Average 2.6.1

Chapter 15:

Escort Mission

After three days’ rest, the Crimson Vow found themselves back at the guildhall, ready to take on another job.During their break, they’d received message after message from the Abbot Company, begging them to sell the rock lizards. The girls turned them all down, protesting that they had only “inferior goods worth less than sixty percent of the market value.” When, after several of these exchanges, the courier finally told them that the merchant would buy the lizards for 15 half-gold, the girls responded that the guild had offered them 20. Finally, the owner himself paid them a visit.“I’ll pay you 21 half-gold,” he pleaded.“Unfortunately, we already sold them to the guild for 20. Even though we would have sold them to you for 15 at the start. I suppose it wasn’t meant to be…” Pauline replied.The man gritted his teeth, returning back home empty-handed.An average merchant would be able to buy rock lizards at 25 to 28 half-gold apiece. If they were divided up and sold piecemeal as a luxury good, they could sell for 40 or more. If they managed to buy the lizards at 15—an already discounted price from the market value of 20 half-gold—then they could turn a profit of 25 half-gold each, which was about 250,000 yen, in Japanese terms. If the merchant had known the girls didn’t have just three rock lizards, but many many more, he would have fallen even farther into despair.But, he reaped what he’d sowed.When the merchant learned that the guild was selling heaps of rock lizards every week, and stood in line to discover that his company alone was prohibited from buying them, his face was a sight to behold.

“All right, let’s find our next job,” said Reina.Everyone nodded and began scanning the board.After several minutes, Reina’s eyes paused on one of the postings.“Hmm…”“Is something wrong?” Mile asked Reina, who appeared deep in thought.“The pay on this job seems a little too high for what they’re requesting. I wonder if there’s some extra condition…”Escort request. 9 days’ round trip to Amroth, including 1 day’s rest. C-rank or higher, 12 units requested. Reward: 24 half-gold each. Bonus for B-rank or higher.It was a job of eight days, one that might put their lives in danger, and it would earn them twenty-four half-gold a piece. That was three half-gold a day. Compared to the value of one’s life, it seemed rather low.However, it was also unlikely that they would see combat daily. On the contrary, there was an overwhelmingly high chance that they might travel the entire distance without a single incident at all. If the road were so dangerous that you could be attacked every time you traveled on it, no sensible merchant would take that route.But without an escort, the possibility of being assailed by bandits rose steeply. There was also a chance that, with only merchants and drivers, they would be injured by monsters that hunters could have kept at bay. Because of that possibility, it was a matter of course to hire an escort guard in proportion to the size of the merchant party.However, normally the pay was lower: just two half-gold pieces a day.“I wonder if we should look into this…” murmured Reina, already heading toward the reception counter. Mile followed hurriedly behind.“Oh yes, that escort job…” said the receptionist, Laylia, scrunching her nose at Reina’s inquiry. “To tell you the truth, the road to Amroth is haunted…”“By g-g-ghosts?!” Mile interjected from beside her.Reina smacked her on the head.“D-don’t be stupid! What is it actually haunted by?”Reina looked a bit queasy.Huh? Don’t tell me that Reina’s…“A-actually, yes. Ghosts…”“Eeeek!!”“…are nowhere to be seen! Er, oh no, I’m so sorry!”Laylia had meant it as a joke, but seeing that Reina and Pauline appeared genuinely frightened, she hurried to apologize.“I-It’s bandits! Bandits! Apparently they’ve been appearing in greater numbers lately, coming in from another country. Because of that, it’s hard to recruit people without raising the reward, and the standard rate has gone up a bit. Also, because merchants have been avoiding the road and there are fewer wagons traveling on it, inevitably there are fewer guards on it as well. There’s a strong possibility that you will be attacked, and I would recommend you all leave this one alone. Even five times the reward wouldn’t be worth the danger.”Taking Laylia’s information to heart, the girls moved away from the counter.

Bandits rarely appeared in large groups.If they traveled in large numbers, attacking just a single wagon wouldn’t make them enough profit to share. Then they’d have no choice but to increase their attacks, launching more assaults, or attacking larger merchant bands. And if they did that, they were sure to encounter a great number of escorting hunters, meaning that their group would suffer many casualties.If the bandits killed too many merchants, commerce would grind to a halt, and the crown (or the local lords) would be forced to take action and mount a large-scale opposition to root the bandits out.Because of that, bandit groups tended to be small and well spread out.Only those who skimped on their escorts, or had particularly bad luck, would suffer from occasional attacks. As long as a merchant was properly prepared, they normally passed unharried. Most bandits would overlook a more formidable target in favor of easy prey.Even if you were attacked, while the guards might be killed in combat, those who didn’t take part in the fight—the merchants, the drivers, and any passengers—could generally give up their possessions and escape unharmed. After all, if you were likely to be killed even if you surrendered, you’d fight to the very last and set fire to your cargo in one final act of retaliation. The bandits’ casualties would increase, and their profit would amount to nothing.For the escorting hunters, sparing any bandits that surrendered reduced casualties on both sides. As for the merchants, if they worked hard they could earn back the cost of a lost wagon, provided they escaped with their lives.Therefore if the client consented, and the hunters in charge of an escort decided to surrender, then the hunters still received their proper pay, without penalties. While the escort might not have been a success, they had performed their duty to the best of their abilities.But in this case, it seemed that the bandits—operating in large-scale groups and moving in from other countries—were migratory. Raiding without setting up a permanent base. This meant they killed everyone: merchants, drivers, and guards alike. It was likely they planned to make as much as they could, then move on to some other land before a suppression force could be organized. After all, it took time for the local governments, or even the crown, to mobilize.

“Let’s take the job.”“Huh?”“If we dress Mile up in something cute and have her sit up by the driver, I bet we can attract even more bandits.”The other three were stunned at Reina’s proposal.“B-but, that sounds dangerous…”“Yes! And it’s not even worth the pay.”“If we’re away for nine days, that’s a waste of our inn fees…”At Pauline, Mavis, and Mile’s grumbling, Reina raised her voice, sounding angry.“Did you all not agree to take on an escort job?! You said you would leave it to me.”“We did, but we thought it would be a normal escort job. It wouldn’t be so bad to take on an escort request one day, and if we took one a little sooner then we’d get used to the process. Gain some experience fighting other people. But the possibility of getting attacked on this job is way higher than usual, the pay is too low to be worth it, and the bandits are traveling in huge groups. There’s no need for us to stick our necks out just for kicks. There are other escort requests. I don’t think we need to go leaping into such a big job.”Mavis voiced her opposition, followed by Pauline.“I-I agree.”“What’s more,” Mavis continued, “I’m sure the day will come when we’ll have to kill someone. But when that time comes, we have to make our own decisions. How can we do that if we can’t say, ‘We made the judgment, and I know it was the right one. I have no regrets’?“Are you even interested in the guard duty, Reina? Or do you want us to take this job just so we can kill bandits? You want to force us into our ‘first time killing a man’ rather than let it come around when it does. And on top of that…”Pausing only to take a breath, Mavis continued.“What on earth was that ‘dress Mile in cute clothes and put her up by the driver’ thing about? Fighting the bandits should be our last resort. We should use the power of intimidation to keep the bandits from attacking in the first place. And you’re suggesting that we ask to be attacked by showing that there are no guards around and a little girl present?“Besides, what are you going to do if the wagons or cargo are lost or damaged? What if the client or the drivers are injured or killed? Why the hell do you want to do something that would purposely put everyone in danger? It’s the exact opposite of our goal. What about Mile, dressed like that, having to fight a swarm of bandits without any armor? Did you even think about that?”Reina stood silently, hanging her head, as Mavis threw one last jab.“Why are you being such a fool?”Reina stood quietly for several more seconds, then turned on her heel and ran.“Reina…”In a corner of the guildhall, the three remaining members of the Crimson Vow stood still as statues.

Reina returned sometime before dinner.A hunter’s body was her bread and butter, and she wouldn’t allow her own ego to cheat her out of a meal. Eating elsewhere would be a breach of loyalty toward the inn, and Reina was most definitely the type to worry over such details.“……”Reina ate her meal without talking. Finally, Mavis spoke up.“Reina…”“……”Reina ignored her, and continued to eat.“We took the job. We leave tomorrow morning, so try not to oversleep.”Reina spat out her food.“Gaaaaah!! Reina, that’s disgusting!”“Aaaah, my food!!!”Mile and Mavis squealed. Pauline had somehow managed to hold her plate far enough away to escape being sprayed.“I thought you all said we couldn’t take that job!”“Wahaha! It wasn’t true!”As Reina glared at her, Mile quickly ducked behind Mavis.“I was just raising a few concerns for you to consider—but I don’t recall ever saying we wouldn’t take the job. And then, you disappeared before we could talk about it, so the three of us thought it over and came to the conclusion that we may as well take it… what’s that look for?”Reina glared as Mavis breezily waved off her earlier concerns.“S-so you were just badmouthing me…? Then, what happened to all those objections of yours?!”“Oh, it’s fine. We took everything into account and decided that the job was still within the realm of possibility for us.”“What is with you guys?”Reina grumbled and fussed, and someone tapped her on the shoulder from behind. She turned to see little Lenny, who grinned before shoving a water bucket and rag her way.“Sorry…”

***

After Reina had rushed out of the guildhall, the other three were greatly troubled.It was clear that she was obsessing over something. However, they couldn’t do whatever Reina wanted just to make her happy. That might put their party on an unthinkable path, and if Reina wouldn’t listen to their concerns then they weren’t truly friends, much less the Crimson Vow.After thinking for a while, Mavis spoke.“We should find out more about that request.”She went back to Laylia, the clerk, and asked to meet with the client so that she could hear more about it for herself.Luckily, the day was still young, and there was plenty of time.

“I see. So that’s how it is then. Are you sure you’re all right with this?”“Huh? No, actually it would be a big help for us, as long as you’re sure it’s okay.”“On the other hand, this place…”“Huh?! But the budget…”“If we fail then we won’t get anything, right?”“Hrm, you’ve got me there…”“Well, then. How about this?”“What?! What is that?! Are you serious?”“Yes, it’s fine.”“In that case… we had planned to delay our departure until we gathered more guards, but now I suppose we can head out right away. Is that acceptable?”“No problems here. We are the Crimson Vow, and we’re ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”Later that morning, the three girls borrowed the guild meeting room to have a chat with the two men and talked until they reached an arrangement that satisfied both parties.

***

“I want to thank you most sincerely for taking on this request. I know that it does not come under the best of circumstances.”Early the following morning, the merchant party made their introductions in the city square. There were six wagons in the caravan with one driver for each, and four merchants altogether.The merchants seemed to be long-time companions, and the meet-and-greet was more for the benefit of the escorting hunters. There was no need for the guards to get too friendly with the merchants, but it was necessary for the hunters to get to know one another’s strengths and skills—for assigning and coordinating roles. Even if it only slightly increased their chances of making it safely through the next nine days, it was worth taking the time to do it before their departure.“Some of you weren’t present when the request was accepted. You may have heard some of the details from your leaders, but allow me to give a brief overview.”It seemed Reina wasn’t the only one yet to receive a direct explanation. Clearly there were other parties where only a few representatives had gone to negotiate.“Amroth,” the merchant continued, “is four days away, making for an eight-day round trip. Upon arrival, we’ll be stopping for one day, during which you’ll be free to do as you like. Now, as you all may have noticed, the reward for this job is 50 percent higher than standard. The reason for this, as I’m sure you’ve already heard from your companions, is that this route has recently been plagued by a rather large-scale bandit operation.”Here, the head of the merchant group paused to look over the group of hunters, but no one appeared to be surprised. They’d all heard about the situation from their leaders. The Crimson Vow had filled Reina in the previous night.“That’s not all. A number of people are suffering because of the decrease in the number of merchants, thanks to the bandits. For their sake, our group is not carrying expensive luxury items, but absolute necessities, including critical medical supplies and specialty tools for craftsmen. In addition to transporting these goods, we have one more important goal. That is…”The client looked over the group again.“We aim to wipe out the bandits.”That was the merchant group’s true aim, just as Mile and company had heard last night.“It is going to take some time before either the national or regional governments are prepared to do anything about this. If we wait, business in Amroth will be completely cut off. We’ve mobilized this group with the assumption that we will come under attack. If nothing happens, we’ll proceed with our business as usual. However, if we do come under attack, we intend to fight to the end.“Though we’ve yet to confirm the numbers, estimates say there are at least twenty bandits. I have faith that our group of twelve hunters—one B-rank and eleven C-ranks, including four magic users—will be more than enough to take these scoundrels down.“This information wasn’t included in the job posting because we assumed that the bandits might very well have allies passing through the guildhall. Therefore, we requested that the details be given only at the clerk’s discretion, to hunters who approached them about the job. There were four other parties who inquired and were turned away, as well as one more that we had to decline when we judged they were lacking in power.“We understand that, considering our true aim, the promised reward is relatively low. However, the requested goods promise a very low return, meaning that we couldn’t set aside more even if we wished to. For merchants, it is a point of pride not to engage in business that we know from the outset will put us in the red. We kindly beg your forgiveness.”The client cast a glance at his fellow merchants, who nodded in agreement. Then he turned his attention back to the hunters.“On the other hand, should a battle arise, there is no need for you to focus on protecting us. We will simply barricade ourselves inside the cargo wagons and ready our swords. It’s an advantageous position, so if any bandits try to lift the cargo from the wagon, we can probably take them. Besides, it’s more likely that they won’t be interested in stealing during a battle. They can see to that once all their opponents are gone.“Therefore, you may keep all of your focus on annihilating our opponents. Even if we’re taken hostage, pay us no mind. If we surrender, I’m confident—based on what I’ve heard—that they will still kill us.“That’s all for now. Does anyone have any questions?”The guards gaped. The client’s request—to prioritize slaying the bandits over protecting the merchants—was completely unprecedented. Moreover, this was the first time that any of them had heard about this aspect of the job.“Why would you go this far?”The question came from one of the three parties that had accepted the job, a trio of young men in their late teens.“Er, well, the reason is… if I may be so bold as to say, it’s just that, well… we’re merchants, and Amroth has always been a prosperous place for us…”“That’s ridiculous! You’re all idiots!”This was the fellow who appeared to be the leader of the third party, a group consisting of three men and two women somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties. He guffawed loudly, but the woman standing beside him cut in.“Well then, what does that make you, the one who accepted this job?”“Isn’t it obvious? A big fat idiot!”The five members of the party laughed uproariously. It seemed like they were always this way.The leader of the third party turned serious, looking to the rest of the hunters.“Now then, how about we introduce ourselves? I’m Bart, the leader of Dragonbreath. I’m a swordsman, B-rank. Seems like I’m the only B-rank here. And since it appears that we’re also the biggest party here, I’d like it if you left the escort planning and battle tactics to me. Any objections?”Heads shook, and seeing there were no dissenters, Bart continued.“Our other members are Callum, the swordsman; Fargus, the lancer; Vera, the bow-and-short-sword wielder; and Jeanie, the magic user. Jeanie specializes in combat magic, but don’t expect too much from her in terms of healing.”Next, the trio of young men introduced themselves.“I’m Brett, the leader of the Flaming Wolves. Me and Chuck here are both swordsmen. Daryl’s our spear guy.”

“Er…”A few of the others cut in. They couldn’t help it. No matter how you looked at it, their team balance was horrible.Generally speaking, a reasonable size for an F to C-rank party was five to seven members. If you were B-rank or above, you might have even more on your roster. With only four people, you could really only take on low-level monsters, but so long as you were skilled, you would be fine. With eight or more you would have to split into two groups, or keep some members as reserves. That is, if they weren’t already near retirement and just sticking around to mentor younger hunters.When it came to parties, it was dangerous to have too few members. But if you had too many, there wasn’t enough money to go around and it was easy to fall into interpersonal conflicts. If there was a fixed reward and you had a large group of people, then each individual’s share would go down.And then there was the matter of balance, unrelated to the number of members.Take two parties. In party A, you have a swordsman, a lancer, an archer, and a mage. In party B, you have a swordsman, a swordsman, a swordsman, and a swordsman. Which of these parties will do better as hunters? The answer should be clear.Considered from this perspective, the balance of the Flaming Wolves was horrendous. More than that, they had only three members. It was thoroughly puzzling, no matter who you asked.“We know. Our balance and our numbers are terrible. Up until just a few months ago, we had two girls with us too, an archer and a mage.”“What happened to them?” Mile asked, innocently.The others looked aghast, but it was too late.“A party of four handsome guys came calling, and they ran off! The other day they came crawling back, all, ‘Let’s team up again!’ But we refused. We’re not interested in dragging pregnant women off to battle, and we have no intention of raising other men’s kids!”“I… I see…”A deep silence fell over the group, but Mavis broke it handily.“W-we are the Crimson Vow. I am Mavis, a sword-wielder and our leader. These two are Reina and Pauline, our mages. And this is Mile, the magic swordswoman.”“Magic swordswoman?” the Flaming Wolves asked in unison.Apparently, while Dragonbreath had been present at the graduation exam, the Flaming Wolves had not. It was no surprise that the larger party weren’t shocked to see such young girls taking on an escort role.As it happened, the client had also been watching the exam. If not, he probably would have hesitated, if not outright refused, to let the Crimson Vow take on this request, when only Mavis appeared to be of age.“Yes,” Mile said. “I’m fairly good at magic, and also at using a sword. So don’t worry about stopping for water along the way!”Seeing the haughty looks on the Flaming Wolves’ faces, Dragonbreath shared a wry smile.“Reina does combat magic, and Pauline’s specialty is healing. She can also use a decent level of support and combat magic, so she’s kind of an all-purpose magician…”“What? That’s amazing! We figured a bunch of little girls would be dead weight, but I guess you could be pretty useful,” said the Flaming Wolves’ lancer.His leader gave him a nudge, but Mavis kept smiling. She knew how their party appeared to outsiders.After exchanging a bit more information about magical specialties and the like, the group departed. From the outset, it was determined the guards would ride in the wagons with the merchants. This way, they could move quickly and save energy to fight if needed. Normally, you’d want the guards to be a bit more conspicuous to ward off danger, but that was hardly a concern in this case.The first of the six wagons carried three members of Dragonbreath, while the remaining two sat in the second. The three Flaming Wolves sat in the rear wagon, and all four members of the Crimson Vow rode in the fourth.They were positioned so that, if the caravan were attacked from the side, they could all respond together. Even if they were attacked from the front or back, there were still people who could react right away. In that event, those at the opposite end were instructed not to rush to assist. This wasn’t a matter of distance, but of strategy: it was a common bandit tactic to launch a second attack at one end while the fighting force was focused at the other.It was possible that Bart had placed the Crimson Vow strategically too, positioning the young girls at the center where it was the safest. While he surely knew in his heart that the Flaming Wolves were probably the weakest link, his paternal instincts demanded that the Crimson Vow were protected.The Flaming Wolves might be in their teens, but they were most certainly adults, and had not complained at their positioning.

On the first day out of the capital, they weren’t assailed by either bandits or monsters, and made it to the spot where they would camp without incident.The merchants slept wrapped in blankets in the crooks of their wagons. While it was cramped, it was preferable to sleeping outside. The drivers slept on the ground, with one blanket beneath them and one on top. The same was true for the hunters. If it rained, they would sleep beneath the wagons, or under a tree.As for Mile and the other girls…“Hey, what the heck is that?”“Huh? It’s just a normal tent and bedroll and blankets…”“Where on earth were you keeping that?!”The youths of the Flaming Wolves had questions. The cargo in the wagons was packed in tight with just enough room for the merchants to sleep. Everyone else had disembarked for the night. There was no room for the Crimson Vow to pack such bulky personal items.After using the last of the light to complete their preparations for the evening, everyone sat down to dinner. The merchants provided meals for the journey, but they were all cheap fare: things that were easily preserved, light, and didn’t take up much space. Which is to say, there wasn’t much variety. Yes, it was their old pals: hardtack and jerky, with a side of dried vegetables dissolved into hot water as a “soup.” The portions were far from filling.Still not too far from poverty, Mile and company would take whatever they could get. They accepted their hardtack and jerky, but handed it all over to Mile, who placed it inside her loot box. She stumbled away for a moment and returned with two jackalopes in each hand.Mavis prepared the meat with a kitchen knife that Mile had produced from somewhere or other, while Reina grilled over a conjured bonfire. A delicious aroma filled the air…“Would you all like some?”At Mile’s invitation, the other hunters—who had been circling at a distance—rushed over.(Mavis had switched from her short sword to a kitchen knife for cooking because, somehow, Mile had been able to sense a faint weeping coming from somewhere—asking why such a beautiful blade was being used for basic chores. The noise had made her uneasy.)When the jackalope meat ran out, it seemed that not everyone had eaten their fill, so Mile pulled a portion of orc meat and some toasted rock lizard out of her loot box.“What? St-storage magic?”This time, both the Flaming Wolves and Dragonbreath expressed their amazement. At their initial meeting only Bart, the Dragonbreath leader, had heard about Mile’s storage magic. It was a rare skill, and she hadn’t shown it off at the graduation exam.Out of pride, the merchants (who had provided the original meal) had not come for any of the rabbit. However, seeing what came next, they couldn’t help themselves. The whole merchant party, drivers included, approached.“Storage magic sure is handy…”Their jealousy was evident in their voices. An ability like that was every merchant’s dream.“M-might we have some meat as well?” the merchants asked, and everyone chowed down together.This time they used magic to round up the scent particles, explaining to the others that the smell wouldn’t attract any monsters and they could eat without a care.Afterward, they provided hot showers to anyone who wanted one.The two women from Dragonbreath, Vera and Jeanie, gladly accepted.Finally, Bart uttered the words that so many others had said before:“What useful girls you all are…”

When they gathered for breakfast the following morning, the merchants’ eyes nearly popped out of their heads.“Wh-wh-what is going on here?”Brett, the leader of the Flaming Wolves, was trembling violently. Several others were in the same state. Only the lead merchant and Bart, the leader of Dragonbreath, appeared relatively unshaken. They, at least, already understood. The shocking sight they all had seen was…Mile and Reina wearing Eckland Academy uniforms, and Pauline wearing a gym outfit from the same school.It was Reina’s bandit-fishing plan.During her time at boarding school, Mile wore her uniforms day in and day out, so they had worn out quickly. Through numerous exchanges, she’d lost possession of one that fit properly, ending up with a uniform that was a little bit too big. This fit Reina perfectly. And, since the person who had proposed the plan was in no position to refuse, the reluctant Reina had been forced into wearing it.Despite pretending to hate the uniform, Mavis noticed that Reina actually seemed thrilled with it.Pauline was less than thrilled.At school, the only times that Mile wasn’t wearing her uniform (i.e. when she was sleeping) was when she wore her gym clothes. They were stretchy, and even when the size was a little off, you could still wear them comfortably.But when Pauline wore it…it was bulging. There, there, and especially there…“Nooooo!”Mavis, the only one to escape from Mile’s school uniform fashion show, thanked her lucky stars she was too big to fit in any of Mile’s outfits. Reina’s cheeks were a bit pink, while Pauline’s face was completely red. Mavis looked on, uncomfortable. Only Mile continued as usual.After they’d eaten and packed up, the four girls of the Crimson Vow set up beside the drivers of the first four wagons, one on each seat as they set out again.“Please watch over me!” said Mile, beaming.The elderly driver of the first wagon smiled back and replied, “Oh, sure thing. And thank ye fer the meat last night!”Mile chatted with the driver to pass time. He showed her how to drive the wagon, and she asked why someone of his age was still working as a driver.“Well now, I already done well retired, but I heard they was lookin’ fer drivers to take some wagons to Amroth. I thought to myself, well if them folks are goin’ down a dangerous road, better it be us old timers who ain’t afraid to die. Seems like some of them other folks thought the same. Fer these six wagons, there’s four of us old vets like me.“Plus, my little girl ’n her husband do business out in Amroth. If they stepped outta town to get supplies or what have ye and got attacked, they’d be in a heap of trouble. I ain’t got much longer here, so if I got a chance to die fer a cause then… the goddess sure knows how t’ grant an old man some peace in style. Bwa-ha-ha!”“A-ah…”Mile nodded at the old man’s words, thinking that he would not be dying on this road. Not if there was anything she could do to prevent it.

There were a number of reasons why this job posting had caused Mavis, Pauline, and Mile some concern. Of course there was the matter of Reina, but that alone wasn’t enough to change their minds.Their first concern was that the reward was far too low for the requested work. In this case, it wasn’t because the merchants were crooked, but rather because travel to Amroth was so difficult that only the most necessary goods were requested. These items carried a slim profit margin, so the budget was very tight on the whole. And, no matter how much effort they might go to for valued customers, there was no way a merchant would make a deal that would lose them money. So the girls understood why the pay was so low. It was something else that made them question whether they should take the job.It was the question of killing bandits.On a normal escort job, going out intending to kill bandits—and especially going out of your way to attract them—was preposterous. However, if that was the intention, then the task could be viewed as extermination duty on top of guard duty, at 1.5 times the normal pay. If it was truly the clients’ desire to attract bandits, this was no issue.Lastly, there was the matter of taking a job with the strong chance they’d be thrust into combat.Of course, they could never know with 100 percent certainty that they would be attacked. It was possible the bandits had just finished attacking another caravan. Even bandits couldn’t possibly work every day. And there was a chance that the bandits might have already moved on to another country.Really, this was a standard escort job with a heightened chance of being ambushed. What happened was completely up to fate. Still, Mile, Mavis, and Pauline had very different opinions on that point, so they tried not to discuss it too deeply.Mavis was exempted from the “cute clothes plan” because, as an advance guard fighter, her gear took the longest to put on. In addition, she simply couldn’t wear Mile’s clothing. The magicians required little time to prepare their gear, so they all participated at Mile’s insistence—perhaps because she was embarrassed at the prospect of being the only one in school girl’s clothes.As the progenitor of this plan, Reina had no right to object and, dogged by her companions, Pauline couldn’t escape either—even if it meant having to wear a tired old gym uniform. Mavis, concerned that the slightest comment might get her sucked into the maelstrom, did her best to remain uninvolved.And so it was determined that Reina, Pauline, and Mile would wear Mile’s clothing from her academy days—along with their own boots, which were a bit awkward to change out of. Their footwear would be the only thing that might mark them as hunters.They hadn’t worn these outfits on the first day because they were still close to the capital, where the chance of bandits appearing was low. But the number one reason was simply ego—if their acquaintances from the city saw them dressed like this, they would never live it down!They practiced again and again until they were able to don their gear in a matter of moments. As long as they weren’t struck by a surprise ambush, they would be prepared to fight.In any case, the magic users were never meant to be involved in close-range combat. Even their leather armor could not offer total protection against sword and spear. For them, gear was something of an afterthought.Even as Mile chatted with the driver she secretly cast surveillance spells and, finally, a ping attracted her attention.Hmm, looks like…orcs, perhaps? Six of them.Mile leapt from the cab onto the tarp covering the wagon, giving a hand signal to the others behind.The wagons following her came to a gentle halt. Then, Mile climbed back down to the cab and directed the driver to stop. She jumped down from the wagon and ran ahead.There they are!Mile hid behind a big tree and peeked around.There were six orcs, just as she’d predicted. Perhaps they’d spotted the wagons from an elevated place and were lying in wait—or perhaps they’d simply stumbled upon them. Either way, if the wagons proceeded they would encounter the orcs. She had to fight them here.There was no point in conveying this to the other hunters. With that in mind, Mile pulled the slingshot from her loot box and gripped it in her left hand, taking out an iron sphere about the size of a pachinko ball.It’s funny to think that these bullets look so much like the balls you use in the game. Perhaps there’s some connection? Here, the stakes are somewhat higher…Pondering this, Mile inserted the metal ball into the pouch of the slingshot. She didn’t use pebbles here, worried they might shatter and end up dispersed throughout the orc’s thick flesh. If someone were to crunch down on a rock in a piece of orc meat, it wouldn’t just be unpleasant. Since this world had no real dentists, you’d be out of luck if you cracked a tooth… unless maybe, it could be restored with healing magic? Or re-grown in place of the old one? Either way, Mile had no desire to find out. Worse, what if you chewed up a rock? Would you absorb the minerals?Her thoughts grew stranger and stranger, so she decided to stop thinking.As she wasn’t gathering small animals, she held her left hand out as far as she could and moderated her right hand, drawing the carbon nanotubes back to two-thirds of their maximum stretch.Aim steady…Whoosh!…Bang!Whoosh!…Bang!Whoosh!…Bang!The sounds of firing rang out three times each before Mile flew out of the shadows, brandishing her sword.As the remaining orcs puzzled over how their companions were suddenly spewing blood from massive holes in their guts, two more orc heads were blown away and the three remaining orcs were driven into a frenzy.In truth, when Mile saw the bullet fly into the first orc’s gut, she realized that she had mistakenly ruined the best of the meat—so she shifted her aim to the heads. Could she truly be so calm in the face of danger? Perhaps she just had food on the brain…In any event, Mile flew toward the raging orcs and dashed between them, her sword swinging.Slash!Thud! Ka-thunk!Behind her, the top halves of the three orcs separated from the bottoms and fell to the ground, oozing blood. Not a drop splashed onto Mile’s clothing.“Y-you…”Hearing a voice behind her, Mile turned to see Dragonbreath—their mouths half-open, staring in awe at Mile, who stood before the corpses of a half dozen orcs.

***

“Why would you go out there by yourself?!”That evening, as they made camp, Mile got a stern lecture from Bart.“If you spot orcs, you report them to me first! We were right behind you—with just a curtain in between us! Why wouldn’t you say something before you jumped out?!”“I-I’m sorry…”“I’m not looking for your apologies! Explain yourself!”Humiliated, Mile had no choice but to tell the truth.“Well, suppose, Mr. Bart, that you were in the middle of an escort job, and you were walking along at the front of the line, when suddenly you saw some young jackalopes in the middle of the road.”“O-okay…”Bart was a little perplexed as to why they were suddenly talking in hypotheticals, but he didn’t want to interrupt, so he listened.“What would you do?”“Well, I would just kick them out of the way, and… wait, don’t tell me—!”“You wouldn’t bother making a fuss and calling everyone over, would you?”“Are you trying to tell me that a horde of six orcs is the same to you as some baby jackalopes?! Honestly, how am I supposed to manage this young C-rank girl, just doing whatever—”Someone patted Bart on the shoulder, cutting him off.“I’m not sure you’re really getting your point across while you sit there chowing down on the orc chops that kid just hunted all by herself,” said Vera, one of his party members.Reflexively, Bart looked down at the orc bone he was gripping in his left hand. He was already on his third, and his next portion was nearly done roasting.“Forgive me.” Mile said. “I signaled to the wagons behind us, but I forgot about the people in the wagon I was riding in! I’ll be more careful in the future.”The group had grown quiet, and Bart decided it was time to back down.It wasn’t that he wanted to pick on the girl. He was simply concerned for Mile, and with the importance of maintaining a strong chain of command while coordinating three separate parties. Mile understood this perfectly, and her apology was sincere.“As long as you understand that, we’re fine. Go ahead and eat. You’re the one who hunted these guys, after all.”With Bart’s permission, Mile began to eat. But just as she did, the Dragonbreath second-in-command, the swordsman Callum, started on her.“Oy, where’d you learn to swing a sword like that? How’d you cut three orcs clean in half?”He hadn’t been drinking, but his eyes had a glazed look.“I-I’m short, and I can’t reach their necks, so I just cut at their bodies—”“That’s not what I’m asking! Quit acting like you don’t know!”Mile fretted and Vera, the archer, came to her defense.“Now, now. Don’t bother that girl. No one likes a pushy guy.”Callum grumbled and pulled away, refusing to meet Vera’s eye.“Phew. Thank you so much, Miss Vera!”Relieved, Mile tried to extend her thanks.“Whatever. It’s no big deal. I was wondering, anyway—when we got there, you were already jumping out with your sword and the first three orcs were already down. Those wounds didn’t look like they were caused by magic. What kind of crazy attack did you use?”Uh-oh.As Mile backed away, something soft smacked her in the back. She turned around, breaking into a cold sweat. Jeanie, the magic user, had clamped both her hands on Mile’s shoulders and was grinning widely.“Was it magic? Was it some super cool magic?”“Aaaaaaaahhh!”It was going to be a little while before Mile could get her hands on that meat.

***

Average 2.6

Chapter 15:

Escort Mission

After three days’ rest, the Crimson Vow found themselves back at the guildhall, ready to take on another job.
During their break, they’d received message after message from the Abbot Company, begging them to sell the rock lizards. The girls turned them all down, protesting that they had only “inferior goods worth less than sixty percent of the market value.” When, after several of these exchanges, the courier finally told them that the merchant would buy the lizards for 15 half-gold, the girls responded that the guild had offered them 20. Finally, the owner himself paid them a visit.
“I’ll pay you 21 half-gold,” he pleaded.
“Unfortunately, we already sold them to the guild for 20. Even though we would have sold them to you for 15 at the start. I suppose it wasn’t meant to be…” Pauline replied.
The man gritted his teeth, returning back home empty-handed.
An average merchant would be able to buy rock lizards at 25 to 28 half-gold apiece. If they were divided up and sold piecemeal as a luxury good, they could sell for 40 or more. If they managed to buy the lizards at 15—an already discounted price from the market value of 20 half-gold—then they could turn a profit of 25 half-gold each, which was about 250,000 yen, in Japanese terms. If the merchant had known the girls didn’t have just three rock lizards, but many many more, he would have fallen even farther into despair.
But, he reaped what he’d sowed.
When the merchant learned that the guild was selling heaps of rock lizards every week, and stood in line to discover that his company alone was prohibited from buying them, his face was a sight to behold.

“All right, let’s find our next job,” said Reina.
Everyone nodded and began scanning the board.
After several minutes, Reina’s eyes paused on one of the postings.
“Hmm…”
“Is something wrong?” Mile asked Reina, who appeared deep in thought.
“The pay on this job seems a little too high for what they’re requesting. I wonder if there’s some extra condition…”
Escort request. 9 days’ round trip to Amroth, including 1 day’s rest. C-rank or higher, 12 units requested. Reward: 24 half-gold each. Bonus for B-rank or higher.
It was a job of eight days, one that might put their lives in danger, and it would earn them twenty-four half-gold a piece. That was three half-gold a day. Compared to the value of one’s life, it seemed rather low.
However, it was also unlikely that they would see combat daily. On the contrary, there was an overwhelmingly high chance that they might travel the entire distance without a single incident at all. If the road were so dangerous that you could be attacked every time you traveled on it, no sensible merchant would take that route.
But without an escort, the possibility of being assailed by bandits rose steeply. There was also a chance that, with only merchants and drivers, they would be injured by monsters that hunters could have kept at bay. Because of that possibility, it was a matter of course to hire an escort guard in proportion to the size of the merchant party.
However, normally the pay was lower: just two half-gold pieces a day.
“I wonder if we should look into this…” murmured Reina, already heading toward the reception counter. Mile followed hurriedly behind.
“Oh yes, that escort job…” said the receptionist, Laylia, scrunching her nose at Reina’s inquiry. “To tell you the truth, the road to Amroth is haunted…”“By g-g-ghosts?!” Mile interjected from beside her.
Reina smacked her on the head.
“D-don’t be stupid! What is it actually haunted by?”
Reina looked a bit queasy.
Huh? Don’t tell me that Reina’s…
“A-actually, yes. Ghosts…”
“Eeeek!!”
“…are nowhere to be seen! Er, oh no, I’m so sorry!”
Laylia had meant it as a joke, but seeing that Reina and Pauline appeared genuinely frightened, she hurried to apologize.
“I-It’s bandits! Bandits! Apparently they’ve been appearing in greater numbers lately, coming in from another country. Because of that, it’s hard to recruit people without raising the reward, and the standard rate has gone up a bit. Also, because merchants have been avoiding the road and there are fewer wagons traveling on it, inevitably there are fewer guards on it as well. There’s a strong possibility that you will be attacked, and I would recommend you all leave this one alone. Even five times the reward wouldn’t be worth the danger.”
Taking Laylia’s information to heart, the girls moved away from the counter.

Bandits rarely appeared in large groups.
If they traveled in large numbers, attacking just a single wagon wouldn’t make them enough profit to share. Then they’d have no choice but to increase their attacks, launching more assaults, or attacking larger merchant bands. And if they did that, they were sure to encounter a great number of escorting hunters, meaning that their group would suffer many casualties.
If the bandits killed too many merchants, commerce would grind to a halt, and the crown (or the local lords) would be forced to take action and mount a large-scale opposition to root the bandits out.
Because of that, bandit groups tended to be small and well spread out.
Only those who skimped on their escorts, or had particularly bad luck, would suffer from occasional attacks. As long as a merchant was properly prepared, they normally passed unharried. Most bandits would overlook a more formidable target in favor of easy prey.
Even if you were attacked, while the guards might be killed in combat, those who didn’t take part in the fight—the merchants, the drivers, and any passengers—could generally give up their possessions and escape unharmed. After all, if you were likely to be killed even if you surrendered, you’d fight to the very last and set fire to your cargo in one final act of retaliation. The bandits’ casualties would increase, and their profit would amount to nothing.
For the escorting hunters, sparing any bandits that surrendered reduced casualties on both sides. As for the merchants, if they worked hard they could earn back the cost of a lost wagon, provided they escaped with their lives.
Therefore if the client consented, and the hunters in charge of an escort decided to surrender, then the hunters still received their proper pay, without penalties. While the escort might not have been a success, they had performed their duty to the best of their abilities.
But in this case, it seemed that the bandits—operating in large-scale groups and moving in from other countries—were migratory. Raiding without setting up a permanent base. This meant they killed everyone: merchants, drivers, and guards alike. It was likely they planned to make as much as they could, then move on to some other land before a suppression force could be organized. After all, it took time for the local governments, or even the crown, to mobilize.

“Let’s take the job.”
“Huh?”
“If we dress Mile up in something cute and have her sit up by the driver, I bet we can attract even more bandits.”
The other three were stunned at Reina’s proposal.
“B-but, that sounds dangerous…”
“Yes! And it’s not even worth the pay.”
“If we’re away for nine days, that’s a waste of our inn fees…”
At Pauline, Mavis, and Mile’s grumbling, Reina raised her voice, sounding angry.
“Did you all not agree to take on an escort job?! You said you would leave it to me.”
“We did, but we thought it would be a normal escort job. It wouldn’t be so bad to take on an escort request one day, and if we took one a little sooner then we’d get used to the process. Gain some experience fighting other people. But the possibility of getting attacked on this job is way higher than usual, the pay is too low to be worth it, and the bandits are traveling in huge groups. There’s no need for us to stick our necks out just for kicks. There are other escort requests. I don’t think we need to go leaping into such a big job.”
Mavis voiced her opposition, followed by Pauline.
“I-I agree.”
“What’s more,” Mavis continued, “I’m sure the day will come when we’ll have to kill someone. But when that time comes, we have to make our own decisions. How can we do that if we can’t say, ‘We made the judgment, and I know it was the right one. I have no regrets’?
“Are you even interested in the guard duty, Reina? Or do you want us to take this job just so we can kill bandits? You want to force us into our ‘first time killing a man’ rather than let it come around when it does. And on top of that…”
Pausing only to take a breath, Mavis continued.
“What on earth was that ‘dress Mile in cute clothes and put her up by the driver’ thing about? Fighting the bandits should be our last resort. We should use the power of intimidation to keep the bandits from attacking in the first place. And you’re suggesting that we ask to be attacked by showing that there are no guards around and a little girl present?
“Besides, what are you going to do if the wagons or cargo are lost or damaged? What if the client or the drivers are injured or killed? Why the hell do you want to do something that would purposely put everyone in danger? It’s the exact opposite of our goal. What about Mile, dressed like that, having to fight a swarm of bandits without any armor? Did you even think about that?”Reina stood silently, hanging her head, as Mavis threw one last jab.
“Why are you being such a fool?”
Reina stood quietly for several more seconds, then turned on her heel and ran.
“Reina…”
In a corner of the guildhall, the three remaining members of the Crimson Vow stood still as statues.

Reina returned sometime before dinner.
A hunter’s body was her bread and butter, and she wouldn’t allow her own ego to cheat her out of a meal. Eating elsewhere would be a breach of loyalty toward the inn, and Reina was most definitely the type to worry over such details.
“……”
Reina ate her meal without talking. Finally, Mavis spoke up.
“Reina…”
“……”
Reina ignored her, and continued to eat.
“We took the job. We leave tomorrow morning, so try not to oversleep.”
Reina spat out her food.
“Gaaaaah!! Reina, that’s disgusting!”
“Aaaah, my food!!!”
Mile and Mavis squealed. Pauline had somehow managed to hold her plate far enough away to escape being sprayed.
“I thought you all said we couldn’t take that job!”
“Wahaha! It wasn’t true!”
As Reina glared at her, Mile quickly ducked behind Mavis.
“I was just raising a few concerns for you to consider—but I don’t recall ever saying we wouldn’t take the job. And then, you disappeared before we could talk about it, so the three of us thought it over and came to the conclusion that we may as well take it… what’s that look for?”
Reina glared as Mavis breezily waved off her earlier concerns.
“S-so you were just badmouthing me…? Then, what happened to all those objections of yours?!”
“Oh, it’s fine. We took everything into account and decided that the job was still within the realm of possibility for us.”
“What is with you guys?”
Reina grumbled and fussed, and someone tapped her on the shoulder from behind. She turned to see little Lenny, who grinned before shoving a water bucket and rag her way.
“Sorry…”

***

After Reina had rushed out of the guildhall, the other three were greatly troubled.
It was clear that she was obsessing over something. However, they couldn’t do whatever Reina wanted just to make her happy. That might put their party on an unthinkable path, and if Reina wouldn’t listen to their concerns then they weren’t truly friends, much less the Crimson Vow.
After thinking for a while, Mavis spoke.
“We should find out more about that request.”
She went back to Laylia, the clerk, and asked to meet with the client so that she could hear more about it for herself.
Luckily, the day was still young, and there was plenty of time.

“I see. So that’s how it is then. Are you sure you’re all right with this?”
“Huh? No, actually it would be a big help for us, as long as you’re sure it’s okay.”
“On the other hand, this place…”
“Huh?! But the budget…”
“If we fail then we won’t get anything, right?”
“Hrm, you’ve got me there…”
“Well, then. How about this?”
“What?! What is that?! Are you serious?”
“Yes, it’s fine.”
“In that case… we had planned to delay our departure until we gathered more guards, but now I suppose we can head out right away. Is that acceptable?”
“No problems here. We are the Crimson Vow, and we’re ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”
Later that morning, the three girls borrowed the guild meeting room to have a chat with the two men and talked until they reached an arrangement that satisfied both parties.

***

“I want to thank you most sincerely for taking on this request. I know that it does not come under the best of circumstances.”
Early the following morning, the merchant party made their introductions in the city square. There were six wagons in the caravan with one driver for each, and four merchants altogether.
The merchants seemed to be long-time companions, and the meet-and-greet was more for the benefit of the escorting hunters. There was no need for the guards to get too friendly with the merchants, but it was necessary for the hunters to get to know one another’s strengths and skills—for assigning and coordinating roles. Even if it only slightly increased their chances of making it safely through the next nine days, it was worth taking the time to do it before their departure.
“Some of you weren’t present when the request was accepted. You may have heard some of the details from your leaders, but allow me to give a brief overview.”
It seemed Reina wasn’t the only one yet to receive a direct explanation. Clearly there were other parties where only a few representatives had gone to negotiate.
“Amroth,” the merchant continued, “is four days away, making for an eight-day round trip. Upon arrival, we’ll be stopping for one day, during which you’ll be free to do as you like. Now, as you all may have noticed, the reward for this job is 50 percent higher than standard. The reason for this, as I’m sure you’ve already heard from your companions, is that this route has recently been plagued by a rather large-scale bandit operation.”
Here, the head of the merchant group paused to look over the group of hunters, but no one appeared to be surprised. They’d all heard about the situation from their leaders. The Crimson Vow had filled Reina in the previous night.
“That’s not all. A number of people are suffering because of the decrease in the number of merchants, thanks to the bandits. For their sake, our group is not carrying expensive luxury items, but absolute necessities, including critical medical supplies and specialty tools for craftsmen. In addition to transporting these goods, we have one more important goal. That is…”
The client looked over the group again.
“We aim to wipe out the bandits.”
That was the merchant group’s true aim, just as Mile and company had heard last night.
“It is going to take some time before either the national or regional governments are prepared to do anything about this. If we wait, business in Amroth will be completely cut off. We’ve mobilized this group with the assumption that we will come under attack. If nothing happens, we’ll proceed with our business as usual. However, if we do come under attack, we intend to fight to the end.
“Though we’ve yet to confirm the numbers, estimates say there are at least twenty bandits. I have faith that our group of twelve hunters—one B-rank and eleven C-ranks, including four magic users—will be more than enough to take these scoundrels down.
“This information wasn’t included in the job posting because we assumed that the bandits might very well have allies passing through the guildhall. Therefore, we requested that the details be given only at the clerk’s discretion, to hunters who approached them about the job. There were four other parties who inquired and were turned away, as well as one more that we had to decline when we judged they were lacking in power.
“We understand that, considering our true aim, the promised reward is relatively low. However, the requested goods promise a very low return, meaning that we couldn’t set aside more even if we wished to. For merchants, it is a point of pride not to engage in business that we know from the outset will put us in the red. We kindly beg your forgiveness.”
The client cast a glance at his fellow merchants, who nodded in agreement. Then he turned his attention back to the hunters.
“On the other hand, should a battle arise, there is no need for you to focus on protecting us. We will simply barricade ourselves inside the cargo wagons and ready our swords. It’s an advantageous position, so if any bandits try to lift the cargo from the wagon, we can probably take them. Besides, it’s more likely that they won’t be interested in stealing during a battle. They can see to that once all their opponents are gone.
“Therefore, you may keep all of your focus on annihilating our opponents. Even if we’re taken hostage, pay us no mind. If we surrender, I’m confident—based on what I’ve heard—that they will still kill us.
“That’s all for now. Does anyone have any questions?”
The guards gaped. The client’s request—to prioritize slaying the bandits over protecting the merchants—was completely unprecedented. Moreover, this was the first time that any of them had heard about this aspect of the job.
“Why would you go this far?”
The question came from one of the three parties that had accepted the job, a trio of young men in their late teens.
“Er, well, the reason is… if I may be so bold as to say, it’s just that, well… we’re merchants, and Amroth has always been a prosperous place for us…”
“That’s ridiculous! You’re all idiots!”
This was the fellow who appeared to be the leader of the third party, a group consisting of three men and two women somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties. He guffawed loudly, but the woman standing beside him cut in.
“Well then, what does that make you, the one who accepted this job?”
“Isn’t it obvious? A big fat idiot!”
The five members of the party laughed uproariously. It seemed like they were always this way.
The leader of the third party turned serious, looking to the rest of the hunters.
“Now then, how about we introduce ourselves? I’m Bart, the leader of Dragonbreath. I’m a swordsman, B-rank. Seems like I’m the only B-rank here. And since it appears that we’re also the biggest party here, I’d like it if you left the escort planning and battle tactics to me. Any objections?”
Heads shook, and seeing there were no dissenters, Bart continued.
“Our other members are Callum, the swordsman; Fargus, the lancer; Vera, the bow-and-short-sword wielder; and Jeanie, the magic user. Jeanie specializes in combat magic, but don’t expect too much from her in terms of healing.”
Next, the trio of young men introduced themselves.
“I’m Brett, the leader of the Flaming Wolves. Me and Chuck here are both swordsmen. Daryl’s our spear guy.”

“Er…”
A few of the others cut in. They couldn’t help it. No matter how you looked at it, their team balance was horrible.
Generally speaking, a reasonable size for an F to C-rank party was five to seven members. If you were B-rank or above, you might have even more on your roster. With only four people, you could really only take on low-level monsters, but so long as you were skilled, you would be fine. With eight or more you would have to split into two groups, or keep some members as reserves. That is, if they weren’t already near retirement and just sticking around to mentor younger hunters.
When it came to parties, it was dangerous to have too few members. But if you had too many, there wasn’t enough money to go around and it was easy to fall into interpersonal conflicts. If there was a fixed reward and you had a large group of people, then each individual’s share would go down.
And then there was the matter of balance, unrelated to the number of members.
Take two parties. In party A, you have a swordsman, a lancer, an archer, and a mage. In party B, you have a swordsman, a swordsman, a swordsman, and a swordsman. Which of these parties will do better as hunters? The answer should be clear.
Considered from this perspective, the balance of the Flaming Wolves was horrendous. More than that, they had only three members. It was thoroughly puzzling, no matter who you asked.
“We know. Our balance and our numbers are terrible. Up until just a few months ago, we had two girls with us too, an archer and a mage.”
“What happened to them?” Mile asked, innocently.
The others looked aghast, but it was too late.
“A party of four handsome guys came calling, and they ran off! The other day they came crawling back, all, ‘Let’s team up again!’ But we refused. We’re not interested in dragging pregnant women off to battle, and we have no intention of raising other men’s kids!”
“I… I see…”
A deep silence fell over the group, but Mavis broke it handily.
“W-we are the Crimson Vow. I am Mavis, a sword-wielder and our leader. These two are Reina and Pauline, our mages. And this is Mile, the magic swordswoman.”
“Magic swordswoman?” the Flaming Wolves asked in unison.
Apparently, while Dragonbreath had been present at the graduation exam, the Flaming Wolves had not. It was no surprise that the larger party weren’t shocked to see such young girls taking on an escort role.
As it happened, the client had also been watching the exam. If not, he probably would have hesitated, if not outright refused, to let the Crimson Vow take on this request, when only Mavis appeared to be of age.
“Yes,” Mile said. “I’m fairly good at magic, and also at using a sword. So don’t worry about stopping for water along the way!”
Seeing the haughty looks on the Flaming Wolves’ faces, Dragonbreath shared a wry smile.
“Reina does combat magic, and Pauline’s specialty is healing. She can also use a decent level of support and combat magic, so she’s kind of an all-purpose magician…”
“What? That’s amazing! We figured a bunch of little girls would be dead weight, but I guess you could be pretty useful,” said the Flaming Wolves’ lancer.
His leader gave him a nudge, but Mavis kept smiling. She knew how their party appeared to outsiders.
After exchanging a bit more information about magical specialties and the like, the group departed. From the outset, it was determined the guards would ride in the wagons with the merchants. This way, they could move quickly and save energy to fight if needed. Normally, you’d want the guards to be a bit more conspicuous to ward off danger, but that was hardly a concern in this case.
The first of the six wagons carried three members of Dragonbreath, while the remaining two sat in the second. The three Flaming Wolves sat in the rear wagon, and all four members of the Crimson Vow rode in the fourth.
They were positioned so that, if the caravan were attacked from the side, they could all respond together. Even if they were attacked from the front or back, there were still people who could react right away. In that event, those at the opposite end were instructed not to rush to assist. This wasn’t a matter of distance, but of strategy: it was a common bandit tactic to launch a second attack at one end while the fighting force was focused at the other.
It was possible that Bart had placed the Crimson Vow strategically too, positioning the young girls at the center where it was the safest. While he surely knew in his heart that the Flaming Wolves were probably the weakest link, his paternal instincts demanded that the Crimson Vow were protected.
The Flaming Wolves might be in their teens, but they were most certainly adults, and had not complained at their positioning.

On the first day out of the capital, they weren’t assailed by either bandits or monsters, and made it to the spot where they would camp without incident.
The merchants slept wrapped in blankets in the crooks of their wagons. While it was cramped, it was preferable to sleeping outside. The drivers slept on the ground, with one blanket beneath them and one on top. The same was true for the hunters. If it rained, they would sleep beneath the wagons, or under a tree.
As for Mile and the other girls…
“Hey, what the heck is that?”
“Huh? It’s just a normal tent and bedroll and blankets…”
“Where on earth were you keeping that?!”
The youths of the Flaming Wolves had questions. The cargo in the wagons was packed in tight with just enough room for the merchants to sleep. Everyone else had disembarked for the night. There was no room for the Crimson Vow to pack such bulky personal items.
After using the last of the light to complete their preparations for the evening, everyone sat down to dinner. The merchants provided meals for the journey, but they were all cheap fare: things that were easily preserved, light, and didn’t take up much space. Which is to say, there wasn’t much variety. Yes, it was their old pals: hardtack and jerky, with a side of dried vegetables dissolved into hot water as a “soup.” The portions were far from filling.
Still not too far from poverty, Mile and company would take whatever they could get. They accepted their hardtack and jerky, but handed it all over to Mile, who placed it inside her loot box. She stumbled away for a moment and returned with two jackalopes in each hand.
Mavis prepared the meat with a kitchen knife that Mile had produced from somewhere or other, while Reina grilled over a conjured bonfire. A delicious aroma filled the air…
“Would you all like some?”
At Mile’s invitation, the other hunters—who had been circling at a distance—rushed over.
(Mavis had switched from her short sword to a kitchen knife for cooking because, somehow, Mile had been able to sense a faint weeping coming from somewhere—asking why such a beautiful blade was being used for basic chores. The noise had made her uneasy.)
When the jackalope meat ran out, it seemed that not everyone had eaten their fill, so Mile pulled a portion of orc meat and some toasted rock lizard out of her loot box.
“What? St-storage magic?”
This time, both the Flaming Wolves and Dragonbreath expressed their amazement. At their initial meeting only Bart, the Dragonbreath leader, had heard about Mile’s storage magic. It was a rare skill, and she hadn’t shown it off at the graduation exam.
Out of pride, the merchants (who had provided the original meal) had not come for any of the rabbit. However, seeing what came next, they couldn’t help themselves. The whole merchant party, drivers included, approached.
“Storage magic sure is handy…”
Their jealousy was evident in their voices. An ability like that was every merchant’s dream.
“M-might we have some meat as well?” the merchants asked, and everyone chowed down together.
This time they used magic to round up the scent particles, explaining to the others that the smell wouldn’t attract any monsters and they could eat without a care.
Afterward, they provided hot showers to anyone who wanted one.
The two women from Dragonbreath, Vera and Jeanie, gladly accepted.
Finally, Bart uttered the words that so many others had said before:
“What useful girls you all are…”

When they gathered for breakfast the following morning, the merchants’ eyes nearly popped out of their heads.
“Wh-wh-what is going on here?”
Brett, the leader of the Flaming Wolves, was trembling violently. Several others were in the same state. Only the lead merchant and Bart, the leader of Dragonbreath, appeared relatively unshaken. They, at least, already understood. The shocking sight they all had seen was…
Mile and Reina wearing Eckland Academy uniforms, and Pauline wearing a gym outfit from the same school.
It was Reina’s bandit-fishing plan.
During her time at boarding school, Mile wore her uniforms day in and day out, so they had worn out quickly. Through numerous exchanges, she’d lost possession of one that fit properly, ending up with a uniform that was a little bit too big. This fit Reina perfectly. And, since the person who had proposed the plan was in no position to refuse, the reluctant Reina had been forced into wearing it.
Despite pretending to hate the uniform, Mavis noticed that Reina actually seemed thrilled with it.
Pauline was less than thrilled.
At school, the only times that Mile wasn’t wearing her uniform (i.e. when she was sleeping) was when she wore her gym clothes. They were stretchy, and even when the size was a little off, you could still wear them comfortably.
But when Pauline wore it…it was bulging. There, there, and especially there…
“Nooooo!”
Mavis, the only one to escape from Mile’s school uniform fashion show, thanked her lucky stars she was too big to fit in any of Mile’s outfits. Reina’s cheeks were a bit pink, while Pauline’s face was completely red. Mavis looked on, uncomfortable. Only Mile continued as usual.
After they’d eaten and packed up, the four girls of the Crimson Vow set up beside the drivers of the first four wagons, one on each seat as they set out again.
“Please watch over me!” said Mile, beaming.
The elderly driver of the first wagon smiled back and replied, “Oh, sure thing. And thank ye fer the meat last night!”
Mile chatted with the driver to pass time. He showed her how to drive the wagon, and she asked why someone of his age was still working as a driver.
“Well now, I already done well retired, but I heard they was lookin’ fer drivers to take some wagons to Amroth. I thought to myself, well if them folks are goin’ down a dangerous road, better it be us old timers who ain’t afraid to die. Seems like some of them other folks thought the same. Fer these six wagons, there’s four of us old vets like me.
“Plus, my little girl ’n her husband do business out in Amroth. If they stepped outta town to get supplies or what have ye and got attacked, they’d be in a heap of trouble. I ain’t got much longer here, so if I got a chance to die fer a cause then… the goddess sure knows how t’ grant an old man some peace in style. Bwa-ha-ha!”
“A-ah…”
Mile nodded at the old man’s words, thinking that he would not be dying on this road. Not if there was anything she could do to prevent it.

