained that Glenn was badly wounded. The fact remained that Rock had indeed acted beyond his role as a porter. *(Was it really my fault—?)* Voices swirled round and round in his head. The surrounding adventurers were glancing his way. The rumors were already beginning to spread. "[whisper] Did you hear? That puppet-user porter went and moved on his own and ruined the whole operation." "[mocking] A guy with a trash skill screwed up again, huh?" Rock hung his head. He searched for words to argue back. But he found none. --- Night. The tavern lights cast long, narrow shadows across the cobblestones. Rock left the establishment alone. He hadn't really been able to taste the alcohol. *(Was I... wrong?)* He looked up at the sky. The night sky over the royal capital had fewer stars than Rastera. The city lights hid their glow. His feet naturally carried him toward East Cobblestone Street. Galdo's Workshop. When he opened the door, it was dim inside. The forge fire was out, and no sound of hammering could be heard. "[quiet] ...Galdo-san?" He called out, but there was no answer. No one was there. On the workbench sat the wooden puppet he had left with him the day before. Rock drew closer. And then—he caught his breath. The puppet's joints had been reinforced. The gaps in the hinges had been carefully filled. The loosened screws had been retightened. The fine cracks on the left shoulder—were gone. *(He fixed it for me.)* There was no note, no letter left behind. Nothing. But Rock understood. —It was just like with Goltz. Here was another adult who showed what he meant through his hands, without saying a word. Galdo had always been silent, gruff, and impossible to read. But—this work said everything. *Your partner can still fight.* *You weren't wrong.* He felt as if he could hear those words. Rock clutched the wooden puppet to his chest. The surface of the wood, which should have been cold, felt gently, gradually warm. The magic stone was faintly glowing. His frozen heart began to thaw, little by little. "[whispers] ...Thank you." He murmured the words to no one in particular. In the dimness of the workshop, Rock stood still for a long moment. His arms tightened around the puppet. *(Tomorrow—I'll try again.)* A small resolve kindled deep within his chest.