"Hello. My name's Connor, and this is my companion Nabe. Could we get a room for the night?"
Connor offered a polite smile that brightened the dimly lit tavern. His perfectly straight teeth and analytical eyes created a striking contrast against his hard, rugged armor. His dark brown hair was neatly styled, with a characteristic strand falling across his forehead. Though his face was handsome with clean-cut features—different from many young men in E-Rantel—his eyes carried a calculating precision that the innkeeper immediately noticed.
"It'll cost you five bronze each; meals will be another five," she said slowly, methodically cleaning the glass in her hands.
"One room for two, please. Meals later, thank you," he replied with professional courtesy. Placing his hands on the counter, he leaned forward slightly, maintaining perfect posture. The movement loosened the chain around his neck, exposing a metal trinket.
"You're a copper plate, huh..." She eyed the strip of metal, while those overhearing snickered softly. "I'm afraid my establishme—"
"—We just registered today, ma'am," Connor interrupted. "Please forgive the low rankings. Where we come from, adventurers are quite the foreign concept. The plate system is new to us."
He appeared earnest and logical in his explanation. As peeved as she was at being interrupted, he'd been nothing but courteous and hadn't tried flirting with her yet. Though she couldn't usually afford copper plates coming to her inn—she had standards—she decided to make an exception.
"S'ppose that's fair," she conceded. "Still, I have a business to run. Irons pay standard; coppers pay seven."
Connor simply gave a slight nod and precisely counted seven copper coins onto the wooden counter. "Here you are then," he said respectfully.
"Second floor on the right." She took the money with a smirk.
"Thank you, ma'am!" He retrieved his helmet from his silent companion and placed it on his head, instantly transforming back into a mysterious and dangerous figure. The red optical lenses made the innkeeper slightly uncomfortable, but he was already walking away, so it didn't bother her too badly.
Connor turned toward the stairwell with Nabe in tow. His interactions with the native population were going well so far. Ultron was learning much through the eyes of his custom android. The humanization process had succeeded without a hitch, and he considered this field test a complete success. Add to that the fact that Naberal Gamma had yet to butcher anyone for the slightest side-eyed glance, and so far, it was smooth sailing.
Pause
'Just had to jinx it, huh?' Connor thought as he halted mid-stride. A bald man in leather and fur armor had crossed his feet in front of him, attempting to trip him. "Illogical behavior," Connor muttered as he stepped around the man, his boot bumping the offender's foot slightly.
"Hey! Hey man! That hurt! What will you do to compensate me?" the man demanded, standing before the composed adventurer.
Connor analyzed the situation with clinical precision. 'This individual appears to be attempting to provoke a confrontation through fraudulent claims of injury. Probability of sincere injury: 0%.'
"Compensate you?" the android asked with a tilt of his head.
"Yeah! For. My. Injury!" The man jabbed Connor's armored chest to emphasize each word. Suddenly, his face lost all its edge as his eyes wandered to Nabe's face. Connor noted the look in the man's eyes, and it triggered his protection protocols.
"Say... That lady you've got with you would work. Just one night and I'd call us eve—ACK!"
His throat was abruptly clasped by Connor, who raised him off his feet, holding him in the air effortlessly.
"If it hurts so badly..." the adventurer said, his voice emotionless and analytical, "then perhaps amputation would be the optimal solution?"
Reaching into his coat, the Android pulled out a large Bowie knife the length of the man's forearm, serrated for cleaving meat. The thug's eyes bulged from his head.
"Nononono! I-it's fine man! I'm feeling better already!" he screeched, struggling against Connor's iron grip. The adventurer's crimson visor scanned the bald thug's face intensely, analyzing his fear response. The other patrons were either too shocked or too entertained to intervene, while the clinical precision of the adventurer's words froze the thug's friends in their seats. With methodical care, Connor slowly lowered the now purple-faced thug to his feet.
"A rapid recovery," Connor observed to his captive audience, one hand still gripping the thug's shirt as the man finally got a chance to breathe. However, his moment of respite was short-lived as Connor calculated the optimal force required and hurled him across the bar, breaking a table and cracking the wooden wall in the process. The commotion jolted a muscular redhead who had been resting her head against the wall.
"Further interruptions would be inadvisable," Connor stated evenly.
The bald hoodlum's friends shook their heads vigorously, making the adventurer adjust his attire with precise movements. The innkeeper—accustomed to skirmishes in her establishment—mentally added the repair costs to the android and the bald man's bill. Connor had barely taken a step before he was interrupted again.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! YOU!" A muscular woman stomped toward the adventurer. The trinket around her neck identified her as an Iron Plate adventurer. "My potion is shattered because of you!" she accused, glaring at him. "You better pay for it!"
Connor analyzed her systematically. She stood approximately 5'6", likely in her early twenties, with short, unkempt red hair. Her sharp blue eyes reflected years of experience, and her well-defined muscles would put most men in the room to shame, giving Connor a 93% probability that she was a battle-hardened fighter.
"Your potion?" Connor asked, shifting his focus from the woman to the broken table where a shattered blue bottle lay next to the still-unconscious thug.
"I skipped meals! I skipped BOOZE to afford that!" she cried, gripping his coat in grief. "I just bought it today, and you broke it!"
"The logical solution would be to seek compensation from those responsible for the altercation," Connor said, gesturing toward the thug's companions with a precise movement. She turned to the men, one hand still clutching the fabric of the adventurer's coat. Her grip frustrated Narberal Gamma, who reached for her dagger but stopped when she felt her master's hand on her shoulder. With a subtle head movement, he signaled her to stand down, allowing him to handle the situation.