There were a number of reasons why this job posting had caused Mavis, Pauline, and Mile some concern. Of course there was the matter of Reina, but that alone wasn’t enough to change their minds.
Their first concern was that the reward was far too low for the requested work. In this case, it wasn’t because the merchants were crooked, but rather because travel to Amroth was so difficult that only the most necessary goods were requested. These items carried a slim profit margin, so the budget was very tight on the whole. And, no matter how much effort they might go to for valued customers, there was no way a merchant would make a deal that would lose them money. So the girls understood why the pay was so low. It was something else that made them question whether they should take the job.
It was the question of killing bandits.
On a normal escort job, going out intending to kill bandits—and especially going out of your way to attract them—was preposterous. However, if that was the intention, then the task could be viewed as extermination duty on top of guard duty, at 1.5 times the normal pay. If it was truly the clients’ desire to attract bandits, this was no issue.
Lastly, there was the matter of taking a job with the strong chance they’d be thrust into combat.
Of course, they could never know with 100 percent certainty that they would be attacked. It was possible the bandits had just finished attacking another caravan. Even bandits couldn’t possibly work every day. And there was a chance that the bandits might have already moved on to another country.
Really, this was a standard escort job with a heightened chance of being ambushed. What happened was completely up to fate. Still, Mile, Mavis, and Pauline had very different opinions on that point, so they tried not to discuss it too deeply.
Mavis was exempted from the “cute clothes plan” because, as an advance guard fighter, her gear took the longest to put on. In addition, she simply couldn’t wear Mile’s clothing. The magicians required little time to prepare their gear, so they all participated at Mile’s insistence—perhaps because she was embarrassed at the prospect of being the only one in school girl’s clothes.
As the progenitor of this plan, Reina had no right to object and, dogged by her companions, Pauline couldn’t escape either—even if it meant having to wear a tired old gym uniform. Mavis, concerned that the slightest comment might get her sucked into the maelstrom, did her best to remain uninvolved.
And so it was determined that Reina, Pauline, and Mile would wear Mile’s clothing from her academy days—along with their own boots, which were a bit awkward to change out of. Their footwear would be the only thing that might mark them as hunters.
They hadn’t worn these outfits on the first day because they were still close to the capital, where the chance of bandits appearing was low. But the number one reason was simply ego—if their acquaintances from the city saw them dressed like this, they would never live it down!
They practiced again and again until they were able to don their gear in a matter of moments. As long as they weren’t struck by a surprise ambush, they would be prepared to fight.
In any case, the magic users were never meant to be involved in close-range combat. Even their leather armor could not offer total protection against sword and spear. For them, gear was something of an afterthought.
Even as Mile chatted with the driver she secretly cast surveillance spells and, finally, a ping attracted her attention.
Hmm, looks like…orcs, perhaps? Six of them.
Mile leapt from the cab onto the tarp covering the wagon, giving a hand signal to the others behind.
The wagons following her came to a gentle halt. Then, Mile climbed back down to the cab and directed the driver to stop. She jumped down from the wagon and ran ahead.
There they are!
Mile hid behind a big tree and peeked around.
There were six orcs, just as she’d predicted. Perhaps they’d spotted the wagons from an elevated place and were lying in wait—or perhaps they’d simply stumbled upon them. Either way, if the wagons proceeded they would encounter the orcs. She had to fight them here.
There was no point in conveying this to the other hunters. With that in mind, Mile pulled the slingshot from her loot box and gripped it in her left hand, taking out an iron sphere about the size of a pachinko ball.
It’s funny to think that these bullets look so much like the balls you use in the game. Perhaps there’s some connection? Here, the stakes are somewhat higher…
Pondering this, Mile inserted the metal ball into the pouch of the slingshot. She didn’t use pebbles here, worried they might shatter and end up dispersed throughout the orc’s thick flesh. If someone were to crunch down on a rock in a piece of orc meat, it wouldn’t just be unpleasant. Since this world had no real dentists, you’d be out of luck if you cracked a tooth… unless maybe, it could be restored with healing magic? Or re-grown in place of the old one? Either way, Mile had no desire to find out. Worse, what if you chewed up a rock? Would you absorb the minerals?
Her thoughts grew stranger and stranger, so she decided to stop thinking.
As she wasn’t gathering small animals, she held her left hand out as far as she could and moderated her right hand, drawing the carbon nanotubes back to two-thirds of their maximum stretch.
Aim steady…
Whoosh!
…Bang!
Whoosh!
…Bang!
Whoosh!
…Bang!
The sounds of firing rang out three times each before Mile flew out of the shadows, brandishing her sword.
As the remaining orcs puzzled over how their companions were suddenly spewing blood from massive holes in their guts, two more orc heads were blown away and the three remaining orcs were driven into a frenzy.
In truth, when Mile saw the bullet fly into the first orc’s gut, she realized that she had mistakenly ruined the best of the meat—so she shifted her aim to the heads. Could she truly be so calm in the face of danger? Perhaps she just had food on the brain…
In any event, Mile flew toward the raging orcs and dashed between them, her sword swinging.
Slash!
Thud! Ka-thunk!
Behind her, the top halves of the three orcs separated from the bottoms and fell to the ground, oozing blood. Not a drop splashed onto Mile’s clothing.
“Y-you…”
Hearing a voice behind her, Mile turned to see Dragonbreath—their mouths half-open, staring in awe at Mile, who stood before the corpses of a half dozen orcs.

***

“Why would you go out there by yourself?!”
That evening, as they made camp, Mile got a stern lecture from Bart.
“If you spot orcs, you report them to me first! We were right behind you—with just a curtain in between us! Why wouldn’t you say something before you jumped out?!”
“I-I’m sorry…”
“I’m not looking for your apologies! Explain yourself!”
Humiliated, Mile had no choice but to tell the truth.
“Well, suppose, Mr. Bart, that you were in the middle of an escort job, and you were walking along at the front of the line, when suddenly you saw some young jackalopes in the middle of the road.”
“O-okay…”
Bart was a little perplexed as to why they were suddenly talking in hypotheticals, but he didn’t want to interrupt, so he listened.
“What would you do?”
“Well, I would just kick them out of the way, and… wait, don’t tell me—!”
“You wouldn’t bother making a fuss and calling everyone over, would you?”
“Are you trying to tell me that a horde of six orcs is the same to you as some baby jackalopes?! Honestly, how am I supposed to manage this young C-rank girl, just doing whatever—”
Someone patted Bart on the shoulder, cutting him off.
“I’m not sure you’re really getting your point across while you sit there chowing down on the orc chops that kid just hunted all by herself,” said Vera, one of his party members.
Reflexively, Bart looked down at the orc bone he was gripping in his left hand. He was already on his third, and his next portion was nearly done roasting.
“Forgive me.” Mile said. “I signaled to the wagons behind us, but I forgot about the people in the wagon I was riding in! I’ll be more careful in the future.”
The group had grown quiet, and Bart decided it was time to back down.
It wasn’t that he wanted to pick on the girl. He was simply concerned for Mile, and with the importance of maintaining a strong chain of command while coordinating three separate parties. Mile understood this perfectly, and her apology was sincere.
“As long as you understand that, we’re fine. Go ahead and eat. You’re the one who hunted these guys, after all.”
With Bart’s permission, Mile began to eat. But just as she did, the Dragonbreath second-in-command, the swordsman Callum, started on her.
“Oy, where’d you learn to swing a sword like that? How’d you cut three orcs clean in half?”
He hadn’t been drinking, but his eyes had a glazed look.
“I-I’m short, and I can’t reach their necks, so I just cut at their bodies—”
“That’s not what I’m asking! Quit acting like you don’t know!”
Mile fretted and Vera, the archer, came to her defense.
“Now, now. Don’t bother that girl. No one likes a pushy guy.”
Callum grumbled and pulled away, refusing to meet Vera’s eye.
“Phew. Thank you so much, Miss Vera!”
Relieved, Mile tried to extend her thanks.
“Whatever. It’s no big deal. I was wondering, anyway—when we got there, you were already jumping out with your sword and the first three orcs were already down. Those wounds didn’t look like they were caused by magic. What kind of crazy attack did you use?”
Uh-oh.
As Mile backed away, something soft smacked her in the back. She turned around, breaking into a cold sweat. Jeanie, the magic user, had clamped both her hands on Mile’s shoulders and was grinning widely.
“Was it magic? Was it some super cool magic?”
“Aaaaaaaahhh!”
It was going to be a little while before Mile could get her hands on that meat.

***

It’s a good thing I prepared my slingshot…
Hoping to escape from Vera and Jeanie’s interrogation, Mile produced her weapon and showed them it was not magic. Merely a simple, almost toy-like, tool. Yet, rather than diverting their interest, this—just like with Reina—made them inquisitive as to how something so simple could produce such power.
And, just like Reina, as soon as they learned they absolutely could not use it themselves, their interest swiftly flagged. As it turned out, Mile’s experience with Reina had come in handy. It seemed that this old dog could learn new tricks, after all.
It was considered taboo to inquire into another hunter’s background and experience, and Callum, Vera, and Jeanie’s intensive questioning was clearly against the rules. Enough that Mile, were she so inclined, could request a formal apology from Dragonbreath.
If she and her company were adult men, they probably would have—but then again, if they were adult men, the three hunters likely wouldn’t dare to push so hard. If you were generous, you could argue that they were just shooting the breeze with friends. If you were inclined to be harsh, you might say they were taking advantage of both Mile and the Crimson Vow.
Bart and Mavis should have intervened as the leaders of the two groups. However, Bart was interested in the conversation, and like the others, he saw the members of the Crimson Vow as little girls, not to be taken too seriously.
Mavis could not stomach being belittled by veteran C-rank hunters but, at the same time, she knew that the slingshot was merely a disguise. Mile’s way of using her wind magic without attracting notice. So, she kept quiet. If she truly wanted to earn the respect of the veterans, it would have been better to intervene, but this was a high hurdle for a new leader.
If the interrogators acted in a forceful or threatening manner, one of the Crimson Vow would have intervened. But Vera had already shut Callum down, and their questions had the air of “just a little chitchat between girls,” which made it difficult to step in—even if it was clear this was more than that…
After a few minutes of this, Mile escaped and finally got her hands on some orc meat.
“Time for some grub!”
“Hey, let me see that thing.”
It was Bart.
A look of despair crossed Mile’s face.
“Never mind,” Bart apologized. “You keep eating. I saw when you were showing Vera how to use it, so I think I get the idea…”
No longer able to muster the energy to protest, Mile handed over her slingshot.
Whoosh!
To Mile’s surprise, Bart pulled the strap back with slightly more strength than Mile used in her critter-hunting mode, cracking through a tree branch.
If you thought about it, this wasn’t all that mysterious. On Earth, even normal people used slingshots for hunting. And with nanotubes instead of rubber you could get a fair bit of power, even if you didn’t pull the strap back to its fullest. The difference was that all the others who’d tried didn’t have Bart’s physical strength.
Still, as an archer, Vera, should have had a fair bit of upper body strength. She should have at least been able to stretch the strap back part of the way…
It seemed that Bart was rather extraordinary. In the way that only a B-rank hunter could be.
Fascinated, he began gathering pebbles, but Mile ignored him and focused on her food. Then she attempted to slip back to her tent unnoticed…
“Mileeeey! If you don’t mind?”
“Sure, sure…”
The women of Dragonbreath called for a shower.

The next morning, Mile awoke to a strangely delicious smell.
She dressed herself and went to find Bart roasting meat over the campfire.
Behind him were birds, jackalopes, and foxes.
Whoa…
Apparently, he had been hunting since the crack of dawn.
A swordsman by trade, Bart was in high spirits. He’d quite enjoyed his first experience with long-range hunting.
“This thing is amazing! It makes it so easy to grab prey! If you had this—”
Noooo! Don’t finish that sentence!!!
Ignorant of Mile’s plea, Bart grinned and continued.
“—you wouldn’t even need bows or combat spells!”
Aaaaaand he said it.
Smack!
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Bart turned to find the Dragonbreath’s archer Vera, and their mage Jeanie, glaring down at him.
“Oh.”
The two women dragged him away from the fire, and Mile heard jostling before Bart returned with the borrowed slingshot.
“…Here you go.”
His face appeared somewhat swollen.

It was now the third day since they departed from the capital. If nothing out of the ordinary occurred, they would arrive in Amroth by the evening of the following day.
Though they were a fair distance from the capital, they were still quite a way from Amroth. Today held the greatest likelihood of a bandit attack. With that in mind, the Crimson Vow once again took up their places beside the drivers.
The bandits were free to select the location for their assault. So it was only natural that it would happen somewhere they had the advantage due to terrain or fatigue on the part of the merchant party.
Evening, most likely. When we’re the most tired and just getting ready to settle in for the night… will they strike while we’re still moving? Or when we get to camp?
That was Mile’s thinking. In reality, it was late morning when they appeared.
Her surveillance magic revealed seven human figures in the distance.
That’s fewer than I thought. Are they just a diversion? Is the main party elsewhere?
Figuring that out was a task for their leader. Mile drew back the curtain and gave her report to Bart, who sat in the luggage compartment.
“There are seven people about 300 meters ahead. And they’re not moving.”
“How on earth do you know that?!” Bart looked slightly stunned, but recovered quickly. “Let’s stop for now and get ready. Then we’ll proceed and confirm the group up ahead, keeping an eye on the rear. If they’re bandits, we eliminate them. Even if a fight breaks out, the Flaming Wolves will lie in wait in their wagon. That way, if a separate group ambushes us they can fight them off, and if these guys get too close, they can defend the merchants.”
Of course, the merchants had told their escort not to worry over their protection, but no one could sit by and listen to that kind of talk. They had to defend their clients as much as the circumstances allowed.
Mile nodded at Bart’s instructions, then jumped on top of the tarp and flashed hand signals to the wagons behind. She couldn’t relay Bart’s instructions word for word, but she could get the main points with this simple sign sequence.
As the wagons came to a stop, Mile moved to the fourth wagon to change clothes.
If there’d been no time, the plan was for the men to look away as they changed—or simply don their leather gear on top of the uniforms. However, since they had a few moments, there was no need to change in front of the other hunters. That was by no means a service that Mile was eager to provide.
By the time Mile made it to the fourth wagon, Reina, who had been riding in the third, had already finished changing. Pauline had been in the fourth wagon from the start, and Mavis, who had no need to change, was still in the cab of the second wagon, waiting.
“I guess it’s time…” said Mile.
Reina and Pauline nodded silently.
When they were finished, all three headed toward the first wagon, collecting Mavis along the way. The members of Dragonbreath were already waiting on the ground in front.
The guards began advancing, with only the Flaming Wolves lurking behind in the final wagon—their hidden ace. They had received their orders from Dragonbreath while the girls were changing.
“All right, then. Let’s go!”
“Ah! Please wait a minute!” Mavis interrupted. “Could I persuade you all to let us take care of this part?”
“What?”
“At the moment, it seems like there are only seven bandits up ahead. And we’d like to try get some combat experience. Of course, we’d welcome an assist if it looks like we’re at a disadvantage or if more reinforcements appear… with just us going out at the start, the bandits may get careless. And then, perhaps, the rest of the bandits might be convinced to show themselves as well…”
Bart thought a moment, then agreed.
“Yes. Go on ahead. But if it looks like you’re in danger, we’re going to step in. And if reinforcements appear, then we can’t guarantee you backup. Do you understand?”
“Yes. And please forgive my rudeness. Let’s go!”
The other three nodded at Mavis’s direction. This was the moment they were waiting for.
It was time for the Crimson Vow to have their first real fight.

The six wagons trundled along at a far more leisurely pace than usual. And four young girls walked at the head of the procession.
The five members of Dragonbreath hid in the first and second wagons, ready to mobilize on Bart’s signal.
As they advanced, they came across a log rolled out to block the road. It made it impossible for a wagon to pass, and with such a narrow road, it would be hard to get around it. As the caravan came to a halt, the bandits showed themselves.
“Well, well. You all had better—wha?”
Seeing the Crimson Vow, the bandits froze in place.
“Y’all are hunters? We thought you were some bratty little academy students. Damn. What the hell were those lookouts even spying for?”
The bandits must have been watching from somewhere along the road and selected these wagons as their targets. Normally, the presence of an escort acted as a deterrent, so hiding guards away was unheard of. The bandits simply assumed that their lookouts had made a mistake.
“Whatever. Seeing how young you are, I bet y’all just graduated to D-rank, huh? And there ain’t much you can do with so few. Better surrender now and save yer skins. If you just go ahead and hand over yer gear and yer weapons, along with whatever you get from those merchants, we’ll take that as payment and leave ya alone.”
The man appeared to be the one in charge, but it was clear from his face that the girls would be wise not to trust him.
“That’s what you say,” said Reina, glaring. “But the moment we hand over our weapons, you’ll just capture us and use us for your own amusement—or sell us off as slaves!”
The head bandit gave a thin smile.
“Oh? Well, in that case, we’ll just have to take you by force. Gonna end up the same either way.”
At their leader’s signal, the bandits surrounded the party.
Mavis and Mile readied their swords, while Reina and Pauline began casting their spells.
“Get ’em!”
Several bandits rushed at Reina and Pauline, hoping to stop their incantations, while two more moved on Mile and Mavis to make sure they wouldn’t intervene.
From the bandits’ viewpoint, it made far more sense to be wary of a spell, which had unknown power, compared to a couple of little girls with swords. It would take time for such inexperienced magic users to cast their spells. So long as the bandits moved quickly, they should be able to overwhelm the girls easily.
“Gah!!”
Pauline jabbed her staff into a bandit’s gut, while Reina smashed another in the chin.
“You idiots! If the back-line magicians are in the front, then—guh!!”
“Wh—?!”
The chief bandit took several steps back in a panic, looking at the two bandits who’d been meant to keep Mavis and Mile in check. They were lying on the ground in agony. That left only three bandits—including the chief—standing.
“H-bomb!”
Pauline, who had continued casting through the ruckus, fired her spell.
While it had a rather unsettling name, the spell was nothing more than water, striking with explosive force—nothing involving nuclear fusion.
Obviously Mile had been the one to name it.
She had in mind the kind of bomb she’d seen in comic strips: a round ball with a fuse that had been historically used back on Earth. If such a thing ever made an appearance here, Mile had decided she would call it a “medieval bomb.” Really, it was a particularly primitive thing, so she probably could have called it a “basic bomb” or better yet, just a “bomb.” And one that she’d devised for blowing away groups of kobolds could be called a “kobold bomb.”
In any event, Pauline’s “H-bomb” sent two more of the bandits flying, tossing them into a tree and to the ground respectively. The only bandit left now was the chief. Reina stared him down.
“Hellfi—”
“Stop it!!”
As Mile and Pauline screamed, Mavis jumped over to clamp a hand over Reina’s mouth.
It was that spell. The spell that her opponent in the graduation exam had used. The spell that, if not properly moderated, would burn any opponent to ash.
Judging the situation based on the state of his companions, the chief bandit dropped to the ground, bowing his head.
“Well. It looks like there’s been a mix-up.” Seeing the fight was over, Bart descended from the wagon. “There aren’t any reinforcements, and honestly, these don’t seem like the bandits we were after. They’re probably just a normal raiding party…”
“I guess so.” Mile and Pauline replied, but Reina and Mavis were still scuffling.
“I’m gonna destroy him! Let me destroy him!”
“Stop!!!”

Average 2.5

Chapter 14:

The Client

The Crimson Vow arrived at the Abbot Company, the client that had posted the rock lizard job.
“Pardon me. We’re the hunters who accepted the rock lizard job. We’ve come to deliver our goods.”
Mavis, their leader in all official exchanges, called an employee over.
“Oh, hello! I’ll fetch the owner straight away. Please wait a moment.”
The employee went into the back, and after a short while, a man in his forties emerged. His rotund physique was very much that of a merchant.
“Oh, you’re the hunters who took on my request, are you? You sure look young…”
He spoke with a smile, but there was a suspicious glint in his eyes. For better or worse, they were also very much the eyes of a merchant.
“Yes, we are the Crimson Vow, a C-rank party. We would like to deliver the requested goods and have you sign the job completion certifi—”
“Yes, yes. Where are the goods?”
“Bring it out, Mile.”
“Okay!”
At Mavis’s direction, Mile pulled one of the nicely intact rock lizards out of her loot box.
In this case, “nicely intact” meant the head, body, and tail of the rock lizard, neatly separated into three pieces.
“Oh? Storage magic? I see. That’s how you did it with so few… never mind, that’s impressive!”
It was rare for a merchant to let his true feelings show, but the man showed a hint of real surprise that someone as young as Mile could pull an entire rock lizard out of storage. But just a hint.
He scrutinized the rock lizard, glanced at the four girls and, after some thought, gave his assessment:
“Twelve half-gold.”
“Huh????”
The Crimson Vow shouted in surprise. Mavis was the first to protest.
“B-but why? It’s in almost perfect condition. Why would you subtract so much from the standard reward of fifteen half-gold?”
“Now, look. The head and tail are detached, so you can’t get as big a hide off of it. Plus it’s been, what, at least three days since you hunted it? So the pieces are probably a bit bruised…”
Mavis protested again. “Don’t you chop it up for processing before you skin it anyway?! And it hasn’t even been a full two days since we killed it!”
“Even so, that’s our assessment criteria…” replied the owner calmly.
Mavis protested again, but Pauline reached out and tapped her hand near the wrist. This was another of their signals.
“Um, that isn’t the only lizard we hunted. Is that the price you’ll be offering for each of them?”
“Oh, you’ve got another, do you? Might I see it?”
“Certainly. Mile, please bring out the other two.”
At Pauline’s direction, Mile brought only two more of the lizards out of storage. Their condition was almost exactly the same as the first.
“Oh my! You can hold three of them?!”
This time, the shock on the owner’s face was clear. He gave the lizards a quick once-over and delivered his assessment.
“I’ll give you nine half-gold a piece for these, so thirty altogether. I’d say that’s a pretty good salary for just a few days’ work, wouldn’t you? So, let’s go ahead and get that certificate signed. By the by, I couldn’t persuade you all to join my staff, could I? If you’re on our payroll, you’ll never have to worry about work. You’d be earning a steady salary and could live without a care.”
It was clear that what he was after was Mile’s storage magic, but seeing the way that his glistening eyes roved over their figures, it surely wasn’t the only thing on his mind.
“And the reason that the prices of the second and third one were lower is…?” Pauline asked, straight-faced and ignoring the merchant’s words.
“Ah, well, to tell you the truth, I was being generous with the first one, giving you a good price and taking a loss myself as congratulations for doing such a good job as novices. However, I can’t afford to pay that for the other two…”
It was a lie.
He underestimated them, assumed that because they were young he’d be able to bargain them down. However, if the four of them traveled for days and earned little, they were unlikely to take the job again. So, there was a limit to how far he would go. Now that he knew they had caught three of them, he must have thought he could safely undercut them further, knowing that they’d still earn a decent wage and might come back again in the future.
“I understand,” said Pauline.
The owner’s face beamed brightly.
“Mile, please put all three away.”
“On it!”
At Pauline’s command, Mile stored all three of the lizards away in the blink of an eye.
“Huh…?”
The owner was taken aback. He didn’t understand what was happening.
“It seems that the goods were not in the condition that you desired, so we will consider this job a failure. Now, we shall take our leave.”
As Pauline pressed them all to leave, the owner raised his voice in a panic.
“H-hold it! We’re the ones who requested those, so I can’t allow you to just take them and leave!”
“Oh? You’re only offering 60 percent of the pay promised on the posting, so surely these are no good. Getting a reputation for returning such inferior goods would be an embarrassment for us. Thankfully, since the job completion certificate hasn’t been signed, the contract isn’t complete. We can simply count this job as a loss…
“We deposited the proper two half-gold penalty fee at the guild, so don’t worry about that. Come girls, let’s go home.”
“W-wait! Please wait! Let’s talk this over!”
Ignoring the owner’s shouts behind them, the four girls left the shop.

“I’m sorry I acted on my own in there… we went through all that effort to complete the job, but now we’ve failed it thanks to my indiscretion.”
“What are you saying, Pauline? If you hadn’t refused, I would have. And probably a bit less politely.”
“Exactly! How are we supposed to do business with someone who disrespects us? If we let a guy like him get the jump on us once, then it will keep happening. Good hunters never let someone take advantage of them.”
Pauline tried to apologize again, but Reina and Mavis answered her with smiles.
As for Mile…
“I bet you have another idea, don’t you Pauline?”
Pauline wasn’t the type to ruin a business deal on pride alone. Reina and Mavis should have realized this, too.
Pauline grinned shrewdly.
“Here’s the new plan…”
“There it is!”
Though they meant to say it only in their heads, the three girls spoke aloud, sighing with relief.

***

“Please process this!”
The four girls returned to the hunters’ guild and approached the clerk.
“Nice work, hunters. Let’s see, we’ll process the… huh?”
The certificate had no signature with the assessment fee. The clerk puzzled over the form.
“Ah, yes. It’s incomplete. We failed the request. Please, go ahead and take the two half-gold penalty.”
“Wait… didn’t you say earlier that you’d completed the job?”
Other hunters began to gather around, noticing the rookie party was having trouble. Guild officials began to cluster on the other side of the counter as well.
“To tell you the truth,” Mile explained pitifully, “when the client assessed the goods, he only wanted to pay us nine half-gold, even though the job promised fifteen. We couldn’t in good conscience hand over any goods that were in that poor a condition, so we just took them and left.”
Mile was the perfect actor for this role, although her casting had nothing to do with her acting abilities. As the youngest, she would garner the most sympathy.
“What?! That’s only 60 percent! Miss Reina, did you burn them up with your fire magic?”
“No, though I can see why you might think that…”
As they spoke they motioned the gathered hunters back, and Mile pulled one of the rock lizards out of her loot box, placing it in the space before the counter.
“Wh-what is that?!”
“I’ve never seen such a pristine-looking rock lizard—other than one that was still alive!”
“How on earth did you hunt this thing? And just the two of you with swords…?”
“What? Isn’t taking down a rock lizard pretty simple for two or three C-rank hunters…?” Seeing the hunters’ stunned looks, Mile asked the first question that popped into her head.
“Don’t be ridiculous! That’s just a matter of taking one down. You can fire attack spells from far away, shoot it with arrows and spears from mid-range and then, once it’s weakened, you can approach it close up and hit it with swords. If you approach when it’s lively, the tail poses a serious threat… even a standard-priced rock lizard should be full of holes. This should have garnered a bonus reward for its condition.
“The standard market price is twenty half-gold, but for a premium specimen like this, you should get at least four or five more. Or, if you find a particularly generous buyer, maybe seven or eight more!”
“Wh…”
The girls were flabbergasted. The promised reward was already well below market value…and they were crestfallen to learn that they could have used magic and spared themselves some trouble.
“Honestly, to tell you that the market value was fifteen, and then to assess it for nine! Who was this merchant?!”
“Um, he was with the Abbot Company…”
“Unbelievable! He thought he could take advantage of you girls just because you’re rookies!”
“Underestimating hunters… he made a big mistake!”
The veterans clapped the girls on the shoulders, and both sides of the counter—hunters and guild staff alike—echoed with voices crying out against the Abbot Company.
Everything’s going according to plan…
Inside, the members of the Crimson Vow were laughing.
“Anyway, we do still want to sell this lizard, so…”
“Oh, the guild will take care of that. When the client goes AWOL, the guild exchange normally handles the goods. If you don’t sell it through us, we won’t get a commission, see? If that happens, it won’t contribute to your guild participation points, which you need to get promotions!”
All that went without saying—even little things like jackalopes and herbs earned the guild a commission. If they didn’t, the hall would never have any income. It was difficult for hunters to find a buyer for every item, and so the guild took care of it—in addition to shouldering the risk of unsold merchandise. It was only natural that it should take a commission. The guild wasn’t doing all this out of the goodness of its heart, after all.
The clerk wasn’t about to let the chance of extra money slip out from under her nose. Rock lizards could bring in a nice profit.
Mile and the others looked at each other and nodded.
“We’ll do it. Do you want all of them?”
“Huh? ‘All,’ you say?” the receptionist asked, puzzled.
Mile replied, “Um, yes, well, we have five of them, so…”
“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!”
Mile covered her ears to shield herself from the shouts of the gathered hunters. Perhaps that was too many. On hearing these girls had brought in five rock lizards, the guild erupted into a ruckus.
“S-seriously? There’s no way you girls have five of those things in there, is there?” a veteran hunter asked, trembling.
“Um, yes. We do,” Mile answered, staring blankly. “Is that bad?”
“…………”
“J-just a moment, please!”
The clerk rose from her seat. She had to consult with the guild master.
Even if the prey was unexpected and outside of their normal purview, the guild would normally buy it, so long as they could sell it for a profit.
Rock lizards were popular for cooking, and their claws and hides made good raw material, but since they lived so far away and they were difficult to transport, the guild never received very many. They could definitely sell them. Two or three, at least.
However for five of them, the payout would be huge. The clerk wasn’t sure if the guild could even sell them all before they started going bad. If they could, this would be too great an opportunity to pass up.
It was too big a responsibility for the clerk to make on her own, so she consulted with her superiors. As it turned out, this was a wise decision.
“Right this way, please.”
The clerk returned and guided the members of the Crimson Vow up to a meeting room. There, they were greeted by the master and submaster of the capital’s guildhall.
“Please sit.”
As the four entered the room, the guild master indicated several chairs. The clerk, the guild master, and the submaster sat on the opposite side from them.
“So, Laylia already told me your story, but I must ask—is it true? Do you really have five rock lizards?”
Faced with the guild master, Mile had no choice but to tell the truth.
“No. That was a lie. We don’t actually have five…”
“I-I thought as much. That would be impossible… that number would never fit in storage space,” the submaster said, relieved.
But Mile had not finished speaking.
“Actually, we have twenty-six.”
Bang!
The submaster’s head hit the table.

“You really have that many lizards in there?”
“Yes…”
The guild master, the submaster (who had eventually recovered), and Laylia faced the four girls of the Crimson Vow. Mile, as the holder of the storage magic, was the one to reply.
“Do you have any idea what it means, if you really have that many rock lizards in there?”
“Y-yes. We want to exchange these right away, but you’re not sure whether or not you’ll be able to sell them all, and if you sell them all at once, then the price will go down…”
“That’s not it, you idiot!”
Mile flinched.
“If you can store that much, everyone and their mother is going to be after you! I don’t know if you’d call it luck, but you’re all already famous for what you did at the graduation exam. After seeing the power you displayed battling the Roaring Mithrils, you’ve not only caught the eye of their leader, but also His Majesty the king himself! Even Her Highness the princess is enchanted. I don’t think it’s hard to believe there are more sinister sorts who want to get their hands on you…”
Mavis was the only one not to notice how his gaze flitted her way when he mentioned the princess.
“On top of that, word has spread of how you saved the prep school from being shut down. And so all the graduates of the school, and all the hunters who believed in it, will want to be your allies. Your existence, and all you’re doing now, is proof of just how necessary the school is.”
Mavis, Reina, and Pauline beamed with pride, but Mile just looked on dully.
“The problem here is dishonest folks. That is: idiots, people who don’t know about the graduation exam, and those from other countries. Since your conversation downstairs in front of all those people, it’ll be common knowledge that you can hold at least five rock lizards in your storage. How could you—no, no, it’s fine, I understand. If you didn’t say you had so many, you wouldn’t have been able to exchange them, and it would have been inconvenient later. So, to obscure your true capacity somewhat, you said you had just five. I do understand, but…”
Mile tried to make an excuse, but the guild master pre-empted her.
Even just five rock lizards weighed around two tons—as much as two or three wagons could carry. But that alone wouldn’t be extraordinary enough to attract the attention of nobles and royals. Although not many people in any one country were able to use storage magic, the number of those who could was at least in the double digits. Or so Mile thought.
However, there were also a number of other factors—keywords, if you will. These were words like “secretly,” “impassible by wagons,” “quickly,” “escaping,” “resupplying,” “military,” “four or five hundred kilos, while others carried only a few,” “exclusive,” and “attractive young girl”…
She could travel alone on a fast horse, changing mounts along the way, and two tons of goods would come with her. All without standing out. There wasn’t an aristocrat, royal, or general around who wouldn’t want to make use of that.
“Well anyway, it’s too late for that. Just be careful and, if anything happens, ask for help right away. Do you hear me?!”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right then, that’s all for now. Please, please try not to overdo it!”
“…………”
“Why aren’t you responding?!”
Reina, Mavis, and Pauline all turned to Mile.
“Wh-why is everyone looking at me?!”
The three looked away again, and Mile turned to the guild master.
“U-um, there’s one more thing I’d like to ask…”
“What?”
“Would you consider buying five of the lizards from us at a time, every few days?”
“Huh…?”
Indeed, that matter had yet to be settled.

And so the guild decided to buy five lizards at a time, one batch every week. Buying all of them at once was out of the question: they wouldn’t be able to sell the meat before it spoiled. Besides, flooding the market would cause the price to drop, and the guild would be hard-pressed to explain where so many rock lizards had come from. As one trip should take five days, the interval was more easily explicable.
The guild had no intention of publicizing who brought the lizards in. They had a backup plan in case an explanation was required. Without this, the Crimson Vow wouldn’t be able to show their faces in the capital more than once a week.
The rock lizards came with the stipulation that they absolutely must not go to the Abbot Company, nor any of its affiliates—nor even to anyone who might possibly resell them to the Abbot Company. Each lizard fetched 20 half-gold, or two gold pieces. Selling five at a time, they earned 10 gold a week, and 50 gold altogether—the party’s minimum monthly earning goal for five months combined. It was possible that the price would drop eventually due to oversupply, but this was unavoidable. It would all depend on their negotiations with the guild.
And there was still one lizard that couldn’t be sold, due to its blackened condition. The girls took the tail, which was relatively unscathed, and gave it to the inn as a gift—keeping the rest for themselves.
In less than four weeks, they had exhausted their stock of lizards, but earned their living for the next five months. Even if they overspent a bit on food and clothes, they could still live comfortably for at least three. Only if they got carried away purchasing luxury armor and goods could it could be frittered away in an instant…
To make sure she didn’t have to betray the existence of her loot box, Mile invented a “continuous cooling magic” that kept her storage space insulated. Even this was clearly out of the ordinary, but by this time, everyone was numb to the strangeness of the whole situation and could only shrug it off with a “Why not?”

“I forgot something. We can’t count this job as a loss for you all. It’s clear that the client failed to uphold the terms of the job posting, so you may consider the request cancelled. It will still count as an achievement on your record, and we’ll return your deposit. Furthermore, the client’s deposit will be forfeited to the guild. After we pay out the maximum reward on the request for five lizards, the rest will become guild property. Any objections?”
“None!”
The Crimson Vow raised their voices in assent, but then Pauline interjected.
“Um, isn’t there some other punishment we can give the company? They tried to swindle the guild by submitting a false job request. Is there nothing more that can be done?”
Pauline was asking whether the merchant’s actions had been unforgiveable, but the guild master just laughed, shaking his head.
“No, there’s nothing else we can do. This was a simple failure to uphold a bargain, and we can only deal with it under existing rules. Although it is a breach of contract, it isn’t as if they committed a particularly grave crime…”
Isn’t there such a thing as criminal fraud? Mile wondered, but it occurred to her that, in this world, the one who let herself be cheated might be in the wrong, so she said nothing.
Still, Pauline looked frustrated.
“However…”
The guild master was not yet finished.
“Do you really think that anyone is going to accept a job from a merchant who tried to swindle the guild and their fellow hunters? Would anyone accept a job from an untrustworthy client?”
“Ah…”
“Even if they are barred from making individual requests, they can still purchase things from the guild and other merchants. Still, that means they can only get their hands on whatever the guild has in stock at the time, which will probably increase their stock prices. And I wouldn’t be surprised if other hunters offered their goods to the guild with conditions like, ‘Don’t sell this to those guys,’ or ‘Only sell it at double the price,’ just as you did. The company will still be able to order, but it’s not going to be easy for them.”
The guild master laughed.

The girls finally left the meeting room and descended to the first floor, but just as they were leaving the hall, another clerk called after them in a panic.
“Oh! The Crimson Vow, just a moment! Some letters came for you!”
Letters? They returned to the reception counter skeptically, only to be handed two sealed missives.
“My apologies. I meant to give you these earlier, but with all the commotion…”
Since they had been the cause of said commotion, they couldn’t very well complain.
Mavis looked over the addresses on the letters, she found one addressed to her and the other to Pauline. She handed Pauline’s letter over silently and looked over her own, trying to identify the sender.
“Oh…”
Of course, she’d known before she saw it. There was only one person who could possibly be writing to her.
When she was still at home it would have been different, but now?
Yes, it should go without saying. It was a letter from her family.
They’d finally sniffed out her whereabouts… in fact, it would have been strange if they hadn’t.
There had been scores of people watching at the graduation exam—who knew how many were nobles?
Mavis grimaced and looked at Pauline, only to see her clutching her own letter tightly, face pale. Everyone already knew who her letter was from. There was no point in asking.
“What are you going to do?” asked Reina.
“Ignore it,” Mavis answered with a wry smile. “No matter how many letters they send. Eventually they’ll just get tired of waiting and send one of my brothers to check on me. Until then, it’s whatever. There’s no need to kick up a fuss. It will only speed up the process.”
“What about you, Pauline?”
“I’ll do the same. I already decided I’m never going back, so there’s no need to reply.”
Clearly Pauline was not longing for home, but her expression was dark—perhaps out of worry for her mother and younger brother.
“If you’re worried, then maybe we should all go back to your hometowns…”
“No, that won’t be necessary. If nothing else, they’re his mistress and her child, so nothing bad will happen to them. Probably.”
“I see. But, if anything does happen, please tell us. Because we’re…”
“Eternal allies, bound by our souls to the Crimson Vow!”
Reina smiled ruefully as Mile butted in on their motto.
“Now then, let’s take a nice few days’ rest!”
“Yeah!!!”

“Ah…” On the way home, Mile stopped suddenly in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?” Reina asked.
“We forgot to exchange anything besides the rock lizards.”
“Oh…”
In the end, to avoid causing another scene, they decided to portion out the sales of their other catches. Since they were already selling rock lizards, it wouldn’t be unusual to think that they might have other beasts of the “rock” type to sell as well. After all, they had Mile’s premium refrigerated storage magic (though, of course, it was actually the time-static loot box).

“We’re back!”
“Welcome!”
Lenny greeted them from behind the reception desk.
“Here! We brought you a souvenir!”
As she spoke, Mile produced the only-slightly-singed rock lizard tail from her loot box, placing it on the floor with a thud.
“Wh-what is that?!”
It was the first time Lenny had seen a rock lizard tail still in its original form.
“Can we really have this? Daaaaaaad, come heeeeeere!!!”
Lenny’s father (the chef), and her mother (the matron of the inn), both appeared. They thanked the girls over and over before dragging the tail back to the kitchens with a clamor. It seemed like they’d be enjoying rock lizard dishes for some time.
“That should earn us a lot of brownie points. We might even be able to avoid playing hostess,” said Reina triumphantly.
Yet Pauline, who knew the ways of merchants, and Mile, who knew little Lenny, just shook their heads sadly.

Average 2.4

Having felled a rock golem much more easily than they had imagined, Mavis and Mile were momentarily stunned. They looked down at the swords in their hands.
No matter how sturdy the blades were, just flinging them should not have produced enough power to destroy anything. Destroying objects required specialized power and skill. No one could just simply smash a copper sword with a steel one…besides Mile.
Before the girls could be thrilled with their results, which far surpassed what they were expecting, they were stunned again by the power of their own weapons. Even Mile, the swordsmith, was taken aback.
They hadn’t even swung at full strength, yet they’d smashed through the solid joints of a rock golem in a single blow.
These were nothing less than the legendary blades of a mythical hero…
“Mavis!”
Mavis had been drowning in the sea of her own thoughts, but she snapped back at Reina’s shout, rushing toward the golem she and Mile had felled. From behind, they slashed, pierced, and twisted the hip and shoulder joints away.
Snap!
Rumble rumble…
One after another, they demolished the joints until the rock golem couldn’t move. None of this should have been so easily accomplished with a normal sword—no matter how sturdy.
Reina watched, slack-jawed, before snapping to attention. Hastily, she issued another command. “Change of plans! Forget running. Let’s take down the other one! Pauline, blast the head with fire! Mile and Mavis, that one’s done—come take care of this guy!”
Reina fired off a quick fireball spell at the other golem, creating a diversion. A moment later, Pauline’s Fire Wall obstructed its vision. Mavis and Mile ran toward the blinded golem at a dash, brandishing their swords.
Thunk!
Snap!
Rumble…
“……”
The rock golem’s knees broke, and it toppled to the ground. Mile and Mavis shared a momentary glance, then silently destroyed the other joints.
As they pierced the rock golem’s head, it ceased to move, seemingly devoid of any further function. Just in case, they returned to pierce the skull of the first golem as well.
Though this was easy enough, no normal sword would be able to pass through the skull of a rock golem. At best, the blade would break. It was just common sense. When striking a golem’s weak points, you aimed at the frail joints. The head was strong and difficult to reach.
“Are we just…super strong?”
“Assuming that the golems weren’t weak, then…I guess so.” Mile muttered doubtfully.
“……”
Reina and Pauline appeared equally perplexed.
“A-anyway, we should see what we can harvest. I think we can call quits on the hunting for now, so after this we’ll go back to camp…”
Reina spoke quietly, all the pep gone out of her, and the other three nodded silently.
It seemed like there was a lot on her mind.
As it turned out, the only things that were worth gathering from a rock golem were the spheres of its joints. Mile puzzled over what these could possibly be used for, but Reina explained that if you sorted them by size, they could be used for some sort of tool.
I guess there’s not much use in taking the body home. You can’t eat it, it doesn’t have the size or shape to be useful as building material, and it’s not even especially durable…
However, the spheres were fairly large and heavy. Furthermore, there were several of them on each body. If they didn’t have storage magic, carrying them would be quite a hassle.
At least there was no worry of them rotting or getting damaged as time went on. If they had a cart or wagon, they could leisurely drag them back home.
It would be great if these fetch a high price, Mile thought, but she was not especially hopeful.

***

The members of the Crimson Vow returned to their campsite and began preparing dinner.
They’d finished hunting a little earlier than planned, but had plenty of prey.
The roasted rock lizard from earlier would serve as their main dish, accompanied by the fruits, vegetables, and dehydrated soup blocks they’d purchased in the capital. It was fairly luxurious, as far as camping went. In celebration of a job well done (as well as their victory over the rock golems) a feast only seemed suitable, and rock lizard was what they had—excepting, of course, the enormous store of food Mile had stashed away in her loot box.
Besides, the rock lizard meat they’d eaten that morning was so delicious. And the price of meat that had been burnt to a crisp on the outside would be considerably lower. Saving it to sell was a fool’s errand. It was a no-brainer that they should just eat it themselves. Rock lizard was a mildly luxurious ingredient and would cost a pretty penny in any normal restaurant.
But the meat of even one lizard was still an immense amount, and no matter how diligently they tried, they could only manage small portions. Still, they should be able to sell some cheaply to the inn—or even offer it as a gift. They had plenty of other lizards that were still completely intact. Either way, Mile couldn’t keep taking the meat in and out of the time-static loot box if she wanted to hide her abilities from her companions.
Unlike their unintended lunch, this time they had plenty of time to prepare. Therefore Mile didn’t merely roast the meat, but tried her hand at a number of different cooking techniques. It was not often that you got a chance to have a leisurely meal of rock lizard in the great outdoors, and she desperately wanted to find out more about what kind of ingredient they’d collected. More than anything, she wanted to eat some delicious food.
Reina and Mavis could not cook. Mavis was the daughter of a noble family, so that was one thing, but it was curious that Reina had never cooked much—neither while traveling with her father on his peddling ventures, nor as a member of the Crimson Lightning, the party where she had been the only girl.
When Mile had asked about this, Reina’s reaction made it very clear that they should not broach the subject again. And so Pauline was in charge of the main course, while Mile experimented.
A while later, dinner was ready. Mile and Pauline laid the food out before the others.
Pauline’s dish was just standard roasted meat. The only seasonings were rock salt and various herbs. Mile’s dishes, meanwhile, were rock lizard au vin and fried rock lizard.
Since Mile couldn’t drink alcohol, the red wine she used for the au vin was only a cheap cooking wine that she’d stored away in the loot box. To that she added salt, garlic, onions, shimeji-like mushrooms, whole wheat flour, high quality spices, and a number of other ingredients, including vegetable oil which Mile had pressed herself, creating an enjoyable, complex flavor. It hurt not to have soy sauce available, but she made do as well as she could under the circumstances.
And then there was the fried lizard. To the flour, she added salt, seasonings, and garlic, as well as leeks and egg whites that she’d freeze-dried and powdered using magic. She mixed those and various other things together into a breading mix, then dredged bite-sized pieces of the meat, using wind magic to mist them with a small amount of oil. If it were chicken, the fat in the meat would have been enough, but somehow she could tell that there wasn’t much fat in the rock lizard.
Finally she fried it, without oil or a pan.
In Mile’s previous life, her father had been given a hot air fryer for his thirtieth work anniversary. It was a useful cooking gadget that could make fried foods with just heated air, not oil. In that life, Mile—then Misato—used it now and then to make fried potatoes and gyoza as a snack. Mainly, though, her mother used it to make fried chicken. Now, imitating its principles, Mile whipped up a hot wind.
180º C for 12 minutes. Half the work was just preparing the breading—the cooking itself went fairly quickly.
Afterward, she took some vegetables out of the loot box, chopped them up, drizzled the dressing she had prepared, and added the fruit. Her dish was complete.

“Th-th-this is delicious!”
The outside was crunchy, but when you bit into the rock lizard, the inside was soft, juicy, and flavorful. It had the savory nature of meat and the tang of spices, as well as the warm fragrance of garlic. Together, these flavors satisfied the whole palate.
“What is this?! Mile, have you always been such a talented chef?”
With just one bite of Mile’s experimental fried lizard, Reina and Mavis were raving.
The praise put Mile at ease. She was lacking certain seasonings, so she hadn’t been very confident. Pauline, however, appeared rather uninterested—Reina and Mavis hadn’t said a word about the dish she’d prepared. But the moment Pauline tasted the au vin and fried lizard, her eyes opened wide, too.
“It’s delicious…”
Mile hurriedly set aside a portion for herself so that she would not miss out.
“Mile, you’ve got to handle the cooking from now on—at least sometimes!”
“Yes, yes, please!”
“You have to show me how to cook like that! I’m begging you…”
However, there was something they didn’t know. The seasonings she’d used were incredibly expensive, and it would be difficult to recreate the process without Mile’s magic…

Eventually, they had all more or less eaten their fill, and their bellies were stuffed.
“So, are we actually strong?” Mavis asked quietly. “Or are we weak?”
“I guess it’s best to say that it depends on the situation.”
“Such as?”
Mile and Pauline listened as Mavis and Reina talked.
“In terms of swordsmanship, we’re probably a low-level B-rank. In terms of magical ability, when we aren’t limited it’s a high-level C-rank. When our powers are limited by restrictions, like being unable to use fire magic in the forest, we’re probably a mid-level C-rank. We rely on magic for defense, so we’re weak against physical attacks that can’t be staved off with a sword…”
They didn’t have a dedicated shield bearer, and given the size of their party, this couldn’t be helped. Still, it was a clear weakness…or it would be, if they didn’t have Mile.
Though Mile had, to some degree, demonstrated her magical knowledge to the others, she hadn’t shown them her full strength. Nevertheless, the other three recognized her magical knowledge was considerable—comparable to a court magician—and her actual power was at least two levels above Reina’s. In terms of swordsmanship, she vehemently insisted: “Gren was just playing around, lowering himself down to my level,” but it was clear that she was still at least a B-rank.
“If you include the value added by Mile’s storage magic, as well as factoring in our dearth of experience, our weak points, and whatever else, I’d say that we’re still a solid mid-level C-rank. Wouldn’t you? For novices we’re incredibly strong, but we’re still average as hunters. That’s about our current level.”
“You don’t think our magic’s any higher than that?”
“Only in terms of raw power. If you factor in our maneuvers and experience in magical battles as well as our various weaknesses, taking one-on-one combat into account, I think that’s about right. Hubris is forbidden here!”
There was still one thing that Mavis couldn’t grasp. “But didn’t we just topple some rock golems like it was nothing—with only four people?”
“That was just because we had an advantage,” Reina said, stopping Mavis’s objections in their tracks. “Rock golems are known for their sturdiness, not their speed, so against you two—with your god-like speed, and those ‘cheap swords’—they didn’t stand a chance. But what if it were something like a wyvern? Attacking from the air where your swords couldn’t reach? Or an iron golem that those swords couldn’t pierce? What if it were a toxic mouse, which is much smaller and quicker than you both? Can you really say that you have any special qualities beyond the strength of your sword?”
“Er…”
“I guess that’s how it is, then.”
“That’s how it is.”
Mavis seemed to have accepted this, but Reina continued to speak.
“Actually, there is one more weakness in our party.”
“What? What’s that?” asked Mavis.
Reina looked all of them over slowly. “Well, have any of you ever killed a man?”
“Uh…”
“Those faces tell me all I need to know… when the time comes, if you can’t kill another person without hesitation, you’ll be the one to die. Even if they’re an acquaintance or a friend…”
As Reina spoke, her eyes were fixed not on the others, but on her own hand, gripping a small stick pierced through a piece of meat.

***

Late that night, a small form slipped out of their camp.
It was Mile.
A worry had taken hold of her, and she couldn’t shake it. She crept through the night back toward the place where they’d fought the rock golems.
When she arrived, she approached the rock golem’s lifeless body and sliced off the pierced head with her sword.
Were this any other monster it would have been grotesque, but thankfully, rock golems were nothing like other living things, so blood and guts were not a concern.
“Hm…”
The head was fixed solidly to the body, four eyes evenly spaced around the perimeter so there was no need for it to turn around.
She cut the head into four parts and peered inside, scooping out one of the eyes…
“I see… The head is just a sensor. In that case, destroying the cranium isn’t necessarily needed to stop its—”
“What are you doing?”
“Gaaaaaah!!!”
Mile screamed as a voice emerged out of the night.
Reina, Mavis, and Pauline stepped out of the shadow of a tree.
“Wh-what are you all doing here?”
“You went sneaking off in the middle of the night! We followed you so that you wouldn’t get snatched up by a monster!”
“Huh? But you said we were coming to see what she was up to—”
“So, what did you come here for?!”
Reina took no heed of Pauline’s confusion.
“Um, er, well, I was, picking flowers…?”
“Oh? Picking flowers, hm…?” said Reina, staring at the extracted golem eye in Mile’s hand. “Well, it looks like you have an eye there. I suppose a tooth will be next, and then perhaps a nose to add to your bouquet?”
Mavis let out a snort.

Eventually, Mile confessed that she was so curious about the inner workings of a rock golem that she couldn’t help herself and came to investigate—thinking that perhaps she might discover a weakness that would help them defeat other golems in the future.
“That’s stupid. You should have just told us. Wouldn’t it be better if we all came to investigate together?” Reina asked.
As the night wore on, the girls dissected the rock golem’s body, searching for weak points. But the golem was stone through and through, without a weak spot to be found. All they found inside was a round object—a bit like a gold coin—which Mile stored away in her loot box.

Despite their late-night excursion, the three girls got to bed at a reasonable hour and had plenty of sleep. They greeted the next morning with vim and vigor.
All except for Mile.
Something else had weighed on her mind the previous night, and she had barely slept a wink. In fact, it was because she couldn’t sleep that she’d gone to investigate the golem in the first place.
What concerned her was the question:
Am I…invincible?
Until now, she’d avoided getting hit as much as possible, even in practice battles. She hated pain, so even when she lost on purpose, Mile made sure to take only weak blows on the thickest parts of her armor. It was probably why her opponent always saw right through her ruse.
In any case, thanks to all this effort and scheming she hadn’t really known pain up until now… no, in fact, she had never known it.
Never? Even when we were deep in physical combat training? Did I ever once feel pain?
In the battle with the rock lizard the previous morning, she was struck by its tail and dashed against the rocks. But, despite the clever excuse she gave her teammates, she had not blocked with her sword. She hadn’t leapt back to neutralize the attack, and she hadn’t cushioned herself on impact with wind magic. She had taken all of that damage, full force.
And yet, she was uninjured. It had barely even hurt. It was similar to getting local anesthesia, a feeling like: I know something is touching me, but it doesn’t hurt a bit.
Did that mean all the effort she’d made to avoid pain had been for nothing?
No, that wasn’t the problem.
Just how durable is my body? I’m going to guess it’s at least half as impervious as an elder dragon. But then again, if there was something even sturdier, then…
Mile couldn’t recall taking even a scratch since the day of that fateful migraine. Her mind began to race. If she revealed this fact to others, would they treat her as inhuman? Would they use her as a test subject? Or would they try to use her as a weapon that could smash even a rock golem? One after another, terrifying scenarios cycled through her head until she could not sleep at all.

