“No registration card? Hm…… that’s going to be a problem.”
They called it a “hunter camp” among themselves, but it was nothing more than a shabby, ragged temporary tent village.
The man handling intake fluttered the stack of papers in his hand.
Simple personal details and clear records, plus a document stamped with a government seal. Crude as it was, that seemed to be this era’s “hunter license.”
“Hoh,” Jioh let out a small sound of admiration.
“Looks like you even take in illegal immigrants, and yet you’ve got rules to— mmph!”
“H-ha, ha ha. She’s just a bit out of it. P-please don’t mind her!”
“……Ahem. Anyway, if you want to join a clearing squad, go to the district office and get a registration card. I hear it takes less than ten minutes these days. If I hire an unregistered person and end up fined, it’s a headache.”
Grumbling that awakened crimes had surged lately and crackdowns had gotten stricter, the man clicked his tongue.
But ten minutes or an hour—