"There's no way these idiots can come up with five silver, let alone a gold. You look like someone who gets around a lot. You must have a healing potion or two on you, right?" she asked, finally releasing his coat and looking him up and down. "I'm fine with just having it replaced," she added, her tone softening.
Reaching into his coat's inner pocket with methodical precision, Connor extracted a Minor Health Potion and placed it in her gloved hands. "This should be an adequate replacement," he said with a slight nod.
She stared at the ornate bottle of blood-red liquid in slight confusion. "It's red?..." she muttered. Ultron, overhearing her comment, found his interest piqued and decided to activate an executioner platform, tagging her for observation.
"The matter is now resolved. Have a productive day," he said before turning precisely on his heel and walking up the stairs. Nabe gave the woman a contemptuous look as she followed her master.
Upon reaching their room, Ultron placed his helmet on the bedside table while Nabe closed the door behind them. She surveyed their accommodations, noticing the cobwebs in the plaster corners, which made her cringe. "A supreme being like yourself should not stay in such a drab place," she said with disgust.
"Such comments are unnecessary, Nabe," Connor replied, sitting on the edge of the bed with perfect posture. He took a calculated breath, despite not needing to.
"Analysis of this world shows remarkable similarities to Japanese isekai narrative structures: an adventurers' guild, formalized request systems, and bounties for monster elimination. The plate system represents a novel hierarchical structure. It functions efficiently as a means of categorizing individuals by capabilities and experience level, essentially creating a quantifiable skill metric," Ultron thought, processing the data he'd collected.
"What shall we do about that vile woman?" Narberal asked with evident distaste.
"No action is required at this time. She was operating within expected parameters for this social environment—maintaining public image and seeking logical compensation," Connor said, maintaining his seated position on the mattress. Then his brown eyes suddenly met Nabe's black ones. "I have a question for analysis purposes: what is your assessment of humans, Nabe?"
"They're trash," Nabe replied with brutal honesty.
'Expected response. Albedo's negative perception of humans appears to be systemic throughout Nazarick's hierarchy,' Ultron thought.
"You'll need to modulate such responses," he said, maintaining eye contact. "We are operating undercover. For mission success, we must both present as humans from a distant region."
"Understood, Lord Ultron."
"Remember, my designation is Connor while in the field, and you are not Narberal Gamma—you are Nabe."
"Yes, Lord Connor," Nabe said loyally, making the disguised Ultron recalculate his approach.
"The 'Lord' title creates inconsistency in our cover. A more efficient approach would be to establish ourselves as... romantic partners. In such relationships, honorifics are typically omitted," Connor stated matter-of-factly. 'At least in public contexts.'
Nabe's eyes widened in alarm, her face flushing crimson. In a stuttering panic, she protested, "R-romantic partners! Impossible! You are designated for Madam Albedo! I'm unworth—"
"Not authentic romantic partners, Nabe. A strategic deception to enhance our cover narrative. Traveling couples arouse minimal suspicion," Connor clarified with precision. "Additionally, your self-assessment is factually incorrect. Your physical attributes rank in the highest percentile among the Pleiades. Your loyalty and combat capabilities are similarly exceptional. Statistically speaking, you merit optimal companionship. Do you understand this analysis?"
Her eyes widened further, the blush intensifying across her face.
"I-I understand... C-Connor," she stammered, clearly processing the unexpected data.
"Excellent," the adventurer said with a slight nod before standing with mechanical precision. "Our primary directive remains information gathering. Secondary objectives include establishing credibility as competent adventurers and disseminating knowledge of Ultron as an ancient deity," Connor reiterated methodically, redirecting the conversation to operational parameters.
"Your strategy is optimal as always, Lord Ultron," Nabe said automatically, reverting to formal address.
"Connor," he corrected.
"I apologize for the error."
"No need for apology... darling," Connor tested the term clinically. Nabe short-circuited again.
"D-d-d-d-d..." she stuttered, unable to process the relational nomenclature, her cognitive functions temporarily impaired. 'Interesting. Her response to casual intimacy terms appears to trigger a system-wide processing delay,' Connor observed, noting her physiological responses.
"There is a logistical concern to address," Connor said, interrupting her processing loop.
"Y-yes?"
"Our financial resources are nearly depleted and require replenishment," Connor said, precisely counting three silver coins and five copper coins into his palm from a small pouch. 'I should establish local currency values relative to goods and services. Bread could serve as a standardized comparison metric. We possess three silver coins, five copper coins, plus currency from Yggdrasil. The inherent value of gold provides a baseline, while currency from our purported homeland would substantiate our cover narrative,' Connor calculated as he stood up and replaced his helmet with methodical precision.
"We should proceed to the Adventurers Guild... partner."
TIME SKIP
"That armor looks so drabby."
"Methodical design though."
"Yeah, that coat is something else."
"He looks more like a detective than an adventurer."
"That helmet is unsettling."
"C'mon, who's anyone kidding? He's a copper plate, lads. That armor is just for intimidation. He's probably weak!"
A group of men chatted among themselves about the latest subject of interest: the composed adventurer, Connor. The android and his doppelgänger companion arrived at the bustling Adventurer's Guild. The large, theater-sized room was packed with people of all shapes, sizes, and varieties of armor. As soon as they entered, all eyes turned to the newcomers.
Connor and Nabe stood before the large board filled with contracts nailed to it. Dozens of papers with all manner of requests written upon them.
However...
Ultron made a miscalculation.
'I cannot interpret this written language...'
'Narberal cannot either. I failed to account for linguistic differences in my mission parameters...'