That morning, the four enjoyed a breakfast soup made of the now-customary roasted rock lizard. Then they packed up their camp. All that really meant was stowing their bags in Mile’s storage space and extinguishing their campfire.
Eating meal after meal of roasted rock lizard probably didn’t make for the most balanced diet, but no one ever said that camping meant enjoying a variety of cuisines. Besides, the lizard meat was delicious. Incredibly delicious. And it wasn’t as though they would always acquire goods that they couldn’t sell—at least if they could avoid it. It was possible they might never get a chance to eat lizard meat again.
Certainly, they could seek it out on purpose or pay money to eat it at a restaurant in the capital. However anything they caught that could be sold, they would sell. For the price of even a single plate of rock lizard meat at a restaurant, they could order a small feast of more affordable dishes.
Poverty. That single word could quash all of their dreams.

“All right! Back to the capital!”
“Yeah!!!”
Everyone cheered Reina’s decree, and finally, they were back on the road again.
A lot had happened, but all four of them were beaming. They had safely completed their first job away from the capital and hunted enough to earn far beyond what the job had promised. It was decided: they would no longer take jobs for novice C-rankers, but those for mid-level C-rank hunters. Jobs that would test their mettle.
Mavis was thrilled at the prospect of finally facing real battles.
Pauline grinned at the idea of boosting their earning potential.
Reina seemed deep in thought, but in a good mood.
And Mile’s head swirled as she tried to decide what to say to the others about her impervious nature—or the times that she accidentally used something beyond ordinary magic…
The capital was still two long days away.

They made camp in the same spot they’d used on the way out. There was still some time until sundown, but it was better to rest in a place they were already familiar with—to increase their chances of survival if something dire occurred.
Even the littlest things could become a matter of life and death, so they avoided anything that would lower their chances of survival. Even if the possibility of dire injury fell just one percent every time they encountered a dangerous circumstance, if it happened ten times then that was ten percent, and if it happened a hundred times…
After they ate, Reina kicked off the discussion, as always.
“About what I was saying last night… I want you all to get some experience in interpersonal combat—and soon. I don’t just mean practice. I mean real battles, to the finish.”
“Wh…?”
The other three were stunned, but Reina continued.
“From now on, we’re going to start taking escort jobs. Even if we don’t, there’s still a chance that, as a party of young women, we could be targeted and attacked by bandits, disgraced hunters, or even fellow active hunters—some of whom are more than happy to break the law. Should that happen, even a moment’s hesitation could mean death.
“This is not just about you. Are you prepared to leave others to fend off an attacker if you get captured or cut down?”
The other three were silent as she spoke.
“B-but,” Pauline piped up, “can’t we just incapacitate our opponents without killing them?”
“The only times you’ll have that kind of luxury is when there’s an immense difference in power between you and your opponent. For example, if you were a B-rank and your opponent a D-rank or lower. Even then there’s still a chance that something could go wrong and cause a humiliating defeat. Isn’t that so, Mavis?” Reina asked.
“Yes. In a normal contest, there’s a pretty strong chance that you’ll be able to win if you’re stronger. But if an opponent comes with the intent to kill, and you meet that with the intent to incapacitate, then no matter what your strength difference is, it’ll be a difficult fight. And if your enemy can sense that, you’ve already lost. Once he knows his opponent has no intention of killing him, he’ll attack at leisure—fighting recklessly without any attention to defense. Once it comes to that, there isn’t really much you can do.
“I have no intention of sacrificing my own life, that of my friends, or that of someone I’m meant to protect, just to honor the life of a criminal.”
“……”
At Mavis’s words, Pauline fell silent.
Mile merely watched, but inside she agreed with Mavis.
“I’m surprised…” said Reina, looking Mile’s way.
Mile tilted her head.
“Huh? About what?”
“I would’ve expected you to start shouting, ‘We can’t hurt people!’ right away…”
“What are you talking about?” Mile laughed. “My motto is, ‘No mercy for villains!’”
In truth, Mile had a very straightforward manner of thinking.
In her previous life, when people showed her good will (or at least no particularly ill will) she was always as kind as she could be. She didn’t bother herself with people who showed spite or animosity, but she wouldn’t do them any favors. And when it came to people who meant her harm, she would respond in turn—within the bounds of the law, but in such a way that they would never dare touch her again.
She was an attractive honors student, and plenty of people had tried to entangle Misato in their schemes. She’d had no choice but to devise coping methods.
Of course, in this world she’d decided to live a carefree life unfettered by the worries of her previous existence. But she had been unable to shake her old philosophy. There’s nothing you can do about bad people, so it’s best not to worry. That was what she told herself.
Besides, the “bad people” in this world killed others without a second thought, for petty cash or just for kicks—and given that the laws were far less strict than those in her past life, reacting “within the bounds of the law” gave Mile more options than she had previously. That was just how it was.
Anyway, Mile thought, if you let bad people escape, then they might kill tens or even hundreds of innocent people in the future. And they might even attack again for vengeance. Not just you—but your allies and your friends…
Such an outcome would be truly regrettable, so it was prudent to nip those possibilities in the bud. Then you could rest easy. Nevertheless, Mile was not certain whether she would be able to kill another human if it came down to it. For now, she could only guess.
“I want us to take on an escort job as soon as we can,” said Reina. “If we’re acting as guards, we’ll fight to defend our employer from any bandits who come calling, and there won’t be any time to negotiate. We’ll have no choice but to face them, whether we like it or not. If you don’t have this experience at least once, you might hesitate when suddenly attacked, and it will be the death of you.”
“That’s true,” said Mavis. “We’ll leave it to you, then.”
“I’ll follow whatever you say,” Mile added.
After a brief pause, Pauline finally agreed too, looking somewhat grim.
“…I-I guess I’m fine with that…”
Mile assumed Pauline would have answered happily, but she stopped for a moment, reflecting on her three friends. Glancing over at Reina and Mavis, she was a little bit relieved to see their faces.
Ah! It looks like I wasn’t the only one thinking it…

***
The following evening, the Crimson Vow arrived safely in the capital and headed for the guildhall. If nothing else, they had to show that worried clerk they hadn’t died.
When they entered, she was at one of the counters.
“We made it back safe!” Mile shouted, waving her hand.
Everyone gathered on the first floor of the guildhall turned to look at them.
“Eeek!” The four girls shrieked at suddenly being the center of attention.
“Aha! You all came back safely!!!” the clerk shouted from the counter. “That job was in a dangerous place—just after you all left, some merchants were attacked by orcs along that same road, and we were extremely worried. I’m so glad to see you back.”
“A merchant was attacked by orcs?” asked Reina, a mite concerned.
The receptionist laughed softly. “Yes, a merchant we’ve been keeping an eye on because he has a history of parasitic traveling. His party was attacked by a horde of orcs while he was camping, and he lost his wagons—goods and all. One of his guards was injured, but it seems that the whole group managed to get away safely.
“Apparently they complained that some nearby hunters ran off without coming to their aid, but a hunter who isn’t on their payroll has no obligation to assist. This man’s a known offender as far as parasites go. According to the hunters who were serving as his guards, by the time they were attacked, the other hunters had already moved on.
“The guild master investigated their claim and warned that if they tried to slander other hunters they would be stripped of their qualifications. When he asked for the truth again, they panicked and spilled the beans!”
Judging by the way she was snickering, the clerk had no idea that those other hunters were Reina’s party.
The girls were relieved to hear the situation was resolved with no loss of life. The only thing that pained Mile was that something might have happened to the horses.

“Well,” said Reina, “Let’s turn these in and get someone to sign the job completion certificate.”
The girls left the guildhall behind. They’d only stopped there to let everyone know they were back, anyway.
Once they delivered the rock lizards, their client would inspect the goods and decide on a rate of pay. They’d record that amount on the job completion certificate and sign at the bottom. Then, the girls could take the certificate back to the guildhall and withdraw their earnings.
To prevent anyone from skipping out, the guild handled all the money. If they didn’t get a signature, they wouldn’t hand over the goods.
The girls’ other catches would be inspected by the guild officials when they came to exchange the certificate. With no fewer than five rock lizards in good condition, they’d earn at least 75 half-gold pieces—three quarters of their monthly goal. And they had a ton of other catches stored away in Mile’s storage space. At this rate, they’d be able to relocate to an inn with a bath soon.
They faced the client’s shop, smiles bursting at the seams.
“When we see the client, please don’t tell them we have tons of rock lizards. Let’s bring out the first one and have them inspect it before we get the other four. And wait until we find out what they will pay for the first five before you let them know that we have even more available.”
Mile tilted her head at Pauline’s request, but she trusted Pauline when it came to matters of business just as she trusted Reina when it came to battle, and she nodded in reply.

Average 2.3

“We’re under attack! A horde of orcs is coming this way! I can’t tell how many!”
Late that night, the merchant, the drivers, and the guard who’d just completed the first watch were startled awake by a cry from the other guard.
“Dammit! We should’ve been fine around here! We’ve got no choice!”
“Got it!”
The guards had been hired to handle this sort of situation. The merchant listened, then followed their commands.
The plan, as always, was to drive the attackers ahead towards their “hosts.” In this case, that meant four young and seemingly inexperienced women, but they were C-ranks, and they even had storage magic, so they must be at least somewhat capable. And rookies were always soft, their hearts filled with thoughts of justice. They wouldn’t easily abandon someone in need, even a complete stranger. It was a stupid way to live, but quite convenient for the merchant and his crew.
They called out to the party of young women. They hadn’t been able to convince the girls to camp with them, but at least they had managed to change from “total strangers” to “passing acquaintances.”
The wagons were empty and the horses were lashed to trees, so the orcs would attack the humans first before they ran away. All they had to do was draw the orcs toward the girls’ campsite. After that, they’d probably be drawn into the fight.
Veteran hunters asked for payment afterward, but if you charmed a bunch of young ladies, you could probably get by without giving them a single coin. Sure, if the girls lived, there was a chance you might run into them again, but they could cross that bridge when they came to it.
For now, the young women would fight desperately, and the merchant’s party would cry out something valiant like, “We’ll attack from the rear!” Then make a detour back to their campsite, escaping with the wagons. They would make their getaway, leaving the hunters to deal with the orcs.
Indeed, it was fortuitous that the hunters were all young girls and that the enemies were orcs. Given the proclivities of those creatures, the orcs were much more likely to be interested in the young women.
But then again, thought the guards, why have the orcs attacked us first, instead of heading towards girls and the smell of cooking meat? Don’t tell me the orcs already ransacked the other camp? That’s not possible… even if they’re only C-ranks, they couldn’t have been annihilated without a sound…
Yet as the guards arrived at the spot where the hunters had camped, all they found were marks of a dismantled campsite and the ash of an extinguished fire.
“They…got away…?”
Orcs preyed on women. Four girls should have easily attracted them. The merchant’s party should be running back to the wagons to make their escape, but now…
The guards stood there, dumbfounded. The distant cries of the approaching orcs rang in their ears.

***

The Crimson Vow walked the night road, starlight their only guide.
Yet, as long as they stuck to the main highway, they were relatively unhindered.
“Reina, orcs and goblins are carnivores, right?”
“They’re omnivores. Didn’t they teach us that in school?”
“Huh. Did they…?” Mile asked, sounding concerned.
Reina poked her in the head. “Why are you asking about this all of a sudden?”
“Well, we were cooking a lot of meat over there, weren’t we? I figured the smell would reach pretty far, but we didn’t seem to attract any monsters, did we?”
“What are you saying?”
Reina looked stunned. Mile shrank back timidly.
“Of course we did.”
“Wh…” Mile’s face twitched.
“Huh?” said Pauline, surprised, “You didn’t realize, Miley? From the moment we started cooking meat we…”
“Huh?”
“Huh?”
“…………”
“We have to be realistic about this. If monsters follow the smell of burning meat, they’re sure to notice the smell of horses, people’s voices, and other noises, too. But without that smell, the chance of them noticing is much slimmer. When you’re cooking meat, if you’re attacked then you’re attacked, and if you aren’t then you aren’t. It just depends on your luck.
“Of course, in our case, luck wasn’t much of a factor. Those guys should have known this better than us. In spite of the fact that we had cooked meat, they chose not to relocate their campsite. They prioritized leeching off of us over their basic safety. So really, it’s none of our business. We simply took a nice break to eat our meal, then packed up and started moving again. That’s all,” Reina explained, seeing Mile’s strained expression.
This put Mile a little more at ease.
“You really do know a lot of things, Reina,” Mile teased. “I can’t believe you were only an E-rank when you started at the prep school!”
“And you don’t know a lot of things?” Reina asked flatly, her expression suddenly blank.
Oops. I feel like I just stepped on a landmine…
Even Mile could see that Reina was clearly in a bad mood.
Things didn’t look up until they had traveled far enough from the merchant to settle on a new campsite and set up for the night.
***

The next morning, the Crimson Vow woke up bright and early so that the merchant party, whom they had long outstripped, couldn’t find them.
They didn’t know if the other party had set out late or if they were looking for the girls. But when noon came and there was still no sign, the girls finally breathed a sigh of relief. They came off the main road, onto a small path that led to the rocky mountains. During the night, Reina’s foul mood resolved itself, and she was back to her usual self.
To pass the time as they walked, Mile told another of her Altered Japanese Fables, “Gon, the Little Kobold,” and Reina asked again, “Why would you tell us a story like that right before we go monster hunting?”
They trundled along, eventually reaching the foothills. With sunset already fast approaching, they made camp as they’d planned. It would have been nice to track down some smaller animals for dinner, but hunting at sunset in an unfamiliar place could prove dangerous—plus, they could hardly risk the smell of cooking meat again. And so the girls resigned themselves to a quiet meal of preserved food. Another part of life as a hunter.
Preserved meals could be quickly prepared—especially for the Crimson Vow, who could summon hot water in an instant.
They had already talked through tomorrow’s hunting plans at length along the road, so there was no need to go over them again. Now it was too early for sleep, but there was nothing else to do.
At times like this, a particular scene often unfolded:
“How about another from my World Tales series: ‘The Three Little Orcs’! Followed by ‘Kobold in Breeches’!”
“Stop iiiiiit!!!” Reina screamed, a vein protruding from her forehead.
Mile tilted her head, wondering if Reina’s mood had righted itself after all.
“Say, Mile, this has been bothering me for a while,” Mavis asked. “Where exactly did you hear all of those stories?”
“I’ve been curious about that, too,” said Pauline. “I’ve never heard

any of these tales before, but they’re all so interesting! I bet they’d fetch a pretty good price if you sold them to a minstrel troupe.”
“It’s a family secret!” Mile replied smugly.

Before the sun had fully risen, and after a simple breakfast of hardtack and soup (or rather, ingredients for soup boiled in hot water), the girls set out again. They planned to get an early start and hunt all the way until lunchtime.
Depending how well things went, they’d either start back tomorrow or the day after. During daylight, they wouldn’t waste their time on cooking. If they wanted, they could take a leisurely meal late in the evening, when it was too dark to hunt.
The rock lizards lived a bit higher up, so the girls ascended the mountains, keeping a close watch on their surroundings.
They hunted rock rabbits and any other creatures they came across, which doubled as practice for Pauline and Reina. Mile stored their prey in her loot box, pretending to use storage magic.
They reserved most of their strength for the real deal. To avoid sapping their magical power, they used only the weakest spells and quickly recovered their energy.
“Mavis, ahead to your left! There’s a rock wolf!”
“On it!”
Rock wolves rarely hunted in packs. When the solitary figure appeared, Mavis heard Mile’s cry and leapt out, cleaving the wolf in half with one stroke of her sword.
“Uh…”
“Mavis! Didn’t I tell you that rock wolf pelts sell for good money?! If you cut ’em up like that the price goes way down!” wailed Pauline, whose forcefulness always emerged when talking about their finances.
“S-sorry. Th-the edge on this sword really is something… it reminds me of when I used to watch my big brother practicing…” Mavis muttered, feeling blood rush to her face.
There was a strange sort of sultriness to her voice, the sort of tone a young woman would take when she’d fallen head over heels…
“M-Mavis, stop that! The sharpness is only there to compensate for your current lack of strength! If you rely on the blade’s power, you’ll fool yourself into thinking that it’s your own!” Mile said in a flustered voice. She had also been bewitched by the blade’s motion.
“I know, I know. And if I’m weak without this sword, then I have no value as a knight. Power is meaningless if I don’t possess it myself. I know that. Don’t worry.”
Mile breathed a sigh of relief. Mavis was still Mavis, after all.
“Reina, can I ask you something?”
“What’s that?”
“Rock rabbits, and rock wolves, and rock snakes, et cetera—why do they have such uncreative names?”
“How should I know?!?!”
Reina always seems to be shouting these days, thought Mile.

“There it is.”
Mavis, both tallest and walking at the front of the party, was first to spot their prey.
Everyone followed her gaze to see the massive lump of a single rock lizard. It looked as though it was sleeping peacefully—perhaps sunning itself, as it was early in the morning and the air was not yet warm.
“About three meters long… that’s small, but a lizard’s a lizard. If we can get it, then we don’t have to go back empty-handed. Let’s do it.”
The other three nodded.
Even though it was small for a lizard, three meters was about twice as long as Mile was tall. It probably weighed ten times as much as she did and would be impossible to carry without a cart. Even with storage magic, you’d be lucky to accommodate just one such creature.
But one lizard still wouldn’t earn enough when you took account of their numbers, the time they’d spent, and the distance that they’d traveled. Without Mile’s absurd storage abilities, this job wouldn’t be worth the time. No surprise that the job was still there when the Crimson Vow found it.
Calling a rock lizard a “lizard” didn’t give a particular impression of strength, but it was basically a land crocodile.
It had a thick hide and a huge mouth full of sharp teeth. It could easily be outpaced by a human running at full speed, but proved quite agile when it came to battle—with its quick bites and the snappy whip of its tail.
Even the strongest adult hunter couldn’t withstand a lizard’s crushing jaws, and if you took a whack from that tail, not even leather armor would protect you from shattered bones.
Particularly troubling was the phrasing of the job request.
Harvesting Parts
As the name suggested, rock lizards lived in stony places, so extermination requests were slim to none. The bulk of the jobs—like this one—were for harvesting.
Rock lizard meat was edible, and their livers could be used medicinally. Their claws and teeth were used to make weapons and craft tools. Their hide could be used for armor, boots, and more. It was essential to avoid damaging the lizard in the hunt, so hanging back and blasting magic was out of the question.
“Mavis, you got this?”
“Yep! Leave it to me!”
Though Mavis tried to act normal, her heart was already whipped into a frenzy. With her beloved sword—which would not break, bend, or chip no matter how hard she swung it—her time to shine finally at hand, how could she not feel the adrenaline?
“…Maximum Freeze!”
Pauline had started her incantation ahead of time and released her spell with these final words.
Because it wasn’t the flashy sort of spell that sent a projectile flying toward the enemy, the rock lizard failed to realize it was under attack. But it did shift its weight, uncomfortable at the sudden drop in temperature.
“Icicle Javelin!”
Reina let off her attack. It wasn’t her specialty, but that couldn’t be helped. Burning the lizard would cause the price to plummet.
The ice spell flew towards the creature’s neck where, even if it damaged the body, it would not greatly affect their returns. The conjured icicle bounced right off of the lizard’s thick hide.
“What the…?”
Even if it was not her strength, Reina had a decent command of ice magic. Coupled with her usual power and accuracy, the attack should do considerable damage. She was taken aback. But, as she considered the matter, she realized it was to be expected. It would be unthinkable for a hide used to make armor to be pierced so easily. Reina prepared her next spell. Pauline was in the middle of her second incantation.
“Now!” shouted Mavis.
“On it!” Mile shouted back, leaping toward the lizard.
This time, Mile would fight as a swordswoman as well.
If she used her magic, the lizard would probably end up worthless. That was the majority opinion—and given that this had been the “majority” of a four-person group, it meant that everyone except Mile had agreed.
The lizard, lazing in the sun, was aware of its opponents the moment the icicle struck. It assumed a battle stance. Seeing Mile and Mavis advancing with swords drawn, the lizard began to move, but its progress was slow and awkward.
Rock lizards were not speedy outside their attacks, but this one seemed especially sluggish.
Is Mile’s plan working? Mavis wondered as she dashed forward.
“Rather than launching a direct attack, we should chill it in order to cripple its movements.” Honestly, how did Mile come up with these things?
Reina and Pauline kept their focus on their spell casting, but surely the thought flashed through the back of their minds.
Mavis aimed for the neck to avoid damaging the body as much as possible. As long as they focused on the neck, legs, or tail, that wouldn’t be much of an issue. However, striking anywhere but the neck would only make it struggle more violently. Its neck was the only viable target.
Mavis lifted her sword to strike, when suddenly she was caught by the lizard’s tail, moving much more quickly than she’d anticipated.
“Argh!!”
In a panic, Mavis tried to block it with her sword, but it wasn’t enough. The powerful blow sent her flying.
The others couldn’t worry about Mavis yet. That would have to wait until the final blow was struck.
“You jerk!!!”
Mile aimed for the lizard’s neck, and the tail came flying at her, too.
This should be no big—
If she truly had half the strength of an elder dragon, Mile should have been able to stop the rock lizard’s tail with one hand—but when she tried to do just that, she went flying spectacularly into the air. Just as Mavis had.
“…Huh?”
“MIIILE!!!”
Reina screamed. Mile was thrown into a cliff face nearly ten meters away. Unlike Mavis, who was just tossed onto the ground, Mile seemed to have taken a lot of damage.
Reina dashed forward—not toward Mile, but the rock lizard.
The moment that Mavis was thrown to the ground, Pauline moved to offer her healing magic. Now, she ran toward Mile.
No!! I can’t lose a friend already! No no no no no no no no nooooo!!!
Reina recited a spell, tears streaming down her face.
“O raging flames of the deep! Consume my enemy and burn them to the ground!”
A deep crimson flame whipped up, enveloping the lizard.
“Mile!!!”
Ignoring the lizard thrashing in the flames, Reina rushed to Mile’s side, only to find her grinning bashfully and Pauline standing beside her, gaping.
“H-how…?”
Reina was utterly stunned. Mile seemed to be completely unharmed.
Mavis hobbled over, rubbing her side where the lizard struck her. Somehow, by deflecting the tail with her sword, she’d avoided being killed. And, because she flew back the moment she was struck, she hadn’t broken any bones, either. Thanks to Pauline’s healing spell, it appeared that she was already recovering.
“…Family secret?”
“YOU LIAAAAAAAAR!!!”
Naturally, not one of them bought Mile’s explanation.
Behind them, the rock lizard burned to a crisp.

***

“All right, emergency meeting!”
As usual, it was Reina who kicked things off. She had already wiped the tears from her face.
Initially, they’d thought not to cook anything until dinner. However, they needed rest after the battle, and right in front of them sat a great big lizard, roasted to perfection.
“First off, we need to discuss the failings of Mile’s plan,” said Reina. “The ‘lizards move slower when they’re cold’ plan. While it certainly appeared to have some sort of effect, the explosive force of the tail wasn’t affected.”
Mile shrank back. “I-I’m sorry. That’s supposed to be how reptiles work…”
“There’s no need to apologize,” Reina continued. “We knew from the start that if that plan did work, it would be a godsend. It’s possible that maybe we just didn’t chill it enough. Anyway, let’s skip that bit next time. Pauline, you should use a different spell.”
“Sure thing!” Pauline agreed, nodding.
“The problem is how to take one of those things down without damaging the body, but also while dodging the tail attacks—which are a lot faster and stronger than we thought.”
Simply defeating the creature would be a small feat for the Crimson Vow, but the issue was how to kill it without damaging the hide or meat.
Thanks to the previous lizard’s fiery end, its value was now almost nothing, so the girls made the decision not to even try to sell it. Instead, they’d eat it themselves.
Reina, who had cast the decisive spell, couldn’t be blamed for this. And there were still plenty of lizards to hunt, so no one worried over it.
“Um… So, wouldn’t it be best for us to just cut the tail off first?”
“Unfortunately it’s not that simple…”
“I’ll do it!” Mile volunteered.
“Wha…?”
Reina was dubious.
“No matter how fast and strong you are…is it really safe?”
“Yes. Probably.”
“………”
“Very well. Let’s start with that next time. However, if it starts looking dangerous, pull back immediately. It’s not like we don’t have other options… come to think of it, Mile, you still owe us an explanation. Why didn’t you get hurt?”
“F-family secret?”
“WILL YOU LAY OFF WITH THAT ALREADY?!”
In the end, Mile explained that her sword cut some of the power from the lizard’s blow and that she’d flown back of her own accord. She was fairly light, and since the tail hadn’t broken bones, when she landed she was able to use wind magic to cushion her impact.
Thankfully Mavis, who had been nearest, had been preoccupied with her own concerns, so she hadn’t watched Mile closely.
Mile had already worked out why she was thrown back so easily, against her own expectations. No matter how strong she was, there was no way that a girl weighing 40 kilograms could absorb so much kinetic energy and hold her ground.
If the blow came down from above, she might be able to withstand it. However, if it came from the side, or from below, no amount of physical strength could prevent her from going flying, even if she wasn’t hurt.
“Even if we did poorly,” said Reina, “the two of you managed to avoid grave injury while facing a rock lizard, a creature that an average party of C-rank hunters couldn’t take down unscathed. Perhaps we got a little carried away with minimizing injuries to the lizard…”
The other three nodded meekly.

Having covered all there was to discuss, the girls set to work handling the heap of lizard meat.
Thanks to its time inside the maelstrom of Reina’s fiercest fire magic, the outside of the lizard was in a piteous state, black and ashen. However, the intense heat hadn’t made it all the way through, so once the outer parts were removed there was plenty of meat that was barely cooked at all. Now that they had the chance, they took some of the more delicate cuts of meat and roasted them over a gentle flame.
Mile decided to eat hers rare, as she generally did. In truth, though Mile’s mother in her past life was not a particularly bad cook, she was the sort of person who always cooked meat well done. She came from an old family and likely inherited the technique from when it was dangerous to eat rare meat. Regardless, no matter how high quality the meat was, she always overcooked it until every last piece ended up rubbery and dry.
Because Misato, Mile’s previous self, had eaten that way all her life, she just assumed that was how it was meant to be. Coming to this world and experiencing the delectable tenderness of a rare cut of meat had opened her eyes.
Although the food preservation in this world was far inferior to Earth, the time between slaughter and table was also far shorter. More than that, Mile was aware of her body’s strength and unconcerned with such trivialities as food poisoning. Eating rare meat brought out the most flavor, so that’s what she was partial to.
Even if she did eat something bad, as long as she had healing magic, she could get by. Of course, she still kept an eye out for anything still pale or blue—that was just raw meat. But rock lizard, cooked rare, often looked like this.
At first glance, it seemed that only the outside was cooked and the inside was still raw. However—somewhat like seared tuna—the heat did get through, warming the meat and allowing the fat to melt on your tongue, leaving a lingering savory taste. The only seasoning here was rock salt, sprinkled on just before roasting. It wasn’t like when you went to a strange shop in Japan and asked for rare meat, only to receive something that was raw, still cold, and dripping blood and juices.
Mile cut off a bite-sized piece of meat and placed it gently into her mouth, chewing.
“D-delicious!” she exclaimed.
If you took really high-quality chicken and made it a little firmer… Yes, it had the same toothsome quality as a chicken breast, with almost the same neutral flavor. Yet just a hint of the sharpness of rock salt brought out a truly delicious, indescribable taste.
Most of a meat’s flavor came from its fat composition, but although the rock lizard didn’t have any obvious fat—such as a beefsteak’s marbling—it still melted on your tongue. And with such flavor… No wonder it was such valuable prey, from its rich, leathery hide all the way down to its meat.
“This is delicious.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty good…”
One would think Mavis would be accustomed to eating delicious foods, but, like most nobles, Mavis’s family would never serve monster at their dinner table. All the same, as far as Mavis was concerned, there was no better spice than killing something with your own hands and enjoying it with friends.
In the end, the four of them decided to take some more out of storage and roast up seconds. After that, they settled on a new plan and the magic Pauline would use next. Then they set off again.
Their expressions were resolute. The talking, eating, and subsequent break had prepared them to hunt again.

They continued their search, catching rock rabbits along the way.
“There it is.”
Yet again, Mavis was the first to spot the rock lizard. This one was larger than the first, just under four meters long.
“Let’s do it.”
Reina and Pauline began incanting their spells.
Mile and Mavis drew their swords and readied themselves to attack.
“Condensation!”
“Freeze!”
As they spoke the last words, the spells went flying.
Reina caused water droplets to appear all around the lizard, drenching the creature’s body and the air around it. Pauline’s magic caused that same water to freeze.
“Now!”
This time, at Mile’s command, both Mile and Mavis jumped forth.
The lizard whipped its tail at Mile, who ran towards it, brandishing her blade.
The water froze, and a thin layer of ice clung to the lizard’s body, but of course this only affected the hide. Since the cooling didn’t reach any deeper, the speed of its tail wasn’t greatly slowed.
However, that was not the point of the plan.
Swoosh!
As the rock lizard launched the tail attack, its feet slipped.
Rather than losing its balance, the beast flailed its tail powerlessly in one direction and then another. Mile swung her sword down with all her might.
From her previous experience, Mile understood that, no matter how strong she was, without the weight to withstand an attack, she couldn’t land a decisive blow. As she could not increase the weight of her own body or her sword, she decided that she would attempt to compensate with speed. Yes, once again, it was the law of ½mv2.
The moment the sword struck, she drew it back toward herself.
Unlike Japanese swords, western-style swords weren’t used for clean cutting, but for hacking with weight and power. But Mile’s sword also possessed a sharp and sturdy blade. Even though there was no curve to it, it could be used like a katana.

Snap!
Like a hot knife through butter, the rock lizard’s tail was detached from its body in a single blow.
The rock lizard did not appear to be in much pain. Instead, it looked around nervously, perhaps distraught to be robbed of both its greatest weapon and its source of balance. Whipping its head away from the girls, the lizard prepared to run.
But—it was too late. Mavis was already leaping toward it, swinging her sword.
Slash!
Naturally, a single blow was not enough to cut clear through the thick protective hide of the neck, but the blow Mavis delivered was more than enough to end its life. With that, the rock lizard perished.
“We did it!”
“We did!!”
Though Mile accomplished the most difficult task in cutting off the tail, Mavis beamed with pride as well. She had felled a rock lizard in a single blow. What’s more, they hadn’t laid a hand on the lizard’s torso, so they’d be able to collect the full reward.
Reina and Pauline walked over looking satisfied. This time all had gone according to plan, and both the magic and the melee squads had worked together splendidly.
“Well, while we’re in the swing of things, let’s keep at it!”
“Yeah!!!”
Their hunting proceeded splendidly. They bagged one rock lizard after another, snagging plenty of rock rabbits, rock wolves, rock snakes, rock tanuki, and even rock candy along the way.
Sometimes they swapped responsibilities: Mavis taking on the tail and Mile the neck. Sometimes they even slipped and fell on the frozen ground. But they bagged a massive amount, surpassing even the five-lizard maximum stated in the posting. Even if the client didn’t want to purchase the extras, the guild would probably pay. There was no such thing as too many rock lizards.
Besides, if it came down to it, Mile could always tell her companions that the meat in her storage space would never go bad. Then they could store it until the next time there was a rock lizard request and pretend they’d hunted it when they were outside the capital for some other job.
The next morning, they decided they’d depart for the journey back home. They would spend the rest of the day hunting leisurely, until it grew dark. Everyone was in high spirits.
However, after their fearsome fight with the rock lizards, they’d forgotten something.
That something being the entire reason they had taken this job and traveled all this way.
That something, which materialized, quite suddenly, before them.
“It’s a r-r-rock golem…” Reina stammered, staring at the beast.
They’d chosen the rock lizard job partly to earn some money and cover their living expenses. But the real reason they selected this particular job was to test their skills and determine their own limits.
While the first battle had been tough, once the Crimson Vow got into the groove of things, they’d focused all their attention on hunting rock lizards, and the possibility of fighting stronger monsters completely vanished from their minds.
Now, whether they liked it or not, they happened upon just such a monster—one of many that called these mountains home.
A rock golem.
Unlike other beasts of the “rock” type, rock golems didn’t get their name from their rocky habitat. They were called rock golems because they were made of rock. Since they also dwelled in rocky places, they could have been called “rocky rock golems,” but somewhere along the line, someone had probably decided that was too unwieldy. Besides, you never heard about “sand rock golems” in the desert or “earth rock golems” underground.
The minimum requirements for felling a rock golem without injury were: 2 or 3 B-rank hunters; 4 or 5 C-rank hunters if they were skilled; or 6 or more C-rank hunters if they were less so.
That didn’t mean a smaller party couldn’t defeat one of these creatures, only that the chances of making it out unscathed were greatly diminished. They could do it—assuming they were not opposed to the idea of grave injuries or death.
From the beginning, Reina had vastly overestimated their strength—having annihilated the Roaring Mithrils, a top-class B-rank party under the direction of an A-rank hunter, she had assumed that toppling a rock golem would be a breeze.
Now, having slogged through battle after battle with the lizards, she realized that perhaps she’d been a little bit prideful.
“We have to retreat!”
“Huh? But isn’t this what we came here for?” asked Mavis, looking perplexed.
Reina’s mind was made up. “Please, just shut up and do as I say!”
“Got it.”
Seeing the serious look on Reina’s face, Mavis shut her mouth and obeyed.
There was no time to shoot the breeze, and Reina was the most experienced in their group, so in times of battle, she was the most reliable commander.
But things weren’t resolved quite so easily.
“I don’t think we can…”
When they turned to look at Pauline, they saw yet another rock golem approaching from the rear.
“We’re surrounded!”
“It doesn’t look like we’ll be able to get away without a fight,” said Mavis.
“This can’t be…” Reina murmured, her voice far weaker than usual.
The others couldn’t understand why Reina was shrinking away from a battle they’d all meant to fight from the start. But, because of her experience, they figured she must have her reasons.
Mile, for her part, had never even seen a rock golem outside of pictures.
It truly had a body made of stone, massive and almost four meters tall. It had a tiny head and spherical joints.
That’s right—it had ball joints!
You might expect Mile to remember the jointed doll exhibition she’d attended with her mother and her younger sister, back in her previous life. Instead, what came to mind were the giant, ball-jointed robots from the midnight creature features she watched with her father.
“Their weak points are probably their joints or their narrow legs…”
At least, she recalled learning something like that.
“It looks like we’ve got no choice but to fight! We’re not looking to defeat them, just to clear an escape route! Prioritize protecting yourself from injury, not damaging them!” Reina issued snappy directions, her manner changing completely.
“Got it!!!”
“Pauline,” Reina continued, “hold back the golem in front! Mavis and Mile, attack the rear golem’s legs! Slice them horizontally through the gaps!”
They didn’t reply this time, but nodded as Pauline began her spell. Mavis and Mile both readied their blades. Reina took to the rear, directing a spell at the golem blocking their way out.
There’s something strange here, Mile thought.
She recalled something that had puzzled her during their lessons at the prep school.
Goblins, kobolds, orcs, ogres?
Yes, well, of course those kinds of creatures existed. This was a fantasy world, after all.
Wyverns, land dragons, elder dragons?
Yes, well, those weren’t so strange either…
But, rock golems? Iron golems?
What were they? Were they alive? Were they artificial lifeforms? Did they have a consciousness?
Weren’t they rather implausible in an environment filled with carbon-based life? Had they been specially made by the gods?
No matter how much she thought about it, her imagination only stretched so far.
Surely, if she asked, the nanomachines would have an answer for her. But where was the fun in that? This was a riddle she would have to solve for herself.
Yes, some mysteries just have to remain mysteries, Mile decided. And yet…she was still so curious about them.
I really want to take one apart!!!
“Green Mist!”
Pauline used water magic to conjure a haze, obscuring the golems’ vision.
As always when she heard this spell, Mile wanted to protest that the incantation should be “fog,” but that was probably not something that anyone in this world would understand.
After Pauline, Reina released her spell.
“Flame Orb!”
This was a type of fire spell that exploded on impact. It was a higher-level magic than fireballs, which were simply moving balls of flame. However, since the people of this world had little familiarity with explosions caused by something like gunpowder, their idea of an explosion was only a small thing, lacking in destructive force. Half of the damage came from enveloping flames that erupted after impact, which meant this spell had little effect on monsters such as golems.
Nevertheless, it was more than enough to distract them.
“Now!”
Mile leapt forth at Reina’s command.
Four meters might not sound like that much, but in reality, the golem was more than twice Mile’s height. Even Mavis could not reach its head with her sword.
A slashing attack would have little effect on the creatures’ sturdy torsos and arms, and any normal sword would be shattered if it came into contact with their rocky bodies. There was no logical place to strike besides at the joints.
If I recall correctly, the spheres of the joints themselves will probably be hard. But if I can damage the area around the spheres, where the rock is thinner, that should make it hard for the spheres to move…
Mile reviewed her strategy, then slashed at the golem’s left knee.
At the same time, Mavis struck the golem’s right knee.
If they’d struck at its hip joints, they’d be able to impair its movements much more, but those were higher up and it would be difficult to inflict enough damage in one blow. And the golem’s hips appeared much sturdier than its knees.
This should be fine. Just damaging the knees would impede its movement and create an opening for them to escape.
Ka-thunk!
Ker-snap!
“…Huh?”
Mile and Mavis said simultaneously.
The golem’s left knee was blown away, and its right knee crumbled as the sphere rolled right out of its joint. It made a spectacular sound as it toppled onto the ground face first.

Average 2.2

After a few minutes, Reina finally calmed down and Mavis picked herself up off the ground, while Pauline still sat, mentally recalculating their budget.
Mile stood before them and explained. “I’m sorry. I thought that my earth magic would be able to strengthen it, but apparently it wasn’t enough…”
“………”
Mile had done so much for them, and there was no way the others could be truly angry with their teammate. However, this was quite a blow to their finances.
It couldn’t be helped that Mavis’s previous sword had broken. It was nearing the end of its life, and they had already planned to set aside money to replace it. But it hurt badly to lose a brand new sword which they’d bought with the majority of their funds. Each of the girls wore dark expressions—even more so than the day before. That is, except for Mile.
Her bright voice rung out cheerfully. “Well then, I’ll go ahead and fix it!”
“Huh…?”
“H-hang on, even if you say you can fix it, you can’t just patch a sword back together with glue!” Mavis protested, looking distraught. “Even if you stick it together with earth magic, the moment it strikes something, it’ll snap again, and that could be fatal! I absolutely refuse to wield a sword like that!” “Weapons,” added Reina, “aren’t nearly as simple as you seem to think. When a sword is broken, there’s nothing to be done but melt it down to reuse the raw metal. Have you ever heard of someone using a sword that was merely stuck back together?”
Pauline nodded as well, but Mile appeared calm and confident.
“Please. Wait until you see the results before you pass judgment!”
“Your results are already rolling away!”
Sure enough, the broken sword was tumbling down the hill and away.

***

“Sorry about the wait. Here’s your new-and-improved sword. It’s tough, unbreakable, unchippable, unbendable, low-maintenance, and will never lose its cutting edge. And, it carries the Mile Company quality assurance guarantee!”
Mile drew the sword from its sheath in a single motion.
Mavis received it wordlessly.
“Is it really fixed…?”
Reina and Pauline eyed the blade suspiciously.
“Don’t be rude! It’s fine this time! Last time, I was just holding back. When I put my whole heart into it, then surely…”
“Maybe you should put your whole heart into it from the start!”
“…Yes, ma’am.”

In order to restore their confidence in her, Mile worked hard. For the sake of the party, Mavis, and herself, she couldn’t afford to conjure up a sword that was too efficient. Therefore, the first time around, she’d aimed to give the sword only the minimum necessary improvements.
However, if the sword broke, there was a chance that Mavis could lose her life, which would put the rest of the party in danger, too. Even if they did make it out safely, having to purchase yet another sword would be a considerable drain on their savings.
And so, Mile had poured her energy into creating a sword that was merely sturdy, but possessed no other special properties, conjuring up the image of carbon fibers, titanium, and high-tensile steel—materials that were thought to be among the strongest on Earth.
She had assumed that this would give Mavis’s blade the necessary strength, and yet the boulder had proved too much for it.
Now, Mile was indignant.
On Earth, were there not blades that could cut rock and iron? Should hers not have been able to slice through that boulder? How could she restore her own credibility?
Failing again was not an option. If she failed this time, there was no way that Mavis would ever trust her life to a sword that Mile had tampered with.
She had to do it. There was no other option.
This time, Mile told herself, don’t worry about the range of techniques that exist in this world! Instead, make an absolutely unbreakable blade, by any means necessary.
A useful sword with an unchippable blade that never rusts and never needs maintenance! The edge should be the fifth sharpest in this world. However, the weight and shape should be the same as before. It would still look exactly like a cheap, normal weapon.
Let’s gooooo!!!
Mile packed the dirt with her feet, then thrust the broken blade into the ground, driving it deep, and channeled her magic into the hilt.
This was the sword she presented to Mavis.

“All right! Now, please try cutting that boulder!”
Mavis was hesitant, but if she didn’t do it, then she would never know how much confidence she could have in this sword. And anyway, the blade had already broken once. If she didn’t test it, how could she know it wouldn’t snap again? A weapon she couldn’t trust was not one she was willing to fight with.
Mavis readied herself and swung the blade up, bringing it down onto the boulder.
Crack!
As was to be expected, the blade did not slice through the boulder. However, seeing how far the blade had sunk into the rock, Mavis, Reina, and Pauline’s eyes grew round.
“This…”
Mavis inspected the blade in disbelief, finding that it had not even chipped. As she did, Mile quietly pulled a short sword from storage and presented it to her teammate.
Though the blade was shorter than average, it was not knife-sized, but rather about half a meter in length.
“Wait. That’s…”
“Yep, it’s the sword you broke yesterday. I fixed the part of the blade that was left and shaped it into this. I figured you could use it as a spare, in case your main sword broke. In a pinch, it might be enough to protect yourself…”
Mavis took the short sword and held it to her chest, overjoyed that her old weapon might still be of some use.
“Miley,” Pauline called. For some reason, she sounded rather displeased.
“Yes?” Mile answered.
“If you could always fix up Mavis’s sword, then we didn’t need to buy a new one, did we?”
“Ah…”
Everyone’s gaze fixed on Mile.
“Well, she still needs a backup weapon, doesn’t she?”
“Even if her main sword is absolutely unbreakable?”
“……”
“N-no, but she might have it knocked away, or drop it, or something else! R-right?”
As she babbled, Mile looked to Mavis for support, but the other girl looked doubtful.
In truth, of the two blades, Mile had pulled out all the stops in order to strengthen the short sword.
Since most people wouldn’t see it and it would only be used if Mavis’s main sword was lost, it made sense to put more power into it.
Mavis cleared her throat. “Well, now that we’ve confirmed the sword’s abilities, why don’t we test it out on some real prey?”
“Yes, of course,” Mile said. “But first, I thought I might try out my weapon…”
“Your weapon?” asked the other three.
“Yes. Remember how I said I have something that I’d like to try out as well?”
Mile pulled a peculiar-looking item out of storage.
“What is that?”
“It’s called a slingshot. You can use it to hunt birds and other small animals.”
“Hmm…”
Reina studied it doubtfully. She wasn’t particularly impressed by this thing, which looked nothing like a proper weapon.
Nevertheless, Mile drew a pebble from storage and loaded it into the pouch of the slingshot. In truth, this pouch had a special gimmick—it held a magnetic charge. It could be loaded with a number of small metal balls, and fire them like buckshot. Though that was a trick Mile would save for later.
She pulled back on the rubber strap and aimed for a tree branch a short distance away.
The slingshot was based on a product that Mile had seen in a magazine, long ago in her previous life. It was the sort of makeshift thing that would horrify the tool’s original designer.
In her version, Mile had barely considered balance and completely overlooked adding something to maintain its attack strength, or a wrist piece to help with stability. It was an incredibly basic slingshot.
But this wasn’t a problem as long as Mile was using it. Her drawing method was appropriate, and the slingshot was durable enough to withstand being pulled back with immense strength.
The body of the slingshot was made of a mysterious metal which far surpassed the strength of titanium. The rubber strap was carbon nanotubes, and though they had a limited elasticity, that was no matter in the hands of a near-god.
This was the slingshot that Mile held in her hands, although the way she held it would have made enthusiasts cry out in dismay and horror.
First of all, her stance was lopsided, and she didn’t draw it using the entire upper half of her body, but only with her arms thrust out before her. Her left hand held the slingshot, while her right grasped the pouch, drawn back to her shoulder. Even the strap was only stretched to half the distance that it should have been.
And then, she let the pebble fly.
Crack!
It smacked dead into the intended branch and snapped it off the tree.
Mile gave thanks for the nanomachines’ course correction.
“Whoa…”
The other girls were stunned.
“Th-this is just like your wind magic…”
“Yes, though the basic principle is completely different. I’m not using magic at all. But it’s a similar method of hunting.
“From here on, I’d rather not face as much scrutiny about the number of prey we bring in, or the methods we hunt with. Besides, if I use wind magic, there’s a chance that I might forget to hold back and make my target explode! That would be bad enough if I was aiming at a bird, but if it was a human…”
“………”
The other three were silent. It was clear from their faces that they were thinking unpleasant thoughts.
“Speaking of which, I’m hoping to use this weapon to draw attention away from my wind magic. If anyone wanted to get their hands on that magic, it would be an enormous bother—”
“L-Let me borrow it! I want to use pseudo-wind magic, too!”
Reina didn’t want to get her hands on the wind magic, which Mile had claimed would blow her fingers off, but she did want the slingshot.
“I can lend it to you, but I don’t think it’ll work…”
“What are you talking about?! If I practice, then I should be able to use it just as well!”
With a peculiar expression, Mile handed the slingshot to Reina.
“G-grrrrrngh… I-I can’t pull it!”
Reina tugged on the strap, which she had thought was rubber, but was actually carbon nanotube. Finally, she stopped, red in the face.
“Like I said…”
The slingshot’s power was all a result of kinetic energy, and that energy had to come from somewhere. Pulling the strap required an absurd amount of strength.
The strange way that Mile had fired it before was not because she didn’t know the proper method, but because she wanted to fire it that way. Using this technique, her shots had the power of a .22 caliber pistol—just enough for hunting birds and other small critters.
If she were to use proper form—that is to say, pull the strap nearly twice as far—the slingshot would surpass the power of a Magnum hunting rifle. Mile would never use that kind of strength unless she had no other choice. Her sword or magic should be enough for hunting larger prey. This was her secret weapon.
After their exchange, Mavis and Mile hunted for a little while, gaining skill and confidence with their weapons.
Reina, still peeved that she was unable to use the “optimal weapon for hunting small animals in the forest,” fired off water and ice spells all over the place. They weren’t her specialty and made a mess of the hunting grounds.
In the end, though they had meant to take a day off, the girls yet again took home enough prey for a decent wage.
And they all lived happily ever after…
Chapter 13:

Pushing the Limits

“What a formidable foe!”
“This isn’t fair!”
“I don’t think we can beat them…”
“Should we retreat?”
Rookie C-rank hunting party, the Crimson Vow, was embroiled in a fierce battle. Their enemies were a horde of kobolds, about twenty of them in total. These were not strong creatures at all. However…
“Meeew”
“Cooo cooooo…”
They were adorable. Incredibly so.
On Earth, Mile thought, kobolds are hideous and evil spirits! Why are these so endearing?!
The creatures were roughly the size of a human child, with dog-like heads, and all the cuteness of a puppy. Still…
Slash!
“You jerks!!”
They had a strong attack instinct, turning them into monsters.
And, although it was true they weren’t particularly strong, this was only from the perspective of Mile and her party of C-rank hunters. It would be dangerous for the women and children of the village to take on one of these creatures one-on-one, and an adult man, or even a group of people, could be in a lot of trouble when surrounded by a horde.
And so the Crimson Vow had taken on the job of clearing the kobold dwellings near this village. And yet…
“We can’t stop! This isn’t a standing order—it’s a real job. If we give up now, we are admitting failure on behalf of the dispatch office. We will have to pay the fine, and our reputation will suffer!”
Indeed, in order to prevent parties from failing to complete jobs for which they were not well suited—or to avoid a single party taking a number of jobs at once and leaving them unfinished—parties taking a job were required to pay a bond that was generally about 10 to 30 percent of their promised pay.
This rate varied from job to job. In the case of monster culling, or other matters that were not time-sensitive, the bond was cheap. But for jobs with a tight deadline, or ones that might cause harm to the client if left unfinished, the fee might even exceed 30 percent.
If victory was impossible, that would be one thing. However, if they abandoned a job on the basis that kobolds are too cute to kill, what would they say to the parents of children these kobolds might murder?
They were all well aware of their circumstances.
“We gotta do it! We’re C-rank hunters now—this isn’t playtime. It’s a job! People’s lives are at stake!”
At Reina’s words, the others felt a pang in their chests.
She was right. Their duty was one of life and death.
It was not only their own lives at stake, but those of all the villagers, as well as any travelers passing by.
“O raging flames of the deep, burn my enemies to the bone!”
This was not the forest, but a cliffside beside a highway. Thrilled to finally be able to use fire magic after so long, Reina let off her trademark spell.
The goal of today’s job was extermination, and none of them would have had the heart to skin the kobolds, even if their pelts were worth something. Fortunately, kobold skins weren’t particularly valuable, so it didn’t matter if they were burnt to a crisp.
Reina’s fire ripped through the spot where the kobolds were gathered, and when they tried to escape in a panic, Pauline cut them off with a Fire Wall. Mavis’s blade dealt with the rest, while Mile sniped any bolder souls with her slingshot.
On top of the ten Reina took out with her initial attack, more and more kobolds fell victim to pursuing girls, their movements slowed by the burns they’d suffered. One by one, they were eliminated.

***

“Now then, let’s have our daily review…”
The discussion was started, as always, by Reina. It wasn’t the usual private conference in their room, but rather an informal chat over dinner in the inn’s dining room. Their food was already laid out on the table.
“First of all, what was with that battle today? We got serious in the end, but early on, we were pretty messed up by the cuteness. We can’t be making a mockery of our profession!”
At Reina’s words, Mavis and Pauline hung their heads, poking at the food on their plates.
“Um, but…weren’t you the one who was the most taken, Re—”
“Don’t you finish that sentence!”
Reina slapped her hands down on the table to cut Mile off, a bit red in the face.
“Anyway, I think that we have a considerable amount of ability as a party. The problem lies with our resolve. I mean, we’re still young and inexperienced, so maybe it’s to be expected, but I’m worried people might think that we’re soft. Or that we don’t take things seriously…”
Wow, Reina really is thinking hard about this…
Mile was moved. She had been considering the same thing.
At first, Mile had been ignorant of the ways of the world. She’d thought that she could rely on her powers if something went wrong. But, even with her limited self-awareness, she had the presence of mind not to say that out loud.
The problem was that Mavis and Pauline—unlike Reina—had almost no experience. All they had under their belts was their field training, and the F-rank jobs they’d taken on their days off at the prep school.
As a hunter, so long as you earned a living with your work, you managed. Even if you were unwell, you’d still put your life on the line to earn your keep. But Pauline and Mavis didn’t have that sense of urgency and resolve yet.
Thanks to Mile, they were blessed with combat prowess superior to that of an average rookie C-rank hunter. However, that meant nothing when compared to the strong will and experience of a veteran.
The battle against the Roaring Mithrils had not been a real fight; it hadn’t even been a game. No matter how you looked at it, it was a test. There was no sign that the Roaring Mithrils even recognized it as a real match.
They were just doing their job—carefully holding back their power and creating opportunities for the newbies to shine, drawing out their full strength. They had merely let a little of that strength slip through the chinks in their armor. If the Roaring Mithrils had really meant to fight, they’d had more than enough chances.
“So, I’ve been thinking. What if, just once, we faced a formidable foe that wasn’t concerned about status?”
“Huh…?”
The other three were surprised, but Reina explained.
“If we only keep hunting the low-ranking monsters that D and C-rank hunters take on, and only accept jobs of that level, it’ll be too easy. There’s no challenge. Won’t that end up dulling our senses? If that happens, then one day we’ll slip up, and someone is going to end up dead—or at least seriously injured—because of it.”
“……”
Mavis and Pauline were silent. Mile already knew her own mind, so she hung back, watching.
“Now, I’m not saying that we should do reckless things all the time. All the lives in the world wouldn’t be enough for that. But just once we should do a job where we can barely scrape by unscathed so that we know our own limits. From then on, we can choose our jobs based on that knowledge. I’d say that the jobs we choose on a daily basis should be at about 70 percent of our reasonable limit.”
“All right. Let’s do it!”
“I’m in too!”
After thinking on it a while, Mavis finally agreed. Pauline nodded.
It seemed that both of them were unsatisfied with the current state of things as well.
“All right then!” Reina said. “Tomorrow, let’s take a good look at the job postings at the guild and make all the necessary arrangements. The day after tomorrow, our real career begins.”
“Okay.”
“Got it.”
“Hey, um, I didn’t get to voice my opinion yet…” Mile said.
“But, you do agree, don’t you?”
“W-well, I suppose I do, but…”
“Then it’s fine!”
“Sure. I guess.” Somehow, Mile was still a bit dissatisfied.
The girls chattered on. “If we use this as a chance to take on higher level jobs, our earnings will increase immensely. Then we can move to an inn with a bath, not a cheap old place like this! Once we graduate from this dive, we’ll be in the big time! I mean, we never meant to remain at a cheap place like this in the first p—”
“Will you stop calling us cheap?! This inn isn’t a ‘cheap place.’ We made it cheaper for you!” Lenny shouted from the other side of the reception desk.
Indeed, this was the same inn that Mile had stayed at for her first six days in the capital, before she moved into the prep school dorms.
“Wasn’t it you who came to us, begging, ‘Oh, we’ve just graduated and we’ve got no money, could you give us a cheaper rate until we’re earning a steady wage’?! So we gave you the unprecedented rate of three gold a month for a four-person room, regardless of whether or not you came back every night! We hoped that you’d give us the image of being a safe, comfortable inn that young girls could be happy to come home to…but here you are, shouting ‘cheap hotel, cheap hotel!’
“Whenever you’re in town, please eat your meals here! That’s the profit we need! And since being known as a safe inn to stay at is great for drumming up business, please don’t stay in your room all the time! Come down to the first floor and mingle with the other guests! Was that not the agreement we made when we negotiated the rate?!”
Little Lenny, the innkeeper’s daughter, was only ten years old. And already, she had all the presence of a matriarch.
“Please forgive uuuuusss!!!”

***

After that, the Crimson Vow did their part—wandering around the first floor to make conversation with guests when they didn’t have anything else to do.
It was Lenny who had persuaded the master and mistress of the inn to give them a discount in the first place, talking about their “marketing potential.” Whether or not other fledgling female hunters would receive a discount in the future hinged directly on the girls’ performance.
For the sake of all the female hunters that came after them, they had to prove their worth, even if it killed them.
“H-hello mister, is this seat free?”
With a tray full of food in hand, red-faced and trembling, Mile smiled at the man.
“You don’t have to do all that, Miss…”
Lenny watched in disbelief, while Mavis, Reina, and Pauline went utterly pale, realizing that they might be next.

***

A bit before noon the day after, the four girls made their way to the Hunters’ Guild.
Because the hall was crowded in the early morning and they were looking for jobs that started the following day, they decided to hang back until things quietened down.
Besides, if people saw still-green Crimson Vow looking to take on a high-level job, the other hunters would rush over to stop them. That was a hassle they would rather not deal with. No matter how good people’s intentions, they weren’t interested in being lectured over something they had already set their minds on.
“Ugh, there’s nothing good here…”
Reina looked over the job board, pouting.
It looked like the day would be a wash. They had no choice but to take a low-stakes job—one that would not cause trouble for the client or anyone else if they failed. That is to say, the Crimson Vow could not possibly be linked to a loss of life or the loss of a great sum of money.
“Orcs are too easy, but the four of us aren’t strong enough to take down a rock golem. The wyvern hunting job is too far away, and worms and spiders are super gross…”
One might think that Reina was being too picky, but with their lives and their futures at stake, it was good to be cautious. Mavis, Pauline, and Mile studied the job board with serious expressions.
“Oh, hey! What about this one…?”
The rest of them turned to look at the posting Mile was pointing at:
Rock Lizard Harvesting. Reward: 15 half-gold apiece, up to 5. Dependent on condition of returned parts.
Rock lizard meat was edible, and their livers were prized for their medicinal value. The hides could also be used to make armor and the like. The way the request was written, it was clear that they were primarily after the meat, but also likely that they wanted to extract the livers and use them for gourmet cuisine, or sell them off to an apothecary. The hide would go to an armorer or workshop.
There was a reason Mile’s eyes had fixed on this posting.
First of all, rock lizards were not particularly strong. Yet despite their sluggish appearance, they were fairly fast, with rock-hard scales, and could make sweeping strikes with their powerful tails. Even so, a group of even just two or three C-rank hunters could probably manage to defeat one.
The issue lay in the location. Unlike a rock golem, a rock lizard’s body was not actually made of stone. Instead, they earned their name from living on rock faces deep in the mountains, where stronger monsters such as rock serpents, rock golems, or sometimes even iron golems might appear.
“Rock lizards, huh? The reward is pretty good…”
Reina did not appear especially interested. They would have to bring back the bodies, so she couldn’t use her fire magic and, even if they encountered golem-type monsters along the way, her sort of magic wouldn’t be much help with them, either.
Plus, it was a two-day journey each way. At minimum, this venture would take them five days and four nights—longer if things proved difficult.
Still, there were also advantages.
First, because the hunting ground was distant and perilous and the quarry itself was such a difficult foe, the reward was substantial. Netting just three lizards would be enough to cover the party’s minimum food and lodging expenses for a month. Part of the reward was probably compensation for carrying a bulky and easily bruised creature such a very long way, but for the Crimson Vow, who had Mile and her absurd abilities with storage magic, that wasn’t a big deal.
Plus, there was plenty of time before the deadline, and the penalty for non-completion was low—only two half-gold. At most, they could get five rock lizards, but given the dangers and the difficulty involved in transport, they were only expected to get one at a time.
It was also incredibly convenient: rock lizards were not a strong monster that would serve as their trial of strength. So as long as they bagged at least one, they could retreat whenever they liked.
“We have a lot of freedom here and not much to lose. What do you think?”
“I have no objections.”
“I don’t either.”
“Me neither!”
Mile quickly tacked on her agreement after Mavis and Pauline.
“Well, then. Let’s do this! The Crimson Vow will give it our all!”
“Yeah!!!”

“I would really advise against this…”
As expected, the guild clerk tried to stop them.
“I am aware that you all fought bravely against the Roaring Mithrils. However, this is a completely different matter. I cannot stand idly by and watch as you recklessly take on jobs that may be the death of you.”
Ah, she didn’t say “won,” just “fought bravely”… I guess that’s how they saw it.
Mile understood that this was probably what others thought of their mock battle at the graduation exam.
“We already know that! But we’re not asking to do this kind of job all the time—just this once. If the going gets tough, we’ll retreat. It will be fine. This is a trial that we of the Crimson Vow must overcome!”
“W-well…”
While the receptionist could advise them on their best course of action, she did not have the authority to refuse a job assignment request from C-rank hunters. As long as the applicants themselves fulfilled the basic requirements, the guild had no choice but to honor that request, as long as it did not violate a mandate from the guild master.
“Please!!!” begged Mavis, Pauline, and Mile.
The receptionist reluctantly processed the request.
“Please, if you do find yourselves in danger, run away as quickly as you can.”
“We will! Of course. We value our lives, and we aren’t the kind of fools who would get injured just to protect our own pride!”
With the fretful eyes of the receptionist, the guild officials, and the other hunters watching over them, the four girls left the guildhall.

“All right. It’s time to get our equipment in order! We’ll need cooking tools and bedding, food, rain gear, toiletries, and a few other things. And since we’ll be using all of these for the foreseeable future, we had better find some good stuff.”
Because of their considerable magical abilities, the Crimson Vow could easily take care of things like water, flint, kindling, and medicine. Indeed, it was a huge advantage over parties without magic users. Furthermore, thanks to Mile’s storage skills, they could journey unburdened by even their minimal amount of luggage. Honestly, it hardly seemed fair.
Mavis and Pauline nodded at Reina, but Mile shook her head.
“Oh, I’m fine. I’ve slept outside plenty of times, so I’ll just use the gear I already have.”
“Oh yeah? And where in the world are you keeping all of… w-wait, don’t tell me…”
“Ah, yes. It’s in storage!”
“………”
They looked at Mile with utter weariness.
“Fine. But you’re still coming shopping with us! We need to help Mavis and Pauline pick out what they need, and we still need your input on purchases that affect the whole party!”
“Oh.”
Naturally. This was not an “every man for himself” sort of situation. They were a party of four.
Not having realized that, Mile was a bit crestfallen.
Reina patted her on the head. “C’mon, let’s go!”
“O-okay!”

They made their rounds at the used clothing shop, the general store, the grocer and the like, purchasing cloaks, saucepans, cooking tools, preserved food, and other accessories before returning to the inn.
At dinner, they notified the mistress at the inn of their upcoming absence and requested that their lunchtime meal for the following day be left in a box at breakfast time. Then they retreated to their room on the second floor.
Tomorrow was a big day, and they had no time to play hostess to the other guests.
“All right, we want to get an early start tomorrow, so let’s eat breakfast as soon as we get up. And let’s all try and get a good night’s sleep.”
In spite of Reina’s words, she was the most restless of all of them—far from ready to fall asleep. There was still plenty of time before the night’s second bell at 9 PM, and so they sat up and talked. The night ended with Reina raging at Mile—who was telling a story called “The Weeping Red Ogre” from her Altered Japanese Fable series.
“Why would you tell us a story like that right before we go kill monsters?!” Reina cried.

***

The next day, after finishing their breakfast and washing up, the Crimson Vow departed the inn. By all appearances, they were nearly empty-handed. Except for their weapons, armor, and water skins, everything—including the boxed lunches they had received—had been stowed away with Mile’s storage magic.
In truth, Mile only pretended to use storage magic, instead stashing their lunches away in the time-frozen world of her loot box where they wouldn’t spoil.
“That sure is handy,” said Reina, worrying what would happen if they grew too used to it.
Their destination was two days’ walk.
Normally, the number of days a trip would take was calculated according to the pace of an average adult male. That was nothing for Mavis and Mile, but Reina and Pauline would have taken longer if not for the benefit of the storage magic.
It was no question that between full-grown men wearing weapons and armor, carrying water, food, and tons of other equipment on their backs, and women carrying nothing but armor and weapons, the latter would move much quicker—especially if said women were hunters. No matter how much slower the rear guard might be, their weapons were light staves and rods, which nearly made up for the difference.
The Crimson Vow left quite early that morning, planning to stop only one night along the way. They should be able to reach the foothills by the evening of the following day.
After they arrived, they would camp and spend the next day hunting. Then they would camp for one more night and set off home the morning after.
If all went well, the trip should last five days and four nights—perhaps a day or two longer if they were delayed. They hadn’t packed very much food, but that wasn’t a problem; there was plenty to gather along the way. With their magic, they didn’t have to worry about water, either. Finally, although the other girls didn’t think they’d brought much food, Mile stashed plenty away in her loot box.
They took a nice long rest at noon and dined on their boxed lunches. Then the Crimson Vow proceeded down the highway where, suddenly, they noticed two wagons following behind them.
A wagon should move quicker than someone on foot. Even Mile and her company, who were reasonably quick, would be a little slower. But, for some reason, the wagons never tried to pass, always keeping a fixed distance behind.
When they stopped for a rest, the wagons stopped as well.
When they started moving again, so did the wagons.
“Looks like we’ve got a parasite,” Reina said, peevishly.
“A parasite?” asked Mile, clueless as usual.
Reina replied, “Ah, I guess they never brought it up at school. ‘Parasites’ are merchants who are too cheap to pay for an escort, but think they can just shadow hunters or other parties traveling the same route and get free protection. If they’re near enough, the chance of them being attacked falls significantly, and even if they are targeted, it’s unlikely that the hunters will just ignore them. The merchants are compatriots for the time being, after all. Just standing by would leave a bad taste.
“The problem is that when you allow this sort of thing, it means fewer job requests for small escorts and more unpaid work for hunters. It’s a huge nuisance for the merchants who pay for an escort like they’re supposed to, as well as the hunters who put their lives on the line for someone that isn’t their employer.”
While it would be clear to anyone that these four young women were novices, they were obviously still hunters. Besides, to be traveling this far they must be D-ranks at least, and their positioning indicated they had two advance guards and two magic users. That would be sufficient to fight off several orcs, and lesser parties of bandits would think twice before ambushing them. Even if the bandits thought they could win, they wouldn’t want to chance serious injury. If even a few of them were injured, a small group could be wiped out entirely.
“Parasites, huh? Well, what do we do?”
“We don’t do anything. Or rather, we can’t. Even if we go yell at them, they’ll just shrug and say, ‘We’ve got business in this direction, too,’” Reina replied.
“I guess you’re right…” said Mile, understanding.
Well, it was an underhanded thing to do, but at least they weren’t interfering with them directly. At least for now.

When the sun starting going down, the girls moved into the woods near the highway and set up camp.
No one would stay outside cover where bandits and other travelers could see you. Since the starlight couldn’t get through the treetops, the forest got dark fast.
Reina had the most experience, so she gave directions and the members of the Crimson Vow scurried about, preparing an efficient sleeping shelter and a nice bonfire, and making ready for dinner.
But just then…
“Hey there! Good evening!”
They were greeted by a rather portly, grinning, middle-aged man, flanked by two guards—most likely, the merchant parasite.
There was only one guard for each wagon, but it seemed this caravan did have escorts after all. Perhaps they were the man’s personal bodyguards. That was only sensible—even if the wagons were lost along with his wares, if a merchant worked hard, he could earn that money back again. His life was not so easily recovered.
Presumably there were also drivers, who had probably been left at the campsite.
“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dewberry. I’m a merchant from the capital. We’ve made camp just over there, and I saw your bonfire, so I thought I would come and say hello.”
He was a parasite after all. It was a bald-faced lie, but there was no use in calling him out.
“Ah, that’s courteous of you. We are the C-rank hunting party, the Crimson Vow. I am Mavis, our leader.”
Normally Reina would take the helm, but when it came to formal exchanges, Mavis—the official leader—was in charge. Even Reina knew that her abrasive manners could be misconstrued and that her appearance gave a certain kind of impression. However, her face still twisted at Mavis, who’d slipped up by announcing their rank to a total stranger with unclear intentions. Mavis didn’t seem to notice.
“Perhaps you girls would like to dine with us?”
The merchant smiled, but there was no mistaking he was planning something. No typical merchant would share his precious food with strangers he’d just stumbled upon. He’d surely packed only enough for himself and his staff.
He was underestimating them, planning to take advantage of their inexperience—or perhaps his intentions were more sinister…
Whichever it was, Reina was certain that nothing good could come from the man’s invitation. She gave a sign to the other three—one of the many hand signals they had devised—which meant, Let’s show them how much stronger we are. Being underestimated or swept up into something weird meant trouble, and the others agreed immediately.
“As far as I can tell, you don’t appear to have any food. My own supplies may not be sufficient, but if you come along with us we’d happily share our stores.”
“Actually, we have plenty of food.” Reina responded. “In fact, if you don’t have enough, then I suggest you share some of ours.”
And so the merchant’s invitation was rejected in a single blow.
“Huh? I don’t see any—”
“Mile, please bring out the food!” Reina cried, cutting the merchant off.
“Yes, ma’am!”
Mile reached into her loot box and pulled out a number of ingredients.
Vegetables, fruit, and even meat, which had been magically “kept on ice” (that is to say, stored inside the loot box), so it was not dried, but raw.
“Wh…”
The merchant and his two guards were completely lost for words.
“S-so you have storage magic, then…”
“And you’re C-ranks…”
Glancing at the stunned merchant and his guards, Mavis quickly sliced the meat with her short sword and Reina roasted it over the bonfire. Pauline used magic to funnel boiling water into a pot. Watching them, Mile thought fondly of the night of their field trip.
And secretly, the nanomachines wept to see the short sword they’d worked so hard to craft make its debut as a cooking knife…
Reina used the bonfire instead of her fire magic to cook the meat. While flash-roasting it with her spells would only blacken the outside and leave the inside raw, food cooked over a normal fire was much tastier.
“So, as you can see, there’s no need to worry about us,” said Reina.
The merchant retreated, dejected.

“So what d’you think?” asked Mavis, her cheeks stuffed with roasted meat.
Reina’s mouth was downturned.
“Well, I don’t think they’ll try anything funny, but if they’re attacked by bandits or monsters they’ll definitely come running with their tails between their legs.”
“That’s still unpleasant. It’s one thing to come across some merchants who are under attack and give them a hand, but to be used by penny-pinching strangers…”
It was a way of forcing hunters to work for free, something they were not especially interested in doing. Pauline was particularly offended.
“Well then, let’s just ignore them!”
“Huh???”
Mile’s words startled the others.
“We aren’t actually working for them—or even traveling with them, right? We just happen to be traveling in the same direction? It would be uncomfortable to watch them get attacked by beasts or bandits right before our eyes, so we just have to notsee it.” Mile grinned. “If some strangers somewhere get hurt… well, that’s none of our business!”

Average 2.1

Chapter 11:

Completely Normal C-Rank Hunters

“This is a historic moment! It’s time for us to take on our first ever job as C-rank hunters!” Reina announced as they stood proudly in front of the posting board at the hunters’ guild.
“What shall we choose?”
“Goblin hunting, definitely!”
“Huh?”
Mile’s proposal didn’t appeal to the others.
“Why, after all this time, would we bother with goblins?! The extermination reward is low, goblins carry nothing you can sell, and you can’t even eat their meat. They’re only good for D-rankers to get pocket change and target practice!”
“No!” Mile was not prepared to back down. “A hunter’s job starts out with gathering herbs and ends with hunting goblins. Definitely! Hunting goblins is the first hurdle you face as an E-rank hunter, after rising from a rookie F-rank who can’t do anything but harvest herbs and hunt jackalopes. It’s a job that symbolizes our growth! Besides, what will happen when we have to guide those who come after us if we don’t know a goblin’s behaviors and weaknesses?!”
“Huh? Isn’t a goblin’s weak point its neck? I’m pretty sure if you cut off their heads they’ll die, so…”
At Mavis’s interjection, Mile let out an uncharacteristic yell. “Even a dragon would die if you cut off its head! That’s not a weakness!
“Anyway, we may be C-rank hunters, but we’ve only ever hunted goblins once, during our training at the prep school, and that was in a secure location, with everything set up ahead of time so we could just wave weapons around and blast some spells. That can’t possibly be considered a real goblin hunt.
“Reina, you were an E-rank, so perhaps you have some experience already, but Mavis, Pauline, and I only hunted goblins that once. Even if we fell a direwolf or an ogre, you can’t be a full-fledged hunter if you haven’t done the basics. Skipping too far ahead might get us in trouble someday. Honestly, we should probably start with herb gathering, but we already did that so much on our days off that the thought makes me feel sick…”
Though Reina still appeared dissatisfied, she understood that Mile had a point and, for the sake of the other three, she agreed.
Certainly, it wouldn’t just be a bit of pruning for pocket change. When the request for goblin extermination came from a small village, the battling wasn’t even the important part. What mattered was the preliminary investigations, planning, and preparing the surroundings so that not a single goblin escaped.
If even a few of them managed to slip away, they would just multiply again and return to harm the townspeople. So, you demolished the goblins’ dwellings as swiftly as possible, leaving not one male, female, or child. Besides, the females and young were weak and could be hunted for their soft flesh.
“Very well. I suppose that’s what we’ll do then. Mavis and Pauline, what do you say?”
“Roger that!”
“No problems here.”
After hearing Mile’s explanation, both were wholly in favor of the plan.
The surrounding hunters were moved by the girls’ exchange, too.
“Impressive. They’re so young, but they’ve got good heads on their shoulders. Normally, you’d think brand-new, inexperienced C-rank hunters, just out of school, would get themselves into some established parties to gain more experience. Instead, they’ve formed a party of rookies. You’d expect them to overstep—act on their whims and get themselves killed—but it looks like they might surprise us and live long, healthy lives.”
“Yes, siree! Those rookies are already legendary! That training school sure did a good job this year…”
“Oh, of course. I heard those Roaring Mithril fellows were contracted for the graduation exam and lost on purpose to give those kids some confidence. But still, they seem pretty promising… Ha ha ha! Maybe it was just a special service for cuties!”
“Uh…”
The other hunters cast shocked looks at the man who’d spoken. He clearly hadn’t attended the exam himself but heard only the most twisted of rumors.
“There’s nothing…” Mile slumped in front of the board, disappointed.
There was not a single goblin extermination request to be seen, only fetch quests and culling tasks. Apparently, there currently weren’t many goblins in the area around the capital.
To make matters worse, there were very few other nearby postings that could be completed before nightfall. On their very first day, they weren’t inclined to take any jobs that required a significant amount of travel, and they weren’t prepared to make camp.
“Well then, why don’t we just go kill some orcs for the daily requests? There are a lot of food-related requests in there, so we can hunt anything else as we go… we did hunt orcs during our training. That should be fine, right?”
Mile nodded agreeably at Mavis’s suggestion, while Reina and Pauline looked a little relieved. While they saw the sense in Mile’s idea, they didn’t really look forward to hunting goblins.
The smell of burning goblins is disgusting… orcs don’t smell nearly as bad on fire, thought Reina, the fire magic specialist.
Certainly, the smell of roasting boar was far more enticing.

***

“We can’t catch them…”
Reina collapsed in a disappointed heap, hands planted on the ground.
This is a familiar sight, thought Mile, though she didn’t say it out loud. She was finally learning to read the room.
This forest was unlike the places they had visited during their time at the prep school— the hunting areas used by E and F-rank hunters. These were genuine hunters’ stomping grounds, used by those of C and D-ranks.
In fact, this was one of the primary grounds for their fellow C and D-ranks, so there was a lot of competition. It would have been surprising to find much prey left in the thinner parts of the woods. Small animals like jackalopes and birds scampered here and there, but the girls hadn’t made it all the way to C-rank just to spend their first day pursuing the same critters they’d hunted before.
“We have to go deeper!”
The other three nodded. That was something they could all agree on. Together, they pressed deeper into the forest.
Bwoosh!
Mile suddenly shot off a pebble and then hurried forward a short way, returning with a jackalope in hand.
As much as they wanted to track down bigger prey, there was a chance that they might not catch any. Besides, even if they did catch bigger creatures, they couldn’t let quarry slip away before their eyes, no matter how small or humble. Even with just two additional silver, dinner for the four of them would be that much more luxurious. And since they had an unlimited carrying capacity, there was no need for the Crimson Vow to be choosy about their prey.
“That magic really is handy, you know…” said Reina a bit jealously, glancing at Mile’s finger gun for the hundredth time.
“But what if you lost your fingers?”
“Grngh…” Reina grumbled in frustration.
When Reina first pressed Mile to teach her magic, Mile discouraged her by showing her how she could bend a copper coin with just her fingers. In order to use magic, she said, she underwent special training from a young age, lest she lose her fingers when a spell went off.
In truth, it wasn’t magic, but raw finger strength—something she couldn’t have taught Reina even if she wanted to.
Whoosh!
Snap!
As they traveled, they gathered enough prey to guarantee a decent payout, but it was all just from Mile shooting pebbles. The other three grew bored.
They’d already traveled quite deep into the forest when, after walking for some time, Mavis stopped and held up her hand in a silent signal. Prey was near.
Mavis was at the front. She was the broadest and tallest, and could spot prey quickly. Besides, if anyone else was in the lead, clearing grass and undergrowth out of the way, Mavis’s height meant she still had to avoid the higher branches. But the number one reason for Mavis’s position was that she was the party’s only forward guard. Reina and Pauline were in rear guard, while Mile covered forward, middle, and rear.
At Mavis’s signal, everyone stood still, peering ahead.
There it was.
As they’d not taken on any special requests and only gone for prey with a standing order, they couldn’t really call it fate, but nonetheless, it was an orc. Exactly what they had been aiming for. Three orcs, actually—adults, by the looks of them.
“Mile, you’ve caught plenty today. Leave them to us!”
Mile nodded at Reina’s whisper and took advantage of the opportunity to sit back and observe.
“I can take one of them out for sure. Pauline, see if you can wound the other two. And Mavis, the moment the magic hits them, you launch a surprise attack and strike the final blows.”
The other girls nodded.
Reina and Pauline began casting in soft voices, releasing their spells simultaneously at Reina’s signal.
“Icicle Javelin!”
“Water Blade!”
Though she was a powerful mage, ice and water magic were not Reina’s specialty. All the same, she poured all her strength into one powerful ice attack while Pauline, whose strength was her quick thinking, let off two rounds simultaneously.
The ice attack went splendidly, striking one of the orcs straight through the gut, while the two rounds of water struck the other two.
Crystals spread through the orc struck by the ice and it fell, but while Pauline’s water attacks left cuts in the gut and shoulder of the other two, the blows were not fatal. After a moment’s faltering, both orcs were ready to jump back into the fray, searching for a glimpse of their opponents.
By that point Mavis, who leapt out the moment the magic struck, was already in front of them, brandishing her sword with a flourish.
Before the orcs realized, she was bringing down her blade. With one diagonal slash, the first orc was mincemeat. There was a horrid scream as it fell forward and collapsed, blood gushing from its body.
Mavis stepped aside, drawing her blade back and bringing it down on the other orc in a diagonal arc.
This orc was already doubled over from the magical wound to its gut. The tip of Mavis’s blade struck it in the throat, and it fell down into the dirt.
“W-we did it…”
Having felled an orc for the first time with her own two hands, Mavis stood in a daze of surprise, satisfaction, and adrenaline.
“Behind youuu!!” Reina screamed, and Mavis whipped around to look. The orc which had been struck by the ice spell—and should have been vanquished—was on its feet again, barreling toward Mavis.
“Ahh!”
There was no time to raise her sword, so Mavis tried an upward cut from below.
Mile had no intention of interfering, planning to stand by and watch her friends achieve victory with their own hands. Luckily, Mavis’s practice adjusting to Mile’s speed allowed her to strike the orc in the nick of time.
Even a second later and—
Cutting the orc through from below, Mavis safely avoided being flattened.
However…
Snap!
“Oh…”
It broke.
No, not Mavis’s heart. Her sword.
There was a particular formula that could be applied to this event:
Ek = ½mv2

Kinetic Energy = 1/2 x mass x velocity2
Thanks to her special training with Mile, Mavis was incredibly strong. The speed of her blade was even more remarkable. Naturally, this amplified her power. However, it also amplified the stress on her sword.
The sword had been almost at its limit, and Mavis thrust it into the orc at a rather unfortunate angle, which further increased the pressure on its blade.
And so, it broke.
There was nothing to be done about it.
“I’m hopeless…”
Mavis was crestfallen. She knew better than anyone how the amateurishness of her final strike had contributed to it. Looking upon her sullen face and her broken weapon, there was nothing for the other three to say but…
“Let’s go home.”
A cold wind blew, whisking fallen leaves around the Crimson Vow as they trudged along, shoulders drooping.
It was a picturesque sight. One that, in a painting, would take first at any exhibition.
The title, naturally, would be “Hard Times.”

***

That evening, the four girls made their way to a weapons shop.
It was their first day as rookie hunters, and they’d done well enough to receive the praise and blessing of the other hunters when they exchanged their spoils at the guildhall.
Despite this victory, however, the girls looked gloomy. Puzzled, the other hunters asked them what happened. Mavis drew her sword with a self-deprecating smile.
“Oh jeez…”
Swords were by no means cheap.
No matter how much they’d earned, this would put them into the red.
The other hunters recommended this shop, which was said to stock decent, relatively cheap swords.
“The dilemma here is whether to buy an okay sword with the funds we have on hand or to buy a cheap one now and save up for a better one. What to do…?” Reina pondered. “Tell us what you think, Mavis. We want to do whatever will be best for the party, after all. That sword was on the verge of breaking as it was, and we already knew that we’d have to replace it. Really, it’s my fault for being so insistent about landing the kill. If the sword broke even a second sooner, you might have been killed. I’m so sorry…”
Having a sword break in the midst of battle was a one-way ticket to the grave. Buying an unreliable weapon just for the price tag was out of the question.
“Okay. I’ll try to make the best decision for all of us. What we need is…”
“A cheap one!” Mile interjected suddenly.
“Huh?!”
“Go on, Mavis. Just pick one with a grip that feels good, that’s about the right length. From the duds in the bargain bin.”
“M-Mile!!!”
Chapter 12:

New Gear

And so, Mavis’s new (used) sword was purchased.
That night, in their room at the inn, Mile turned to the others. “Why don’t we take a day off tomorrow?”
“What are you talking about? We’ve only done a single day’s work! If we carry on like this we’ll never save up any money!”
“C-calm down…” Pauline attempted to pacify Reina, who bristled at Mile’s suggestion.
“Well,” Mavis jumped in, trying to help. “If Mile is suggesting this, there must be a reason, right? After all, she’s always so sure of herself.”
“S-sure of myself…?”
Contrary to Mavis’s intention, Mile looked wounded, her posture crumbling as she folded her hands on the table.
“What? Is something wrong?” asked Mavis, perplexed.
“N-nothing. It’s fine… even though that’s really not…” Mile stood again, mumbling her final words. “Um, anyway. I was hoping to go out with just Mavis tomorrow…”
“Huh???”
The other three exclaimed as one.
“M-Mile, don’t tell me…”
“N-no way!”
“That’s fine with me,” Mavis said. “But what for? You want to go shopping or something?”
It was hard to know exactly what she was imagining.

The following day, somewhere in the woods…
“What are you two doing here?!”
Somehow, Mile and Mavis weren’t alone in the forest. Reina and Pauline were there, too.
“I was concerned about what the two of you might be doing all alone!”
“She dragged me along against my will…”
“In that case,” said Mile. “Why didn’t you just say something? Why did you have to follow us in secret?!”
“If I’d told you, then I’d never be able to find out what the two of you were doing!”
“Gah!!” Mile struggled to collect herself. “Whatever! We may as well do what we planned anyway, Mavis.”
“Okay. What should I do?”
“Just lend me your sword a minute.”
“Sure. Here.” Mavis unhooked the sword from her waist and handed it over.
Mile removed the sword from the sheath, then stabbed it into the sandy ground with ease, plunging the blade deep. The sword slid into the hard ground until all but the hilt was buried, showing no resistance.
“Wh…?”
Even though the ground was sandy, this wasn’t a desert. It wasn’t normal to drive a sword so deep into the ground with so little effort.
“So Mavis, how much would you like this sword to weigh?”
“A-ah, well, my sword style is focused on speed, so if it was a little lighter I could swing it a little faster. But…that would decrease its power. Also, if I always used a lighter sword, I would never hone my strength, and if I had to use something else, then I would get in trouble. I think a normal weight is best.”
“Of course! Normal is best after all!”
Mavis drew slightly away, put off both by the ease with which Mile had plunged the sword into the ground and her strange enthusiasm for this. Then again, Mavis was used to Mile’s strangeness by now. Perhaps she didn’t need to be so concerned.
She was more interested in what was going on with her sword.
“Um, Mile, my sword…?”
“Ah! Just a little longer.”
With these words, Mile sank deep into thought, her eyes going unfocused.
After a short while, she blinked once and gripped the hilt of the sword, yanking it from the ground. She used wind magic to clean the excess dirt from the blade, returned the sword to the sheath, and handed it back to Mavis.
“All done!”
“Ah, thanks…”
Mavis took the sword and hung it back at her waist, then drew the blade to inspect it.
It didn’t really look all that different, but…
“Why don’t you try it out? You wouldn’t want to test a new sword for the first time in a real battle.”
“You’re right. It’s better to give it a whirl ahead of time. I need to get a good sense of the sharpness and weight.”
“Yes. And I have something that I’d like to try out as well, so perhaps we can do some hunting togeth—”
“Hold it right there!” Reina, who’d been watching quietly this whole time, finally interjected. “Going out to handle some sword matters on your own on a day off is one thing, but hunting is another matter! We’re your party, and we’re coming, too!”
“Huh? That’s fine if you really want to, but we’re mostly just going out to test our weapons. We aren’t going to be catching all that much. Are you okay with that?”
“It doesn’t matter. A party hunts together! And that’s all I have to say on the matter,” declared Reina, standing firmly with her arms akimbo. It was a familiar pose.
“In any case, why don’t you take a few practice swings, Mavis? To make sure that the weight and balance are to your liking.”
Mavis swung her sword around for a short while, then answered, sounding satisfied. “No problems here. It’s got a good feel, sits nicely in my hand…”
Mile pointed to a nearby tree, grinning.
“Well, then. Why don’t you try chopping down that tree?”
“Wh…?”
The girls looked at the tree. It was as thick as an adult’s arms could grasp.
“How could I possibly cut through that?! If I even tried it, the sword would be damaged, and we just bought it! This blade is much cheaper than the one I had before.”
Mavis’s previous sword was taken from her family’s personal armory and had been of a fairly decent make. The blade was strong, but Mavis, lacking the technique to match the weapon, had shortened its lifespan considerably with her amateurish attacks…
The cheap sword they obtained yesterday was certainly not capable of the sort of thing that Mile was suggesting…was it?
Despite Mavis’s objections, Mile urged her on. “It’s fine! I used earth magic to strengthen the blade for this very reason. You can swing it as hard as you like, and it won’t even chip!”
“………”
Mavis stared silently, her face sour.
Mile didn’t realize that, in trying to reassure her friend, she’d implied that Mavis’s swings were less than impressive.
“Fine. I’ll cut it. But whatever happens next is not my fault!”
“Of course. If your sword gets damaged, I’ll just fix it. It’s no problem!”
Yet a sword wasn’t something you could just reshape, Mavis thought. No matter how cheap, a sword was still a sword. It wasn’t the same as a metal plate.
Ignoring Mile’s foolish words, Mavis prepared her sword and swung it.
Ka-shunk!
With a dull ring, the blade sunk into the tree, about one-fourth of the way through.
The sword didn’t break. It didn’t even show any sign of bending.
“Uh…”
The three girls were shocked, which was quite understandable. There was no way that a normal sword—which wasn’t an axe, and shouldn’t function like one—should have been able to cut through a tree.
If every blade were capable of power like this, then lumberjacks around the world would toss their axes away and become swordsmen.
“Wh…?”
Mavis stared down at the completely normal-looking blade, lost for words.
Thanks to her training in the past half a year, her strength could rival even the strongest of men. There was no doubt that, if the sword had gone so far into the tree, she had put her full strength behind it. But even though a tree was wood, not metal, a sword in these circumstances should break, or at least bend.
In a match against another person, you didn’t use your full force in every swing. You used only a certain percentage of your power. Yet here she’d swung with full force and, because the blade did not cut all the way through, the sword had absorbed most of that power. Even so, it had not been bent, broken, or even warped. This might be expected of a magic sword or heavenly blade, but this had been simply a cheap, used…
Don’t tell me—did some amazing, high-quality blade end up in the bargain bin by mistake?
Reina and Pauline’s eyes glittered at the thought of this unbelievable steal.
Or…is this because of Mile’s strengthening magic?
“Now, could you try cutting through that for me?”
Mile, who didn’t seem surprised at all, pointed to a spot about seven or eight meters from the tree. To a great boulder, about two meters in diameter.
“M-Mile…?”
This time, as Mavis stared, slack-jawed, Reina stepped forward, snarling.
“That is absolutely, one-hundred percent impossible! What on earth do you think you’re doing with the sword we just spent all that money on?!”
Even Pauline could not keep silent. Her money had been involved too, and she nodded wildly in agreement.
But, after a few fraught moments of uncertainty, Mavis readied her blade a second time.
“Mavis!”
“D-don’t do it!!”
Reina and Pauline protested, but Mavis’s resolve was firm.
“When I cut into that tree, I felt a response. Almost as if the sword were speaking back to me. Besides—everything we have now is thanks to Mile, so… no, wait. What I mean to say is, if we can’t have faith in our friends, then what can we have faith in?”
“………”
Reina and Pauline fell silent.
“Fine,” said Reina, “Do as you like! But if that sword breaks, there will be no more days off until we’ve saved up enough to buy another one!”
Pauline gasped, but Mavis only grinned.
“You guys…!”
Even shy Pauline could not help but protest at the thought of so much money, but it was not enough to stop Mavis.
She stood before the boulder, gathered all her strength, and swung down into the rock with one fell swoop.
Snap.
…The blade broke.
“MIIIIILEE!!!”
“I-I’m sorryyyy!!!”
Mavis collapsed to the ground, while Reina leapt for Mile, and Pauline, still thinking of the party’s finances, stared with a hollow gaze.
“M-Mile, you little…”
“W-wait! Just let me explain!”
“What is there to explain?! I believed in you, and you made a fool of me!”

Average 1.9

“Guuh!”
“Match over!”
Gren, the A-rank hunter, the leader of the Roaring Mithrils, had just suffered a painful defeat.
However, despite his loss, the man in question was completely calm. He knew exactly why he lost and was confident that he would never repeat the same mistake in the future.
The one who was truly stunned was the victor, Veil.
“I-I won…? Against a B-rank hunter?”
“Oi, kid. If you think that victory was all your doing, you’re going to end up dead somewhere. Got it?”
“Ah, y-yes sir. That’s obvious… But, um, well…”
“Okay, then. And, well, a victory’s still a victory. Rejoice today and resolve to do even better tomorrow. In any case, our party may be B-rank, but I’m an A-rank. Remember that!”
“Y-yessir! Thank you very much, sir!”
Amidst scattered applause, Veil headed back to the waiting area, his arms and legs swinging stiffly.

***

Yeeeeeeess! It’s all going according to plan!
Back in the waiting area, Mile was gloating.
She was over the moon with the success of her plan to have Veil go last so that the impression she herself had left was lessened.
If the name of Veil, the boy who had beat the leader of the B-rank party, the Roaring Mithrils, became known by all, then the fame of the others would likely be second to his. Even if she’d overdone it a bit, when her exploits were compared to the breaking news that one of the students undertaking the graduation exam had vanquished Gren, the leader of the Roaring Mithrils, news of Mile would be inconsequential.
It was the perfect plan.

***

“Oi, Mile, come here a minute!”
Mile, still gloating at the success of her scheme, was startled when Gren called to her from the center of the battlefield.
If someone keeps calling for you, then eventually, you have no choice but to respond. Moreover, if that someone keeps calling you by name, everyone else is sure to remember that name—despite the fact that, at that moment, Mile was supposed to be nothing but a no-name graduate.
With those thoughts in mind, she stepped back out onto the field.
“Wh-what is it?”
“You’re going to join us!” Gren shouted to her. “Get your bags in order, and come back to our base!”
“Wh…?” Hearing Gren, the spectators began to stir.
A rookie hunter, fresh out of the Hunters’ Prep School, had just been scouted by the Roaring Mithrils. It was a dream of a lifetime.
There were but a few S-rank hunters in the whole world. Therefore, an S-rank party was virtually impossible, which meant that the highest existing parties stood at A-rank. And now, a rookie hunter had just been scouted by the Roaring Mithrils, who were just on the verge of that A-rank.
Certainly, pitting this girl against Gren, an A-rank hunter, had been by no means a fair matchup.
Yet Mile had exhibited such power and speed—and in such a small package, too. Not only that, but—despite calling herself the “Magic Swordsman”—she hadn’t used any magic in their fight. Yet, it wasn’t that she couldn’t use it. It was that she hadn’t—except for once, right in the middle of the fight. If she had used powerful magic, the fight would have been much easier. But perhaps she hadn’t used magic because she wished to battle Gren with her sword alone.
She had to be quite the big shot to be playing around with an A-rank hunter.
Beyond all that, she was still only twelve years old. The more she learned as she grew older, the more capable she would become. With further practice and experience, Gren could only imagine what kind of monster would she grow into…
An A-rank? As if she would stop at such a piddling rank as that.
An S-rank? Was there really no higher rank available?
The legendary Christopher, the God of Blades, had risen from a commoner to a noble, and then to a count—but perhaps she would go even higher.
Perhaps they had all just witnessed the genesis of a new heroic legend. He was surely not the only person imagining such a future for her.
What kind of heroic feats would this little girl show them in the years to come?
Would she exterminate the dragons? Conquer the demon king?
With eyes full of hope, the people watched, straining their ears for the little girl’s—no, the future hero’s—enthusiastic reply.

***

“I refuse.”
“…Huh?”
Surely, everyone’s ears were playing tricks on them.
Gren, the spectators, the king and finance officer, Count Christopher, Elbert, the foreign guild members—everyone.
“I have a prior engagement.”
At these words, Mile snapped her fingers, and three figures emerged from the waiting area: Reina, Mavis, and Pauline. They flocked around her.
“We were born at different times, in different places—”
“And though we may not share the same blood—”
“We are allies who walk the same road!”
“Even if our paths should part in the future—”
“As long as the blood flows red through our veins—”
“Our friendship is immortal!!!!”
“We are four joined down to our very souls! And our name is—”
“The Crimson Vow!!!!”
BOOOOOOM!!
As the four of them struck a pose, Mile conjured a magical explosion, a puff of four-colored smoke that burst behind them.

They had practiced lines and poses in preparation for a moment such as this, urged on by Mavis and her addiction to Mile’s stories—even though Mile herself had never thought that they would ever actually make such a debut.
“O… oh.”
Gren was left slack-jawed.
How else could he possibly react?
“I am afraid I must refuse,” Mile repeated. “However, if our paths should again cross someday, I hope we can still be allies at that time.”
With Mile’s words as their signal, the four girls returned to the waiting area. They pushed past the throngs of nobles and scouts to make their way out of the stadium. In the space they left behind, several students were setting up some tables and chairs in front of an enormous pile of packages.
Atop the hastily assembled tables, they pulled from their boxes an array of sample products, which they set on top, along with a banner:
Crimson Vow Figures: 1 for 3 Silver, 4-Piece Set for 1 Gold
Displayed before them, the spectators saw miniature figures of Mile and company, just shy of twenty centimeters tall, just like the action figures one might see on Earth. There were versions garbed in both hunters’ gear and casual clothes. There were 1,000 pieces in total.
“Come and get your Crimson Vow figures, just three silver each, with a half-gold discount if you buy the full set! How about one of these as a souvenir?!”
“Give me that one! I need Miss Mile!”
“Both versions of Miss Reina for me!”
“I’d like two each of Lady Mavis!”
“I want Pauline to abuse me!”
They sold out in no time.

***

Three days earlier, the evening after Elbert’s special request, Mile had been doing a bit of end-of-term tidying up when she took inventory of her belongings inside the storage space and the loot box. She was making sure she returned anything she had been lent by the school.
“Huh? This is…?”
As Mile looked over the things she had pulled from her loot box, the other three drew nearer.
“What is that?”
“It’s so cute!”
“Did you make that, Mile?”
It was the wooden figure that Mile had carved so long ago, killing time in the carriage on her way from her childhood home to Eckland Academy.
“I like the style. It looks like there should be a whole set.”
“It really is nice. I bet you could sell it—don’t you?”
“…”
As Mavis and Reina praised the figure, Pauline cut in.
“Can I borrow it, Mile?”
“Huhh???”
With Pauline in charge, things moved swiftly.
By the end of the night, she had spoken to all twenty of the students who weren’t undergoing the graduation exam and gathered some candidates. They started a mass production team, with Mile’s carved figure as a prototype.
Though the magic users were in charge of the figure production, they were assisted by those with artistic talent. Including those who handled the finishing touches and packaging, twelve students in total worked hard throughout the night. Because their plans would have no effect on the examination, they didn’t speak to the test takers about what they were working on, but news spread via the magic users, and several more decided to participate.
“Miss Pauline, is this really all right?”
“He told us to crush it, didn’t he? At the final assessment? So, it’s fine!
“We’re going to need all sorts of money after graduation. We need to buy equipment, and until work picks up, we’ll need savings to tide us over. And of course, we can set some aside in case any of us gets injured or sick…
“Those who graduate at a D-rank are going to be in even more dire straits than we are. I’m sure any bit of money would be a huge help for them… Who are we to let such a lucrative chance pass us by—for our sake and theirs?!”
“W-well, we put you in charge, so I guess I can’t complain. Just don’t work them too hard…”

***

In the end, they sold all 1,000 pieces. With the full-set discounts, they garnered 2,800 silver pieces in total. From that, they paid each of the 18 participants 100 silver each and kept the remaining 1,000 pieces for their party.
In terms of Japanese money, they had made about 1,000,000 yen. A very large sum.
Even for the other participants, to start out their new lives after graduation with 100 silver already in their pockets meant a great deal. Everyone thanked the girls, and those who had declined to help, not thinking that they would actually turn a profit, regretted it deeply. However, what was done was done.
It was not long before the term “magic models” came into use in their world.

***

“I wonder if we’ll be able to maintain the school’s current budget?”
After Mile and the others left, Elbert remained in the stadium’s special conference room with the king and officials.
Though he was usually full of confidence, before the king and other nobles, he lacked even a fraction of his usual presence, especially when it came to bringing up the topic of money.
“Hm? Maintain the current budget? What kind of nonsense is this?”
“W-well, I was just…” At the finance officer’s reply, Elbert prepared to make his case. However…
“We couldn’t possibly leave the budget as it is. We’ll need to increase it—exponentially! Wouldn’t you say, your Majesty?”
“Oh, yes! Most certainly. Furthermore, wasn’t there a proposal several months ago to transition the prep school from a trial to official status? Please re-file it so we may examine the matter again. And we might need to request an audience with the foreign hunters’ guilds sometime in the near future. I’d like to consult them on various topics and suggestions, as well.
“Count Christopher, could we rely on you for a few more matters?”
“Yes, certainly!”
Beside Count Christopher, whose eyes were shining with mirth, Elbert stood, mouth wide open.
“To think that such gems as those youngsters were hidden away in this very town. If we can uncover even more like them, then the school’s budget would be a small price to pay for such riches.”
At the king’s hopeful words, Elbert became a bit worried.
“U-um, well, those girls were a bit of a special case… To find students like them every term would be…”
“You don’t think I know that?! But if we can prevent even one genius from slipping through the cracks every decade, then that’s enough. Furthermore, even if they aren’t at that level, that hardly means that future graduates won’t flourish! Cultivating talent takes time. Don’t make such a fuss.”
“You are so wise!” Elbert said. “Forgive me!”
Truly, they had been blessed with a fine king.
“And also,” the king went on, “since the students attend tuition-free, don’t you think we should ask them to stay in this country for a few years at minimum? They could do their duty to improve our nation, while making all sorts of connections that will keep them from wanting to leave!”
Truly, they had been blessed with a shrewd king, as well.

***

In the stands, everyone had gone home—except for one man, sitting silently, and a woman, who was shaking him by the shoulders.
It was the master of a certain region’s guild hall, who had traveled eight days to get to the capital, along with his fellow traveler, the clerk Laura. They hadn’t come to watch the graduation exam specifically, but rather, delayed some ordinary business so that their stay in the capital would coincide with the matches.
“…”
“Master, we need to go now!”
“…”
“Master!”
It was some time before the guild master was able to move again.

***

Not long after the day of the exam, Veil was hesitating. Normally, he would have started out his career as a hunter at a low D-rank, but thanks to that girl, he was debuting at a C-rank, accompanied by a magnificent fanfare.
To be known as “the man who defeated Gren” meant quite a lot.
In reality, he had done little more than topple a giant who was already teetering, but as the rumors spread, Veil became known as something of a superhuman figure. A number of influential people within the country, as well as guild members in positions of power, had been present at the event. Though it was clear that to them the girl was far more impressive, for those who only had heard the rumors, it seemed that the girl had put up a good fight and lost—while the boy, who had defeated Gren in the blink of an eye, was the one who was truly amazing.
Because of this, though he was unable to join any party as a full-time member, Veil received a number of invitations to join various groups for short-term engagements. Situations often arose where party members were injured, or a party lacked combat strength and needed back-up. As a result, he received a fairly decent number of these requests. Due to the fact that he always completed his work reliably, his reputation began to grow.
With just a bit more experience, he would be able to achieve his goal of becoming a party leader himself, creating opportunities for the orphans to work as low-ranking hunters. The F-rank kids could work as porters, carrying the spoils and the E-rank kids could be trained into D-ranks—at which point, a whole new world of possibilities would open up…
And then there was that girl who had granted him the means to make those dreams for the future come true, who was bright and cheerful, who was honest and cute and strong—and who had been kind to Veil.
He wanted to see her. But if they met, what would he say? Would he thank her? Again? He had already done as much at their graduation. They both lived in the capital, so there was a chance that they would run into each other sooner or later, but just as much of a chance that they wouldn’t. That said, he did know the inn in which the girls had made their headquarters, which meant he could see her whenever he chose.
However…
It’s too soon for that, Veil thought.
It was true. It was too soon.

***

Turning back the clock slightly, to a particular room in a certain inn, several days after the graduation exam…
“Well, anyway, I think this inn should serve as a good base. We’ve got a nice, big four-person room, and meals aside, we can get it for a discounted rate of three gold a month. A humble place like this is the perfect starting point. This is where our legend begins!”
As Reina spoke, the three others nodded.
“If we eat only the minimum amount,” she went on, “that should cost us two gold a month. And even if we’re a little indulgent, it shouldn’t be more than three. That’s already more than half of the almost ten gold we got from the figures. We also need to factor in replacing Mavis’s half-broken sword, as well as emergency savings. We don’t know when one of us is going to end up injured or sick, after all. And though we do have Pauline’s healing magic, it’s better to be safe than sorry.
“So, our budget’s at its limit. In other words, we’ll need to earn at least five gold pieces each month to cover the next month’s expenses. And of course, if we want to buy new clothing or shop for any other things, we’ll need a bit more.
“Speaking practically, we also need to save up to buy some new equipment—and on top of that, it would be nice to have a feast on our birthdays. Therefore, my goal is ten gold a month or more.
“If we earn anything significantly beyond that, we can relocate to an inn that has its own bath. For four girls, having only a wash basin to wipe off is less than ideal!”
Mavis and Pauline nodded again.
As for Mile, she said, “Wouldn’t it be more convenient to wash ourselves with warm water magic when we go out hunting and eliminate any day-to-day sweat and dirt from our bodies and clothes with cleaning magic?”
“A-ah…”
“Ah?”
“YOU JERK!! If you know that kind of magic, then why didn’t you teach it to us soooooooooner?! I did notice back at the dorm that you never seemed to take a bath… I guess you were just keeping your tricks to yourself!!!”
Thus began operations for the C-rank hunting party, the Crimson Vow—and Mile’s life as a normal C-rank hunter.

***

“Those students really were amazing… We ought to consider a system like that, where talented individuals can be promoted in a short time, for the benefit of our own country,” said the master of a certain country’s capital guildhall, as his carriage rambled back along the road to his land’s royal capital.
Inside his luggage, stowed away in the carriage, was a full four-piece set of figures that resembled a particular group of very talented girls.
Thusly laden, the carriage pressed on to the royal capital of a certain country, home to Eckland and Ardleigh Academies.

Average 1.8

“I have a request.”
Three days before the final assessment, after their afternoon lessons, Mile and company were called to the office of the principal, and head instructor, Elbert. When they arrived, they were shocked to see Elbert kneel before them.
“I’m begging you. The final assessment is in three days, and I need each of you to give it your all!”
“Huh…?”
Elbert proceeded to elaborate.
Six years ago, the Hunters’ Prep School had been established on a trial basis, thanks to the efforts of Count Christopher, a legendary S-rank hunter turned noble.
Since its founding, many splendid hunters had emerged from the school’s ranks, but their track record was still short, and they had yet to produce anyone of A-rank or greater. As long as the bulk of nobles didn’t consider the program a waste of funding, and assuming it did well upon being thoroughly assessed, the school would be able to expand to full capacity. However, there was also the possibility that the budget would be cut, or withdrawn entirely…
“Normally, the selection exams for the class following yours should already have been completed by now,” Elbert said. “However, as the next term’s budget hasn’t yet been finalized, they’ve been delayed. We haven’t told the current prospective students, but at this rate, there’s a chance that the school might not make it to the next term at all.”
“I see…” said Reina, who seemed at least somewhat aware of the circumstances. “I did think it odd that there didn’t seem to be any selection exams happening. The ones for our class were all finished before last year’s final assessment…”
“I noticed that the facilities and equipment had yet to be refreshed, and I guessed it was something like that…” Pauline muttered.
Mile, who had bypassed the selection exam, and Mavis, who was generally oblivious to such matters, had not suspected a thing.
“Currently, under Count Christopher, this prep school came into being with the intention to allow hunters to bypass the minimum term requirement for promotion, instilling even those outside the school with the abilities necessary to reach higher levels. The eventual aim was to gain enough of a foothold to start changing the rules and regulations of the guild as a whole.
“It’s very important that we not allow this place to be squashed.”
With this, he looked at the four of them.
“As your opponents for the mock battles in the exit exams, we’ve requested the participation of a party that’s at the very top of B-rank, nearly A-rank. Furthermore, there may be quite a crowd in addition to our patron, Count Christopher. The officials of the local guildhalls will come to see the results of the school’s curriculum, while the guild masters themselves will be on hand to take a look at you rookies. Hunters will scout graduates for their parties. Nobles, wealthy folk, and commoners starved for entertainment, all love the spectacle and novelty. Most importantly, however, it’s quite possible that the finance officials who hold our budget in their hands may be in attendance, perhaps even along with the king.”
Elbert bowed his head. “I’m begging you, please show us your best at the assessment! I know you girls have been hiding your true potential, and it’s easy to imagine that there must be a reason for that. Therefore, all of us instructors have pretended not to notice.
“However, even knowing this, I must implore you! Without this school, young people like you would have to waste precious years of their lives gathering herbs and hunting jackalopes. This school is an absolute necessity! We need you to help beat this into everyone’s heads!
“I beg you! I don’t want this school to disappear!” Elbert bowed so low that his forehead was on the desk. The four girls stood, gaping, for some time.
“Leave it to us!”
Two voices rang throughout the office, shocking Mile.
“How can one possibly refuse such a sincere request from the teacher who has cared for us?!” Reina said. “When this will have such an immense impact on the lives of all future hunters?! This school is vital for people like us. We will meet your expectations!”“Besides,” Mavis added, “this is a splendid chance to put our names out there. How could we run from that?! Please leave it to us!”
“…I beg you,” the principal said again.
Seeing Elbert, who was usually so confident, with such a pitiful look, Mile decided, finally, to cooperate.
Thank goodness she had prepared a sacrificial lamb for just such an occasion…

***

And so, the day of the final assessment arrived.
It was held in a stadium near the palace, a spectacular, recently built state-of-the-art facility. Not only could it hold numerous guests, but it also employed strong barriers and protection magic, so as to avoid damages to the facilities or injuries to the viewers during magical battles.
“All of our preparations have paid off. Today, we’ll see not only the finance officers, but also other influential nobles. Even their Majesties the king and queen, and their Highnesses the prince and princess will be in attendance. The countries’ guilds will be well represented, as well.
“This year, when we were extending the invitations, we told them, ‘We have some truly excellent rookies.’ So please don’t let us down!”
At Elbert’s proclamation, Mavis and Reina swapped looks of exhilaration, while Pauline stood awed. Mile was white as a sheet.
In just a few short moments, the exit exam mock battles would begin. Their results would determine not only the fates of the graduates, but the fate of the Hunters’ Prep School itself. The exit exam mock battles, called grad battles for short, weren’t undertaken by all of the students. Only a handful were hand-selected by the instructors to participate. Typically, these were the students who had the abilities and characteristics to qualify as a C-rank hunter, the rank with which they would graduate if they did well. Even if the students selected didn’t wish to participate, in many cases, they would be strongly encouraged to do so by the instructors.
Those who failed the exam, refused it, or were judged by the instructors to be underqualified to participate, graduated automatically at a D-rank.
Many of these students still strove to rise to C-rank relatively quickly, having met the minimum requirements through their training at the school. Even failing wasn’t such a tragedy, as these students were only considered to be just a bit lacking. After all, anyone who was truly useless would have dropped out ages before.
This time, there had been forty exam hopefuls. The entire class. Since they had nothing to lose, the students had all figured that there was no harm in trying. Even before Elbert’s request, Mile herself had hoped to participate in the exam. Being a D-rank would be inconvenient for a solo hunter, and so she had put in her application early on, before Reina had proposed that they form a party after graduation.
Of the forty students in their class, eighteen would be participating in the grad battles: the four from Mile’s party; five swordsmen, including Veil; two spear users; three archers; and four magic users. Their opponents for the battle would be the B-rank party, the Roaring Mithrils, who had only six members—unusual for a group of their rank.
Parties of F to C-rank often had smaller numbers, four to seven people on average, but at B-rank and higher, you normally saw parties of ten members and up. Sometimes, there were even twenty or thirty hunters on a roster, so that if any member was injured or ill, they could still take on jobs, and the party could divide and conquer. In most of those cases, however, the parties often included people with lesser skill, as well a handful with less-than-ideal personalities…
In the case of the Roaring Mithrils, however, their numbers were few but truly elite. Everyone in the party was an exceptionally skilled hunter. The group consisted of their leader, a greatsword wielder of about 40 years old; a skilled lancer of approximately the same age; a youngish swordsman in his mid-20s; and three mages, one older, one in his late 30s, and another closer to her late 20s. They lacked an archer, but with mages who were skilled in long-range attacks, the party had no need for one.

***

Finally, Elbert, the principal, announced the start of the exit exam mock battles. The test began.
In order to truly show off the test participants’ skills, they had to face up against a party with a clear difference in raw power. For this purpose, the school typically requested a B-rank party. For them, the battle would be an easy job, as any hunter in the group could take on several students at once.
Since being able to work well with rookies was a necessary skill for any high-ranking hunter, the test takers would be facing only the younger members of the party, while the leader and the older mage would sit back and observe the participants’ performance. Still, though they were young in comparison to their leader, the rest of the party members were still B-rank hunters, each with such strength that, in any other party, they would have been heavy hitters themselves.
The first several mock battles progressed smoothly. While the test takers didn’t win the matches, thanks to their opponents, they were able to show off their strengths and come across as worthy fighters. Each had a satisfying battle. Of course, a great deal of this was thanks to their opponents’ considerable skill and forethought; however, most of the participants didn’t appear to notice this and seemed satisfied with their own display.
Finally, it was down to Mile’s party and Veil.
Mile’s group would be tested first, and Veil would be last.
Naturally, Elbert had arranged it this way, on Mile’s request.
“You can do it, Pauline!”
“I know you can win! Keep your cool, and be careful!”
“The whims of fate can turn a battle. Just give it your all, and fight with no regrets.”
The other three shouted words of encouragement as Pauline trembled from stress and nerves. Her timid nature had reared its head, and she couldn’t seem to muster the will to continue.
“It’s nice of you to say those things, but… I guess if I were a freak like you, Mavis, or if I had Reina’s childish stubbornness, or maybe if I were as oblivious as Mile, then I wouldn’t be so nervous…”
“Er…”
Mavis, Reina, and Mile had taken fatal blows before their matches even began.

***

“It’s your turn now, is it, young lady? What are you trembling for? It’ll be fine.”
Pauline’s opponent was Olga, a young magic user in her late 20s, who had already faced several other participants who specialized in utility and healing magic. She had the same magical specialties as Pauline. However, as a B-ranker, she could also wield a staff reasonably well in self-defense.
“P-please treat me kindly…”
“Of course. Are those girls over there your friends? They’re all so little! If the prep school is letting in bitty things like that, I wonder if their standards have fallen…”
Clack!
“What’s this? Are you trying to knock me out in your first blow? Maybe they should disqualify you…”
Crack!
“Well then, I suppose I’ll let you take the first strike. Do as you like…”
“Shut the hell up, you flat-chested bitch!”
“Wh…”
Time seemed to freeze.
The acoustics of the stadium were designed to create a calculated reverberation so that spectators could hear the conversation between the fighters. Although quiet comments did not always reach the spectators’ seats, Pauline’s words echoed through the arena easily—which meant that, while the onlookers hadn’t heard Olga’s first utterance, which she’d made half to herself, Pauline’s scream of rage had reached their ears. Quite easily.
“Wh-what did that girl just say?!”
Not only had Pauline just cursed at a B-rank hunter, her senior, but she had insulted the woman’s body. It was an egregious jab.
Worse still was the fact that she had done so quite loudly, in front of the country’s bigwigs, the leadership of numerous guilds, and a number of other spectators.
Their party’s name was going to become famous—just not exactly for the reason they hoped.
Reina clutched her head. Mavis paled.
“Eugh… F-flat-chested…”
Behind them both, Mile was devastated.
“What’s with this rookie?!”
“Has she no manners at all?”
Even among the spectators’ seats, which had first fallen silent, a clamor now began to grow.
“It seems like she snapped. That’s the only explanation,” Reina started. “But Pauline’s not the sort of person to lose her cool just because someone insults her. Do you think that woman was making fun of us? Now I guess we just have to wait and see whether Pauline can just shout back insults—or if she can back it up with some results.”
Even Reina had been flustered, but she was quick to recover. Was it simply because of her own brashness or because she truly believed in her friend?

***

“You insulted my friends—you’re going to regret that!” Pauline cried.
“Fl-flat-chested… flat-chested bitch…” The older woman was trembling with rage.
Fairly tall and slender, Olga was, in fact, quite a beauty. Combined with the fact that she was a B-rank hunter, this had made her rather popular in the past. However, she had yet to find herself a good man, and as the years went on, she felt more and more conscious of her lack of a partner.
Slapped in the face by Pauline’s insult, Olga was reeling. “Flat-chested… Flat-chested…”
“Blaze, O heart of mine! Let my rage become the flames and the fire that burns before me! FIIIRE! BWAAAAAAAAAAAAALLL!!!”
A shuddering ball of flame, nearly a meter in diameter, appeared before Pauline, swiftly snapping Olga back to reality.
A fireball? Olga thought. It’s huge, but it doesn’t look very cohesive. Of course, it’s quite impressive that a specialist in utility magic can use an attack spell at all, but it can’t possibly have much power…
“GOOOOO!!!”
The fireball moved toward Olga, who shielded herself calmly. “Come to me, magic barrier, shield me from that fireball!”
The ball collided with Olga’s conjured barrier; however, without sufficient power to destroy the shield, it simply washed over it.
Fire covered Olga’s field of vision, but she was unhurt.
“With attack magic like that—gwahh!” Olga screamed in anguish as a sudden pain raked her left side.
When she looked to her left, she saw a staff, jammed between the gaps in her leathers.
The end of the staff withdrew and flew towards her again.
“You braaaat!” Ignoring the pain in her side, she pushed the staff off with all her might and in quick succession, swung her own weapon at her opponent’s body and launched a kick at Pauline’s stomach with her right leg.
Huff… Huff… Huff…
Olga quickly assessed her injury, and while the pain was great, it didn’t appear to have broken any bones or ruptured internal organs. Even though the attack had been aimed at a gap, her leather armor had done its job well enough.
Struck by both the kick and the heavy staff blow, Pauline collapsed. Perhaps Olga had broken one of her bones.
Though Olga might be reprimanded later for using excessive force on a student, it had nonetheless been unseemly for that girl to speak as she had to a senior hunter. Olga’s response had only been inevitable.
“Erase the pain and heal the wounds! High Heal!” As the healing magic began to wash her pain away, Olga let out a sigh. She glanced her opponent’s way to find Pauline already on her feet again.
Pauline’s face was twisted in pain, though, and her left arm was bent at an unnatural angle.
“How rude!” the girl said. “I fought so hard to surprise you with that blow, and you just shook it off with a single spell? Healing magic is so clever and useful, though… And with that in mind…” Pauline trailed off with a crooked grin, then said, “Numb the pain, restore the bones, join and mend them! Restore the tissue, repair the blood vessels, refresh the nerves! Mega Heal!”
“Wh-what is that?!” Olga said.
“Allow me to…” Pauline swung her left arm, which should have been completely shattered, leaving Olga and the spectators lost for words.
Silence fell over the stands again.
“H-how…?” Olga muttered.
Simply being able to use recovery magic and basic healing magic, as well has having decent self-defense skills, would be enough to see one comfortably recognized as a C-rank healing magic user. On top of that, though, Pauline could use attack magic—weak though it may have been. Nevertheless, she could swing her staff at full force. And there’d been that ridiculous healing spell, too!
Once, Olga had heard from a physician about the existence of a powerful healing magic—one that surpassed even her own “High Heal” spells. It had the power to mend shattered limbs in an instant and was far beyond what she herself would ever be able to achieve.
And that little girl had such an ability?
“Impossible…”
Ignoring Olga’s muttering, Pauline started to chant another spell. “Burn, O heart of mine! Let my rage become the flames, and come to me, blazing fire!”
“Wh-what? The awkward fireball again? Do you really think I’m going to fall for your little smoke and mirror trick again?!” Olga screamed in rage. Combined with the healing magic she had just seen, she was certain the girl was trying to make a fool of her.
“Hm? Fireball? What are you talking about? What I used before was ‘Fire Wall.’ This is Fireball.”
“Wh…?”
Pauline continued her spell, unconcerned with Olga. “Compress!”
“No way! Your only attack magic is that faulty spe…”
The fire shrank and split into two complete orbs. Olga cried out.
“Do you think I went through special training just to acquire that measly level of attack magic?” Pauline said. “Now, hammer of rage, bear down on the fool who insulted my companions! GOOOOOO!!!”
Ka-bwoosh!
Before she could react, the fire orbs clipped both of Olga’s shoulders, and she flew backwards into the stone wall.
Olga sat slumped, her face blank.
“Round oveeeeer!”
As the end of the match was announced, Pauline turned on her heel and walked away.
“WHOAAAAAAAAA!!!”
There was a great roaring cheer from the stands. In reply, Pauline raised her right hand gently.

***

“So that’s the ‘amazing rookie’ you mentioned then, is it?!” said the finance officer. “I would say that ‘amazing’ was an understatement! To tell the truth, I didn’t believe you. I thought you were just exaggerating so that you could get your budget through. I’m sorry to have doubted you!”
Elbert was taken aback at the finance officer’s candid apology.
Beside them, the prep school’s benefactor, Count Christopher, was grinning happily.
“That is one impressive young lady!” said the king. “It’s nearly unheard of to see such powerful healing magic, especially in combination with ingenuity and the ability to launch attack magic as well. In fact, she would make an excellent court magician. Which means this school is useful for scouting talent, after all. And this term has been particularly fruitful…”
Elbert made a strange face.
“Hm? What is it?”
Elbert answered, his expression troubled, “Um, well, there was something I heard this girl say earlier…”
“Oh? What was it, then?”
“She was laughing, but I think her exact words were, ‘Ha ha! I’m only the weakest of the Four Sages!’”
“………”

***

“You did it!”
“You were wonderful! This is the start of a glorious future for our party!”
“That was amazing, Pauline!”
With Pauline’s pre-match insults already far from their minds, the other three congratulated their friend on her victory.
Pauline sat down, red in the face, her expression still twisted. The tension that had built up as a result of her anger seemed to finally be fading, her sanity restored—or perhaps, she was suddenly recalling all the things she had said in front of that huge crowd, inspired by the flights of fancy born from Mile’s bedtime stories.
“Well, Pauline did her best. You can’t afford to lose, either!”
Mavis nodded at Reina’s words, equipping herself with her practice sword and stepping out into the area where the mock battles were being held.
Then came the second hunter who would surely suffer at the hands of his own hubris—Mavis’s opponent, a swordsman in his mid-twenties. At his age, normally, he would have still been well within C-rank. However, not only was he already a B-rank, he was one of the Roaring Mithrils. While he was still nowhere near the level of their leader, an A-rank hunter named Gren, the man had enough talent to be considered a true prodigy.
Moreover, he had a pompous manner and a pretty face, and he was popular with all the ladies in the capital, which surely played a role in making the Roaring Mithrils just a little more famous.
Yet no matter how young he was, there was still nearly a decade between him and the seventeen-year-old Mavis. That age difference was representative of the difference in practice and experience between the two sword users, as well—not to mention the discrepancies in physical build and power.
Their difference in real combat experience was perhaps the most notable. For Mavis, who never employed any kind of trick, the chance of winning against a sly hunter like this one was extremely slim.
However, such things didn’t concern Mavis. She knew she just had to throw all her strength into the battle. Thus, with that in mind, she exchanged formalities with her opponent and drew her sword.
“I humbly accept your lessons,” said Mavis.
“Sure,” the swordsman replied, in the magnanimous words of a senior hunter. “Go ahead and give it all you’ve got.”
“Special technique, ‘Godspeed Blade,’ attack!”
With that declaration, Mavis launched her offensive.
Whoosh!
“Whoa!”
Shing!
The swordsman blocked Mavis’s lightning-fast attacks, his face panicked.
Clang clang clang clang clang clang clang clang clang!
Mavis was unrelenting, and as the swordsman continued to block her attacks, his expression grew dire.
“Guh! What is this?”
Facing a far fiercer battle than he expected, the swordsman answered each one of Mavis’s sallies with rapid attacks of his own.
However, Mavis fielded these blows almost nonchalantly.
“Huh? Is this all…?” Mavis said. Lately, her only opponents had been Mile and Veil, as the other students were now loathe to go up against the three of them. As a result, her expectations had become somewhat skewed.
Thus, though she had come in with high expectations about the challenge of facing a B-rank hunter, she found that he was slower than Mile or even Veil. Was this truly her competition?
Unthinking, she muttered in disappointment. “Wh-what did…?”
Despite putting a real effort in his swings, the hunter was being crushed by a prep school graduate.
His pride in his B-rank status was shrinking to just an iota, and his face began to pale.
“Well then, let’s try it from here…” Mavis muttered.
Thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack!
“Wh-whoa…”Though he had only narrowly managed to protect himself in the face of Mavis’s attacks, the swordsman was finally getting used to her speed, which was gradually increasing. “Well, now that I’m finally warmed up, let’s do this for real!”
“Wh-what…?” Mavis exclaimed, then pressed forward.
Blam blam blam blam blam blam blam blam blam!
Ka-shing!
“Gwahh!” The young swordsman took a blow directly to his left side and crumpled nearly in half.
“WHOOOOOOAAAAAA!!!” An excited roar rose from the stands. The rookie had just felled a supposedly expert swordsman in a single blow!
Yet the test had only gone on for a short time, and there was no call announcing the end of the battle. The aim of the match wasn’t to decide a victor, but to see the abilities of the test taker, so calling it too soon would defeat the purpose of the fight.
“Ugh…” the swordsman groaned. Though Mavis used only a practice sword, it was no different from being struck with an iron bar. Things were not helped by the fact that the hunter wore leather, rather than metal, armor.
The swordsman mustered all his determination in order to stand, biting back the pain.
As he finally readied his sword again, Mavis spoke coolly.
“Currently, I’m using ‘Godspeed Blade’ at 1.2 times speed. Next up, I’ll face you at 1.3 times.”
“Wh-what…?”
Ka-slam!
“Gwahh!!”
Even in perfect physical condition, he couldn’t have stood up to this expedited blade—in his current condition, there was no contest.
“Match oveeeeer!! Someone call a medic!”
The end of the match was finally declared, as it became clear that the swordsman wouldn’t be returning to his feet without assistance.
Still unsatisfied by the battle, Mavis huffed, disappointed. “I still had two more levels…”
Then, amidst ear-splitting cheers, she left the stage.

***

“Wh-what was happening with that swordsman?! She was so fast I couldn’t even see her blade!” The finance officer was enraptured. Count Christopher’s eyes were wide as well.
“That was incredible! This girl must have been that ‘amazing rookie’!” said the king.
“Lately, her favorite sentence has been, ‘How come I’m the only one getting left behind?!’” Elbert replied, a strange expression on his face.
“My, she was rather splendid…” said the princess from behind them as her heart began to beat faster.

***

“Great work!” Reina called to Mavis as she moved to the center of the stadium, a daring grin spread across her face.
One of the Roaring Mithrils’ magic users, a man in his late thirties looked to the elderly mage, then to Gren—the sword-wielding party leader—with a troubled expression, but both of them were silent, impassive.
The magic user had confidence in his strength. Certainly, he was no match for Anselm the Dragonslayer, the old-timer who was their party’s chief magic user. However, the difference between them boiled down to nothing more than a difference in experience. Anselm had lived and worked as a mage and hunter for nearly twice as long as he, so naturally his knowledge and technique were far superior. By the time the man reached Anselm’s age, he would be just as strong or stronger. In fact, he was already stronger than the old-timer had been back in his thirties. Even now, had he fought with all his might, there was a chance that he could beat the now-enfeebled old man.
Still, the man, who was normally filled with such confidence, was trembling.
Somehow, members of the Roaring Mithrils, a party said to be on the verge of an A-rank promotion, had been bested by graduates of the Hunters’ Prep School not once, but twice.
That was absolutely unforgivable. Who would ever nominate them for an A-rank at this rate? Who would even entrust their party with high-ranking jobs?
The more he thought about it, the more sure he became: there was no way that any B-rank hunter could possibly lose to a student. Yet they had. Twice in a row! It had to be a set-up—a plot by an enemy who wanted to drag the Roaring Mithrils through the mud and ruin their reputations.
The school had produced some strong rookies, clearly. But the notion that there might be more who were even stronger was ridiculous! However, what if that were true? What if, by some slim chance, he lost as well?
Was he really the right one for the task? Would it not be better for the old-timer, or even their leader, to handle this?
Was he really going to lose to a child in front of all these people? If that happened…
Steeling his troubled heart, the mage proceeded onto the field.
The girl was a combat magic specialist, so they kept some distance between themselves as they squared off.
“Looking forward to a good match,” she called. “By the way, do you have any family?”
“…!!”
Why would she ask a thing like that?!
Was she already thinking about his survivors?!
Hopelessly intimidated, the mage lost all composure. Then again, his composure had probably already fled before he ever set foot on the field.
“O raging flames of the deep, consume my enemy and burn him to the ground! Hellfire!”
“Wh—you idiot! Stooooop!!” The scream came from the Roaring Mithrils’ waiting area.
Their dismay was understandable. The spell was one that was meant only to be used against high-level monsters. It was a fatal spell, and unless the caster purposely held back or stopped the spell before it ran its course, there would be no hope of survival.
It was a mighty spell, the fastest she could fire, the one she was best at—and yet Reina had fired it right at the other magic user, who was caught in a maelstrom of unease, agitation, and fear.
Though he had considerable ability, the mage, who his elder party member still considered “half-baked,” was naturally a backline fighter. His role was to fire off powerful attacks of magic from the back of the group. Thanks to his party’s advance and mid-guard fighters, never once in his years of combat had he ever taken a direct attack.
He had almost never dealt with a magical attack, either. Save for elder dragons, monsters weren’t particularly bright, and even monsters who could use magic tended to attack only the nearest enemy, meaning they hardly ever reached the back line. Besides, guarding against the magic wrought by monsters was a breeze for someone of his abilities.
Even when facing other humans in combat, serving as an escort or the like, it was rare to face magic users of particular skill. A person who was particularly skilled in magic, after all, had no need to waste their time on criminal acts and common banditry. Therefore, the magic user, who had been a part of high-ranking parties from an early age onward, had never been put in a truly life-threatening situation. As a result, he was relatively unprepared to come face to face with combat magic—his own specialty.
When he volunteered for this job, he had figured merely that it might be a good opportunity to train juniors. He hadn’t thought that it would disintegrate into a situation that would cause the party’s reputation to crumble—nor had he ever suspected that he himself would be put in a position where he might contribute to their ruin. Mentally unprepared, the mage’s heart filled with fear and unease.
If she doesn’t hold back or stop before she hits me…or if she makes a mistake due to some lack of skill and I’m struck with magic that powerful—or if she feigns a lack of skill and actually hits me with a perfectly aimed blow…
Wife and children aside, could he really stand to die a pointless death in this arena?!
At this thought, his mind went reflexively to the one attack spell he could use in an instant, the one that would never fail him. In moments, the little girl was surrounded by raging hellfire, her form obscured.
When the mage came to his senses and realized what he had done, he was stunned, but it was already too late. Until the flames burned themselves out, there was nothing he could do. The only thing left to worry about was whether or not any bones would remain to hand over to her loved ones.
“Ah, aah, aaaah…” The mage collapsed on the ground. The spectators, believing themselves to have witnessed the little girl’s demise, were shocked into silence.
And then, the flames gradually subsided, revealing…
“Oh? Are we finished already?” Reina asked, cool as a cucumber.
“Wait, huh…?” the mage said.
“My specialty is fire magic,” Reina explained, “but lately I’ve been getting pretty good with ice and protection magic too.” She looked down at the mage, who was sitting on the ground, devoid of all will to fight, and muttered, “When people say that ‘the best offense is a strong defense,’ I suppose this is what they mean?”
Then, she began to chant a spell that would settle the battle once and for all. “O raging flames of the deep, consume my enemy and burn him to the ground! Hell—”
“Th-that’s enough!! Match oveeeeeer!!!” The referee signaled the end of the fight.
Her face remained calm, but truthfully, Reina was a bit angry.

***

“Wh-what on earth was that?! What happened with the students this term?!” The finance officer did not conceal his amazement.
“I didn’t catch the attack spell,” said Count Christopher, “but it could’ve been a real catastrophe if it hadn’t been stopped when it was. There’s no doubt it would have struck, and… At any rate, that defense magic alone is more than ample indication of her abilities, so that should be enough for the test.” Relief visible on his face.
Elbert was silent. Thought he had suspected that the four girls had hidden their abilities, he had never imagined the extent of their true powers.
“Th-that was amazing! Truly amazing!” said the king.
“Father, if I went to the prep school too, do you think I could become as strong as they are?”
The king turned to the bright-eyed prince and princess and patted them softly on the head, muttering, “Is this the dawning of a new era? Our world has been stagnant for so long…”

***

“Win.”
That was Reina’s message as she passed Mile, who grimaced.
As they watched Reina retreat and Mile take her place, the Roaring Mithrils began to quarrel.
“She’s a magic user, so I should obviously be the one to fight!”
“No, look at her! She’s definitely a swordsman! I’ll fight!”
The oldest mage and the middle-aged lancer both argued their cases, explaining why they should be the next to take the field.
After listening for a while, Gren, the greatsword wielder, passed down his decision as the party leader.
“I will fight.”

***

Now, Mile and Gren—the leader of the Roaring Mithrils—stood face to face in the center of the arena.
“What the hell are you guys?” he asked her.
“Huh? You mean us? We’re just average graduates from the Hunters’ Prep School, aren’t we? Perhaps we’re a bit of an anomaly…”
“How can you be ‘average’ if you’re an anomaly?!”
Mile grinned at the man’s straightforward response—after all, who wouldn’t smile in the face of a quip like that? “Let me introduce you to Mile, the completely normal magic swordsman!”“Who the hell is that?!”
“Oh, er, well I figured if I called myself that, it would catch on. That’s good, isn’t it? Being ‘normal’…”
“That’s not my question! Well, actually, I’ve got a question about that as well, but… What is this ‘magic swordsman’ business?! Are you a mage or a swordsman? Which is it?!”
“I guess you’ll just have to fight me and find out!”
“Well then, let’s start!”
And so, the battle began.
Blam bang thwack bang!
Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-shing!
After exchanging a number of fiercely powerful blows, Mile’s high-speed assault began.
It was no longer possible to even hear separate strikes.
The volleys continued at such speed that the spectators couldn’t see their blades, and, stunned and enthralled, they began to cheer.
“Well, this is getting fun. Mind if I go a little bit faster?” Mile asked.
“Y-you brat! You’ve been holding back?! Go for it, show me your best!”
“Okay!”
KLANG KLANG KLANG!
KA-KLANG KA-KLANG KA-KLANG!
It appeared that Gren had been holding back as well, and even with Mile’s speed increased, it was clear they were equally matched. Gren’s expression began to twist, but it wasn’t from pain or discomfort.
Anyone who knew Gren would recognize the expression as one of his rare smiles.
“Ha.”
“Bwa…”
“Ahahahahahahahaha!”
“Bwahahahahahahaha!”
“No way… The boss is smiling…”
Over in the waiting area, the Roaring Mithrils exchanged looks of shock.

***

“What is this that we’re witnessing?” the finance officer muttered.
“The last dance between a demon and an angel?” It was the prince who answered him.
It certainly wasn’t wrong to say that it looked as though the two were dancing.
The art of dance, and the art of war. There was an inextricable link between the two.
“Can you see their swords?” the king asked.
Elbert answered him with a soft, “No…”
The hands of Count Christopher, the legendary S-rank hunter, were shaking. “Elbert, can I…?”
“You mustn’t, Count!”
It seemed he wanted to fight as well.
Though the spectators had begun cheering, they fell again into a hush. They didn’t have time to chatter or shout.
If they took the time to do that, they wouldn’t be able to engrave the battle into their memories. Surely, the details of this fight would be passed down again and again for ages to come…
Ka-snap!
“Oh…”
Unable to take the strain of such force, Mile’s sword finally snapped. It was only a cheap thing meant for mock battle, so this was no surprise.
Mile lacked Gren’s technique, and the burden of the sword wore on her. However, neither of them was satisfied.
“Want to change swords?” Gren offered. “You can use your own if you like.”
Mile knew she couldn’t possibly use her mystery blade here. “No, I’m fine.”
Instead, she slowly drew the thumb and forefinger of her left hand over the remaining portion of her blade, stopping at the end of the space where the blade used to be.
“Special technique, ‘Light Beam Blade’!” she said, and a blade of light appeared there, in the trail left by her fingers.
“What is that?!” Gren’s shout echoed throughout the stadium.
“So, you’re a swordsman who fights with a magic blade! That’s what makes you a a magic swordsman.”
“Huh? No, it’s just that I can use magic, too…”
Smack!
“W-well, fine! Let’s continue!”
“Okay!!”
Gren told himself that she couldn’t possible have cast such a difficult spell silently, just by waving her hand. The audience, on the other hand, had been unable to hear their hushed conversation and hadn’t realized that Mile had cast the spell without words.
And then, the fierce battle began to rage again, as Mile used high-speed moves, turned backflips, and maneuvered to her heart’s content. With her full physical potential hidden and limits put on her godly strength, Mile was a fine opponent for Gren—though she was no expert swordsman.
“Clone Technique!” she cried.
“What is this mimicry?!”
Mile had tried to enact a copycat technique, running quick laps between two points, but such things were not so simple in reality. All Gren had to do was swing his sword down in the middle of her path for an easy strike.
“Th-that’s fighting dirty…”
“Be serious!” Gren retorted.
Mile stopped her maneuver and moved back into the fray. “Battering Blade!”
“Whoa! You’ve got a lot of power in that body—not just speed!”
Gren, blocking Mile’s attack, sounded surprised at the amount of strength behind her swing.
What came next was one punishing blow after another. Mile’s strength and speed made up for what she lacked in skill and technique, but with Gren’s skill and experience, he stood up to her head-on.
No tricks were needed—this was a straightforward, all-out battle.
How fun! How exciting!
A grin of delight was plastered on Mile’s face, the sort of smile that even a much older adult could understand. In her previous life, she had never taken part in any competitive sports, spending all her time on games, RPGs, and the like.
The fight was a time of bliss that she wished she could enjoy forever.
However, no matter what she did, it would have to come to an end soon.
Mile had lost herself in the moment, but the second it became clear that Gren was reaching his limit, his pace slowing, she came back to reality.
Crap! I did it agaaaain!!
Though she had planned to show off a bit from the start, she had never intended to go this far. Everything had its limits.
Her face paling, Mile asked Gren in a small voice, “Sorry, I have a bit of a situation. I need to lose. Could you beat me? Ah—but, painlessly! If you can!”
“Got it.”
In Gren’s decades as a hunter, he had seen a great deal. He quickly understood that Mile was subject to some peculiar circumstance, and that she’d gone further than she had meant. It seemed that he himself had become part of the problem, and as he’d certainly had more than enough fun, he didn’t mind following through with her request.
“Hooah!” he grunted.
“Gwahh! You got meeee!!”
They were two peas in a pod.
A perfect pair.
The spectators were baffled to see such a brutal end to the elegant match, but soon, speculations began to spread throughout the stadium.
“There must have been some special circumstance.”
“I bet she let him win out of deference to a senior hunter.”
The jig was up.
Yet, standing in the middle of the grounds, Mile’s performance was not yet complete.
“You may have won against me, but take heed! There is another, before whom we Four Sages are nothing but mere mice! Lord Veil, please avenge me!”
“Huuuhh?!?!”
At Mile’s sudden declaration, both Gren, and Veil, over in the waiting area, let out cries of confusion.
“H-hey, kid…”
“Look it’s complicated! Complicated!” she said.
“I-I see…. Wh-what is this impertinence?! Who would dare stand up to me?!”
Seeing Mile’s desperation, Gren had no choice but to play along.

***

“The boss is acting strange…”
The Roaring Mithrils were alternatively gaping, in a tizzy, and trying desperately to hold back laughter.
And then there was Veil, who emerged from the waiting area, his face grim.

***

“What’s all this fooling around?”
“No, wait. There must be some reason for all this. Isn’t that so, Elbert?” the king said, turning to the principal.
“That one, as well as the three girls before—they’re all in this together.”
“I see…” the king mused.

***

“Mile!” Elbert said to her, as she returned from the fighting grounds. “What the heck was that?! That should’ve been a total victory for you!”
“No no no! If I’d won the fight, I would’ve stood out way too much to be starting as a C-rank hunter. That’s bad! Besides, it would have been awful to give that much of a blow to their reputation.”
“W-well, I suppose that’s true…”
Upon hearing this, and recalling what she herself had done earlier, Reina suddenly felt a bit guilty. Maybe she could have dialed things back slightly. The mage she had faced was still over in the waiting area, after all, huddled in a ball and mumbling feverishly.

***

Now, in the center of the stadium, beneath the watchful eyes of the audience, Gren and Veil faced off.
After Mile’s words, Gren had no choice but to keep fighting. Just as Mile had anticipated.
“Are you conspiring with those guys, too?” Gren asked Veil.
“N-no! Please don’t lump me in with them!”
“Sorry. My mistake.” Gren’s apology was sincere.
As long as the boy was just a normal student, it would not matter that Gren was already worn out from the previous battle.
“Shall we begin, then?” he asked. “Come at me!”
“Yes, sir!”
Clang clang clang clang clang clang clang clang!
“Wh…! You tricked me!!”
“I haven’t tricked you!”
Gren was becoming rather short of breath. Though Veil’s speed paled in comparison to Mile’s, his technique was far superior, and he was at least as fast as Mavis, which was saying something. Gren, having already been more than satisfied by his fight with Mile, felt exhaustion beginning to set in, his will fading.
That was the moment when Veil attempted a different sort of attack.
“Air Bullet!”
“Wh—?!”
Air Bullet. That simple phrase carried all the image Veil needed for this simple wind spell.
Due to their difference in height and the fact that Veil had fired from below, the shockwave of compressed air caused Gren’s stance to crumble.
His reflexes were already slow from fatigue, so when Veil’s sword swung toward him, Gren’s legs shook. Still, no matter how badly he lost his composure, he refused to be defeated so easily. But then…
“Magic Blade!”
With a sharp sound, the blade of Gren’s sword fell to the ground, sliced clean off. In the moment after the shearing, the magic dissipated from Veil’s sword, and it became once again a normal, blunt practice blade, which he used to strike Gren against the side.

Average 1.7

What was she saying?

***

Over the following weeks, the girls’ efforts at power leveling progressed swimmingly, with Reina, Pauline—and, to some extent, Mavis—increasing their strength by the day.
Mile didn’t bother teaching Reina and Pauline any basics, nor did she instruct them as to how to naturally convert an image into a solid thought for specific magical purposes. Nevertheless, their skills improved.
She took care to stop them both at a level that would rank them only as “advanced,” in terms of the school’s training, so that no one would be aware of their immense progress. At least, this was her intention; however, she had no idea whether their classmates and instructors were actually fooled.
As for Mavis’s sword training, there was no need to be secretive, so Mile poured all her efforts into the task. No matter what, Mavis was a still a completely normal person and the results fairly standard for the kind of intensive training Mile was giving her. It wouldn’t exactly be a huge matter of note if she turned out somewhat more impressive than most. Because her practice partner was so fast, her reactions grew quicker, and her own movements did as well. Still, she remained very much in the category of what one might call “a passionate student with exceptional potential.”
That progress, and in particular her improved reaction time, startled Elbert, but as he didn’t attribute that success to Mile, she didn’t mind him taking note.
Contrary to her fears, he paid very little attention to Mile herself beyond that first day. There were other students to attend to, and even if Mile were pressured into sword training, she would never be able to practice it seriously. Furthermore, it was out of line for a teacher to try and tamper with a student’s future profession on a whim, so it was probably just as well that Elbert found other things to attend to.
Besides, it was only in terms of power and speed that Mile’s swordsmanship was exceptional. She didn’t possess any particular talents in the realm of basic technique—not in terms of handling, footwork, or even reading her opponent’s movements. She was probably worthless and uninteresting to a sword instructor. After all, just having exceptional physical abilities did not mean that one had the makings of a true swordsman.
Furthermore, Mile did have exceptional magical ability, so it was clear to all that that would be how she made her fortune. It was easy to imagine that the two magic teachers had staked their claim, worried that interference might crush a student with great magical potential.
Even though Elbert was the principal and main instructor, he was still under employ himself. And if something went wrong, the higher-ups would catch wind of it.

***

“Spill it, Mile,” Reina pressed Mile one afternoon as they sat in the classroom.
“Huh? Spill what?”
“Don’t play dumb! I’ve been keeping an eye on you. What are you doing in the classroom with that guy every night after dinner?!”
“Er…” Mile mumbled, which only put fuel to the fire.
“Don’t tell me you’re dating, or that you’ve made some kind of arrangement…”
“We’re not, we’re not! I’m just using him as a sacrif… Er, no…”
“What do you mean? Explain yourself immediately!”
Mile explained herself.
Reina was horrified. “What are you thinking? You’re making him take a bullet for you just so you don’t stand out? I can’t believe you…”
I bet that boy has a crush on Mile… Mavis and Pauline thought, sending up a prayer for his happiness.
“Well, it’s true that you might be in danger if your family ever caught up with you, so I can’t say that I don’t understand. And since you’ve taught us so much, it would be wrong of me to complain. But still. Just keep it casual with this guy, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am…”

***

Veil, the orphan boy, was making vast strides in his magical skill, thanks to Mile’s teaching.
She had quickly realized that Veil had neither immense magical power, nor a talent for spells that were particularly complicated. Anything that required extended concentration was similarly difficult for him. So, she decided to teach him two simple spells that he could easily reproduce.
The first was air bullets.
She figured that this would allow him to hunt small animals with ease.
By avoiding complicated productions, such as summoning, freezing, and shaping water, and by eliminating the need to do something labor-intensive like making or gathering rocks to shoot, he could hunt with something that would always be on hand, no matter where he was.
It was just compressing and propelling air, but it would be enough to kill—or at least render unconscious—any bird or small animal.
Furthermore, when facing larger opponents, it would be enough to break a monster’s guard or drive them off, ensuring that the incident wouldn’t end fatally. Above all else, the spell was short, fast, and easy to use.
In their world, wind-summoning magic was common, but there were limits to this power, due to the general ignorance of barometric gradients, thermal expansion, updrafts, and rotational power due to the Coriolis force. Certainly, they had yet to stumble upon the notion of compressing and firing air, so Mile’s lesson was quite useful.
The second spell was a fatal technique: a magic blade that could cut down large prey and human enemies alike. For the sake of secrecy, and to maintain the element of surprise, the sword’s blade was covered in a magical coating only just before launching an attack, a tactic that also helped to conserve magical energy.
By coating the sword in magic, its strength was increased exponentially, and the cutting edge became exceptionally thin. It was strong, durable, and sharp: the three components of a swordsman’s dreams, made reality. Even a cheap, scrap metal sword could transform into a divine blade with this sort of magic!
As both were single-step processes, the procedures were easy to use, if a bit clumsy. Furthermore, the time it took to actualize both spells was quite short, so the consumption of magical energy and amount of brain fatigue caused by exerting the thought pulse were both fairly minimal.
Most importantly in the context of battle, the incantations were short. They would still be reasonable to use, even during a sword fight.
With a magically enhanced blade in hand, Veil had become, without a doubt, a “magic knight.”
Time and again, Mile warned him that he was absolutely forbidden to tell anyone else about their trainings. He was to keep these techniques to himself, Mile said, threatening that if he were ever to share this magic, then both he and the people he taught would disappear. However, she didn’t bother to say who, exactly, would be responsible for the disappearances. Such details were troublesome to think of.
In truth, the air bullets were pretty easy to understand and imitate once one saw them. The magical blade, though, wasn’t something that could be figured out with a glance.
Even so, she told him to keep it a secret. If she became known for inventing all sorts of magic, there would be a big to-do. Moreover, she would hate for her techniques to be used to kill hundreds of people or somehow alter the balance of the world. Still, as long as her name wasn’t attached to the magic, maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad if a spell did spread—especially if the spell in question was something like healing magic or a technique such as the air bullets, which had non-lethal applications.
Even if Mile’s actions had some influence on the world, it wasn’t as though God was looking to stop her. In fact, the gods appeared to have abandoned all management of her world, so any influence she might have most likely wouldn’t be a problem.
Veil took the lessons he received from Mile every night and tried them out while hunting on his rest days. Then, the week after, he returned to discuss the results with Mile and receive new lessons based on his experience out in the field. Thus, while his skills didn’t grow at the same rate as her party members’, he nonetheless continued to improve steadily.
After Mile spilled the beans about Veil, he also began practicing swords with Mavis during school hours. Mavis was thrilled—not only because she had made a new friend, but because she finally had someone other than Mile to practice with. She sulked much less thereafter, so this was a positive development for Mile and the others, too.
“You know, I just realized something,” Reina said one day. “‘Veil’ and ‘Mile’ are pretty similar names, aren’t they? Is there any connection?”
“Huh? Ah, I guess you’re right… No, it’s just a coincidence. They both just happen to be short names that end in ‘L’ sounds! I mean, it would be weird to think that there is some connection between you and our classmate Nina just because both your names end in ‘na,’ wouldn’t it?”
“I guess you’re right…”
Despite Reina’s pondering, the similarity between their names really was just a coincidence.
Still, Mile wondered, what if it turned out that the person I chose to be my sacrificial lamb was actually my long-lost brother? No no no no no! Mile shook her head wildly. Don’t even think about that!

***

As the days went on, Mile’s work continued steadily, with classroom lessons and training on the weekdays, money-earning and independent magic practice on the rest days, and sword training with Mavis and Veil in between.
Her bonds with her classmates, even those outside her party, began to deepen, and though their school wasn’t a normal one, Mile soon found herself living a version of the normal student life she had always hoped for.
Even on the days when they trained fiercely, the other students thinking seriously of their futures, Mile saw it all as an enjoyable part of student life. The days passed in the blink of an eye, and soon, graduation was just around the corner.
One day near the end of their schooling, it was announced that they would be going out for some field training.
“…A class field trip?” Mile said.
“It’s field training!” their instructor said. “What is this ‘foldtripe’ you’re talking about?”
“Oh, like camp!”
“What are you even talking about?!”
They weren’t going to be fighting ogres or anything. As many of the students were inexperienced hunters, they would be going out in search of orcs and goblins instead, in order for them to get accustomed to killing humanoid creatures. Without such preparation, there was a far higher chance of students dying in their first battle, surrounded only by their fellow rookie hunters rather than those with experience in the field.
On top of all that, field training would also give them the experience of camping in the wild.

***

Several days later, the students of the Hunters’ Prep School found themselves in a forest about a half-day’s walk from the capital. It was time for field training.
Each team—or rather, each party—would train together. As usual, however, the teams had to be reorganized in order to address the imbalance of professions among the girls’ parties. These rearrangements were left up to the students. As such things often happened when parties participated in large-scale operations, forming the parties themselves was considered good, practical experience.
While the intent was a general redistribution, complete disassembly of the existing parties would have been a waste of all the bonds the students had formed throughout their schooling. Therefore, the male students proposed that they only dissolve the girls’ teams and redistribute their members among the boys’ parties.
Of course, this plan dissolved the moment they rushed to extend invitations to the girls they hoped would join their parties.
“Wh-why don’t you come with our team, Miley?”
“No, come with us!”
“No no, ours is definitely the best choice! There are four of us to look after you!”
“All of you shut up! Mile can serve as an advance guard for our party—we don’t need any of you boys!”
“Huh? Miley’s a magic user, isn’t she? And just having you four girls in a party isn’t really enough people.”
Staring at the obstinate boys, Reina thought for second, then called to a boy standing toward the back. “Veil! Get over here with our party! If the girls from Team B join the rest of your party, they’ll have another sword user on board, so they’ll be fine without you. Team B, is that fine with you?”
“That’s fine!!”
The four girls of Team B readily accepted, miffed at the boys of Teams 1 through 3, who had ignored them all and run straight to Team C Mile. Boys’ Teams 4 and 6, as well as Team 5, Veil’s team, had remained calm and unmoving—plus, there were some cute guys on Team 5, to boot.
“Way to go, Veil!”
Though they hadn’t been able to snag Mile, the most coveted prize, the other boys of Team 5 got the chance to mingle with four cute girls, instead. It was a wise compromise.
“Now then,” said one of the girls on Team A, “we’ll divide up and join Teams 4 and 6!”
“What…?”
The five remaining girls on Team A shot the boys of Teams 1, 2, and 3 a cold look.
Team 1 Boys: 5
Team 2 Boys: 5
Team 3 Boys: 5
Team 4 Boys: 4, Girls: 2
Team 5 Boys: 3, Girls: 4
Team 6 Boys: 4, Girls: 3
Team C Boys: 1, Girls: 4
“How did this happeeeeeeen?!?!” The boys of Teams 1 through 3 let loose a scream of frustration.
In truth, though, they had only themselves to blame, but from that moment until the day of their graduation, half the boys in the class looked upon Veil with jealous eyes.
“How did you end up with seven teams?” Elbert said, looking rather troubled. “I thought you were just going to shuffle the girls into the boys’ teams for six parties. I only brought two extra hunters to chaperone…” Including Elbert, there were four instructors, so even with the other two hunters along, they were now one person short.
“It’s fine. Mavis, your party will be all right without a guide, won’t you?”
“Y-yeah…”
It was always Reina who called the shots, and among their classmates, Team C was known most frequently as “Reina’s Crew.” Still, as far as the instructors were concerned, Mavis was the leader.
And at that point, none of that really mattered, anyway.
“No problems here.”
“Leave it to us!”
Reina and Mile gladly agreed. Ultimately, it just made things easier for them.
“Well then, I’ll leave it to you!” Elbert said, trying not to let on how worried he truly was.

***

Deep in the forest, far from base camp…
“Starting today, I’m lifting the ban on using the magic I’ve taught you in front of others,” Mile said. “We’ll be graduating soon, and this magic is meant to be used in your life as hunters after graduation. It’s about time to get some real practice.
“It would be strange if you could suddenly use this magic right after graduation, so if you start now and use it a little bit at a time in front of the rest of the class, then it will look like it’s just the results of all our training. After all, you’ll have to show your full power in the official exit exams.
“Now. Showing off your magic is one thing, but—You. Must. Not. Tell. Anyone. Else. How. To. Use. It… or share the fact that I was the one who taught you! No matter what, you must consider what you’ve learned to be a secret! Do I make myself clear?!”
At Mile’s uncharacteristically serious expression, the four others nodded fiercely.

***

Slash!
Smack!
“Now me! My turn!”
“You guys…”
Pauline and Reina hunted the goblins gleefully, while Veil shied away.
He wasn’t surprised by Reina’s ferocity, as much as he wished he could be.
However, among their classmates, Pauline was known as a meek and mild-mannered magic user, specializing in healing and recovery. Amongst so many boisterous young women in their class, she was a breath of fresh air, a precious commodity not unlike Mile—or so she had been.“Dance, water droplets, into a raging boil, grrrahh! DIIIIEEEEEEE!!!”
Mile collapsed onto a fallen tree in shock at Pauline’s outburst, while Mavis slumped forward, as if her very soul had left her body.

***

By the time Mavis and company returned to base camp, most of the other teams had already arrived and were making preparations for dinner. Naturally, they were cooking their own meals, with the prey they had hunted themselves. In fact, sharing one’s catch with other teams was forbidden. Those who weren’t strong enough hunters would go to bed hungry. That was the hunters’ way.
The students, unaccustomed to cooking, stumbled through their preparations.
“All right!”
While other teams put together nice little meals out of tree fruits they had gathered and the jackalopes they hunted in between exterminating goblins, Mile pulled an entire orc out of storage.
Shwack shwack shwack shwack shwack!
Mavis chopped the meat with lightning speed.
Bwoosh!
Reina roasted it with her fire magic.
“Soup’s up!” Pauline called.
She had made a broth by pouring water into four bowls, along with gathered herbs, orc meat, and leafy greens, which she then boiled.
“Hey! What about mine?” asked Veil pitifully.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! It was only out of habit…”
Hurriedly, Pauline rustled up another portion.
“Grrahh!”
Blurb blurb…
Elbert watched them, slack-jawed.
“You all sure are handy…” he muttered.
Chapter 9:

The Crimson Vow

One week remained until the graduation ceremony, or rather, the graduation assessment.
Mile was worried.
What would she do after graduation?
Would she be able to live carefree as a normal, average C-rank hunter in this country? With her storage magic, she could hunt and gather a great deal at once, so she wouldn’t ever have to work particularly hard.
Six months had passed, and it didn’t seem like anyone from her home country had a clue as to where she had disappeared to. She might never be able to go back, but at least it seemed like her troubles there were over.
With no real reason to wander elsewhere, Mile decided to remain in this country.
That much was fine, but she nonetheless had some worries. I’ll still have to go solo, won’t I? If I travel with a party, eventually too much will be revealed.
It would hurt to part with the friends with whom she had grown so close, but each of them had their own circumstances and their own ambitions. Mavis and Pauline were close to their families, and she was sure that even Reina must have other friends and acquaintances. She couldn’t burden them by clinging on forever.
The three of them accepted Mile, despite all her quirks. The thought of them ever rejecting her rendered Mile speechless and terrified.
Ultimately, Mile knew that where there were hellos, there were also goodbyes—just as in the beginning and end of her friendship with the Wonder Trio.
Someday, I’ll surely be able to make more friends…
Her thoughts were optimistic, but her expression was dark.

***

“Where are we going to be stationed after graduation?”
“Huh???”
The three girls were returning to their room after dinner when they were blindsided—not for the first time—by Reina’s words.
“Huh? What do you mean ‘stationed’?”
“I mean where are we going to be based. As hunters.”
“Huuhhhh???”
The three girls were still puzzled, but Reina continued. “Why are you so surprised? We’re all going to be living as hunters after graduation, aren’t we? Going solo is hard for a rookie hunter, so instead of ending up in a party full of strangers somewhere and getting used as a lackey, wouldn’t it be better to party up with your bosom pals?
“Besides, none of you really have anywhere to go, do you? What I see here is a runaway, a fugitive, and an old geezer’s concubine!”
“Eugh…”
Mavis, Mile, and Pauline were lost for words.
“B-but, I’ve got a mother and an older brother…”
“Would they be glad to see you sold off for their own gain? Do you really think that would make them happy?”
“Er…”
“Right now, you’re living well enough on your own. Shouldn’t your family’s number one concern be to make sure that you’re happy?”
“…”
Pauline was silent.
After Pauline, Mile spoke up. “I-I’m, I’m… kind of a weirdo, though. All I’d do is cause trouble for you all…”
“………”
“And?” Reina broke the silence that followed Mile’s words.
“Huh?”
“Go on!”
“No, well, I’m just saying that compared to you guys, I’m kind of weird, so I’d be nothing but a burden to you!”
“We already heard that. If you’ve got something else to say, then spit it out!”
“Huh?”
“…………”

***

“Well, we’re going to have to stay at the cheaper inns for the foreseeable future,” Mavis said, matter-of-factly. “Getting a four-person room shouldn’t be too expensive, and it’ll certainly be nicer than this place.”
“B-but…” Mile tried to rebut her friend, but Reina wouldn’t let her.
“Quiet! The matter is settled! Besides, you made us a promise on the day of the entrance ceremony!”
“Ah…”
That was when Mile remembered.
The conversation they had shared in that very room, six months before.
“If you get any party invitations from here on out, just tell them, ‘I already promised I’d be with my roommates.’ And, if anyone tries to ask you on a date, tell them, ‘I’m not interested right now. I want to focus on my training.’ Got it?!”
“Y-yes, ma’am!”
“Th-that was a promise…?” Mile said. “I thought that was just a line to turn down the others’ offers…”
“Enough of your excuses! It’s already been settled!”
Silenced, Mile took a moment to reflect. She had striven with all her might to be normal, all so she could finally make friends. Now, trying to distance the dear friends she had made just so she could continue pretending to be normal… She would have been completely missing the point.
“Ha… Aha ha ha… Gnh…”
“Waaah…”
Seeing Mile giggling through tears, Pauline started to cry also.
Mavis patted them both on the shoulders.
“You see? As long as the red blood still flows through our veins, we will never betray our comrades! Our friendship is immortal!”
“Yeah!!!”

Average 1.6.2

The following days were filled with practical training, during both the mornings and afternoons. This was comprised of everything from improving basic fitness levels to studying techniques, methods for attacking different types of monsters, and everything in between. There was individual training as well as practice battles, sometimes even against the teachers themselves. In addition, they had training sessions organized both by discipline and as a full group. Without an awareness of the work performed by those in other professions, they would be unable to forge a strong relationship with their party members. Besides, when participating in real combat as a guard or fighter, comprehending an enemy’s abilities and being able to counter their technique could mean the difference between victory and defeat.
The female-only parties had a larger proportion of magic users, and therefore lacked power on the front lines. Thus, when it came time for the inter-party practice bouts, they came together with the male parties to swap members temporarily. Still, owing to Mile’s skill as a swordsman and each of the girl’s own individual strengths, Mile’s party could more or less fight on their own…
Since doing nothing but practical training would have caused the students to burn out, classroom lessons were held occasionally. During these lessons, they learned how to identify medicinal, herbal, and poisonous plants, exploit the weaknesses of different monster types, and take various safety precautions. They also received a general education on such topics as the histories of nearby countries, the makeup of the guild, and in-depth etiquette relating to interactions with nobles.
Typically, a hunter would learn these sorts of things on the job, taking pointers from more experienced party members or simply copying their techniques. From each, they thus learned to improve themselves through simple trial and error.
However, learning this way took time, and the potential for slip-ups due to lack of knowledge were many. Because of this, it often took years to grow into a full-fledged hunter, using one’s many failures, repeated year after year, to fill in the gaps in one’s knowledge and experience… Worse than that, however, was the fact that there were many hunters who lost their lives from such failures.
And so Mile, studious as ever, took these lessons quite seriously, writing everything down in a notebook she carried to class. Though there were many others taking notes just like her, some students, while they did seem to be listening to the lesson, never wrote a word.
One day back in their dorm room, when a perplexed Mile asked about this very fact, Reina told her, in a somewhat exasperated manner, “It’s because they’re illiterate, dummy.”
“Huh? But then, how will they read the posted job requests?”
“They’ll rely on the guild staff to point them to the right ones—or sometimes, you’ll see children hanging around who’ll read things aloud to earn a bit of pocket money.”
“…”
In her previous life, Mile had loved reading—without any friends, it was, along with TV and games, one of her only pleasures. She could scarcely imagine being unable to read and write and could only think what an incredible tragedy their inability to read was.

***

“Commencing party meeting number three!”
This time, when Reina made her announcement, a question slipped out before Mile even had time to think about it. “Um, if Mavis is our leader, how come you’re always the one leading these?”
“………”
“Um, sorry! Forget I said anything!”
“This meeting’s topic is… our next rest day!” Reina continued speaking as though nothing had happened. “As you know, this party is lacking in power, skill, speed, and most importantly, money!” She was speaking in a shout now, her voice painfully loud. “Once we start the monster-hunting portion of our practical training, we’ll be able to started earning money by exchanging monster parts. However, we can’t afford to wait for that!”
Indeed, Reina had already run out of money—the only times she could eat were during the three daily meals served in the dining hall. Not only that, but she was starting to hit the bottom of her inkwell.
It was the sort of circumstance one might refer to as being at “the end of one’s rope” or “hitting rock bottom.”
“Mavis, you and Pauline have no experience as hunters and only just registered as F-ranks after coming here,” Reina went on. “Mile, you have a little bit of experience, but unfortunately you’re still an F-rank. I, however, am an E-rank, which means that I can accept jobs fighting monsters of any rank up to goblins and orcs.
“If there are extermination requests, we’ll take them. If not, we’ll collect jackalopes and hunt smaller animals. If all goes well, we should be able to get three or four silver each.”
“Hmm…” Mile said.
“What? Do you have an objection?”
“N-no, it’s nothing…” Mile was merely surprised at Reina’s enthusiasm at the prospect of earning such a small amount. That was all.

***

That night, Mile lay in bed, thinking about whether or not she should teach her roommates what she knew about magic.
Even if she were to teach them, she knew she couldn’t do so in the way that she taught Marcela and the others. Her three friends at Eckland had had little magic ability to start with and would never lead a life where they their own mortality would be staked on their magical skill. In other words, even if she taught them a few special tricks, those three would never become wielders who might influence the destinies of many, nor would they do something careless if they ever faced mortal peril. They, she knew, would be able to keep her secret.
For the students at this school, things were different. Their lives were inextricably linked to their magical skill, and their collective fates rested on the abilities of their party members, not only themselves. If people like that learned how to grow their magical power by an immense degree, they would most certainly share this knowledge with their party members. And when their party dissolved, and they joined another, they would tell those people as well.
In turn, those people would tell their children—and those children would tell their friends, some of whom would surely be money-grubbers who might open magic schools, or work as tutors for the children of nobles, or sell their expertise to other countries…
In other words, there was no way that Mile’s special knowledge would remain a secret.
The other factor to consider was the fact that the people at this school already had significant magical abilities. Their powers of strength, clarity, and image were already far greater than those of other people, meaning that they could use fairly powerful magic. If she were to teach people like that her tricks…When she thought about it that way, Mile realized, she simply wouldn’t feel right teaching her roommates the same things she had taught the Wonder Trio. However, she also couldn’t bear the thought of any of them perishing shortly after graduation. And as they were all aiming to be promoted to C-rank when they finished, not D-rank, extra magical abilities would be a great help.
What to do…?
Mile fretted over the question until daybreak.

***

“All right girls, let’s get going!”
It was the following rest day.
After waking early and rushing through breakfast—all at Reina’s urging—the four girls set out through the capital city to the Hunter’s Guild.
Naturally, there was a hall even in the capital.
Because of its location, this hall was a kind of capital of its own, serving as a central place to consolidate the needs of all the individual halls within the country. However, as the Hunters’ Guild was spread across many countries, there was still no single place that could be called the true headquarters, which was advantageous. With no “head” in any particular place, there was thus no head that could be easily crushed—nor could the organization at large be taken over.
However, in exchange for this security and stability, the guild was slow to mobilize, and once a decision had been fixed in place, it was no small task to alter it. Whenever a big decision needed to be made, it was decided in an inter-country conference.
It was early in the morning, but the guild hall was already packed.
Or rather, the hall was packed because it was early in the morning.
One of the reasons for this was…
“Hey! They’re from the school!”
Indeed, it seemed that all the other students, just as short on money as Mile and her friends, had exactly the same idea.
The F and E-rank boards, in particular, had been ravaged. All the decent jobs that could be finished within a day were long gone.
“We’re too late…”
Reina slumped, devastated.
“W-well, there’s still standing orders and gathering tasks. Right?!” Mile said.
She perked up a little at her encouragement and went to confirm the prices on the request and materials board. Upon finding that the turn-in rewards for birds and jackalopes were fairly good, her vigor was restored.
“Well, that’s the capital for you! There are tons of buyers, so at least the price of meat is high. Let’s get a move on!”
And so, Team C of the twelfth class of the Hunters’ Prep School embarked on their first mission.

***

“This isn’t working…”
Reina collapsed in a heap, both hands planted on the ground beside her.
In order to earn four silver apiece, they would, collectively, need to catch at least eight birds or jackalopes—or two foxes.
If they caught something larger, like a deer, they would only need one, but thus far, no such fortune had visited them.
It had been three hours now since they had begun hunting and was nearly noon. They had caught only a single jackalope and a single bird. At this rate, they would go home with only one silver each.
Even if they worked their hardest in the four hours following their lunch break and things continued as they were, at best, they would only net another three catches. For Reina, who was in the most dire straits of all of them, this was a serious problem.
It seemed she had overlooked something critical. True, the population of the capital was large, but so was the amount of meat all its people consumed—and too the number of fledgling hunters. As a result, the hunting grounds near the city had already been picked clean.
I had better say something soon, Mile thought, as they sat down for a midday break, taking out their food and unwrapping it.
Just then, Reina’s gaze landed on Mile’s meal. “Hang on, what is that?!”
“Huh? It’s just my lunch…”
The other three were eating stale bread they had collected from the cafeteria and rehydrated with some water, but Mile was eating a roast meat sandwich and drinking black tea, which she had pretended to pull from storage space—though in actuality, it had come from her loot box.
“How is it still warm?!” Reina asked. In the end, she stole the lion’s share of the sandwich.

***

“Um, there is something I would like to suggest to everyone…” Mile finally said, as the girls rested after their meal, Mile finally spoke.
Everyone turned to look and Mile continued. “The reason that we haven’t been able to catch anything is partly due to the fact that the prey is simply hard to find, but I also think a part of it is that our magic isn’t accurate enough. We don’t have an archer, so we’re relying on long-range spells…”
“Hey! Are you saying that I suck?!” Reina sputtered.
Mile kept speaking in an attempt to pacify the other girl. “Um, I believe I mentioned before that I was skilled in many types of magic, so, well, if you like, I was thinking we could perhaps take a brief break from hunting to study some technique.”
“Are you saying you’re going to teach us something?”
“Y-yes, well…” She trailed off, well aware that the idea of being taught by someone younger than her wouldn’t be good for Reina’s ego. Already, Mile regretted bringing it up.
However…
“Come to think of it, you’ve been letting me take all the shots,” Mile said. “You haven’t fired off any magic. And sitting around getting frustrated isn’t going to get us anywhere. Maybe we should just have a bit of practice—you know, for a change of pace.”
In an unexpected turn, Reina agreed with Mile.
Mile was surprised, but she grinned.
It was time for their journey to begin.
Chapter 8:

Power Leveling

“All right—and then, squeeze it. Your opponent is a small animal, so it doesn’t have to be very hard. The trade-in value will decrease if you damage it. Try to keep the image of small pellets with high-speed propulsion in mind.”
Following Mile’s advice, Reina cast her spell, gaze steeled. “Come, O water, to my aid! Sphere of water, form! Now freeze! Change form, into a sharp icicle. Turning, turning, spinning! Now, fly!”
The water gathered and froze, condensed into cylinders of ice, then flew away, rotating quickly.
The icicles shot perfectly, right into the targeted tree branch.
It wasn’t a hole-in-one shot like Mile’s were, but she could tell that Reina would have no trouble hitting a distant target.
“I-I did it!” Reina grinned widely at her success.
It would be unwise to use fire magic in the forest, and the ground of the location they were practicing in was covered in leaves rather than gravel. However, thanks to Mile’s advice, which helped her improve the accuracy of her ice attacks by increasing the compression and speed of the icicles, Reina felt her skills improve immediately. She would never have imagined that she would be able to work with ice magic—which wasn’t even her specialty—to hunt more effectively, and yet, there she was.
Mile had devised a series of lessons to get them to this point. At first, she hadn’t realized that Reina wouldn’t understand that a large ice bullet would be affected by gravity and thus need course correction, unlike the specialized fire magic that Reina usually used at combat practice. Additionally, Mile noticed, the effect of the spell’s added guidance in helping conjure the necessary image was immense. Making the icicle bullets spin was another helpful addition.
Now Reina would be able to use powerful magic even in battles and on hunting expeditions, where fire couldn’t be used.
Nearby, Pauline was practicing, as well. She already possessed reasonable magical skills, but—whether because of her personality or the fact that she was a bit clumsy—she was no good at attack magic, which required continuous production. In the near future, Mile figured, it would be good to teach her at least one attack spell for self-defense, but the present moment was still a little too soon for that.
Instead, Mile taught Pauline something that she thought her friend might find even more useful.
“Come, O water, to my aid! Sphere of water, form! Droplets dance, like a burning soul!”
Thanks to the spell, a gradually heating ball of warm water appeared.
“Yes! That’s perfect. With this, baths and cooking will be a breeze. It expends a lot less magical energy than putting a fireball into water, and it can even be used indoors to make smaller quantities—pretty handy for making tea, you know?”
“Th-thank you, Miley!”
“No worries. I’d like to teach you even more soon!”
Rather than trying to impart to them the fundamental knowledge of how to utilize thought pulses and nanomachine efficiency rates, Mile simply gave them the instructions they would need to grow in terms of general magic efficiency, helping them craft slightly more precise spells to invoke the necessary physical and chemical reactions. At the same time, she took careful precautions in order to ensure that they wouldn’t inadvertently stumble onto more power than they knew what to do with.
Even so, the two girls’ progress was remarkable, and Reina and Pauline practiced with zeal.
“Um…”
A voice came from behind her. Mile turned to see Mavis, looking sullen.
“There isn’t anything you can show me, is there? Like a special technique, or something…?”
“Ah…” For Mavis’s sake, Mile thought hard, but nothing came to mind.
She really didn’t know much about Western sword techniques, and all the special moves she had seen in anime and games were impossible. If Mavis had been able to use magic, Mile would surely have been able to come up with something, but the older girl had no magical skill…
“Maybe we could do some practice swings?”
“…” Mavis let herself fall to the ground. Mile’s suggestion wasn’t something that would grant her a particular skill.
“U-um, I’ll be your practice partner! I don’t have much training, so I have no idea about sword techniques or anything, but I have confidence in my power and skill! If you get used to my speed, I’m sure you’ll be able to see through other opponents’ attacks more easily!”
“Really?” Mavis sounded doubtful. She was pouting.
“Really! It’s true! Probably…” Mile spoke the last word under her breath, so upon hearing Mile’s reply, Mavis finally brightened.

***

When the sun at last began to set, it was time for them to return to the capital.
“We didn’t catch very much today, but this was still a productive outing! Thank you, Mile!”
“Thanks so much, Miley!”
“Don’t thank me! We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“I’m your friend too, aren’t I? Are you forgetting me?” Mavis was still a bit sulky.
“Of course! That’s right!” Mile said. After, there was moment of silence, then she piped up, as though she had suddenly remembered something. “It’s going to be super annoying if we go back to the guild like this. The boys will all make fun of us for coming back with so little! I’m going to try hunting by myself for a bit.”
She pulled some of the pebbles from her pocket.
“Umm, if you could keep your voices down…”
Fwip!
She walked away briskly and returned with a jackalope in hand.
Zip!
A large bird tumbled out of a tree.
Bwoosh!
Vwip!
Ka-shunk!
“M-Mile…”
Reina’s mouth hung open.
“What? I use compressed air to make the pebbles fly. It’s really just normal wind magic…” In actuality, Mile was doing it with her finger strength alone—there was no magic required.
“W-well, even if that’s the case… how are you finding the prey so easily?!”
“Um… Intuition?”
Mavis and Pauline looked at each other and shrugged, trading looks that said, “There’s no point trying to understand this one.”

***

When Mile and company returned to the guild, they turned in their birds and jackalopes and were paid twenty-four silver pieces in total. The male students stared, wide-eyed.
“Thanks, but…are you sure you want to share this?” her friends wanted to know.
“Yep! We all went hunting together, after all!”
“Mile, you—well, that’s fine. I will gratefully accept. And I will definitely return the favor someday!”
“I’m looking forward to it!”
The girls split their earnings for six silver each and happily made their way out of the guild, with the young men’s gazes still fixed on them, a bit jealous of their productivity.

***

And so, Mile continued giving Reina and Pauline magic lessons. In order to keep things from getting out, she forbade them from telling others what she was teaching them. They worked in private, going over spells, magical effects, and information about physics and chemistry in their dorm room, saving any actual practice for the hunting trips they took on their days off.
In time, Reina’s fire magic became much stronger, and even Pauline began to learn some combat spells. Mile also taught the latter about the structure of the human body—bones, internal organs, blood vessels, nerves, cells, and the like—so that she would be able to use her healing and recovery magic more effectively.
The two of them made steady improvements, and as they practiced hunting, even their aim began to improve, so that they could earn more on their own, without Mile’s help.
And they all lived happily ever after…
Except for Mavis, who Mile had forgotten about entirely.
“Miiiiiiile!” Whenever she spoke Mile’s name, dissatisfaction could be heard clearly in her voice.

***

As it wasn’t a huge problem to be seen practicing with Mavis, they used the indoor training grounds during their free time, including their lunch and dinner breaks.
“All right! First, let’s try it at about 1.2 times the speed of our fastest classmate.”
Clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack!
“All right! Next, 1.3 times.”
Clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack!
“All right! Next, 1.4 times.”
Clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack!
“All right! Next…”
“W-wait! Wait just a minuuuuuute!!”
“Hm? If we speed up just a little bit at a time, you should be able to acclimate yourself to the quicker speed, right? That’s what the ninjas did: they planted a hemp seed, and every day they practiced jumping over it…”
“I have no idea what a ninja is, but this is impossible! Impossible, I tell you! Anyway, I’m assuming what you’re saying is that they improved a little bit every day. They didn’t get faster every two minutes!”
Mile didn’t understand what Mavis was so unhappy about, but since her friend looked as though she was about to cry, Mile tried a new approach.
“Okay. Wrap this long sash around your waist and try running fast enough that the sash never touches the ground.”
“Um… Okay.”
Mavis agreed, put the sash on her waist, and started running. She didn’t come back.
There was no way she could turn around without letting the sash touch the ground. After some time, she finally came back, her feet dragging. She was exhausted, and there was a bruise on her forehead, as though she had run into something.
“Let’s… let’s try a different method…” she said, still short of breath.
“Well,” Mile mused, “there were once people who would hang upside down and move water from a barrel on the ground to one higher up, using a tiny cup…”
“I’ll do it. I’ll do anything if it will make me stronger!”
Unfortunately for Mavis, every special training method Mile knew came from manga, anime, or movies.
And so, the long days of “Mavis’s Speed Improvement Plan” began. The goal was to get Mavis to measure up to Mile. In looking forward to that day, Mavis prepared a name for the special technique that she would surely invent in the future.
That technique was called “Godspeed Blade.”
It would be an invincible sword technique, one that could slice down enemies with divine speed—or so she hoped.

***

In spite of their hunting, Mile and her roommates still didn’t have much money to spare.
Because they were responsible for providing their own lighting, their lack of funds meant that they couldn’t burn their candles very long at night. However, as they also couldn’t possibly fall asleep immediately, they spent every night after crawling into beds talking with one another before they drifted off.
They talked about practice, and their classmates, and rumors they’d heard—but because they spent much of their time together, and always saw and heard the same things, they often ran out of things to talk about.
Even when they talked about themselves, Mavis was the only one who would speak freely of her family and upbringing. As the first daughter, she always had stories to share about how her parents spoiled her, or the way that her three older brothers were just a little too doting. Mavis herself was the only one who seemed unaware of how these stories sounded.
Blegh…
Apart from the members of Mavis’s family, the three girls probably knew more about Mavis’s childhood than anyone in the world—despite the fact that they had never wished for such knowledge. Since hearing only Mavis’s stories had begun to feel a little grim, Mile also began joining in with the evening chats.
Her talks were on the fundamentals of magic, but—in order to include Mavis—she spoke of other things, too. She told them folktales and legends from Earth, or stories from action dramas, anime, and games, readapted to fit their world.
Her roommates were hooked. Reina loved the stories of powerful sorcerers and magical girls. Pauline loved the rags-to-riches tales, and of course, Mavis loved the heroic legends and epic adventures.
They pestered Mile into continuing every night, none of them realizing that they had contracted a serious illness—one said to afflict all children around the age of thirteen: the obsessiveness of adolescence known as chuunibyou.

***

One day, on the way back to the dorm after dinner, Mile realized that she had left a letter behind in the classroom. One of her male classmates had handed it to her earlier, saying, “Please read this later.”
As she always did with such letters, Mile planned to take it back to the room to look over with the other girls, then come up with a reply. Forming a reply was always a collaborative project—Reina was always the author and Pauline the editor, while Mile took on production. As for the theme, well, it was always heartbreak.
When Mile returned to the classroom to retrieve the letter she had left behind, she heard a strange tapping sound from the direction of the lectern. Upon looking up, she saw a boy who appeared to be practicing writing characters on the board.
“Writing practice?”
“Y-yeah. It’s embarrassing to do it in my room in front of the other guys, and if I use the chalkboard I don’t have to waste my paper or ink. I don’t even need a quill for it.”
“Oh, I see! That’s smart!”
Mile was moved by the boy’s pleasant, straightforward explanation. She felt a sense of fondness and kinship welling up, as she remembered how she had been unable to purchase paper, pens, or ink when she had first arrived at Eckland Academy so long ago.
“Um. If I remember correctly, you’re a swordsman, right?” she said.
“Yeah. I can also use magic, a little bit beyond basic utility even, but not well enough to actually become a magic user. So, I fight with my sword and just use my magic for the extra things, like drawing water and recovery. It really is a big help, though. It’s hard going solo…”
“Solo?” Mile asked, perplexed.
Except for special cases like herself, solo jobs were too dangerous and inconvenient for anyone but a true veteran to undertake. Unless you were an oddball or the circumstances demanded it, solo work was not something one undertook willingly.
“Yeah, I’m an orphan from the slums. Er, well, I guess I haven’t left yet, so I’m still a slum dweller… Anyway, I have a lot of little guys to look after, so I can’t go off adventuring with a party.
“At the moment, I go check on them after dinner, and on rest days I hunt food for them to eat. If I join a party when I become a real hunter, that means I’ll be traveling far away for days at a time, you know? But if I do that, there’ll be no way for me to look after those little squirts.”
“But wait—once they turn fifteen, they’ll be able to live on their own, won’t they?” Mile asked. “And the next generation will be able to look after the little ones for you…”
At Mile’s words, the boy looked a bit surprised. “That’s wise of you. And, well, I guess most of them are about that age. I’ve already paid back the favors that were done for me, so really, I suppose my role has ended. Still, I don’t mind keeping an eye on them.
“The thing that really bothers me is that no matter how much time passes, life in that place is never going to change. But if I become a C-rank, I’ll be able to take the little ones out on expeditions to gather herbs and things whenever, you know? It’s rare for the guild to sponsor guarded gathering expeditions, and even when they do, you still have to pay for the guard’s participation. With me, it would be free, and under my supervision, they could even try a bit of hunting. I’ll be able to train them, and if they can become D-ranks, forming a party of just us orphans someday wouldn’t be out of the question.”
He shook his head. “But maybe that’s just one man’s foolish dream.”
Watching the boy smile to himself, Mile thought, A swordsman who can use magic.
He was a generous soul who, despite having a chance to escape the slums, remained for the sake of the other orphans. Not only that, but he was obviously a hard worker, studying writing as he did, all on his own.
Since they had begun their power leveling, Mile and her party had more or less risen to the top of their class. Even if she had placed herself at the bottom of that pack, that meant she was ranked fourth in the class. In other words, she needed one more person ahead of her to put her in fifth.
The term “sacrificial lamb” suddenly popped into her head.
“S-say, just hunting with a sword isn’t very effective, is it? What if I told you there was a magic you could learn that’s perfect for hunting birds and jackalopes?”
“Huh…?”

***

“It sure took you a long time just to go and get that letter.”
“Oh, well, there was a guy in the classroom, and we were just talking for a while…”
“What? A guy?!”
“It was just a chat! A short chat!”
Reina was smoldering, but Mile simply waved her hands as if it were nothing.
“Anyway, here’s the letter in question.”
“Let’s deal with it like we usually do.”
“O-okay!” Mile and Pauline agreed, powerless.

***

Veil was an orphan.
He had never known his parents’ faces. By the time he was old enough to be aware of his surroundings, he was already living in the slums, in the shelter of a crumbling, abandoned house along with the other girls and boys. The eldest was a boy of twelve or thirteen, who they all called Andy.
It was only a few years after Veil’s first memories that Andy disappeared.
Perhaps he had died from illness or an accident. Maybe he’d gone off somewhere to become a hunter.
No one ever told them, and Veil never asked.
After Andy, there had been “Big Sis.”
He remembered the day when Big Sis went away.
Instead of the rags she always wore, Big Sis showed up in a pretty new outfit and brought the orphans lots of food and clothing. Then she went away with some adults they had never seen before. She never came back again. That was the last time he ever saw her.
The next leader was Brother Jon. After him was Brother Dahl.
Each of them vanished when they were around fourteen or fifteen years old.
Perhaps they died, or perhaps they simply became adults who could finally live on their own and left the slums for a happier life elsewhere.
Before he knew it, Veil was the second eldest, with only Brother Dahl ahead of him in age.
He thought to himself: It’s my turn now—my turn to protect everyone, to take care of them. To pay back all the help the ones before me gave.
But this time, I won’t disappear. I’m always going to look after them.
Because this is my home, and these people are my family.

***

The capital was a difficult place for an orphan, and yet in some ways, it was also kind.
If one were caught stealing or picking pockets, one would swiftly be caught and indentured. Several bands of orphans had been captured in this way, and their homes demolished. However, if one did honest work, people tended to overlook the house-squatting, and now and then some charitable adult might even donate a scrap or two of food.
Particularly egregious abuses were rare. The authorities were relatively just and made little distinction between rich and poor. More importantly, many of the local thugs and hunters had come from the slums themselves and were thus kind to their juniors—at least in the cases where they themselves had nothing to lose.
At the age of six, Veil registered as an associate hunter, so that he could do odd jobs around the city and help pay for everyone’s food. The moment he turned ten, he registered as an official hunter.
At that time, another hunter, himself from the slums, gifted Veil a cheap sword that was destined for the scrap heap, as he had recently acquired a new one.
Veil was so happy he wept. He had never felt so lucky in his life. Previously, he’d planned to fight with a wooden staff until he could afford to buy a sword of his own.
And then, when that precious sword of his finally broke, he saved up a bit of money to purchase a slightly older, used sword.
Someday, he would give his sword to one of his juniors. He swore it to himself.
So that the little ones could eat.
So that they could purchase medicine when they got sick.
So that, now and then, they could buy new clothes from the secondhand store.
The smaller kids earned a little from odd jobs and guild-chaperoned gathering expeditions, but it didn’t amount to much. Even though Veil became an official hunter at age ten, he was still an F-rank, and his earnings weren’t enough to fully support a number of orphans.
He had to earn more. He had to get more money.
However, there weren’t many parties who would take a boy from the slums with no special skills, and even if he found one, he couldn’t join a party that would travel far away and leave him unable to look after the little ones.
There were solo jobs that wouldn’t take him far and required no special skills, but they didn’t grant him much experience, nor did they let him challenge himself. He spent his days gathering herbs and hunting jackalopes and other small beasts, with no hope of promotion. Furthermore, his skills as an amateur swordsman were his only means of hunting, so his efficiency was low.
There was no point in buddying up with others from the slums, either. They were F-rank amateurs, just the same as him, so the jobs they could accept would be no different, and they had no unique skills that he could learn from them. If he formed a party with hunters the same age as he, he would have no way to progress. The only thing that could change with this method would be if he could become more efficient at locating prey.
And then the day came when Brother Dahl disappeared.
One night, he simply didn’t come home.
And that was that.
Maybe he had perished, or perhaps he fled.
If he had left the slums behind and joined a hunting party somewhere, he would be fine. Perhaps he joined a party that had gone off to another town, or perhaps he’d gone off to another town, and then joined a party.
Either way, the orphans were left without their top earner.
Veil, now suddenly the eldest, was caught, anxious, between the weight of his new sense of responsibility and the dark and hazy future ahead of him.
It was then that a man’s voice had called out to him.
“You there! You’re still rough, but I can tell yer pretty handy with a sword. Whaddya think? You gonna take the entrance exam for the Hunters’ Prep School?”
The man, who was associated with the guild hall in the capital, told Veil that while he was in school, he would himself check in on the orphans now and then. And at any rate, even while Veil was at the school, he would be able to go look in on them during the evenings and on days off, too. More importantly, the training the school offered was completely free. Veil would be able to work on his days off, and if he and the other orphans worked hard, in just half a year, the quality of their lives would improve immensely.
If Veil could become a C-rank, everything would be just as the man said.
“As long as you can do well on the exam, anyway,” the man explained. “Even if you can’t read and write, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to pass. Still, the chances of getting in are slim—incredibly so…”
Despite the man’s warning, Veil replied, “I’ll do it!”
And so he had.
Even after he became a C-rank hunter, being able to read and write would make choosing jobs much easier for him. In addition, not being able to read and sign his own contracts and the like could be disastrous. With that in mind, every night after dinner, he returned to the classroom to practice his letters.
With the others in his dorm room, it was hard to find space to practice there, and besides, if he used the board in the classroom, he could save money he might have spent on paper and ink. It wasn’t unusual for the other students to return to the training grounds or the indoor practice area after their lessons, but no one came back to the classroom.
That was what he thought, anyway, until someone did come.
“Writing practice?”
It was an earnest, friendly girl of twelve, three years Veil’s junior, who was said to be able to use storage magic. A lucky girl who was not only smart and good-looking, but would also never want for anything. A flower on a mountaintop, blooming miles out of his league.
And yet there she was, standing before him and talking with him, perhaps due to some passing fancy of her own.
We’re classmates, he thought. They’d simply happened to meet alone in the classroom—it wasn’t so terrible for them to make small talk, was it? She was probably a nice girl who would never judge someone based on differences in status or wealth.
With that in mind, Veil turned to speak to the girl, but then…
“S-say, just hunting with a sword isn’t very effective, is it? What if I told you there was a magic you could learn that’s perfect for hunting birds and jackalopes?”
“Huh…?”

.Average 1.6.1

Chapter 7:

Hunters’ Prep School

The school was small. The building she took to be the schoolhouse was a tiny, one-story shack. The building that served as the dormitory was a similarly humble affair, housing both boys and girls. The only other building appeared to house an indoor training ground. Such was the sort of school that catered to only about forty students, all in the same class.
Mile had no interest in standing out, but at the same time, she didn’t want the guild master to lose face. Her goal was to stay somewhere near fifth from the top of her class.
After Mile finished registering, she proceeded to her assigned room to find a four-person dorm with two bunk beds. Since the school was funded by the country’s tax money, they didn’t have the luxury of providing individual rooms.
Still, for now, the room was empty, for it seemed that Mile was the first to arrive. She pondered which bed she ought to claim for herself. With her past education in Japanese courtesy, she could not escape the inclination ingrained in her to hold back and let others have the best ones.
I’ll probably be the youngest and the smallest, so maybe I should pick a top bunk…
Thus, though there were a lot of advantages to sleeping on the bottom of a bunk bed, but Mile selected one of the two top bunks.
The room had one cabinet, divided into four sections. Apparently, this was meant for them all to share. Other than that, there was only one small lockbox, but since Mile could keep her valuables in the loot box, it wasn’t of much interest to her. So again, she selected the most inconvenient spot.
In these lands, ceding an advantage one could grab for oneself was something only an idiot would do, but to Mile, this was no real concern.
“I guess I don’t need to spend much time unpacking.”
Here, she had no intention of hiding the fact that she had storage skills. In fact, the guild master had written this very information in the referral section of her entry application form, so it would be pointless to try to conceal it. Therefore, it was fine if her standard luggage appeared to be hidden away with storage magic. Even if some of it were actually secured in her loot box instead.
Thus, as she didn’t really need the cabinet, she figured that the other three could share the space amongst themselves.
Besides the beds, the cabinet, and the lockbox, the room was completely empty. There was nothing else—not even desks or chairs. At this school, there was no spare money to devote to housing. Any time that students had to loiter around in their rooms was time best spent on the practice grounds. The rooms were really just a place for changing clothes and sleeping. That was the sum of things.
Mile was sitting around staring into space and killing time until lunch, when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in!” Mile replied.
The girl who opened the door was tall, about five foot seven inches, with golden hair and a stern, imposing face. She was probably around seventeen or eighteen years old and looked almost boyish. Immediately, Mile could tell that she was also the sort of person who would be popular with the other girls.
“Oh, a roommate! Let’s have a great six months together!” The girl grinned and held out her right hand. Mile smiled and returned the gesture. She got the feeling she would get along with this girl.
“Pleased to meet you. The name’s Mavis. I’m a knight. I’ll spare you the details until the rest arrive. Which bed are you in?”
“Oh—this one, up here.”
“Hmm…”
Mile worried Mavis might think she was an idiot, but instead the girl just patted her gently on the head.
“You’re a good kid…”
They would definitely get along! Mile was certain of it.
“I’m kinda big,” Mavis said, “so I hope you don’t mind if I take the bottom here.”
Mavis hoisted her luggage onto the bed beneath Mile, and the two of them chatted until there came another knock.
“Come on in!” Mile replied.
This time, when the door opened, two girls stood outside in the hallway.
The first was a kind, absent-minded looking girl around thirteen or fourteen, with brown hair. The second was a tough-looking redhead of around twelve.
“More roommates, yeah? Hey there, I’m Mavis!”
“And I’m Mile. Pleased to meet you all!”
“Reina. Nice to meet you.” The red-headed girl strutted into the room. She glanced at both the beds and then tossed her bags onto the bottom bunk of the vacant one—surely a more typical way of doing things, Mile thought. The early bird gets the worm and all that.
“I’m Pauline. It’s good to meet you.” The meeker of the two girls gently placed her bags on the top bunk, without a hint of disdain for the girl who had beaten her to the punch.
There was no real need for the students to arrive until the day before the entrance ceremony, but it was no coincidence that all four occupants of this room had arrived early in the morning, three whole days before the start of the term. That night would be the first night that they could sleep there at the school, and it was also the first day that their free meals would be provided, starting with lunch. In short, none of them had money to spare.
Of course, this was not true of Mile, who now had funds of her own. Even so, she had wanted to arrive early merely to familiarize herself with the school and the surrounding area. However, wanting to fit into with the other girls, she didn’t mention this. At the very least, she had learned to read the room a little better since her days at Eckland Academy.
Soon, lunchtime rolled around, and they all headed to the dining hall with plans to do proper introductions after the meal.
Although it was only the first day of registration, a great number of other students had arrived early as well; nearly half of this year’s class of forty crowded the dining hall. At this point, all of the previous term’s students had graduated and gone, so everyone present was a new recruit.
The boys were gobbling food as though they hadn’t eaten in days, and though the girls were nowhere near so crude, it was clear they had good appetites. As no one had grown close enough for friendly chatter, everyone ate in silence.
After lunch, Mile and company returned to their room to make introductions.
“How about we introduce ourselves in the order we arrived?”
Mavis’s suggestion put Mile first.
“I’m Mile. I’m twelve years old. I’m a magic user and an F-rank hunter.”
“Is that all?” asked Reina, the redhead. “Anything else you want to say? Like your magical specialty, or your hometown, or your family, or…?”
At her prompting, Mile had no choice but to continue. “Um, let’s see. I can use storage magic—I don’t have any use for my spot in the cabinet, so the rest of you can go ahead and use it. I dabble in swordplay just a little bit, for self-protection. And as for my family, even speaking about them is a sort of unpleasant matter, so please forgive me for refraining…”
“………”
There was a long silence.
“Wait a minute—” Reina suddenly interjected.
“Something is weird about this. If you can use storage magic, you should be a C-rank already! What are you doing here?! Besides, it takes energy to maintain, doesn’t it? How can you be using that in place of a cabinet?!”
“Huh…?”
“Don’t you ‘huh’ me!”
As Reina continued to shout, Mile just tilted her head.
“Um, well, the rank thing was a guild mistake,” Mile said. “The guild master sent me here in order to correct it. And I don’t know—is that really true about storage magic needing to be maintained?”
“Y-you…” Reina trailed off.
“Well, I guess I’m next up!” Mavis offered, only a little nervously.
Being able to read the room truly was an amazing skill.
“Now that Mile’s spilled the beans for us, let me be frank as well. We’ll be together a good while, so you’re going to get to know me sooner or later.
“I’m Mavis von Austien, seventeen years old. I’m a knight, no magic.
“My family has all been knights for generations, and my three older brothers all became knights too. I wanted to be a knight, just like them, but my brothers and parents were super opposed to it, so I ran away from home. So, now, I just go by Mavis, no surname. Hope we can get along!”
Whoa…
As Mavis spoke, the nickname “Rascal” popped into Mile’s head—but that was a name for a raccoon, wasn’t it? Perhaps she was thinking of something else.
“N-next up’s me, then! Reina, fifteen years old! They call me ‘Crimson Reina,’ and my specialty’s attack magic. Let me just be clear now that the ‘Crimson’ part has nothing to do with my hair! I have no family…”
At these last words, Reina looked down, despondent, but unlike Mile, it seemed as though she wouldn’t necessarily mind talking about her family.
The other girls all asked the same question. “Fifteen?”
“What?! You got something to say about it?!”

Reina was very short for a fifteen-year-old, no taller than 156 centimeters. If she were Japanese, she would be just around the right height for her age, but for the people of this country, who were similar to Caucasians on Earth, she was about 5 centimeters shy of the average height for a girl of fifteen—closer to the height of a twelve-year-old.
Mile was also short for her age, so she was thankful when the conversation moved on.
“I guess that leaves me, then… I’m Pauline, I’m fourteen. I’m the love child of the head of the Beckett Company, a mid-sized mercantile operation.”
Whaaaaaaaat?! The other girls exchanged surprised looks.
“My existence is a nuisance to my father, but I’m a genius at healing magic, so he sent me here to try and polish my skills so that I’d be a useful gift to a noble or important merchant.”
Stop iiiit!!!
“After I graduate from here, I’ll probably end up with some middle-aged man—”
“AND THAT CONCLUDES OUR INTRODUCTIONS,” the other three cut in.
Truly, these were roommates who would get along well.

***

For the next three days, the four girls passed their time chatting in their room and strolling about the capital together. Since none of them had very much money, they only did things that were free.
When they did go shopping, however, there was a problem beyond just money: because their room was very small, they couldn’t buy much of anything besides a few changes of clothing and small, consumable goods.
Each of them had very different personalities, but somehow, they all seemed to complement each other. It was clear that they would be very good roommates.
For some reason or other, Mile found herself growing particularly fond of Reina, and she often noticed the other girl standing by her side. When Mile brought it up, Mavis was kind enough to offer an explanation.
“Well, it’s probably because, you know, the way your figure—no, never mind, it’s nothing.”
“Wait, what?!”
Mile demanded that Mavis continue. As polite as she normally was, she had grown comfortable enough now to speak to her new roommates without reservations.
The truth was that when Reina stood next to Mile, she looked much older. She was noticeably taller than twelve-year-old Mile and more developed in other ways, too.
Since Reina always seemed concerned about her youthful appearance, it was only natural that she’d want to accentuate the contrast between them—which meant staying close to Mile’s side. For Mile, at twelve, being only a little bit smaller than a fifteen-year-old wasn’t so bad either.
Mavis was seventeen, so she wasn’t even part of the equation. It was Pauline who gave Reina reason to worry. She was a hair taller than the average girl of fourteen, which meant she was taller than Reina. Worst of all though, was the fact that her breasts were much more developed than average, surpassing even Mavis’s.
“Grngh…” Mile cast a glare at Pauline’s bust just as Reina returned from the washroom.
“Well, let’s get going!”
The waiting was over. It was the day of the Hunters’ Prep School entrance ceremony.

***

The ceremony was drab.
Since the vast majority of the students came from poverty, their families couldn’t possibly attend.
While the entrance ceremony at Eckland Academy had been nothing special in comparison to that of the much more prestigious Ardleigh, the school still catered to the offspring of nobles and successful merchants, meaning that they had to keep up appearances. Here, the entrance ceremony felt like not much more than an introductory assembly for the students and teachers alone.
Suffice it to say, while a proper three-year boarding school and an accelerated six-month hunters’ prep school were both “schools,” it was like comparing a four-year university to a driving school; in other words, it was not a worthwhile comparison. Even the difference in the size of the student body was noticeable to Mile.
And, of course, the school had no uniforms. Everyone wore their own clothes. Still, as they were attending an entrance ceremony, the students had all worn their hunting equipment rather than standard garb, which gave them the appearance of rookie hunters.
The student body for this term consisted of forty people, the same as always, and there was only one class. In fact, the school was still in something of a trial run, so its scope was very small, much more like a mission school than a true academy.
“Welcome! I am Principal Elbert!” A man of around fifty greeted them from the platform. He didn’t look like a principal so much as a retired hunter.
“I’ve lived as a hunter since I was six years old, up until about six years ago, when I retired and took charge of this place.”
No wonder, then, that he looked like a retired hunter. He was one!
And at any rate, a school of only forty students couldn’t have much need for a principal.
They might as well call it a “Hunter Training Center” or a “Hunter Boot Camp,” Mile thought.
“The aim of this place is to cram you full of all the knowledge you’d normally gain from the successes and failures of many years in the span of just six months. That way, you can be promoted to a D or C-rank immediately after you graduate! You understand what that means, right?”
Elbert looked out at the students’ faces.
“That’s right! This place is tough! And anyone who can’t keep up gets the boot! Having someone happily graduate and then kick the bucket a few days later—or worse, drag all their party members down in the mud? That’s not what we want. So, we don’t let it happen! If don’t think you can stick with it, then you can turn in your resignation now!”
To enter the school, everyone present had overcome fierce competition. They carried their families’ hopes on their shoulders. No one was prepared to give up so easily. At least at that moment point, there were no quitters present.
Following Elbert’s address, the other instructors were introduced, and then the students were dismissed. The small details would be covered later, in the classroom.

***

As they waited for their instructor to arrive, the students chattered in small groups. Roommates, who had already grown close, talked amongst one another.
“I mean, it’s pretty obvious,” said Reina.
The other three nodded.
She was referring to the principal’s remarks. Everyone there had been perfectly aware of the school’s reputation when they enrolled. There was no point in blabbering on about it.
After a short while, the door at the front of the room opened, and their instructor entered. It was Elbert, the principal himself.
“I’m your chief instructor. We don’t have a particularly large budget, so you can think of me as your principal-cum-chief instructor-cum-weaponry trainer. Besides me, there’re the three others I introduced. And other than that, it’s just the cooks who make your meals and the school maintenance staff.
“Our curriculum here is focused on practical education, but there’s a classroom portion of your studies, too. If you don’t know how to identify medicinal herbs or tell different monsters apart, you’re dead meat. And if you don’t know how to properly address a noble you’re escorting, you’re going to end up starting a fight that will end either with you getting cut down or put on a list of criminals. You have to study up.”
His words were curt, but no one could argue with the truth of them.
Elbert began writing on the board as he continued speaking.

Total Students: 40 Boys: 27 Girls: 13
Sword Users Boys: 13 Girls: 3
Spear Users Boys: 4
Archers Boys: 4 Girls: 2
Magic Users Boys: 6 Girls: 8

Girls’ Team A 5 Members 2 Magic, 1 Sword, 2 Bow
Girls’ Team B 4 Members 3 Magic, 1 Sword
Girls’ Team C 4 Members 3 Magic, 1 Sword

Boys’ Team 1 5 Members 1 Magic, 3 Sword, 1 Bow
Boys’ Team 2 5 Members 1 Magic, 2 Sword, 1 Bow, 1 Spear
Boys’ Team 3 5 Members 1 Magic, 2 Sword, 1 Bow, 1 Spear
Boys’ Team 4 4 Members 1 Magic, 2 Sword, 1 Spear
Boys’ Team 5 4 Members 1 Magic, 2 Sword, 1 Spear
Boys’ Team 6 4 Members 1 Magic, 2 Sword, 1 Bow

“This class is divided into parties by gender and grouped based on your professions. Teams A through C are the girls’ teams, and Teams 1 through 6 are the boys’. I’m sure some of you may have noticed already, but these party divisions are the same as your room assignments. So you’re bound together until graduation, like it or not.
“If there’s someone you don’t get on with, it’s your responsibility to tough it out. That’s part of your training. After all, you’re not always going to end up liking your party members after graduation, either.
“Now, there aren’t many all-girl parties out there in the real world, but here at school, we don’t have the time to be breaking up any lovers’ spats or dealing with unexpected babies. It’s easier to teach you all separately.
“But that’s just for while you’re here. After you graduate, you can form your own mixed-gender parties if you want to. That’s how it usually works, after all.”
At that point, Mile felt that Elbert had been a bit too frank, but he simply continued his explanation.
Seating in the classroom was divided up by profession, so it was easy for the instructors to know at a glance which groups would most benefit from what information. Still, when hunters were out in the field, there was the possibility that they would have to take up the arms of a fallen comrade or a bested enemy, so it was crucial that every hunter trained with equipment that was outside of his or her wheelhouse. In the future, this would help them work better with other members of their party. Of course, it was critical to know the strengths and weaknesses of one’s enemies, so joint sessions with students of other professions were also part of their training course.
Finally, it was time for the students to introduce themselves to one another.
“I don’t expect you all to memorize everybody the first time around,” Elbert said. “This is just to get a feel for the sorts of folks who are in your class. We’ll start from the right side. Give us your name, age, occupation, specialization, and rank, at the very least. You don’t have to stop there, though. Feel free to let your peers know what kind of person you are.”
In spite of his encouragement, almost no one gave more than the bare minimum.
Few students were interested in filling a bunch of strangers in on their private affairs, their strengths, or their weaknesses. Even Mavis, Reina, and Pauline gave introductions much briefer than those they had offered back in the dormitory.
Finally, it came time for Mile to introduce herself. “I’m Mile. I’m twelve years old and a magic user. There’s no type of magic that I’m especially bad at. I can use storage magic, and I dabble just a little in swords. I’m an F-rank.”
Unlike Reina, no one here expressed puzzlement at Mile’s knowledge of storage magic. No matter how impressive the skill was, it was not particularly difficult to imagine why someone would have judged it too dangerous to send an inexperienced twelve-year-old out into the field. Instead, they would have sent her here to learn a few things, first. That was also, one could assume, why she was still an F-rank.
Indeed, in the wake of Mile’s introduction, the students were whispering amongst themselves for an entirely different reason: recruitment, whether they could get to know her before graduation and cajole her into one of their parties.
She was a good-looking, reliable-seeming girl who could use storage—as well as other—magic, and she was even handy with a sword.
If a girl like that wasn’t someone you wanted on your side, then who else would be?
For Mile, another difficult time was about to begin.

***

“All right! Time for our first-ever party meeting,” Reina announced that evening after dinner, when they returned to their room.
The three others stared blankly.
“Don’t you guys get it? Something terrible’s happened! We need to talk about this!”
“What’s so terrible?” Mile asked, unconcerned.
“You! Did you not see it?!” Reina shouted back. “How they were all staring at you?!”
“Huh? Am I really all that fascinating?”
“No!!! Weeell, it’s not that you aren’t interesting, but everyone’s after that storage magic of yours! Before you know what’s what, they’re going to start coming after you to join their parties! And if we don’t do something, it’s going to be a disaster. Besides, you’re already my…”
“Hmm?”
“N-never mind! Anyway, listen: You’re going to start getting swarmed by men who aren’t interested in you yourself, but in your storage magic! We need to do something about this!”
“What are you talking about?”
At Mile’s amazement, Mavis and Pauline sighed deeply.
“Listen, most everyone who goes to this school is fifteen and older. People who join a guild as proper hunters at the age of ten can become a D-rank hunter in just a few years, even if they start at F-rank. And once they’re a D-rank, they can start taking on real jobs, so there’s no need to come to a place like this. No one’s going to be sending any young people out on a mission to fight a high-ranking monster.
“However, none of the people here were able to join the guild at age ten. And even if they did join the guild later, the students here were also deemed to have potential. The higher-ups sent them to school so they could move more quickly through the ranks.
“Obviously, Mile, you fall outside that rule, because you’re so young. There’s no mistaking that you’re here because of your storage magic.”
Reina continued. “Most of the people here are already adults. Sure, some of them are only looking for future party members, but some of them are also looking for love. Someone like you, whose storage magic gives her great earning potential, who seems easy to control, and who is, dare I say, pretty cute… You’re just too delectable of a prize. Do you see what I’m saying?”
“Um.” Mile hung her head, crestfallen.
“Basically, if you get any party invitations from here on out, just tell them, ‘I already promised I’d be with my roommates.’ And, if anyone tries to ask you on a date, tell them, ‘I’m not interested right now. I want to focus on my training.’ Got it?!”
“Y-yes, ma’am!”
Seeing Mile’s startled, immediate reply and Reina’s obvious satisfaction, Mavis and Pauline understood.
So, it’s like that.
Yes, it was most definitely “like that.”
“Oh, that’s right,” said Mavis. “We need to pick a leader.”
Immediately, the three girls all pointed…
At Mavis.
She was the oldest and the tallest, imposing, but also appealing and sincere.
The others were—of course—made up of the short-tempered Reina, mild-mannered Pauline, and Mile, who always seemed a step behind the rest of them.
In other words, Mavis was the obvious choice.

***

The following day, the morning was occupied by classroom studies.
Practical training would take place on the grounds in the afternoon.
“All right, the gang’s all here. Before we start our normal training, we need to confirm all of your current ability levels. Let’s go ahead and see each of your combat abilities, one at a time. Break out of your parties, and sort yourselves by occupation.”
As directed by Elbert, the students rearranged themselves into groups by combat class.
The other three instructors were also present. The first was Huey, in charge of short swords, throwing knives, and archery. The second was Neville, a magic instructor, with a particular specialty in combat magic. And the third was Jilda, another magic instructor, in charge of utility and healing spells. Each of them was a former hunter.
Though they all had their own specialties to take charge of, they were by no means unskilled in the other disciplines, and when one had their hands full, the others could pitch in.
As things stood, the sword users and archers were mostly boys, and the number of female spear users was exactly zero. On the other hand, the magic users were mostly girls.
Considering physical ability, it was unsurprising that most of the students in the former professions were male. Even boys who could use some measure of combat magic were likely to choose the sword as their main skill. Moreover, a majority of applicants to the school were boys, anyway.
Still, though there were far fewer girls than boys in the student body, there were many more female magic users, likely for the same reasons discussed above.
All the students were wearing their own armor, but as weapons would be provided, no one had brought their own.
Even in a mock battle, if one used a real sword, there was risk of injury, and so, the students dressed accordingly. This was a blessing for Mile, who in spite of always looking rather like a swordsman, didn’t look out of place with the other magic users.
They could be called sorcerers, yes, but there was not a robe in sight. Rather, everyone wore the same light leather armor, or if they couldn’t afford that, thick, plain clothes, meaning that Mile did not stand out in her boots and leather breast plate.
It was only in her choice of equipment that Mile was exceptional. Other magic users carried staves, rods, or other blunt weaponry, but Mile stuck with her trusty sword. A magic user’s life depended on their spell-casting and magic. Therefore, they were usually loathe to carry weapons that required extra attention or special skills. The same went for anything that might get stuck in an opponent’s armor, making escape difficult.
As a result, they were inclined to the aforementioned forms of weaponry: light and well-balanced bludgeoning tools that required little thought to use, not meant for felling an enemy but merely for swinging about to protect oneself, should someone draw too near.
However, such things were of no concern to Mile. Additionally, it was much easier to fell an enemy with a sword or spear than with a staff or rod—and that was what counted.
For the same purpose, Mile also considered keeping a slingshot on hand. Of course, a simple slingshot wouldn’t make full use of Mile’s abilities, but in fact, that might be a good thing. Even if she were excited or panicked, the string could only be pulled so far, so there was no risk of making an error that would allow her power to get out of hand and cause a mishap. Besides, if something did happen, it would be easy to play it off.
Bows were a bother, since one had to walk around with one’s arrows prepared, and that just wasn’t an option. Slingshot pellets were much less cumbersome, and one could always substitute them with pebbles in a pinch—and pebbles could easily be refined into proper spheres. If she were on sandy soil, she would be able to gather iron sand as raw material. Besides, as far as accuracy, she could rely on her nanobuddies to provide some course correction, so that wouldn’t be too much of an issue.
No matter how one looked at it, slingshots beat bows, hands down.

***

“Begin!”
While Mile sat pondering these considerations, the duels between the sword users had begun.
Naturally, the students were using wooden swords. The school wasn’t horrible enough to let a bunch of beginners use metal swords for training. Nevertheless, the duels were completely different from those at Eckland Academy, though Mile wasn’t too surprised by this. These students were elite hunter candidates, most of them fifteen and up. Their technique and power were in a whole different class compared to her former schoolmates.
After a splendid volley between the first pair, one of the two swung his sword to finally catch the other in the side, and the match concluded.
The other matches that followed were close matches, as well. Indeed, all the students were all close in age, each of them a first-class candidate chosen from his or her district, meaning there were only subtle differences in their abilities.
Mile watched their bouts closely, analyzing everyone’s levels. She was a studious girl, after all, and could do anything she put her mind to especially when she combined her diligence with practical experience…
There was an uneven number of male sword users, so the final boy was paired with a girl. That girl was Mavis.
Typically, men were thought to be stronger, but Mavis, the oldest and tallest of the girls, closed the gap easily and secured a splendid victory. The boy, having lost, looked momentarily disappointed, but then congratulated Mavis with a smile.
For a moment, his gaze looked distant in a way that reminded Mile of a certain eleven-year-old brat, but he soon collected himself, and offered Mavis a firm handshake.
They really are adults, Mile thought.

***

The duels between the female sword users followed, after which, Mile assumed, would come the spear users, but just then…
“Oi, Mile. You said you could use a sword, yeah? Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Huh?!” Mile started at Elbert’s unexpected command.
Unbeknownst to the other students, Mile had enrolled in the school without being tested, thanks to the recommendation of the regional guild master. As the principal and chief instructor, Elbert, of course, was aware of this. Since Mile did have storage magic, it was clear that the guild master’s referral had been legitimate. However, his recommendation had also stated that Mile’s swordsmanship was “on par with a C-rank hunter,” and Elbert was curious to test her skills.
I…can’t really refuse, can I? Mile thought. I have to do this. She had, after all, been analyzing everyone’s levels as they fought, in case of such an event. It will be fine. It will be fine…
As Mile steeled herself, Elbert selected her opponent. When he asked for volunteers, nearly all of them raised their hands, so he selected one of the weaker-seeming boys who had fought earlier.
Why, Mile wondered, does everyone want to fight me?! Was it some kind of conspiracy? Were they picking on her because she was young?
In truth, however, they’d all raised their hands with the intent of sidling up to her later to ask how she was doing, saying something like, “Sorry about earlier. Why don’t we get together later and talk about the practice match? I’ll even bring some tea and cookies.”
“Begin!”
The match kicked off with Elbert’s signal, and as Mile blocked the young man’s flurry of attacks, he blocked hers in return, their exchange proceeding nicely. Finally, one of the young man’s blows caught Mile on the side, and the match was over.
She was an intelligent girl, after all.
“……”
Though the match had ended, Elbert continued to stare silently, deep in thought. After a short while, he called to the boy who Mavis had fought earlier, and the two of them stepped aside to talk.
As they spoke, the male student flared up suddenly, as though he were angry at Elbert. After that, their mysterious conversation continued, the young man nodding reluctantly as though there was something he didn’t quite understand, and finally, the two returned to the rest of the students.
“All right, Mile. Round two!”
“Huhhhhh?!?!”
This time, Mile wasn’t the only one to shout her surprise.
“Begin!”
And a second match began.
The young man appeared as unhappy about this as Mile. He was being forced to fight a tiny girl who had just lost to a boy who was not even close to his ability level. To make matters worse, she was a mage—and on top of that, though he had lost to a young woman before, Mavis was at least a sword user, and she was strong. That defeat would linger with him, no doubt, but at least for now, he could accept it.
However, the fight he’d just been flung into was unacceptable. Even if he were to win, it would be an unsatisfying victory, without honor, pride, or prestige. It left a bad taste in his mouth. Still, this was part of their lessons, a practice mandated by their instructor. He had no choice but to do as he was told.
The match began and quickly grew fierce, leaving Mile flustered.
Why is he only aiming for the places where I don’t have armor?!?!
Every attack was directed at her arms, neck, or the joints in her armor, all places where it would definitely hurt to take a blow at full strength. She’d be lucky to make it out of this with only bruises. She kept on blocking as though her life depended on it, and after things continued like this for a while, finally, she got her chance.
That one’s headed straight for my armor.
Just as with the first match, the bout was concluded with a blow to the side.
Thwap!
Mile was relieved. But when she looked up, she saw that the boy before her was staring agog—but at Elbert, not her.
Mile followed his gaze and saw that Elbert was grinning like a madman.
Huh? Wha…?
It had been a set-up.
However, it was not until later that Mile would realize this.

***

After the spear and bow users finished their matches, it was at last the magic users’ turn to compete. Unlike with the sword and spear users, the archers and mages were not to fight one another directly. Naturally, firing at one another would have been incredibly dangerous. So instead, they compared their rate and speed of fire, their accuracy, and their power when attacking a distant target.
One by one in order, they released their attack spells.
Fireballs, water spheres, fire arrows, ice arrows, rock arrows, infernos, explosions…
They varied in size, speed, and power, but once again, were leagues above anything Mile had seen at Eckland. There were few students there who had even been capable of combat magic to begin with.
The most shocking performance, however, was Reina’s.
“Blaze, O flames of Hell! Reduce them to ash and bone!”
A surging, wild crimson flame swirled and hit its mark, incinerating the target.
“Amazing!” Mile whispered.
Reina turned to her triumphantly.
So that’s why she’s called “Crimson Reina,” Mile thought. Still, it doesn’t seem like her magical strength is all that high, and I didn’t think she conjured anything particularly special… For some reason, that was as far as Mile was able to understand Reina’s magic, and she didn’t try to analyze it further. She got the sense that doing so would just wear her out. It was a wise assumption on her part.
IT IS BECAUSE SHE IS PASSIONATE.
“Eep!”
Mile shrieked at the sudden whisper in her ear, causing several of her classmates to look her way, perplexed. She attempted to play it off as though nothing had happened, continuing to watch as the other students performed their magic.
D-don’t scare me like that!
OUR APOLOGIES. IT SEEMED THAT YOU WERE SEEKING INFORMATION.
I was just thinking!! But, well, since I’ve got you here, I guess I may as well ask. What do you mean by “passionate”?
WE WILL EXPLAIN. AS YOU KNOW, WE NANOMACHINES HAVE RANDOMIZED RECEPTION AND SELECTION SETTINGS. BECAUSE OF THIS, THE NUMBER OF NANOMACHINES IN RANGE THAT WILL REACT TO THE ARTICULATION OF A THOUGHT PULSE VARIES. OTHER VARIATIONS ARISE FROM THE CLARITY OF THE IMAGE, WHICH IMPACTS OPERATIVE EFFICIENCY. ALL THIS LEADS TO DIFFERENCES IN MAGICAL RESULTS.
HOWEVER, FROM TIME TO TIME, A PERSON APPEARS WHO CAN USE MAGIC WITH FAR GREATER POWER THAN OTHERS, DESPITE HAVING NO EXCEPTIONAL SKILL IN STRENGTH, CLARITY, OR IMAGE. THIS IS WHAT WE REFER TO AS “PASSION.” THAT IS TO SAY—HOW TO PUT IT?—THEIR THOUGHT PULSE IS SO POWERFUL THAT EVEN NANOMACHINES WITH LOW SENSITIVITY WILL REACT TO IT.
Hmm…
With that brief acknowledgement, Mile put an end to the conversation, not really knowing whether she understood the nanomachines’ explanation or not. It was her turn to perform magic.
Things are going okay so far, Mile thought, so it should be acceptable to use fairly strong magic. She wanted to try to stay at around fifth place in the class ranking. Thus, considering the number of students, being the second-best magician wasn’t unreasonable. I should just perform something a little bit weaker than what Reina did…
With that in mind, Mile decided to try using the same spell as her roommate but with just about eighty percent of the output.
“Blaze, O flames of Hell! Reduce them to ash and bone!”
Just as when Reina performed it, a swirling crimson blaze arose, surrounding the target and reducing it to ash.
“Wh…?”
The others were a little bit surprised to see Mile using a spell as powerful as Reina’s, and so soon after her. However, as Mile could use storage magic, it wasn’t particularly shocking that she would be skilled in other areas of magic as well.
There was one person who simply could not accept this, however.
“Mile, I need to speak with you later.” Reina glared at her harshly, and the hairs on the back of Mile’s neck stood on end.
“Wh-why…?”
After Mile, several more students showed off their attack magic, followed by those with utility magic. Healing magic would be covered at some other time, as there was no one there who was injured, meaning that there would have been no way to perform any demonstrations.
Luckily, this was not a problem. There was no one whose only ability was healing magic, so all the students were able to show their skills off using some type of magic or other.

***

After the practical training was over, the students were dismissed from the grounds for the day. Reina still seemed agitated, so Mile kept her distance, shuffling behind the other students on the way to the dining hall in the hopes of keeping a low profile.
“Miss Mile!”
“Eek!” Mile shrieked and tensed as someone approached from behind and clapped her suddenly on the shoulder.
“Oh, I’m sorry…”
Mile turned around to find the male student she had faced in the second-round practice bout standing behind her.
“Sorry to frighten you—and sorry about the fight earlier. To be honest, it was all on the teacher’s orders… Even if he told me to, though, it was still wrong of me to try and hit the parts of you that were unprotected. I’m really sorry!”
“Huh? Oh, no, it’s all right! In a battle, it makes the most sense to aim for an enemy’s weak points—and if the teacher said so, then you didn’t really have much choice, did you?”
“Thank you so much for saying so.”
With that, he departed. Mile was impressed. “Man, adults really are different…”
The moment she turned to keep moving toward the dining hall, she was halted by another male voice.
“Sorry about earlier, Miley!”
This time, she turned to find the student she had faced in the first-round battle.
“Were you hurt? Why don’t we get together after dinner and talk about the practice match? I have a bunch of pointers I can give you!”
His nostrils flared on his smarmy, grinning face.
Mile, who could smell his ulterior motive a mile away, was unamused. “Sorry, I have a party meeting after dinner. In any case, I am a magic user, not a swordsman, so it’s only natural that I would have a lot of flaws in my sword technique. If I have the time to be polishing my sword skills beyond last-ditch self-defense, I think it would be better spent honing my magic—since that’s my main discipline…”
“O-oh, uh, but…”
“Excuse me.” Before the boy could come up with a snappy comeback, Mile walked away as briskly as she could.
It seemed that among mature adult men, there were still plenty of bad apples.

***

As always, dinner was eaten with her four roommates, i.e., her party, in the dining hall. Mile peeked timidly at Reina now and then, but she appeared not to notice and ate her meal normally. Mile was glad to be granted a momentary respite.
However, as soon as the four returned to their room…
“Commencing party meeting number two!” Mavis said.
“Mile! What was that about?!” Reina shouted.
“Huh? What? Was what about?”
“Don’t play dumb! That spell that you used! What was the meaning of that?!”
Mile recoiled in the face of Reina’s ire.
Mavis and Pauline just sat quietly, watching the events unfold.
“Um, well, I just used a normal fire spell, the same as you…”
“I see… The same as me, hmm? You simply plagiarized ‘Crimson Hellfire,’ the Crimson Reina’s signature, original spell, as a little ‘normal fire spell,’ did you?!”
“Wha…?!”
After some extended and persistent questioning by Reina, Mile finally buckled. She told Reina everything.
Well, not exactly everything. But she devised a cover story that was close enough to the truth.

***

“So, you’re saying that the minister who was after your power shook hands with the demon king, and the prince helped guide you to safety…?”
“Yes! I really thought I was going to die!”
“YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE THAT?! YOU COMPLETE IDIOT!!”
“Wh… How did you know…?”
“I’ve read that novel, too!!!”
“Waah!!”
Reina grabbed Mile’s hands.
This time, she confessed for real.
“So what you’re saying is that you hate to get special treatment, and you didn’t want everyone to heap it on you just because of your magical powers and storage skill? And that you ran away from home because you would have been killed, due to issues with your family’s line of succession?”
“Yes…” Though Mile had adjusted some of the details, each element of this story was true, so it was far more convincing—at least, more so than the romantic epic she had spun before.
“Well, that I can understand. Most people here have had others try to use them or sell them off for their exceptional abilities, in some way or other. This school doubles as a place to protect those people.”
With a pained look, Reina finally released Mile’s hands.
“Anyway, Mile, what was the deal with that guy who stopped you on the way to the dining hall?” Mavis asked.
“What?!” Reina, who had just let Mile go, grabbed her by the collar now, pulling hard.
“Wait! Stop! Y-you’re choking meee…”
After she told them the whole story of the conversations with both of the men, she was finally released again.
“No surprises there. We better monitor that first one, though—he was probably hiding something. Mavis, if that man ever gets near Mile again, block him!”
“I’ll see to it…”
Mavis smiled wryly. Suddenly, another question popped into her head. She turned to Mile.
“But why would the teacher set you up like that? You’re an aspiring magic user…”
“Who knows?”
As Mile hung her head, Mavis asked, nonchalantly, “By the way, Mile, why did you stop guarding on the last blow, in that second match? Especially in that bout, you had no trouble blocking all his quickest attacks, but then you let the last one, which was pretty slow, hit you straight on. Why was that? Did you fall for a feint or something?”
“……Huh?”
“Well, I mean, his last attack was a pretty weak one, wasn’t it?”
At Mavis’s prompting, Mile suddenly remembered what the young man said.
The teacher’s orders.
…the parts of you that were unprotected…
And then, Mavis’s words.
His last attack was a pretty weak one…
It had happened again.
The instructor was testing her mettle and confirming that she lost on purpose.
“Wh-what’s this all of a sudden?!” Mavis asked in the wake of Mile’s pensive silence.
Faced with Reina’s hounding, Mile, now quite depressed over her latest realization, decided to spill the beans about her ability with swords, too. After all, now that the teacher knew, it was only a matter of time until everyone else did, as well.
At least this way, her friends would hear about it from her first. Thinking about things that way, Mile realized she had no regrets about being found out.
“Friends,” huh? she thought to herself. And indeed, sitting there beside her, utterly puzzled by the grin suddenly crossing Mile’s face, were her three new friends.

Average 1.5.1

Everyone froze. Several hunters stopped in place, as though they had seized up mid-run.
The man stood still and silent, gripping the hilt of a bladeless sword. Mile held the stance of someone who had just swung a weapon. And there, clattering to the floor, was the sword’s blade—but it wasn’t a broken edge that it had. The massive blade had been cut clean off.
“Wh-wha…?”
Schwip!
With a flick, Mile returned her sword to its sheath.
A beat later, the man’s iron cross guard snapped in two.
“Ee….” He stumbled back slowly, then turned on his heel and ran.
Two other hunters, most likely members of his party, followed in a panic.
It was probable that the man hadn’t actually intended to cut Mile down; there was a strong chance that he had instead intended to stop short, just to give her a fright. However, Mile was not the sort of optimistic idiot who would assume such was the case and simply do nothing. If she hadn’t acted and he hadn’t stopped short, then she would’ve been killed.
“Now, as I was saying…” Mile attempted to return to her previous conversation, but the boy only stared at her with his mouth agape, unable to respond.
As Mile stood there, baffled, another hunter in his thirties began to speak.
“Little miss, that sword of yours…. It’s amazing… Where did you get your hands on it?”
Oh dear.
It was likely that the hunter had no ulterior motive beyond simply an interest in swords, but if people thought her sword was amazing, then they would covet it.
“Uh, I just bought it at a shop, like most people, you know? It was just a used sword from the bargain bin.”
“You’re joking me! With an edge like that?!”
What do I do? Ah, wait!
“Um, could I borrow your sword a minute?”
“Hm? Oh, well, sure…”
The man detached the sheath from his waist and handed it to Mile, who fastened it on her left side, beside her own blade.
“Now, could I kindly ask someone to toss a copper piece into the air?”
“I’ll toss it!”
A curious crowd began to gather around Mile, and one of the hunters spoke up, pulling his coin purse from his breast pocket to produce a single copper coin.
“Here we go! And…hup!”
Shing! Snap!
Mile swung the man’s blade quicker than the eye could see, then thrust her left hand into the air.
“Here you are.”
Mile stretched her palm out to the man who had lent her the sword, revealing two clean-cut halves of a copper coin.
“N-no way…” He stared at it, dumbfounded. “W-with my sword…?!” The man plucked the coin halves from Mile’s hand, staring at them in a daze, his disbelief clear.
“You see? It has nothing to do with the sword. It just takes a knack.”
Was this girl serious? Everyone present in the hall, hunters and clerks alike, were confounded by Mile’s pronouncement.
However, as members of the guild, they were forbidden to launch an inquiry into another’s past or abilities. Invasive questions were frowned upon, so they merely watched and listened intently.
Mile returned the man’s sword, glad to finally get back to her conversation with the boy. “So. You were saying something about having insufficient attack power…”
“Y-yes! Right now, we have a sword-wielder, a spear-wielder, and a bow-wielder, as well as two mages, one of whom can use attack magic. The other’s more skilled at utility and healing magic… Anyway, things can get a little dicey in close-quarters combat, so we were thinking it would be nice to have one more decent swordsman to act as a rear guard…” This boy, presumably the leader, stumbled over his words as he attempted to explain the situation politely. Nevertheless, Mile understood his meaning.
“But, um, I’m a magic user, so…”
“Whaaaaaaaat?!”
This time the surprised shout came from the hunters behind them as well.
“B-but that sword—? And that thing you did earlier…”
“Oh, well, even as a rear-guard magician, sometimes enemies slip past the front lines and end up in front of you, right? And sometimes you get attacked from behind. So at the very least, I figured I should be able to use a sword well enough to protect myself, should that happen. I’m really a pretty half-baked swordsman.”
Bang bang bang bang bang!
Mile heard a strange sound behind her and turned to look, only to see the swordsman-like fellow she had been speaking to earlier banging his head against a wall. Had he eaten something bad? What was all that about?
Yet unlike the flabbergasted advance-guard swordsmen, the rear-guard magic users appeared somewhat relieved. If there were really a swordsman who was also able to use such a rare, high-level skill as storage magic, then there would be no point at all in having magic users of their level around. On the other hand, having an excellent mage who could also cross swords with the best swordsmen… That was thrilling.
“S-sorry… We figured you were a D-rank hunter, just like us, so…”
“Oh, um, D-rank? Wouldn’t having a two-rank difference make things difficult?” Mile had been trying to come up with a good reason to refuse, and now, the rank gap would provide her with an out. She had assumed that the boy and his party were also E or F-rank, so, really, this was a fortuitous surprise.
“Two? Ah, you’re a B, huh? That makes sense, what with the storage magic and your sword skills. You look rather young, but I assume you must be an elf or a dwarf? Please, forgive my rudeness…”
“Oh no, I’m just a plain, average, ordinary human. I only became a hunter yesterday. I’m an F-rank.”
Ka-thak!
Thwump!
Smack!
Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang!
A variety of noises resounded behind her.
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!?!”
Mile was startled at the sudden ferocity of the voices behind her.
“Come on, even so…”
“There’s no such thing as an F-rank like you! Why didn’t you put in a skip application when you registered?!”
“Huh? A skip application? What’s that?”
At Mile’s blithe response, the hunters looked still more horrified, and at the front of the hall, the officials’ faces went pale.
“Someone call the guild master!”
At the command of a man who appeared to be a veteran hunter, one of the guild officials ran frantically up the stairs.
“Little miss, who registered you?”
“Umm, she was a lady with blonde hair, about seventeen or eighteen years old. I think her name was Leira? Or Lorrie…?”
“Laura! Damn that girl! This is ridiculous.”
Mile shrank back. This seemed to be becoming quite a to-do.
“Is there a problem…?”
“Don’t you worry, little miss. You’re not in the wrong here. The guild master’s coming to sort this out.”
After several minutes, the official who had run up the stairs returned with the guild master in tow. It had probably taken some time to fully explain the situation. After all, it would have been unthinkable for the master to meet with someone he had no prior knowledge of—especially now that a problem had arisen.
The guild master who descended wasn’t the tall, beefy sort that Mile had imagined, but rather the kind of man you might reasonably mistake for a regional bank manager. Perhaps, she thought, he had been selected for his managing ability rather than his combat skills.
“Is this the young lady in question? Where is Laura, anyway?”
“Yes, sir. This is her. And Laura is off today, but I’ll go fetch her straight away,” replied a nearby clerk.
The guild master nodded, then turned to Mile. “My apologies. It appears that one of my staff has slipped up, but I’d like to try and get this sorted. Would you mind coming with me for a moment?”
“Yes, of course,” said Mile.
The veteran hunter who had spoken up before chimed in. “Mind if the rest of us sit in on this too? We wouldn’t want anybody pulling the wool over the eyes of this innocent little lady. Gotta make sure she knows that this was a guild slip-up and not a reflection on all us hunters.”
The guild master nodded, and the veteran called over two other older hunters. Together, they all moved into the meeting room.
As they sipped tea, Laura, the receptionist from yesterday, arrived breathless, her face very pale.
“First off, let’s confirm Laura’s side. You were the one who registered this girl, Miss Mile, yesterday. Is that correct?”
“Y-yes…” Laura nodded, her face still ashen.
“And at that time, did you tell her about the skip applications?”
“N-no…”
“Why not?”
“W-well, she was newly registering at twelve years old, so I assumed she was just a beginner…”
“And what do the guidelines say?”
“Th-that we should explain everything to everyone…”
With this misstep confirmed, the guild master held his head.
“She listed her occupation as magic user, didn’t she? Why didn’t you confirm her skill level?!”
“Well, she was carrying a sword, so I figured that even if she said she was a mage, the sword was her main means of combat and her magic was fairly weak…”
“You idiot! She bested Matthew with her sword in one blow, and she can use storage magic! That’s the skill of a B-ranker at the very least! You would’ve made a person like this sit around for years collecting herbs and hunting jackalopes! What the hell were you thinking?!”
“I-I wasn’t…” Laura, now in shock at the magnitude of her mistake, was on the verge of tears.
Truly, it was all quite understandable. The difference in earnings and reputation between an F-rank and a C or B-rank was as considerable as the difference between straw and gold. Her mistake would have sentenced a promising new recruit to sacrifice valuable years of their life, an irreparable act, and one that wouldn’t have occurred had Laura not decided to follow her own judgment instead of the guild regulations.
“Um…” Mile interjected timidly, still not grasping the gravity of the situation. “I’m okay staying like this…”
“Do you really think that’s possible?!?!”
The attending hunters stirred in anger.
“Do you know what kind of precedent it would set if the guild just let a mistake like this go?! Think about the other hunters! Since when have there been any F-rank hunters who could use storage magic?!”
As Mile stared blankly, one of the hunters elaborated. Storage magic was a fairly high-level magic, so the people who could use it were few. With such magic, you could carry large quantities of spare armor and weapons, food and water, and of course, collect materials and prey, so your rate of earnings increased several-fold. If you were able to use said magic, others would defend you with their lives, even if you were weak in combat. It wasn’t unreasonable that you would be able to join C through A-rank parties.
Thus, if you could use storage magic, no matter how poor your other abilities were, you would be authorized as a C-rank at minimum. And so, given that Mile could use other magic fairly well also, as well as being particularly handy with a sword, it was only reasonable that she would be invited to join parties of B-rank or higher.
“So then, could I just re-register?”
“If that were possible, this wouldn’t be such a problem.”
This time, the guild master explained. Apparently, in the past, there had been many nobles and dependents of such who tried to forcibly have their ranks raised, whether by bribery or influence. In order to prevent this, the rank promotion rules were firmly set, so that once a person registered, they could not re-register at a higher rank. Generally speaking, anyone who unregistered only to re-register again was placed at the same or a lower rank than before, as in the case of a retiree getting back into the business of hunting.
Early promotion was an option, but there were still obstacles. A minimum number of years participating in the guild were required, and exceptions were incredibly rare unless one was a hero acting in a time of national crisis.
Even if the guild was able to arrange such a thing quietly, thinking they wouldn’t get caught, the risks were too high and the punishments too severe: no one would ever dare put themselves in such danger. If one official, or even one hunter, slipped up, and word got around to the wrong people, it would all be over for the guild.
This was part of the reason why new recruits were to have their skills and abilities confirmed at time of registration. If it were found that their background or abilities qualified them for a rank skip, then it would be reported to the guild master, and that recruit would be tested before the guild officials and several high-ranking hunters, who collectively would decide the individual’s rank.
It was not uncommon for soldiers and knights to become hunters after retiring, as well as former court magicians driven out of their homes by civil war and other conflicts. Obviously, not everyone started at F-rank.
Even Mile, as things stood, should have started out as a C-ranker—even though that was the last thing that the girl herself wanted.
“What the hell do we do?”
“I’m really fine like this…” Mile insisted.
“YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!” The veterans all roared, ignoring the troubled guild master’s attempts to quiet them. Mile shrank back.
If she could net ten gold pieces a month, there would be no complaints on Mile’s part; however, the veteran hunters could not stomach the thought of someone like her wasting all her time on fetch quests and other menial tasks, day in and day out. Plus, an F-ranker would be excluded from the roster of important folks who were called upon to respond when a great monster appeared, when the guild was asked to escort someone important, or when hunters were needed to participate in a disaster relief effort.
All in all, the guild wasn’t prepared to let someone who would be useful in these tasks sit around for years, frittering her time away. In particular, it was hard to overlook Mile’s storage magic, which could be used to bolster logistical support in transporting goods and help guildhalls in other cities during emergency situations when they might be lacking in personnel. True, the hunters couldn’t overrule the word of the guild master, but it was nonetheless a matter of grave importance, one which would have an effect on their very lives in times of emergency.
“What about the prep school in the capital…?” Laura offered softly, her face still pale and her head hanging.
“THAT’S IT!!!” The guild master and one of the hunters leapt from their seats.
The other two hunters seemed to have no idea what they were talking about. Naturally, neither did Mile.

***

The Hunters’ Prep School.
It had begun operating in the country’s capital only six years before. The school was an experimental institute, designed to impart the knowledge and technique required of a novice hunter in just half a year, allowing one to attain a D or even C-rank upon graduation. It had initially been proposed by a nobleman from a hunter’s background, who was concerned by the fact that, due to the years of participation before one could become a full-fledged hunter, even the most talented candidates were limited in how much they could achieve before reaching an age for retirement.
“Whether they’re noble or commoner—or in certain cases, even slaves—anyone can enroll there without obstacle. Because no one is accepted without a guild master’s recommendation, the program has a high success rate; it’s part of every guild master’s duties to scout for new recruits. They stake their own reputations on these referrals. However…”
“However?”
“If the person a guild master refers is ever judged unfit to attend the academy, the student will be expelled at once. And the guild master who recommended the student in question will be looked at very critically by the higher-ups and should abandon any hope of promotion…”
As one of the hunters explained, Mile glanced in the direction of the guild master, who seemed quietly pleased, his eyes sparkling.
“I believe in you, Miss Mile…”
His eyes were no doubt those of an optimist.

***

And so, Mile consented to relocate to the country’s capital for enrollment in the Hunters’ Prep School. She got the impression that if she didn’t, Laura, the clerk, would probably be fired, and that the guild master—though his position was secure—would still face some kind of penalty.
Still influenced by her Japanese sense of propriety, Mile felt quite guilty. It seemed that this guildhall had carried on its day-to-day operations just fine until she came along: the anomaly, as always.
Laura learned from the incident, as well. Had she continued in the same manner, it was possible that she could have made the same mistake again in the future, but after this lesson, it was unlikely that she would ever again follow her own judgment over the guild’s regulations.
Frankly, it worked out for Mile either way.
She was going to end up a C-rank sooner or later, so it wasn’t a big deal when, exactly, it happened. The only reason she would have been a C-ranker in the first place was because she could use a bit of storage magic, and even if that were rare, at least it would still have put her in the category of an “ordinary” C-rank hunter. It wasn’t much different from being found out to have storage magic as an F-rank, anyway.
Plus, if she went far away and re-registered with a different guildhall, she would end up a C-rank, assuming she followed proper procedures. If she lied and registered as an F-rank, she would have to keep in line with other F-rank hunters, pretending she could not use storage magic at all—which would have been more than Mile thought she could bear. She had no interest in remaining poor by her own hand.
In the end, it was really only a difference of spending half a year as a student or not. And oh, how she wanted to. She wanted to so badly!
Her life as a student at Eckland Academy had ended abruptly, but she had relished it. She had conversed with everyone—like normal. She had made friends, and they had spent time together.
How she had longed to stay! She had wanted to be with everyone until graduation. How she regretted leaving. How her heart yearned.
With that in mind, her response was without hesitation.
“I’ll go! I’ll enroll!”

***

During the three weeks after it was decided that Mile would be going to the capital, she worked—worked hard.
According to a fellow hunter, tuition, lodging, and meals at the prep school were all free of charge. Plus, the students were allowed to continue working as hunters while enrolled, so really, the work she did during those three weeks was just to ensure that she had a bit of money to fall back on.
The next enrollment period was roughly a month from when she had decided to attend the school, which left her three weeks to work, followed by an eight-day carriage ride; the remaining ten days, she would spend preparing. If all went well, she would even be able to do a bit of sightseeing and take her time getting used to the lay of the land in the capital.
As has already been mentioned, Adele’s world had six days and months that were six weeks, so there were a lot of convenient ways in which the number of days could be broken down.
Now, as Mile did her hunting and gathering in the forest, she fought with magic and her sword rather than pebbles. This work did double duty, for as she hunted, she could also practice limiting her power, a skill she would need once she returned to school.
She had, of course, kept a cap on her strength while attending Eckland Academy; however, limiting one’s strength to match that of a typical preteen’s was not the same as trying to match the power of those who would also be graduating as C-rank hunters in half a year’s time. To do all this while embroiled in sword fights and combat magic would be another challenge altogether.
It is possible, Mile thought, that they might even conduct practice battles with real, bladed swords—not wooden ones. There might be magical duels. There might even be students there who were older than her, with more experience.
She caught birds with magic.
She bested jackalopes and vulpine creatures with a finely hewn wooden spear.
And boars and deer, she defeated with her sword.
Though she tried to keep her catches no more impressive than those of any other novice, she was constantly turning in prey that left the old man at the exchange station dumbfounded, and by the time she left she had stashed seven gold coins away neatly in her loot box. Combined with her previous earnings, she now had ten gold pieces in total—about 1,000,000 yen, in Japanese money.
This was more than enough to cover her travel expenses and interim lodging, as well as any other immediate necessities.
Finally, she would be able to purchase some clothes of her own, ones that weren’t hunting equipment or school uniforms.

***

And then, three weeks had passed since the discussion in the guild meeting room.
With the guild master, guild officials, and a few other hunters there to see her off, Mile’s carriage departed the city.
They would arrive at the capital in eight days.
Mile would have been able to travel much more quickly on her own, but as there was no need to, she refrained from drawing on that ability.
She was just an average, unremarkable F-rank hunter, after all.
As was only natural, the guild master and Laura shared the cost of her travel and meal expenses for the journey.
“There she goes…” the guild master murmured.
“Yes, indeed.” Laura replied.
“In six months, hopefully, she’ll come back to us as a C-rank hunter, and then it won’t be long—maybe a few years—before she reaches B-rank. She’s still quite young. I doubt that even A-rank would be out of her reach. It wouldn’t be a bad thing for the guild to have such a one among us.”
“Do you really think she’ll come back here? She won’t simply settle down in the capital?”
“Well, I’m sure she’s got family. She’ll have to come back for them, won’t she?”
“No, Miss Mile was born up in the mountains. She said that she only came down here to earn a living because both of her parents passed away. She isn’t from here, and she has no family.”
“Hm?”
“Huh?”
“Whaaaaat?!?!”
The guild master fell to his knees.
“P-please, at least let her graduate with honors so that my endorsement means something.”
He was nearly in tears.
Behind him, the several hunters who had overheard this conversation fell to their knees in disappointment.

***

The journey to the capital was a smooth one.
Mile’s new clothes were plain and cheaply made, giving her the appearance of a “typical, average” country girl.
Soon enough, the other passengers in the carriage became greatly indebted to her, as she was able to provide an endless supply of warm water whenever they stopped to make camp. Even so long after her time in the bakery, she still remembered a thing or two about customer service.
However, thanks to this skill, and the fact that she could store and produce food with storage magic, it was clear to everyone that she was someone special, plain clothes or no.
“So, you’re off to the capital, dear? Is it for work?”
“Um, actually I’m going to a prep school…”
“Ahh, you’re going to be a maid there, are you? It’s an elite school for hunters, so if you can snag yourself a good man with some potential, you’ll be set for life! A girl like you should have no trouble. In a few years, you won’t be able to keep the boys away from you!”
The woman who spoke was a bit of a flibbertigibbet, one of the passengers for whom Mile had produced warm water and venison. Mile smiled wryly at her assumption. The other passengers who overheard this exchange chuckled internally.
The idea of someone of such a young age who could use storage magic and summon that much water, working as a servant… The young woman was no doubt attending the school as a student in her own right.
Nine days after departure, the carriage arrived in the capital, a day later than expected.
It rained along the way, muddying the roads, and one of the carriage wheels had broken from the strain, delaying them. However, they had still arrived more quickly than one might expect in the face of an obstacle of this kind.
Except for those who were only stopping in the capital en route to other destinations, everyone disembarked at the central station, which was located directly in the middle of the city’s main square, and began to disperse.
“Thanks for the showers, dear!”
“Let’s ride together again sometime!”
The female passengers in particular offered their thanks for daily hot showers—a luxury not even enjoyed by most nobles—while all the passengers showered Mile with gratitude in the form of leftover food or trinkets from their hometowns.
“When you become a full-fledged hunter, I’ll definitely request you by name!”
At least someone had figured out that she wasn’t just going to work as a servant…
Naturally.
“So, this is the capital…”
The city, the capital of the Kingdom of Tils, had a much quainter feel than the capital of her former home, where she attended Eckland Academy. Indeed, in terms of national power—based on a calculation involving land area, population, and economic strength—the country possessed roughly one-seventh the power of the Kingdom of Brandel.
Here too, there was an academy attended by the children of nobles and other wealthy families. If Mile were to attend this academy, she might even make more friends like Marcela. Although the place was really none of her concern, it did prickle Mile, just a little, to think about it.
In any case, she would be residing in the city for at least half a year. She wouldn’t be able to move into the school’s dormitory until three days before the first of the term, or six days from now, which meant she needed to find an inn before taking a look around the capital. In the event that anything happened, knowing her surroundings could mean the difference between life and death.
But first she needed to secure a room. The sun was still high in the sky, so Mile set out, intending to ask some upstanding-seeming citizen where to find the best lodgings before making her own investigations.
She scolded herself for not simply asking the other passengers, many of whom had been native to the city.
As always, Mile had been quite careless.

***

That evening, just before sundown…
Mile stood in front of a humble inn.
On the advice of a kindly elderly couple, Mile had narrowed her decision down to three options, based on the conditions that they had to be safe for a young girl to stay at alone, relatively cheap, and provide good meals. From there, she visited each one to inspect the surrounding area, the quality of the other clientele, and the level of cleanliness around the entrances, before making her choice. Since this would determine her comfort, or lack thereof, for the next six days, she was fastidious in this process. If she failed in this regard, she could only chalk it up to her own lack of insight and perhaps a touch of bad luck.
Mile opened the door. “Excuse me, do you have any rooms available?”
“Why yes, we do!” said a cheerful girl in response as Mile stepped inside. The girl looked to be around ten years old and sat humbly behind the counter beyond the front door. She was probably the owner’s daughter, helping out while her parents were busy with dinner preparations.
“Well then, I’d like a room for six nights…”
“All right,” the girl nodded. “Lodging alone is four silver a night. If you want breakfast, it’s three half-silver, lunch is five half-silver, and dinner is eight half-silver. Hot water is five copper for one wash basin or two half-silver for a whole tub.”
“Hm, well I’d like to try eating at lots of different places while I’m here, so I’ll just have dinner for tonight and breakfast each morning, please. I’ll take care of the water myself.”
“Ohh, can you use magic?! That’s amazing…” The girl looked a tad envious.
Mile was aware of how blessed she was in this regard. Being able to summon water would be a very useful skill for an innkeeper’s daughter.
“The food should be ready any moment, but we only serve until the second evening bell.”
Mile had learned that the second evening bell rang around nine o’clock in the evening, while the first morning bell rang at six, and the second at nine. The first midday bell rang at twelve o’clock noon, the second midday bell at three, the first evening bell at six, and the second evening bell rang at nine.
“Ah, well, then I better go ahead and eat now.”
Once she had settled in, it would be a bother to come back downstairs, so Mile decided to eat while she was yet on the ground floor.
There were a variety of meal choices, but when Mile took a look at the menu posted on the wall, she found…
Orc Steak.
Orc Meat Stir Fry.
Orc Meat Stew.
Orc Kabobs.
Fried Orc Meat.
It seemed that the owners had a vested interest in getting people to eat orc meat.
Mile stared at the girl.
“Ha ha. They accidentally ordered way too much meat,” said the girl, smiling wryly.
It seemed that Mile hadn’t much choice. In truth, she had never eaten monster meat before. As was the case with most nobles, the Ascham family had never once served monster meat at their own table. Even at the academy, monster meat had never been served, out of consideration for the many nobles in attendance.
Yet it wasn’t as though the meat was poisonous, so Mile was not especially bothered by the thought of consuming it. In fact, she expected that she would be eating like this quite frequently from now on. It was simply a new experience. That was all. And soon, it wouldn’t be a new experience at all, as hunting would provide her with many more opportunities to eat such things. Perhaps she would even try cooking some herself at some point in the future. With this in mind, she placed her order.
“One orc steak, please.”
And soon, there it was before her. An orc steak, with orc meat soup, and bread and salad on the side. The amount of meat was almost intimidating. They were probably trying to use up as much of it as they could. In appearance, it looked a lot like pork. When she sniffed it, it smelled like pork. And when she tasted it, it tasted like pork.
In conclusion, it may as well be pork, Mile thought. I was worried about nothing!

***

For the next six days, Mile wandered the city with the inn as her base, memorizing the layout of the shops and streets as well as she could. She looked down some rather suspicious lanes and back alleys too, but her clothing, which was plain by provincial standards, was downright shabby compared to the fashions of the capital, and as a result, she was never robbed or assailed. It would seem that the denizens of the slums considered her one of their own.
When Mile realized this, she bought some new clothes in a hurry. Something that would count as garb a normal city girl would wear—plain, but not too cheap, by the capital’s standards.
When she debuted her new outfit for little Lenny, the innkeeper’s daughter, she was met with an ambiguous expression.
“I mean, the materials are nice, but…”
Clad thus, six days after her arrival in the capital, Mile stepped through the gates of the Hunters’ Prep School.

average 1.7

Chapter 8:
Power Leveling

“All right—and then, squeeze it. Your opponent is a small animal, so it doesn’t have to be very hard. The trade-in value will decrease if you damage it. Try to keep the image of small pellets with high-speed propulsion in mind.”

Following Mile’s advice, Reina cast her spell, gaze steeled. “Come, O water, to my aid! Sphere of water, form! Now freeze! Change form, into a sharp icicle. Turning, turning, spinning! Now, fly!”

The water gathered and froze, condensed into cylinders of ice, then flew away, rotating quickly.

The icicles shot perfectly, right into the targeted tree branch.

It wasn’t a hole-in-one shot like Mile’s were, but she could tell that Reina would have no trouble hitting a distant target.

“I-I did it!” Reina grinned widely at her success.

It would be unwise to use fire magic in the forest, and the ground of the location they were practicing in was covered in leaves rather than gravel. However, thanks to Mile’s advice, which helped her improve the accuracy of her ice attacks by increasing the compression and speed of the icicles, Reina felt her skills improve immediately. She would never have imagined that she would be able to work with ice magic—which wasn’t even her specialty—to hunt more effectively, and yet, there she was.

Mile had devised a series of lessons to get them to this point. At first, she hadn’t realized that Reina wouldn’t understand that a large ice bullet would be affected by gravity and thus need course correction, unlike the specialized fire magic that Reina usually used at combat practice. Additionally, Mile noticed, the effect of the spell’s added guidance in helping conjure the necessary image was immense. Making the icicle bullets spin was another helpful addition.

Now Reina would be able to use powerful magic even in battles and on hunting expeditions, where fire couldn’t be used.

Nearby, Pauline was practicing, as well. She already possessed reasonable magical skills, but—whether because of her personality or the fact that she was a bit clumsy—she was no good at attack magic, which required continuous production. In the near future, Mile figured, it would be good to teach her at least one attack spell for self-defense, but the present moment was still a little too soon for that.

Instead, Mile taught Pauline something that she thought her friend might find even more useful.

“Come, O water, to my aid! Sphere of water, form! Droplets dance, like a burning soul!”

Thanks to the spell, a gradually heating ball of warm water appeared.

“Yes! That’s perfect. With this, baths and cooking will be a breeze. It expends a lot less magical energy than putting a fireball into water, and it can even be used indoors to make smaller quantities—pretty handy for making tea, you know?”

“Th-thank you, Miley!”

“No worries. I’d like to teach you even more soon!”

Rather than trying to impart to them the fundamental knowledge of how to utilize thought pulses and nanomachine efficiency rates, Mile simply gave them the instructions they would need to grow in terms of general magic efficiency, helping them craft slightly more precise spells to invoke the necessary physical and chemical reactions. At the same time, she took careful precautions in order to ensure that they wouldn’t inadvertently stumble onto more power than they knew what to do with.

Even so, the two girls’ progress was remarkable, and Reina and Pauline practiced with zeal.

“Um…”

A voice came from behind her. Mile turned to see Mavis, looking sullen.

“There isn’t anything you can show me, is there? Like a special technique, or something…?”

“Ah…” For Mavis’s sake, Mile thought hard, but nothing came to mind.

She really didn’t know much about Western sword techniques, and all the special moves she had seen in anime and games were impossible. If Mavis had been able to use magic, Mile would surely have been able to come up with something, but the older girl had no magical skill…

“Maybe we could do some practice swings?”

“…” Mavis let herself fall to the ground. Mile’s suggestion wasn’t something that would grant her a particular skill.

“U-um, I’ll be your practice partner! I don’t have much training, so I have no idea about sword techniques or anything, but I have confidence in my power and skill! If you get used to my speed, I’m sure you’ll be able to see through other opponents’ attacks more easily!”

“Really?” Mavis sounded doubtful. She was pouting.

“Really! It’s true! Probably…” Mile spoke the last word under her breath, so upon hearing Mile’s reply, Mavis finally brightened.

***

When the sun at last began to set, it was time for them to return to the capital.

“We didn’t catch very much today, but this was still a productive outing! Thank you, Mile!”

“Thanks so much, Miley!”

“Don’t thank me! We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I’m your friend too, aren’t I? Are you forgetting me?” Mavis was still a bit sulky.

“Of course! That’s right!” Mile said. After, there was moment of silence, then she piped up, as though she had suddenly remembered something. “It’s going to be super annoying if we go back to the guild like this. The boys will all make fun of us for coming back with so little! I’m going to try hunting by myself for a bit.”

She pulled some of the pebbles from her pocket.

“Umm, if you could keep your voices down…”

Fwip!

She walked away briskly and returned with a jackalope in hand.

Zip!

A large bird tumbled out of a tree.

Bwoosh!

Vwip!

Ka-shunk!

“M-Mile…”

Reina’s mouth hung open.

“What? I use compressed air to make the pebbles fly. It’s really just normal wind magic…” In actuality, Mile was doing it with her finger strength alone—there was no magic required.

“W-well, even if that’s the case… how are you finding the prey so easily?!”

“Um… Intuition?”

Mavis and Pauline looked at each other and shrugged, trading looks that said, “There’s no point trying to understand this one.”

***

When Mile and company returned to the guild, they turned in their birds and jackalopes and were paid twenty-four silver pieces in total. The male students stared, wide-eyed.

“Thanks, but…are you sure you want to share this?” her friends wanted to know.

“Yep! We all went hunting together, after all!”

“Mile, you—well, that’s fine. I will gratefully accept. And I will definitely return the favor someday!”

“I’m looking forward to it!”

The girls split their earnings for six silver each and happily made their way out of the guild, with the young men’s gazes still fixed on them, a bit jealous of their productivity.

***

And so, Mile continued giving Reina and Pauline magic lessons. In order to keep things from getting out, she forbade them from telling others what she was teaching them. They worked in private, going over spells, magical effects, and information about physics and chemistry in their dorm room, saving any actual practice for the hunting trips they took on their days off.

In time, Reina’s fire magic became much stronger, and even Pauline began to learn some combat spells. Mile also taught the latter about the structure of the human body—bones, internal organs, blood vessels, nerves, cells, and the like—so that she would be able to use her healing and recovery magic more effectively.

The two of them made steady improvements, and as they practiced hunting, even their aim began to improve, so that they could earn more on their own, without Mile’s help.

And they all lived happily ever after…

Except for Mavis, who Mile had forgotten about entirely.

“Miiiiiiile!” Whenever she spoke Mile’s name, dissatisfaction could be heard clearly in her voice.

***

As it wasn’t a huge problem to be seen practicing with Mavis, they used the indoor training grounds during their free time, including their lunch and dinner breaks.

“All right! First, let’s try it at about 1.2 times the speed of our fastest classmate.”

Clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack!

“All right! Next, 1.3 times.”

Clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack!

“All right! Next, 1.4 times.”

Clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack!

“All right! Next…”

“W-wait! Wait just a minuuuuuute!!”

“Hm? If we speed up just a little bit at a time, you should be able to acclimate yourself to the quicker speed, right? That’s what the ninjas did: they planted a hemp seed, and every day they practiced jumping over it…”

“I have no idea what a ninja is, but this is impossible! Impossible, I tell you! Anyway, I’m assuming what you’re saying is that they improved a little bit every day. They didn’t get faster every two minutes!”

Mile didn’t understand what Mavis was so unhappy about, but since her friend looked as though she was about to cry, Mile tried a new approach.

“Okay. Wrap this long sash around your waist and try running fast enough that the sash never touches the ground.”

“Um… Okay.”

Mavis agreed, put the sash on her waist, and started running. She didn’t come back.

There was no way she could turn around without letting the sash touch the ground. After some time, she finally came back, her feet dragging. She was exhausted, and there was a bruise on her forehead, as though she had run into something.

“Let’s… let’s try a different method…” she said, still short of breath.

“Well,” Mile mused, “there were once people who would hang upside down and move water from a barrel on the ground to one higher up, using a tiny cup…”

“I’ll do it. I’ll do anything if it will make me stronger!”

Unfortunately for Mavis, every special training method Mile knew came from manga, anime, or movies.

And so, the long days of “Mavis’s Speed Improvement Plan” began. The goal was to get Mavis to measure up to Mile. In looking forward to that day, Mavis prepared a name for the special technique that she would surely invent in the future.

That technique was called “Godspeed Blade.”

It would be an invincible sword technique, one that could slice down enemies with divine speed—or so she hoped.

***

In spite of their hunting, Mile and her roommates still didn’t have much money to spare.

Because they were responsible for providing their own lighting, their lack of funds meant that they couldn’t burn their candles very long at night. However, as they also couldn’t possibly fall asleep immediately, they spent every night after crawling into beds talking with one another before they drifted off.

They talked about practice, and their classmates, and rumors they’d heard—but because they spent much of their time together, and always saw and heard the same things, they often ran out of things to talk about.

Even when they talked about themselves, Mavis was the only one who would speak freely of her family and upbringing. As the first daughter, she always had stories to share about how her parents spoiled her, or the way that her three older brothers were just a little too doting. Mavis herself was the only one who seemed unaware of how these stories sounded.

Blegh…

Apart from the members of Mavis’s family, the three girls probably knew more about Mavis’s childhood than anyone in the world—despite the fact that they had never wished for such knowledge. Since hearing only Mavis’s stories had begun to feel a little grim, Mile also began joining in with the evening chats.

Her talks were on the fundamentals of magic, but—in order to include Mavis—she spoke of other things, too. She told them folktales and legends from Earth, or stories from action dramas, anime, and games, readapted to fit their world.

Her roommates were hooked. Reina loved the stories of powerful sorcerers and magical girls. Pauline loved the rags-to-riches tales, and of course, Mavis loved the heroic legends and epic adventures.

They pestered Mile into continuing every night, none of them realizing that they had contracted a serious illness—one said to afflict all children around the age of thirteen: the obsessiveness of adolescence known as chuunibyou.

***

One day, on the way back to the dorm after dinner, Mile realized that she had left a letter behind in the classroom. One of her male classmates had handed it to her earlier, saying, “Please read this later.”

As she always did with such letters, Mile planned to take it back to the room to look over with the other girls, then come up with a reply. Forming a reply was always a collaborative project—Reina was always the author and Pauline the editor, while Mile took on production. As for the theme, well, it was always heartbreak.

When Mile returned to the classroom to retrieve the letter she had left behind, she heard a strange tapping sound from the direction of the lectern. Upon looking up, she saw a boy who appeared to be practicing writing characters on the board.

“Writing practice?”

“Y-yeah. It’s embarrassing to do it in my room in front of the other guys, and if I use the chalkboard I don’t have to waste my paper or ink. I don’t even need a quill for it.”

“Oh, I see! That’s smart!”

Mile was moved by the boy’s pleasant, straightforward explanation. She felt a sense of fondness and kinship welling up, as she remembered how she had been unable to purchase paper, pens, or ink when she had first arrived at Eckland Academy so long ago.

“Um. If I remember correctly, you’re a swordsman, right?” she said.

“Yeah. I can also use magic, a little bit beyond basic utility even, but not well enough to actually become a magic user. So, I fight with my sword and just use my magic for the extra things, like drawing water and recovery. It really is a big help, though. It’s hard going solo…”

“Solo?” Mile asked, perplexed.

Except for special cases like herself, solo jobs were too dangerous and inconvenient for anyone but a true veteran to undertake. Unless you were an oddball or the circumstances demanded it, solo work was not something one undertook willingly.

“Yeah, I’m an orphan from the slums. Er, well, I guess I haven’t left yet, so I’m still a slum dweller… Anyway, I have a lot of little guys to look after, so I can’t go off adventuring with a party.

“At the moment, I go check on them after dinner, and on rest days I hunt food for them to eat. If I join a party when I become a real hunter, that means I’ll be traveling far away for days at a time, you know? But if I do that, there’ll be no way for me to look after those little squirts.”

“But wait—once they turn fifteen, they’ll be able to live on their own, won’t they?” Mile asked. “And the next generation will be able to look after the little ones for you…”

At Mile’s words, the boy looked a bit surprised. “That’s wise of you. And, well, I guess most of them are about that age. I’ve already paid back the favors that were done for me, so really, I suppose my role has ended. Still, I don’t mind keeping an eye on them.

“The thing that really bothers me is that no matter how much time passes, life in that place is never going to change. But if I become a C-rank, I’ll be able to take the little ones out on expeditions to gather herbs and things whenever, you know? It’s rare for the guild to sponsor guarded gathering expeditions, and even when they do, you still have to pay for the guard’s participation. With me, it would be free, and under my supervision, they could even try a bit of hunting. I’ll be able to train them, and if they can become D-ranks, forming a party of just us orphans someday wouldn’t be out of the question.”

He shook his head. “But maybe that’s just one man’s foolish dream.”

Watching the boy smile to himself, Mile thought, A swordsman who can use magic.

He was a generous soul who, despite having a chance to escape the slums, remained for the sake of the other orphans. Not only that, but he was obviously a hard worker, studying writing as he did, all on his own.

Since they had begun their power leveling, Mile and her party had more or less risen to the top of their class. Even if she had placed herself at the bottom of that pack, that meant she was ranked fourth in the class. In other words, she needed one more person ahead of her to put her in fifth.

The term “sacrificial lamb” suddenly popped into her head.

“S-say, just hunting with a sword isn’t very effective, is it? What if I told you there was a magic you could learn that’s perfect for hunting birds and jackalopes?”

“Huh…?”

***

“It sure took you a long time just to go and get that letter.”

“Oh, well, there was a guy in the classroom, and we were just talking for a while…”

“What? A guy?!”

“It was just a chat! A short chat!”

Reina was smoldering, but Mile simply waved her hands as if it were nothing.

“Anyway, here’s the letter in question.”

“Let’s deal with it like we usually do.”

“O-okay!” Mile and Pauline agreed, powerless.

***

Veil was an orphan.

He had never known his parents’ faces. By the time he was old enough to be aware of his surroundings, he was already living in the slums, in the shelter of a crumbling, abandoned house along with the other girls and boys. The eldest was a boy of twelve or thirteen, who they all called Andy.

It was only a few years after Veil’s first memories that Andy disappeared.

Perhaps he had died from illness or an accident. Maybe he’d gone off somewhere to become a hunter.

No one ever told them, and Veil never asked.

After Andy, there had been “Big Sis.”

He remembered the day when Big Sis went away.

Instead of the rags she always wore, Big Sis showed up in a pretty new outfit and brought the orphans lots of food and clothing. Then she went away with some adults they had never seen before. She never came back again. That was the last time he ever saw her.

The next leader was Brother Jon. After him was Brother Dahl.

Each of them vanished when they were around fourteen or fifteen years old.

Perhaps they died, or perhaps they simply became adults who could finally live on their own and left the slums for a happier life elsewhere.

Before he knew it, Veil was the second eldest, with only Brother Dahl ahead of him in age.

He thought to himself: It’s my turn now—my turn to protect everyone, to take care of them. To pay back all the help the ones before me gave.

But this time, I won’t disappear. I’m always going to look after them.

Because this is my home, and these people are my family.

***

The capital was a difficult place for an orphan, and yet in some ways, it was also kind.

If one were caught stealing or picking pockets, one would swiftly be caught and indentured. Several bands of orphans had been captured in this way, and their homes demolished. However, if one did honest work, people tended to overlook the house-squatting, and now and then some charitable adult might even donate a scrap or two of food.

Particularly egregious abuses were rare. The authorities were relatively just and made little distinction between rich and poor. More importantly, many of the local thugs and hunters had come from the slums themselves and were thus kind to their juniors—at least in the cases where they themselves had nothing to lose.

At the age of six, Veil registered as an associate hunter, so that he could do odd jobs around the city and help pay for everyone’s food. The moment he turned ten, he registered as an official hunter.

At that time, another hunter, himself from the slums, gifted Veil a cheap sword that was destined for the scrap heap, as he had recently acquired a new one.

Veil was so happy he wept. He had never felt so lucky in his life. Previously, he’d planned to fight with a wooden staff until he could afford to buy a sword of his own.

And then, when that precious sword of his finally broke, he saved up a bit of money to purchase a slightly older, used sword.

Someday, he would give his sword to one of his juniors. He swore it to himself.

So that the little ones could eat.

So that they could purchase medicine when they got sick.

So that, now and then, they could buy new clothes from the secondhand store.

The smaller kids earned a little from odd jobs and guild-chaperoned gathering expeditions, but it didn’t amount to much. Even though Veil became an official hunter at age ten, he was still an F-rank, and his earnings weren’t enough to fully support a number of orphans.

He had to earn more. He had to get more money.

However, there weren’t many parties who would take a boy from the slums with no special skills, and even if he found one, he couldn’t join a party that would travel far away and leave him unable to look after the little ones.

There were solo jobs that wouldn’t take him far and required no special skills, but they didn’t grant him much experience, nor did they let him challenge himself. He spent his days gathering herbs and hunting jackalopes and other small beasts, with no hope of promotion. Furthermore, his skills as an amateur swordsman were his only means of hunting, so his efficiency was low.

There was no point in buddying up with others from the slums, either. They were F-rank amateurs, just the same as him, so the jobs they could accept would be no different, and they had no unique skills that he could learn from them. If he formed a party with hunters the same age as he, he would have no way to progress. The only thing that could change with this method would be if he could become more efficient at locating prey.

And then the day came when Brother Dahl disappeared.

One night, he simply didn’t come home.

And that was that.

Maybe he had perished, or perhaps he fled.

If he had left the slums behind and joined a hunting party somewhere, he would be fine. Perhaps he joined a party that had gone off to another town, or perhaps he’d gone off to another town, and then joined a party.

Either way, the orphans were left without their top earner.

Veil, now suddenly the eldest, was caught, anxious, between the weight of his new sense of responsibility and the dark and hazy future ahead of him.

It was then that a man’s voice had called out to him.

“You there! You’re still rough, but I can tell yer pretty handy with a sword. Whaddya think? You gonna take the entrance exam for the Hunters’ Prep School?”

The man, who was associated with the guild hall in the capital, told Veil that while he was in school, he would himself check in on the orphans now and then. And at any rate, even while Veil was at the school, he would be able to go look in on them during the evenings and on days off, too. More importantly, the training the school offered was completely free. Veil would be able to work on his days off, and if he and the other orphans worked hard, in just half a year, the quality of their lives would improve immensely.

If Veil could become a C-rank, everything would be just as the man said.

“As long as you can do well on the exam, anyway,” the man explained. “Even if you can’t read and write, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to pass. Still, the chances of getting in are slim—incredibly so…”

Despite the man’s warning, Veil replied, “I’ll do it!”

And so he had.

Even after he became a C-rank hunter, being able to read and write would make choosing jobs much easier for him. In addition, not being able to read and sign his own contracts and the like could be disastrous. With that in mind, every night after dinner, he returned to the classroom to practice his letters.

With the others in his dorm room, it was hard to find space to practice there, and besides, if he used the board in the classroom, he could save money he might have spent on paper and ink. It wasn’t unusual for the other students to return to the training grounds or the indoor practice area after their lessons, but no one came back to the classroom.

That was what he thought, anyway, until someone did come.

“Writing practice?”

It was an earnest, friendly girl of twelve, three years Veil’s junior, who was said to be able to use storage magic. A lucky girl who was not only smart and good-looking, but would also never want for anything. A flower on a mountaintop, blooming miles out of his league.

And yet there she was, standing before him and talking with him, perhaps due to some passing fancy of her own.

We’re classmates, he thought. They’d simply happened to meet alone in the classroom—it wasn’t so terrible for them to make small talk, was it? She was probably a nice girl who would never judge someone based on differences in status or wealth.

With that in mind, Veil turned to speak to the girl, but then…

“S-say, just hunting with a sword isn’t very effective, is it? What if I told you there was a magic you could learn that’s perfect for hunting birds and jackalopes?”

“Huh…?”

What was she saying?

***

Over the following weeks, the girls’ efforts at power leveling progressed swimmingly, with Reina, Pauline—and, to some extent, Mavis—increasing their strength by the day.

Mile didn’t bother teaching Reina and Pauline any basics, nor did she instruct them as to how to naturally convert an image into a solid thought for specific magical purposes. Nevertheless, their skills improved.

She took care to stop them both at a level that would rank them only as “advanced,” in terms of the school’s training, so that no one would be aware of their immense progress. At least, this was her intention; however, she had no idea whether their classmates and instructors were actually fooled.

As for Mavis’s sword training, there was no need to be secretive, so Mile poured all her efforts into the task. No matter what, Mavis was a still a completely normal person and the results fairly standard for the kind of intensive training Mile was giving her. It wouldn’t exactly be a huge matter of note if she turned out somewhat more impressive than most. Because her practice partner was so fast, her reactions grew quicker, and her own movements did as well. Still, she remained very much in the category of what one might call “a passionate student with exceptional potential.”

That progress, and in particular her improved reaction time, startled Elbert, but as he didn’t attribute that success to Mile, she didn’t mind him taking note.

Contrary to her fears, he paid very little attention to Mile herself beyond that first day. There were other students to attend to, and even if Mile were pressured into sword training, she would never be able to practice it seriously. Furthermore, it was out of line for a teacher to try and tamper with a student’s future profession on a whim, so it was probably just as well that Elbert found other things to attend to.

Besides, it was only in terms of power and speed that Mile’s swordsmanship was exceptional. She didn’t possess any particular talents in the realm of basic technique—not in terms of handling, footwork, or even reading her opponent’s movements. She was probably worthless and uninteresting to a sword instructor. After all, just having exceptional physical abilities did not mean that one had the makings of a true swordsman.

Furthermore, Mile did have exceptional magical ability, so it was clear to all that that would be how she made her fortune. It was easy to imagine that the two magic teachers had staked their claim, worried that interference might crush a student with great magical potential.

Even though Elbert was the principal and main instructor, he was still under employ himself. And if something went wrong, the higher-ups would catch wind of it.

***

“Spill it, Mile,” Reina pressed Mile one afternoon as they sat in the classroom.

“Huh? Spill what?”

“Don’t play dumb! I’ve been keeping an eye on you. What are you doing in the classroom with that guy every night after dinner?!”

“Er…” Mile mumbled, which only put fuel to the fire.

“Don’t tell me you’re dating, or that you’ve made some kind of arrangement…”

“We’re not, we’re not! I’m just using him as a sacrif… Er, no…”

“What do you mean? Explain yourself immediately!”

Mile explained herself.

Reina was horrified. “What are you thinking? You’re making him take a bullet for you just so you don’t stand out? I can’t believe you…”

I bet that boy has a crush on Mile… Mavis and Pauline thought, sending up a prayer for his happiness.

“Well, it’s true that you might be in danger if your family ever caught up with you, so I can’t say that I don’t understand. And since you’ve taught us so much, it would be wrong of me to complain. But still. Just keep it casual with this guy, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am…”

***

Veil, the orphan boy, was making vast strides in his magical skill, thanks to Mile’s teaching.

She had quickly realized that Veil had neither immense magical power, nor a talent for spells that were particularly complicated. Anything that required extended concentration was similarly difficult for him. So, she decided to teach him two simple spells that he could easily reproduce.

The first was air bullets.

She figured that this would allow him to hunt small animals with ease.

By avoiding complicated productions, such as summoning, freezing, and shaping water, and by eliminating the need to do something labor-intensive like making or gathering rocks to shoot, he could hunt with something that would always be on hand, no matter where he was.

It was just compressing and propelling air, but it would be enough to kill—or at least render unconscious—any bird or small animal.

Furthermore, when facing larger opponents, it would be enough to break a monster’s guard or drive them off, ensuring that the incident wouldn’t end fatally. Above all else, the spell was short, fast, and easy to use.

In their world, wind-summoning magic was common, but there were limits to this power, due to the general ignorance of barometric gradients, thermal expansion, updrafts, and rotational power due to the Coriolis force. Certainly, they had yet to stumble upon the notion of compressing and firing air, so Mile’s lesson was quite useful.

The second spell was a fatal technique: a magic blade that could cut down large prey and human enemies alike. For the sake of secrecy, and to maintain the element of surprise, the sword’s blade was covered in a magical coating only just before launching an attack, a tactic that also helped to conserve magical energy.

By coating the sword in magic, its strength was increased exponentially, and the cutting edge became exceptionally thin. It was strong, durable, and sharp: the three components of a swordsman’s dreams, made reality. Even a cheap, scrap metal sword could transform into a divine blade with this sort of magic!

As both were single-step processes, the procedures were easy to use, if a bit clumsy. Furthermore, the time it took to actualize both spells was quite short, so the consumption of magical energy and amount of brain fatigue caused by exerting the thought pulse were both fairly minimal.

Most importantly in the context of battle, the incantations were short. They would still be reasonable to use, even during a sword fight.

With a magically enhanced blade in hand, Veil had become, without a doubt, a “magic knight.”

Time and again, Mile warned him that he was absolutely forbidden to tell anyone else about their trainings. He was to keep these techniques to himself, Mile said, threatening that if he were ever to share this magic, then both he and the people he taught would disappear. However, she didn’t bother to say who, exactly, would be responsible for the disappearances. Such details were troublesome to think of.

In truth, the air bullets were pretty easy to understand and imitate once one saw them. The magical blade, though, wasn’t something that could be figured out with a glance.

Even so, she told him to keep it a secret. If she became known for inventing all sorts of magic, there would be a big to-do. Moreover, she would hate for her techniques to be used to kill hundreds of people or somehow alter the balance of the world. Still, as long as her name wasn’t attached to the magic, maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad if a spell did spread—especially if the spell in question was something like healing magic or a technique such as the air bullets, which had non-lethal applications.

Even if Mile’s actions had some influence on the world, it wasn’t as though God was looking to stop her. In fact, the gods appeared to have abandoned all management of her world, so any influence she might have most likely wouldn’t be a problem.

Veil took the lessons he received from Mile every night and tried them out while hunting on his rest days. Then, the week after, he returned to discuss the results with Mile and receive new lessons based on his experience out in the field. Thus, while his skills didn’t grow at the same rate as her party members’, he nonetheless continued to improve steadily.

After Mile spilled the beans about Veil, he also began practicing swords with Mavis during school hours. Mavis was thrilled—not only because she had made a new friend, but because she finally had someone other than Mile to practice with. She sulked much less thereafter, so this was a positive development for Mile and the others, too.

“You know, I just realized something,” Reina said one day. “‘Veil’ and ‘Mile’ are pretty similar names, aren’t they? Is there any connection?”

“Huh? Ah, I guess you’re right… No, it’s just a coincidence. They both just happen to be short names that end in ‘L’ sounds! I mean, it would be weird to think that there is some connection between you and our classmate Nina just because both your names end in ‘na,’ wouldn’t it?”

“I guess you’re right…”

Despite Reina’s pondering, the similarity between their names really was just a coincidence.

Still, Mile wondered, what if it turned out that the person I chose to be my sacrificial lamb was actually my long-lost brother? No no no no no! Mile shook her head wildly. Don’t even think about that!

***

As the days went on, Mile’s work continued steadily, with classroom lessons and training on the weekdays, money-earning and independent magic practice on the rest days, and sword training with Mavis and Veil in between.

Her bonds with her classmates, even those outside her party, began to deepen, and though their school wasn’t a normal one, Mile soon found herself living a version of the normal student life she had always hoped for.

Even on the days when they trained fiercely, the other students thinking seriously of their futures, Mile saw it all as an enjoyable part of student life. The days passed in the blink of an eye, and soon, graduation was just around the corner.

One day near the end of their schooling, it was announced that they would be going out for some field training.

“…A class field trip?” Mile said.

“It’s field training!” their instructor said. “What is this ‘foldtripe’ you’re talking about?”

“Oh, like camp!”

“What are you even talking about?!”

They weren’t going to be fighting ogres or anything. As many of the students were inexperienced hunters, they would be going out in search of orcs and goblins instead, in order for them to get accustomed to killing humanoid creatures. Without such preparation, there was a far higher chance of students dying in their first battle, surrounded only by their fellow rookie hunters rather than those with experience in the field.

On top of all that, field training would also give them the experience of camping in the wild.

***

Several days later, the students of the Hunters’ Prep School found themselves in a forest about a half-day’s walk from the capital. It was time for field training.

Each team—or rather, each party—would train together. As usual, however, the teams had to be reorganized in order to address the imbalance of professions among the girls’ parties. These rearrangements were left up to the students. As such things often happened when parties participated in large-scale operations, forming the parties themselves was considered good, practical experience.

While the intent was a general redistribution, complete disassembly of the existing parties would have been a waste of all the bonds the students had formed throughout their schooling. Therefore, the male students proposed that they only dissolve the girls’ teams and redistribute their members among the boys’ parties.

Of course, this plan dissolved the moment they rushed to extend invitations to the girls they hoped would join their parties.

“Wh-why don’t you come with our team, Miley?”

“No, come with us!”

“No no, ours is definitely the best choice! There are four of us to look after you!”

“All of you shut up! Mile can serve as an advance guard for our party—we don’t need any of you boys!”

“Huh? Miley’s a magic user, isn’t she? And just having you four girls in a party isn’t really enough people.”

Staring at the obstinate boys, Reina thought for second, then called to a boy standing toward the back. “Veil! Get over here with our party! If the girls from Team B join the rest of your party, they’ll have another sword user on board, so they’ll be fine without you. Team B, is that fine with you?”

“That’s fine!!”

The four girls of Team B readily accepted, miffed at the boys of Teams 1 through 3, who had ignored them all and run straight to Team C Mile. Boys’ Teams 4 and 6, as well as Team 5, Veil’s team, had remained calm and unmoving—plus, there were some cute guys on Team 5, to boot.

“Way to go, Veil!”

Though they hadn’t been able to snag Mile, the most coveted prize, the other boys of Team 5 got the chance to mingle with four cute girls, instead. It was a wise compromise.

“Now then,” said one of the girls on Team A, “we’ll divide up and join Teams 4 and 6!”

“What…?”

The five remaining girls on Team A shot the boys of Teams 1, 2, and 3 a cold look.

Team 1 Boys: 5

Team 2 Boys: 5

Team 3 Boys: 5

Team 4 Boys: 4, Girls: 2

Team 5 Boys: 3, Girls: 4

Team 6 Boys: 4, Girls: 3

Team C Boys: 1, Girls: 4

“How did this happeeeeeeen?!?!” The boys of Teams 1 through 3 let loose a scream of frustration.

In truth, though, they had only themselves to blame, but from that moment until the day of their graduation, half the boys in the class looked upon Veil with jealous eyes.

“How did you end up with seven teams?” Elbert said, looking rather troubled. “I thought you were just going to shuffle the girls into the boys’ teams for six parties. I only brought two extra hunters to chaperone…” Including Elbert, there were four instructors, so even with the other two hunters along, they were now one person short.

“It’s fine. Mavis, your party will be all right without a guide, won’t you?”

“Y-yeah…”

It was always Reina who called the shots, and among their classmates, Team C was known most frequently as “Reina’s Crew.” Still, as far as the instructors were concerned, Mavis was the leader.

And at that point, none of that really mattered, anyway.

“No problems here.”

“Leave it to us!”

Reina and Mile gladly agreed. Ultimately, it just made things easier for them.

“Well then, I’ll leave it to you!” Elbert said, trying not to let on how worried he truly was.

***

Deep in the forest, far from base camp…

“Starting today, I’m lifting the ban on using the magic I’ve taught you in front of others,” Mile said. “We’ll be graduating soon, and this magic is meant to be used in your life as hunters after graduation. It’s about time to get some real practice.

“It would be strange if you could suddenly use this magic right after graduation, so if you start now and use it a little bit at a time in front of the rest of the class, then it will look like it’s just the results of all our training. After all, you’ll have to show your full power in the official exit exams.

“Now. Showing off your magic is one thing, but—You. Must. Not. Tell. Anyone. Else. How. To. Use. It… or share the fact that I was the one who taught you! No matter what, you must consider what you’ve learned to be a secret! Do I make myself clear?!”

At Mile’s uncharacteristically serious expression, the four others nodded fiercely.

***

Slash!

Smack!

“Now me! My turn!”

“You guys…”

Pauline and Reina hunted the goblins gleefully, while Veil shied away.

He wasn’t surprised by Reina’s ferocity, as much as he wished he could be.

However, among their classmates, Pauline was known as a meek and mild-mannered magic user, specializing in healing and recovery. Amongst so many boisterous young women in their class, she was a breath of fresh air, a precious commodity not unlike Mile—or so she had been.

“Dance, water droplets, into a raging boil, grrrahh! DIIIIEEEEEEE!!!”

Mile collapsed onto a fallen tree in shock at Pauline’s outburst, while Mavis slumped forward, as if her very soul had left her body.

***

By the time Mavis and company returned to base camp, most of the other teams had already arrived and were making preparations for dinner. Naturally, they were cooking their own meals, with the prey they had hunted themselves. In fact, sharing one’s catch with other teams was forbidden. Those who weren’t strong enough hunters would go to bed hungry. That was the hunters’ way.

The students, unaccustomed to cooking, stumbled through their preparations.

“All right!”

While other teams put together nice little meals out of tree fruits they had gathered and the jackalopes they hunted in between exterminating goblins, Mile pulled an entire orc out of storage.

Shwack shwack shwack shwack shwack!

Mavis chopped the meat with lightning speed.

Bwoosh!

Reina roasted it with her fire magic.

“Soup’s up!” Pauline called.

She had made a broth by pouring water into four bowls, along with gathered herbs, orc meat, and leafy greens, which she then boiled.

“Hey! What about mine?” asked Veil pitifully.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! It was only out of habit…”

Hurriedly, Pauline rustled up another portion.

“Grrahh!”

Blurb blurb…

Elbert watched them, slack-jawed.

“You all sure are handy…” he muttered.

average 1.6

Chapter 7:
Hunters’ Prep School

The school was small. The building she took to be the schoolhouse was a tiny, one-story shack. The building that served as the dormitory was a similarly humble affair, housing both boys and girls. The only other building appeared to house an indoor training ground. Such was the sort of school that catered to only about forty students, all in the same class.

Mile had no interest in standing out, but at the same time, she didn’t want the guild master to lose face. Her goal was to stay somewhere near fifth from the top of her class.

After Mile finished registering, she proceeded to her assigned room to find a four-person dorm with two bunk beds. Since the school was funded by the country’s tax money, they didn’t have the luxury of providing individual rooms.

Still, for now, the room was empty, for it seemed that Mile was the first to arrive. She pondered which bed she ought to claim for herself. With her past education in Japanese courtesy, she could not escape the inclination ingrained in her to hold back and let others have the best ones.

I’ll probably be the youngest and the smallest, so maybe I should pick a top bunk…

Thus, though there were a lot of advantages to sleeping on the bottom of a bunk bed, but Mile selected one of the two top bunks.

The room had one cabinet, divided into four sections. Apparently, this was meant for them all to share. Other than that, there was only one small lockbox, but since Mile could keep her valuables in the loot box, it wasn’t of much interest to her. So again, she selected the most inconvenient spot.

In these lands, ceding an advantage one could grab for oneself was something only an idiot would do, but to Mile, this was no real concern.

“I guess I don’t need to spend much time unpacking.”

Here, she had no intention of hiding the fact that she had storage skills. In fact, the guild master had written this very information in the referral section of her entry application form, so it would be pointless to try to conceal it. Therefore, it was fine if her standard luggage appeared to be hidden away with storage magic. Even if some of it were actually secured in her loot box instead.

Thus, as she didn’t really need the cabinet, she figured that the other three could share the space amongst themselves.

Besides the beds, the cabinet, and the lockbox, the room was completely empty. There was nothing else—not even desks or chairs. At this school, there was no spare money to devote to housing. Any time that students had to loiter around in their rooms was time best spent on the practice grounds. The rooms were really just a place for changing clothes and sleeping. That was the sum of things.

Mile was sitting around staring into space and killing time until lunch, when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Mile replied.

The girl who opened the door was tall, about five foot seven inches, with golden hair and a stern, imposing face. She was probably around seventeen or eighteen years old and looked almost boyish. Immediately, Mile could tell that she was also the sort of person who would be popular with the other girls.

“Oh, a roommate! Let’s have a great six months together!” The girl grinned and held out her right hand. Mile smiled and returned the gesture. She got the feeling she would get along with this girl.

“Pleased to meet you. The name’s Mavis. I’m a knight. I’ll spare you the details until the rest arrive. Which bed are you in?”

“Oh—this one, up here.”

“Hmm…”

Mile worried Mavis might think she was an idiot, but instead the girl just patted her gently on the head.

“You’re a good kid…”

They would definitely get along! Mile was certain of it.

“I’m kinda big,” Mavis said, “so I hope you don’t mind if I take the bottom here.”

Mavis hoisted her luggage onto the bed beneath Mile, and the two of them chatted until there came another knock.

“Come on in!” Mile replied.

This time, when the door opened, two girls stood outside in the hallway.

The first was a kind, absent-minded looking girl around thirteen or fourteen, with brown hair. The second was a tough-looking redhead of around twelve.

“More roommates, yeah? Hey there, I’m Mavis!”

“And I’m Mile. Pleased to meet you all!”

“Reina. Nice to meet you.” The red-headed girl strutted into the room. She glanced at both the beds and then tossed her bags onto the bottom bunk of the vacant one—surely a more typical way of doing things, Mile thought. The early bird gets the worm and all that.

“I’m Pauline. It’s good to meet you.” The meeker of the two girls gently placed her bags on the top bunk, without a hint of disdain for the girl who had beaten her to the punch.

There was no real need for the students to arrive until the day before the entrance ceremony, but it was no coincidence that all four occupants of this room had arrived early in the morning, three whole days before the start of the term. That night would be the first night that they could sleep there at the school, and it was also the first day that their free meals would be provided, starting with lunch. In short, none of them had money to spare.

Of course, this was not true of Mile, who now had funds of her own. Even so, she had wanted to arrive early merely to familiarize herself with the school and the surrounding area. However, wanting to fit into with the other girls, she didn’t mention this. At the very least, she had learned to read the room a little better since her days at Eckland Academy.

Soon, lunchtime rolled around, and they all headed to the dining hall with plans to do proper introductions after the meal.

Although it was only the first day of registration, a great number of other students had arrived early as well; nearly half of this year’s class of forty crowded the dining hall. At this point, all of the previous term’s students had graduated and gone, so everyone present was a new recruit.

The boys were gobbling food as though they hadn’t eaten in days, and though the girls were nowhere near so crude, it was clear they had good appetites. As no one had grown close enough for friendly chatter, everyone ate in silence.

After lunch, Mile and company returned to their room to make introductions.

“How about we introduce ourselves in the order we arrived?”

Mavis’s suggestion put Mile first.

“I’m Mile. I’m twelve years old. I’m a magic user and an F-rank hunter.”

“Is that all?” asked Reina, the redhead. “Anything else you want to say? Like your magical specialty, or your hometown, or your family, or…?”

At her prompting, Mile had no choice but to continue. “Um, let’s see. I can use storage magic—I don’t have any use for my spot in the cabinet, so the rest of you can go ahead and use it. I dabble in swordplay just a little bit, for self-protection. And as for my family, even speaking about them is a sort of unpleasant matter, so please forgive me for refraining…”

“………”

There was a long silence.

“Wait a minute—” Reina suddenly interjected.

“Something is weird about this. If you can use storage magic, you should be a C-rank already! What are you doing here?! Besides, it takes energy to maintain, doesn’t it? How can you be using that in place of a cabinet?!”

“Huh…?”

“Don’t you ‘huh’ me!”

As Reina continued to shout, Mile just tilted her head.

“Um, well, the rank thing was a guild mistake,” Mile said. “The guild master sent me here in order to correct it. And I don’t know—is that really true about storage magic needing to be maintained?”

“Y-you…” Reina trailed off.

“Well, I guess I’m next up!” Mavis offered, only a little nervously.

Being able to read the room truly was an amazing skill.

“Now that Mile’s spilled the beans for us, let me be frank as well. We’ll be together a good while, so you’re going to get to know me sooner or later.

“I’m Mavis von Austien, seventeen years old. I’m a knight, no magic.

“My family has all been knights for generations, and my three older brothers all became knights too. I wanted to be a knight, just like them, but my brothers and parents were super opposed to it, so I ran away from home. So, now, I just go by Mavis, no surname. Hope we can get along!”

Whoa…

As Mavis spoke, the nickname “Rascal” popped into Mile’s head—but that was a name for a raccoon, wasn’t it? Perhaps she was thinking of something else.

“N-next up’s me, then! Reina, fifteen years old! They call me ‘Crimson Reina,’ and my specialty’s attack magic. Let me just be clear now that the ‘Crimson’ part has nothing to do with my hair! I have no family…”

At these last words, Reina looked down, despondent, but unlike Mile, it seemed as though she wouldn’t necessarily mind talking about her family.

The other girls all asked the same question. “Fifteen?”

“What?! You got something to say about it?!”

Reina was very short for a fifteen-year-old, no taller than 156 centimeters. If she were Japanese, she would be just around the right height for her age, but for the people of this country, who were similar to Caucasians on Earth, she was about 5 centimeters shy of the average height for a girl of fifteen—closer to the height of a twelve-year-old.

Mile was also short for her age, so she was thankful when the conversation moved on.

“I guess that leaves me, then… I’m Pauline, I’m fourteen. I’m the love child of the head of the Beckett Company, a mid-sized mercantile operation.”

Whaaaaaaaat?! The other girls exchanged surprised looks.

“My existence is a nuisance to my father, but I’m a genius at healing magic, so he sent me here to try and polish my skills so that I’d be a useful gift to a noble or important merchant.”

Stop iiiit!!!

“After I graduate from here, I’ll probably end up with some middle-aged man—”

“AND THAT CONCLUDES OUR INTRODUCTIONS,” the other three cut in.

Truly, these were roommates who would get along well.

***

For the next three days, the four girls passed their time chatting in their room and strolling about the capital together. Since none of them had very much money, they only did things that were free.

When they did go shopping, however, there was a problem beyond just money: because their room was very small, they couldn’t buy much of anything besides a few changes of clothing and small, consumable goods.

Each of them had very different personalities, but somehow, they all seemed to complement each other. It was clear that they would be very good roommates.

For some reason or other, Mile found herself growing particularly fond of Reina, and she often noticed the other girl standing by her side. When Mile brought it up, Mavis was kind enough to offer an explanation.

“Well, it’s probably because, you know, the way your figure—no, never mind, it’s nothing.”

“Wait, what?!”

Mile demanded that Mavis continue. As polite as she normally was, she had grown comfortable enough now to speak to her new roommates without reservations.

The truth was that when Reina stood next to Mile, she looked much older. She was noticeably taller than twelve-year-old Mile and more developed in other ways, too.

Since Reina always seemed concerned about her youthful appearance, it was only natural that she’d want to accentuate the contrast between them—which meant staying close to Mile’s side. For Mile, at twelve, being only a little bit smaller than a fifteen-year-old wasn’t so bad either.

Mavis was seventeen, so she wasn’t even part of the equation. It was Pauline who gave Reina reason to worry. She was a hair taller than the average girl of fourteen, which meant she was taller than Reina. Worst of all though, was the fact that her breasts were much more developed than average, surpassing even Mavis’s.

“Grngh…” Mile cast a glare at Pauline’s bust just as Reina returned from the washroom.

“Well, let’s get going!”

The waiting was over. It was the day of the Hunters’ Prep School entrance ceremony.

***

The ceremony was drab.

Since the vast majority of the students came from poverty, their families couldn’t possibly attend.

While the entrance ceremony at Eckland Academy had been nothing special in comparison to that of the much more prestigious Ardleigh, the school still catered to the offspring of nobles and successful merchants, meaning that they had to keep up appearances. Here, the entrance ceremony felt like not much more than an introductory assembly for the students and teachers alone.

Suffice it to say, while a proper three-year boarding school and an accelerated six-month hunters’ prep school were both “schools,” it was like comparing a four-year university to a driving school; in other words, it was not a worthwhile comparison. Even the difference in the size of the student body was noticeable to Mile.

And, of course, the school had no uniforms. Everyone wore their own clothes. Still, as they were attending an entrance ceremony, the students had all worn their hunting equipment rather than standard garb, which gave them the appearance of rookie hunters.

The student body for this term consisted of forty people, the same as always, and there was only one class. In fact, the school was still in something of a trial run, so its scope was very small, much more like a mission school than a true academy.

“Welcome! I am Principal Elbert!” A man of around fifty greeted them from the platform. He didn’t look like a principal so much as a retired hunter.

“I’ve lived as a hunter since I was six years old, up until about six years ago, when I retired and took charge of this place.”

No wonder, then, that he looked like a retired hunter. He was one!

And at any rate, a school of only forty students couldn’t have much need for a principal.

They might as well call it a “Hunter Training Center” or a “Hunter Boot Camp,” Mile thought.

“The aim of this place is to cram you full of all the knowledge you’d normally gain from the successes and failures of many years in the span of just six months. That way, you can be promoted to a D or C-rank immediately after you graduate! You understand what that means, right?”

Elbert looked out at the students’ faces.

“That’s right! This place is tough! And anyone who can’t keep up gets the boot! Having someone happily graduate and then kick the bucket a few days later—or worse, drag all their party members down in the mud? That’s not what we want. So, we don’t let it happen! If don’t think you can stick with it, then you can turn in your resignation now!”

To enter the school, everyone present had overcome fierce competition. They carried their families’ hopes on their shoulders. No one was prepared to give up so easily. At least at that moment point, there were no quitters present.

Following Elbert’s address, the other instructors were introduced, and then the students were dismissed. The small details would be covered later, in the classroom.

***

As they waited for their instructor to arrive, the students chattered in small groups. Roommates, who had already grown close, talked amongst one another.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious,” said Reina.

The other three nodded.

She was referring to the principal’s remarks. Everyone there had been perfectly aware of the school’s reputation when they enrolled. There was no point in blabbering on about it.

After a short while, the door at the front of the room opened, and their instructor entered. It was Elbert, the principal himself.

“I’m your chief instructor. We don’t have a particularly large budget, so you can think of me as your principal-cum-chief instructor-cum-weaponry trainer. Besides me, there’re the three others I introduced. And other than that, it’s just the cooks who make your meals and the school maintenance staff.

“Our curriculum here is focused on practical education, but there’s a classroom portion of your studies, too. If you don’t know how to identify medicinal herbs or tell different monsters apart, you’re dead meat. And if you don’t know how to properly address a noble you’re escorting, you’re going to end up starting a fight that will end either with you getting cut down or put on a list of criminals. You have to study up.”

His words were curt, but no one could argue with the truth of them.

Elbert began writing on the board as he continued speaking.

Total Students: 40 Boys: 27 Girls: 13

Sword Users Boys: 13 Girls: 3

Spear Users Boys: 4

Archers Boys: 4 Girls: 2

Magic Users Boys: 6 Girls: 8

Girls’ Team A 5 Members 2 Magic, 1 Sword, 2 Bow

Girls’ Team B 4 Members 3 Magic, 1 Sword

Girls’ Team C 4 Members 3 Magic, 1 Sword

Boys’ Team 1 5 Members 1 Magic, 3 Sword, 1 Bow

Boys’ Team 2 5 Members 1 Magic, 2 Sword, 1 Bow, 1 Spear

Boys’ Team 3 5 Members 1 Magic, 2 Sword, 1 Bow, 1 Spear

Boys’ Team 4 4 Members 1 Magic, 2 Sword, 1 Spear

Boys’ Team 5 4 Members 1 Magic, 2 Sword, 1 Spear

Boys’ Team 6 4 Members 1 Magic, 2 Sword, 1 Bow

“This class is divided into parties by gender and grouped based on your professions. Teams A through C are the girls’ teams, and Teams 1 through 6 are the boys’. I’m sure some of you may have noticed already, but these party divisions are the same as your room assignments. So you’re bound together until graduation, like it or not.

“If there’s someone you don’t get on with, it’s your responsibility to tough it out. That’s part of your training. After all, you’re not always going to end up liking your party members after graduation, either.

“Now, there aren’t many all-girl parties out there in the real world, but here at school, we don’t have the time to be breaking up any lovers’ spats or dealing with unexpected babies. It’s easier to teach you all separately.

“But that’s just for while you’re here. After you graduate, you can form your own mixed-gender parties if you want to. That’s how it usually works, after all.”

At that point, Mile felt that Elbert had been a bit too frank, but he simply continued his explanation.

Seating in the classroom was divided up by profession, so it was easy for the instructors to know at a glance which groups would most benefit from what information. Still, when hunters were out in the field, there was the possibility that they would have to take up the arms of a fallen comrade or a bested enemy, so it was crucial that every hunter trained with equipment that was outside of his or her wheelhouse. In the future, this would help them work better with other members of their party. Of course, it was critical to know the strengths and weaknesses of one’s enemies, so joint sessions with students of other professions were also part of their training course.

Finally, it was time for the students to introduce themselves to one another.

“I don’t expect you all to memorize everybody the first time around,” Elbert said. “This is just to get a feel for the sorts of folks who are in your class. We’ll start from the right side. Give us your name, age, occupation, specialization, and rank, at the very least. You don’t have to stop there, though. Feel free to let your peers know what kind of person you are.”

In spite of his encouragement, almost no one gave more than the bare minimum.

Few students were interested in filling a bunch of strangers in on their private affairs, their strengths, or their weaknesses. Even Mavis, Reina, and Pauline gave introductions much briefer than those they had offered back in the dormitory.

Finally, it came time for Mile to introduce herself. “I’m Mile. I’m twelve years old and a magic user. There’s no type of magic that I’m especially bad at. I can use storage magic, and I dabble just a little in swords. I’m an F-rank.”

Unlike Reina, no one here expressed puzzlement at Mile’s knowledge of storage magic. No matter how impressive the skill was, it was not particularly difficult to imagine why someone would have judged it too dangerous to send an inexperienced twelve-year-old out into the field. Instead, they would have sent her here to learn a few things, first. That was also, one could assume, why she was still an F-rank.

Indeed, in the wake of Mile’s introduction, the students were whispering amongst themselves for an entirely different reason: recruitment, whether they could get to know her before graduation and cajole her into one of their parties.

She was a good-looking, reliable-seeming girl who could use storage—as well as other—magic, and she was even handy with a sword.

If a girl like that wasn’t someone you wanted on your side, then who else would be?

For Mile, another difficult time was about to begin.

***

“All right! Time for our first-ever party meeting,” Reina announced that evening after dinner, when they returned to their room.

The three others stared blankly.

“Don’t you guys get it? Something terrible’s happened! We need to talk about this!”

“What’s so terrible?” Mile asked, unconcerned.

“You! Did you not see it?!” Reina shouted back. “How they were all staring at you?!”

“Huh? Am I really all that fascinating?”

“No!!! Weeell, it’s not that you aren’t interesting, but everyone’s after that storage magic of yours! Before you know what’s what, they’re going to start coming after you to join their parties! And if we don’t do something, it’s going to be a disaster. Besides, you’re already my…”

“Hmm?”

“N-never mind! Anyway, listen: You’re going to start getting swarmed by men who aren’t interested in you yourself, but in your storage magic! We need to do something about this!”

“What are you talking about?”

At Mile’s amazement, Mavis and Pauline sighed deeply.

“Listen, most everyone who goes to this school is fifteen and older. People who join a guild as proper hunters at the age of ten can become a D-rank hunter in just a few years, even if they start at F-rank. And once they’re a D-rank, they can start taking on real jobs, so there’s no need to come to a place like this. No one’s going to be sending any young people out on a mission to fight a high-ranking monster.

“However, none of the people here were able to join the guild at age ten. And even if they did join the guild later, the students here were also deemed to have potential. The higher-ups sent them to school so they could move more quickly through the ranks.

“Obviously, Mile, you fall outside that rule, because you’re so young. There’s no mistaking that you’re here because of your storage magic.”

Reina continued. “Most of the people here are already adults. Sure, some of them are only looking for future party members, but some of them are also looking for love. Someone like you, whose storage magic gives her great earning potential, who seems easy to control, and who is, dare I say, pretty cute… You’re just too delectable of a prize. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“Um.” Mile hung her head, crestfallen.

“Basically, if you get any party invitations from here on out, just tell them, ‘I already promised I’d be with my roommates.’ And, if anyone tries to ask you on a date, tell them, ‘I’m not interested right now. I want to focus on my training.’ Got it?!”

“Y-yes, ma’am!”

Seeing Mile’s startled, immediate reply and Reina’s obvious satisfaction, Mavis and Pauline understood.

So, it’s like that.

Yes, it was most definitely “like that.”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Mavis. “We need to pick a leader.”

Immediately, the three girls all pointed…

At Mavis.

She was the oldest and the tallest, imposing, but also appealing and sincere.

The others were—of course—made up of the short-tempered Reina, mild-mannered Pauline, and Mile, who always seemed a step behind the rest of them.

In other words, Mavis was the obvious choice.

***

The following day, the morning was occupied by classroom studies.

Practical training would take place on the grounds in the afternoon.

“All right, the gang’s all here. Before we start our normal training, we need to confirm all of your current ability levels. Let’s go ahead and see each of your combat abilities, one at a time. Break out of your parties, and sort yourselves by occupation.”

As directed by Elbert, the students rearranged themselves into groups by combat class.

The other three instructors were also present. The first was Huey, in charge of short swords, throwing knives, and archery. The second was Neville, a magic instructor, with a particular specialty in combat magic. And the third was Jilda, another magic instructor, in charge of utility and healing spells. Each of them was a former hunter.

Though they all had their own specialties to take charge of, they were by no means unskilled in the other disciplines, and when one had their hands full, the others could pitch in.

As things stood, the sword users and archers were mostly boys, and the number of female spear users was exactly zero. On the other hand, the magic users were mostly girls.

Considering physical ability, it was unsurprising that most of the students in the former professions were male. Even boys who could use some measure of combat magic were likely to choose the sword as their main skill. Moreover, a majority of applicants to the school were boys, anyway.

Still, though there were far fewer girls than boys in the student body, there were many more female magic users, likely for the same reasons discussed above.

All the students were wearing their own armor, but as weapons would be provided, no one had brought their own.

Even in a mock battle, if one used a real sword, there was risk of injury, and so, the students dressed accordingly. This was a blessing for Mile, who in spite of always looking rather like a swordsman, didn’t look out of place with the other magic users.

They could be called sorcerers, yes, but there was not a robe in sight. Rather, everyone wore the same light leather armor, or if they couldn’t afford that, thick, plain clothes, meaning that Mile did not stand out in her boots and leather breast plate.

It was only in her choice of equipment that Mile was exceptional. Other magic users carried staves, rods, or other blunt weaponry, but Mile stuck with her trusty sword. A magic user’s life depended on their spell-casting and magic. Therefore, they were usually loathe to carry weapons that required extra attention or special skills. The same went for anything that might get stuck in an opponent’s armor, making escape difficult.

As a result, they were inclined to the aforementioned forms of weaponry: light and well-balanced bludgeoning tools that required little thought to use, not meant for felling an enemy but merely for swinging about to protect oneself, should someone draw too near.

However, such things were of no concern to Mile. Additionally, it was much easier to fell an enemy with a sword or spear than with a staff or rod—and that was what counted.

For the same purpose, Mile also considered keeping a slingshot on hand. Of course, a simple slingshot wouldn’t make full use of Mile’s abilities, but in fact, that might be a good thing. Even if she were excited or panicked, the string could only be pulled so far, so there was no risk of making an error that would allow her power to get out of hand and cause a mishap. Besides, if something did happen, it would be easy to play it off.

Bows were a bother, since one had to walk around with one’s arrows prepared, and that just wasn’t an option. Slingshot pellets were much less cumbersome, and one could always substitute them with pebbles in a pinch—and pebbles could easily be refined into proper spheres. If she were on sandy soil, she would be able to gather iron sand as raw material. Besides, as far as accuracy, she could rely on her nanobuddies to provide some course correction, so that wouldn’t be too much of an issue.

No matter how one looked at it, slingshots beat bows, hands down.

***

“Begin!”

While Mile sat pondering these considerations, the duels between the sword users had begun.

Naturally, the students were using wooden swords. The school wasn’t horrible enough to let a bunch of beginners use metal swords for training. Nevertheless, the duels were completely different from those at Eckland Academy, though Mile wasn’t too surprised by this. These students were elite hunter candidates, most of them fifteen and up. Their technique and power were in a whole different class compared to her former schoolmates.

After a splendid volley between the first pair, one of the two swung his sword to finally catch the other in the side, and the match concluded.

The other matches that followed were close matches, as well. Indeed, all the students were all close in age, each of them a first-class candidate chosen from his or her district, meaning there were only subtle differences in their abilities.

Mile watched their bouts closely, analyzing everyone’s levels. She was a studious girl, after all, and could do anything she put her mind to especially when she combined her diligence with practical experience…

There was an uneven number of male sword users, so the final boy was paired with a girl. That girl was Mavis.

Typically, men were thought to be stronger, but Mavis, the oldest and tallest of the girls, closed the gap easily and secured a splendid victory. The boy, having lost, looked momentarily disappointed, but then congratulated Mavis with a smile.

For a moment, his gaze looked distant in a way that reminded Mile of a certain eleven-year-old brat, but he soon collected himself, and offered Mavis a firm handshake.

They really are adults, Mile thought.

***

The duels between the female sword users followed, after which, Mile assumed, would come the spear users, but just then…

“Oi, Mile. You said you could use a sword, yeah? Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Huh?!” Mile started at Elbert’s unexpected command.

Unbeknownst to the other students, Mile had enrolled in the school without being tested, thanks to the recommendation of the regional guild master. As the principal and chief instructor, Elbert, of course, was aware of this. Since Mile did have storage magic, it was clear that the guild master’s referral had been legitimate. However, his recommendation had also stated that Mile’s swordsmanship was “on par with a C-rank hunter,” and Elbert was curious to test her skills.

I…can’t really refuse, can I? Mile thought. I have to do this. She had, after all, been analyzing everyone’s levels as they fought, in case of such an event. It will be fine. It will be fine…

As Mile steeled herself, Elbert selected her opponent. When he asked for volunteers, nearly all of them raised their hands, so he selected one of the weaker-seeming boys who had fought earlier.

Why, Mile wondered, does everyone want to fight me?! Was it some kind of conspiracy? Were they picking on her because she was young?

In truth, however, they’d all raised their hands with the intent of sidling up to her later to ask how she was doing, saying something like, “Sorry about earlier. Why don’t we get together later and talk about the practice match? I’ll even bring some tea and cookies.”

“Begin!”

The match kicked off with Elbert’s signal, and as Mile blocked the young man’s flurry of attacks, he blocked hers in return, their exchange proceeding nicely. Finally, one of the young man’s blows caught Mile on the side, and the match was over.

She was an intelligent girl, after all.

“……”

Though the match had ended, Elbert continued to stare silently, deep in thought. After a short while, he called to the boy who Mavis had fought earlier, and the two of them stepped aside to talk.

As they spoke, the male student flared up suddenly, as though he were angry at Elbert. After that, their mysterious conversation continued, the young man nodding reluctantly as though there was something he didn’t quite understand, and finally, the two returned to the rest of the students.

“All right, Mile. Round two!”

“Huhhhhh?!?!”

This time, Mile wasn’t the only one to shout her surprise.

“Begin!”

And a second match began.

The young man appeared as unhappy about this as Mile. He was being forced to fight a tiny girl who had just lost to a boy who was not even close to his ability level. To make matters worse, she was a mage—and on top of that, though he had lost to a young woman before, Mavis was at least a sword user, and she was strong. That defeat would linger with him, no doubt, but at least for now, he could accept it.

However, the fight he’d just been flung into was unacceptable. Even if he were to win, it would be an unsatisfying victory, without honor, pride, or prestige. It left a bad taste in his mouth. Still, this was part of their lessons, a practice mandated by their instructor. He had no choice but to do as he was told.

The match began and quickly grew fierce, leaving Mile flustered.

Why is he only aiming for the places where I don’t have armor?!?!

Every attack was directed at her arms, neck, or the joints in her armor, all places where it would definitely hurt to take a blow at full strength. She’d be lucky to make it out of this with only bruises. She kept on blocking as though her life depended on it, and after things continued like this for a while, finally, she got her chance.

That one’s headed straight for my armor.

Just as with the first match, the bout was concluded with a blow to the side.

Thwap!

Mile was relieved. But when she looked up, she saw that the boy before her was staring agog—but at Elbert, not her.

Mile followed his gaze and saw that Elbert was grinning like a madman.

Huh? Wha…?

It had been a set-up.

However, it was not until later that Mile would realize this.

***

After the spear and bow users finished their matches, it was at last the magic users’ turn to compete. Unlike with the sword and spear users, the archers and mages were not to fight one another directly. Naturally, firing at one another would have been incredibly dangerous. So instead, they compared their rate and speed of fire, their accuracy, and their power when attacking a distant target.

One by one in order, they released their attack spells.

Fireballs, water spheres, fire arrows, ice arrows, rock arrows, infernos, explosions…

They varied in size, speed, and power, but once again, were leagues above anything Mile had seen at Eckland. There were few students there who had even been capable of combat magic to begin with.

The most shocking performance, however, was Reina’s.

“Blaze, O flames of Hell! Reduce them to ash and bone!”

A surging, wild crimson flame swirled and hit its mark, incinerating the target.

“Amazing!” Mile whispered.

Reina turned to her triumphantly.

So that’s why she’s called “Crimson Reina,” Mile thought. Still, it doesn’t seem like her magical strength is all that high, and I didn’t think she conjured anything particularly special…

For some reason, that was as far as Mile was able to understand Reina’s magic, and she didn’t try to analyze it further. She got the sense that doing so would just wear her out. It was a wise assumption on her part.

IT IS BECAUSE SHE IS PASSIONATE.

“Eep!”

Mile shrieked at the sudden whisper in her ear, causing several of her classmates to look her way, perplexed. She attempted to play it off as though nothing had happened, continuing to watch as the other students performed their magic.

D-don’t scare me like that!

OUR APOLOGIES. IT SEEMED THAT YOU WERE SEEKING INFORMATION.

I was just thinking!! But, well, since I’ve got you here, I guess I may as well ask. What do you mean by “passionate”?

WE WILL EXPLAIN. AS YOU KNOW, WE NANOMACHINES HAVE RANDOMIZED RECEPTION AND SELECTION SETTINGS. BECAUSE OF THIS, THE NUMBER OF NANOMACHINES IN RANGE THAT WILL REACT TO THE ARTICULATION OF A THOUGHT PULSE VARIES. OTHER VARIATIONS ARISE FROM THE CLARITY OF THE IMAGE, WHICH IMPACTS OPERATIVE EFFICIENCY. ALL THIS LEADS TO DIFFERENCES IN MAGICAL RESULTS.

HOWEVER, FROM TIME TO TIME, A PERSON APPEARS WHO CAN USE MAGIC WITH FAR GREATER POWER THAN OTHERS, DESPITE HAVING NO EXCEPTIONAL SKILL IN STRENGTH, CLARITY, OR IMAGE. THIS IS WHAT WE REFER TO AS “PASSION.” THAT IS TO SAY—HOW TO PUT IT?—THEIR THOUGHT PULSE IS SO POWERFUL THAT EVEN NANOMACHINES WITH LOW SENSITIVITY WILL REACT TO IT.

Hmm…

With that brief acknowledgement, Mile put an end to the conversation, not really knowing whether she understood the nanomachines’ explanation or not. It was her turn to perform magic.

Things are going okay so far, Mile thought, so it should be acceptable to use fairly strong magic. She wanted to try to stay at around fifth place in the class ranking. Thus, considering the number of students, being the second-best magician wasn’t unreasonable. I should just perform something a little bit weaker than what Reina did…

With that in mind, Mile decided to try using the same spell as her roommate but with just about eighty percent of the output.

“Blaze, O flames of Hell! Reduce them to ash and bone!”

Just as when Reina performed it, a swirling crimson blaze arose, surrounding the target and reducing it to ash.

“Wh…?”

The others were a little bit surprised to see Mile using a spell as powerful as Reina’s, and so soon after her. However, as Mile could use storage magic, it wasn’t particularly shocking that she would be skilled in other areas of magic as well.

There was one person who simply could not accept this, however.

“Mile, I need to speak with you later.” Reina glared at her harshly, and the hairs on the back of Mile’s neck stood on end.

“Wh-why…?”

After Mile, several more students showed off their attack magic, followed by those with utility magic. Healing magic would be covered at some other time, as there was no one there who was injured, meaning that there would have been no way to perform any demonstrations.

Luckily, this was not a problem. There was no one whose only ability was healing magic, so all the students were able to show their skills off using some type of magic or other.

***

After the practical training was over, the students were dismissed from the grounds for the day. Reina still seemed agitated, so Mile kept her distance, shuffling behind the other students on the way to the dining hall in the hopes of keeping a low profile.

“Miss Mile!”

“Eek!” Mile shrieked and tensed as someone approached from behind and clapped her suddenly on the shoulder.

“Oh, I’m sorry…”

Mile turned around to find the male student she had faced in the second-round practice bout standing behind her.

“Sorry to frighten you—and sorry about the fight earlier. To be honest, it was all on the teacher’s orders… Even if he told me to, though, it was still wrong of me to try and hit the parts of you that were unprotected. I’m really sorry!”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s all right! In a battle, it makes the most sense to aim for an enemy’s weak points—and if the teacher said so, then you didn’t really have much choice, did you?”

“Thank you so much for saying so.”

With that, he departed. Mile was impressed. “Man, adults really are different…”

The moment she turned to keep moving toward the dining hall, she was halted by another male voice.

“Sorry about earlier, Miley!”

This time, she turned to find the student she had faced in the first-round battle.

“Were you hurt? Why don’t we get together after dinner and talk about the practice match? I have a bunch of pointers I can give you!”

His nostrils flared on his smarmy, grinning face.

Mile, who could smell his ulterior motive a mile away, was unamused. “Sorry, I have a party meeting after dinner. In any case, I am a magic user, not a swordsman, so it’s only natural that I would have a lot of flaws in my sword technique. If I have the time to be polishing my sword skills beyond last-ditch self-defense, I think it would be better spent honing my magic—since that’s my main discipline…”

“O-oh, uh, but…”

“Excuse me.” Before the boy could come up with a snappy comeback, Mile walked away as briskly as she could.

It seemed that among mature adult men, there were still plenty of bad apples.

***

As always, dinner was eaten with her four roommates, i.e., her party, in the dining hall. Mile peeked timidly at Reina now and then, but she appeared not to notice and ate her meal normally. Mile was glad to be granted a momentary respite.

However, as soon as the four returned to their room…

“Commencing party meeting number two!” Mavis said.

“Mile! What was that about?!” Reina shouted.

“Huh? What? Was what about?”

“Don’t play dumb! That spell that you used! What was the meaning of that?!”

Mile recoiled in the face of Reina’s ire.

Mavis and Pauline just sat quietly, watching the events unfold.

“Um, well, I just used a normal fire spell, the same as you…”

“I see… The same as me, hmm? You simply plagiarized ‘Crimson Hellfire,’ the Crimson Reina’s signature, original spell, as a little ‘normal fire spell,’ did you?!”

“Wha…?!”

After some extended and persistent questioning by Reina, Mile finally buckled. She told Reina everything.

Well, not exactly everything. But she devised a cover story that was close enough to the truth.

***

“So, you’re saying that the minister who was after your power shook hands with the demon king, and the prince helped guide you to safety…?”

“Yes! I really thought I was going to die!”

“YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE THAT?! YOU COMPLETE IDIOT!!”

“Wh… How did you know…?”

“I’ve read that novel, too!!!”

“Waah!!”

Reina grabbed Mile’s hands.

This time, she confessed for real.

“So what you’re saying is that you hate to get special treatment, and you didn’t want everyone to heap it on you just because of your magical powers and storage skill? And that you ran away from home because you would have been killed, due to issues with your family’s line of succession?”

“Yes…” Though Mile had adjusted some of the details, each element of this story was true, so it was far more convincing—at least, more so than the romantic epic she had spun before.

“Well, that I can understand. Most people here have had others try to use them or sell them off for their exceptional abilities, in some way or other. This school doubles as a place to protect those people.”

With a pained look, Reina finally released Mile’s hands.

“Anyway, Mile, what was the deal with that guy who stopped you on the way to the dining hall?” Mavis asked.

“What?!” Reina, who had just let Mile go, grabbed her by the collar now, pulling hard.

“Wait! Stop! Y-you’re choking meee…”

After she told them the whole story of the conversations with both of the men, she was finally released again.

“No surprises there. We better monitor that first one, though—he was probably hiding something. Mavis, if that man ever gets near Mile again, block him!”

“I’ll see to it…”

Mavis smiled wryly. Suddenly, another question popped into her head. She turned to Mile.

“But why would the teacher set you up like that? You’re an aspiring magic user…”

“Who knows?”

As Mile hung her head, Mavis asked, nonchalantly, “By the way, Mile, why did you stop guarding on the last blow, in that second match? Especially in that bout, you had no trouble blocking all his quickest attacks, but then you let the last one, which was pretty slow, hit you straight on. Why was that? Did you fall for a feint or something?”

“……Huh?”

“Well, I mean, his last attack was a pretty weak one, wasn’t it?”

At Mavis’s prompting, Mile suddenly remembered what the young man said.

The teacher’s orders.

…the parts of you that were unprotected…

And then, Mavis’s words.

His last attack was a pretty weak one…

It had happened again.

The instructor was testing her mettle and confirming that she lost on purpose.

“Wh-what’s this all of a sudden?!” Mavis asked in the wake of Mile’s pensive silence.

Faced with Reina’s hounding, Mile, now quite depressed over her latest realization, decided to spill the beans about her ability with swords, too. After all, now that the teacher knew, it was only a matter of time until everyone else did, as well.

At least this way, her friends would hear about it from her first. Thinking about things that way, Mile realized she had no regrets about being found out.

“Friends,” huh? she thought to herself. And indeed, sitting there beside her, utterly puzzled by the grin suddenly crossing Mile’s face, were her three new friends.

***

The following days were filled with practical training, during both the mornings and afternoons. This was comprised of everything from improving basic fitness levels to studying techniques, methods for attacking different types of monsters, and everything in between. There was individual training as well as practice battles, sometimes even against the teachers themselves. In addition, they had training sessions organized both by discipline and as a full group. Without an awareness of the work performed by those in other professions, they would be unable to forge a strong relationship with their party members. Besides, when participating in real combat as a guard or fighter, comprehending an enemy’s abilities and being able to counter their technique could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

The female-only parties had a larger proportion of magic users, and therefore lacked power on the front lines. Thus, when it came time for the inter-party practice bouts, they came together with the male parties to swap members temporarily. Still, owing to Mile’s skill as a swordsman and each of the girl’s own individual strengths, Mile’s party could more or less fight on their own…

Since doing nothing but practical training would have caused the students to burn out, classroom lessons were held occasionally. During these lessons, they learned how to identify medicinal, herbal, and poisonous plants, exploit the weaknesses of different monster types, and take various safety precautions. They also received a general education on such topics as the histories of nearby countries, the makeup of the guild, and in-depth etiquette relating to interactions with nobles.

Typically, a hunter would learn these sorts of things on the job, taking pointers from more experienced party members or simply copying their techniques. From each, they thus learned to improve themselves through simple trial and error.

However, learning this way took time, and the potential for slip-ups due to lack of knowledge were many. Because of this, it often took years to grow into a full-fledged hunter, using one’s many failures, repeated year after year, to fill in the gaps in one’s knowledge and experience… Worse than that, however, was the fact that there were many hunters who lost their lives from such failures.

And so Mile, studious as ever, took these lessons quite seriously, writing everything down in a notebook she carried to class. Though there were many others taking notes just like her, some students, while they did seem to be listening to the lesson, never wrote a word.

One day back in their dorm room, when a perplexed Mile asked about this very fact, Reina told her, in a somewhat exasperated manner, “It’s because they’re illiterate, dummy.”

“Huh? But then, how will they read the posted job requests?”

“They’ll rely on the guild staff to point them to the right ones—or sometimes, you’ll see children hanging around who’ll read things aloud to earn a bit of pocket money.”

“…”

In her previous life, Mile had loved reading—without any friends, it was, along with TV and games, one of her only pleasures. She could scarcely imagine being unable to read and write and could only think what an incredible tragedy their inability to read was.

***

“Commencing party meeting number three!”

This time, when Reina made her announcement, a question slipped out before Mile even had time to think about it. “Um, if Mavis is our leader, how come you’re always the one leading these?”

“………”

“Um, sorry! Forget I said anything!”

“This meeting’s topic is… our next rest day!” Reina continued speaking as though nothing had happened. “As you know, this party is lacking in power, skill, speed, and most importantly, money!” She was speaking in a shout now, her voice painfully loud. “Once we start the monster-hunting portion of our practical training, we’ll be able to started earning money by exchanging monster parts. However, we can’t afford to wait for that!”

Indeed, Reina had already run out of money—the only times she could eat were during the three daily meals served in the dining hall. Not only that, but she was starting to hit the bottom of her inkwell.

It was the sort of circumstance one might refer to as being at “the end of one’s rope” or “hitting rock bottom.”

“Mavis, you and Pauline have no experience as hunters and only just registered as F-ranks after coming here,” Reina went on. “Mile, you have a little bit of experience, but unfortunately you’re still an F-rank. I, however, am an E-rank, which means that I can accept jobs fighting monsters of any rank up to goblins and orcs.

“If there are extermination requests, we’ll take them. If not, we’ll collect jackalopes and hunt smaller animals. If all goes well, we should be able to get three or four silver each.”

“Hmm…” Mile said.

“What? Do you have an objection?”

“N-no, it’s nothing…” Mile was merely surprised at Reina’s enthusiasm at the prospect of earning such a small amount. That was all.

***

That night, Mile lay in bed, thinking about whether or not she should teach her roommates what she knew about magic.

Even if she were to teach them, she knew she couldn’t do so in the way that she taught Marcela and the others. Her three friends at Eckland had had little magic ability to start with and would never lead a life where they their own mortality would be staked on their magical skill. In other words, even if she taught them a few special tricks, those three would never become wielders who might influence the destinies of many, nor would they do something careless if they ever faced mortal peril. They, she knew, would be able to keep her secret.

For the students at this school, things were different. Their lives were inextricably linked to their magical skill, and their collective fates rested on the abilities of their party members, not only themselves. If people like that learned how to grow their magical power by an immense degree, they would most certainly share this knowledge with their party members. And when their party dissolved, and they joined another, they would tell those people as well.

In turn, those people would tell their children—and those children would tell their friends, some of whom would surely be money-grubbers who might open magic schools, or work as tutors for the children of nobles, or sell their expertise to other countries…

In other words, there was no way that Mile’s special knowledge would remain a secret.

The other factor to consider was the fact that the people at this school already had significant magical abilities. Their powers of strength, clarity, and image were already far greater than those of other people, meaning that they could use fairly powerful magic. If she were to teach people like that her tricks…

When she thought about it that way, Mile realized, she simply wouldn’t feel right teaching her roommates the same things she had taught the Wonder Trio. However, she also couldn’t bear the thought of any of them perishing shortly after graduation. And as they were all aiming to be promoted to C-rank when they finished, not D-rank, extra magical abilities would be a great help.

What to do…?

Mile fretted over the question until daybreak.

***

“All right girls, let’s get going!”

It was the following rest day.

After waking early and rushing through breakfast—all at Reina’s urging—the four girls set out through the capital city to the Hunter’s Guild.

Naturally, there was a hall even in the capital.

Because of its location, this hall was a kind of capital of its own, serving as a central place to consolidate the needs of all the individual halls within the country. However, as the Hunters’ Guild was spread across many countries, there was still no single place that could be called the true headquarters, which was advantageous. With no “head” in any particular place, there was thus no head that could be easily crushed—nor could the organization at large be taken over.

However, in exchange for this security and stability, the guild was slow to mobilize, and once a decision had been fixed in place, it was no small task to alter it. Whenever a big decision needed to be made, it was decided in an inter-country conference.

It was early in the morning, but the guild hall was already packed.

Or rather, the hall was packed because it was early in the morning.

One of the reasons for this was…

“Hey! They’re from the school!”

Indeed, it seemed that all the other students, just as short on money as Mile and her friends, had exactly the same idea.

The F and E-rank boards, in particular, had been ravaged. All the decent jobs that could be finished within a day were long gone.

“We’re too late…”

Reina slumped, devastated.

“W-well, there’s still standing orders and gathering tasks. Right?!” Mile said.

She perked up a little at her encouragement and went to confirm the prices on the request and materials board. Upon finding that the turn-in rewards for birds and jackalopes were fairly good, her vigor was restored.

“Well, that’s the capital for you! There are tons of buyers, so at least the price of meat is high. Let’s get a move on!”

And so, Team C of the twelfth class of the Hunters’ Prep School embarked on their first mission.

***

“This isn’t working…”

Reina collapsed in a heap, both hands planted on the ground beside her.

In order to earn four silver apiece, they would, collectively, need to catch at least eight birds or jackalopes—or two foxes.

If they caught something larger, like a deer, they would only need one, but thus far, no such fortune had visited them.

It had been three hours now since they had begun hunting and was nearly noon. They had caught only a single jackalope and a single bird. At this rate, they would go home with only one silver each.

Even if they worked their hardest in the four hours following their lunch break and things continued as they were, at best, they would only net another three catches. For Reina, who was in the most dire straits of all of them, this was a serious problem.

It seemed she had overlooked something critical. True, the population of the capital was large, but so was the amount of meat all its people consumed—and too the number of fledgling hunters. As a result, the hunting grounds near the city had already been picked clean.

I had better say something soon, Mile thought, as they sat down for a midday break, taking out their food and unwrapping it.

Just then, Reina’s gaze landed on Mile’s meal. “Hang on, what is that?!”

“Huh? It’s just my lunch…”

The other three were eating stale bread they had collected from the cafeteria and rehydrated with some water, but Mile was eating a roast meat sandwich and drinking black tea, which she had pretended to pull from storage space—though in actuality, it had come from her loot box.

“How is it still warm?!” Reina asked. In the end, she stole the lion’s share of the sandwich.

***

“Um, there is something I would like to suggest to everyone…” Mile finally said, as the girls rested after their meal, Mile finally spoke.

Everyone turned to look and Mile continued. “The reason that we haven’t been able to catch anything is partly due to the fact that the prey is simply hard to find, but I also think a part of it is that our magic isn’t accurate enough. We don’t have an archer, so we’re relying on long-range spells…”

“Hey! Are you saying that I suck?!” Reina sputtered.

Mile kept speaking in an attempt to pacify the other girl. “Um, I believe I mentioned before that I was skilled in many types of magic, so, well, if you like, I was thinking we could perhaps take a brief break from hunting to study some technique.”

“Are you saying you’re going to teach us something?”

“Y-yes, well…” She trailed off, well aware that the idea of being taught by someone younger than her wouldn’t be good for Reina’s ego. Already, Mile regretted bringing it up.

However…

“Come to think of it, you’ve been letting me take all the shots,” Mile said. “You haven’t fired off any magic. And sitting around getting frustrated isn’t going to get us anywhere. Maybe we should just have a bit of practice—you know, for a change of pace.”

In an unexpected turn, Reina agreed with Mile.

Mile was surprised, but she grinned.

It was time for their journey to begin.

average 1.5

Chapter 6:
Fledgling Hunter

It was twelve days later. In a certain regional capital located in a country far from the Kingdom of Brandel—the land of Adele’s birth—there stood a hall, which sported a signboard etched with a crossed sword, spear, and staff.

It was not the home of a blacksmith or a weapons shop.

No, this was the hall of the Hunters’ Guild.

And in front of it, stood a young girl, alone.

Of all that she had saved, only three silver coins remained. She had used the rest of her money to purchase a tunic, trousers, boots, and a leather breastplate. After that, she had picked up a cheap secondhand sword at a weapons shop. As a normal sword would have shattered if she had swung it at full strength, she had inevitably needed to rework it.

She purchased a relatively short sword to suit her stature, then implored the nanomachines to gather iron sand from the silt of the river bed to incorporate into her blade. Iron sand, she knew, was the same material used in Japanese katana, and the new blade was strong and durable.

In order to emulate the techniques of a craftsman, she gave the nanomachines only simple, direct instructions, to be enacted with earth magic.

What she wanted was an unbreakable sword, one that wouldn’t bend or weaken. The sharpness had to be normal and the materials equalized to achieve the optimal carbon content.

I don’t care if you turn it into mithril or adamantine or orihalcum or hihi’irokane or any other rare metal, she told the nanomachines. If you need to rework the molecular structure, then go ahead and do that, too. Just make sure it looks like a normal sword!

And so, her mysterious blade was completed.

Even the girl herself had no idea what it was truly made of.

She could never have crafted the whole thing alone—it was too difficult to picture a grip or scabbard from the raw materials, so these had a standard appearance. But the blade was the sword’s real strength.

She was ready to defeat some monsters—to become a perfectly normal, average hunter. With that aim in mind, the girl opened the door to the hall of the Hunters’ Guild and stepped inside

The guild hall was empty.

It was early afternoon, hardly the busiest time of day.

There were no hunters talking, drinking, or trading stories of the day’s adventures.

The girl turned to the empty reception window. “Excuse me, I’d like to register as a hunter,” she called hesitantly.

“Oh, h-hello!” A flustered girl of seventeen or eighteen years, who appeared to have embarked on this line of work only recently, greeted her. “Um, d-do you know how to write?”

“Yes, I do.”

“All right, then. Please fill this out for me.”

The girl accepted the blank form from the clerk and moved to a registration desk nearby. She placed the form atop it, gripping the provided pen as she looked the form over. Naturally, the very first blank was for her name.

My name…

The girl thought hard.

Well, I certainly can’t use the name Adele. Not unless I run into some old classmate from the academy…

Misato was the name that she had in her previous life, but now, she needed to come up with something new.

Just then, she recalled a conversation she once had with her father when she was young. It was during elementary school, when they had been given an assignment that required them to ask their parents about the origin of their names.

When Misato asked her father about the origin of her own name, he had said this:

“Well, Misato, you know that your father’s work is all about airplanes, right? In the world of aviation, we use a measure of distance called a mile.

“There are both sea miles and land miles, but even within the category of land miles, there are international miles, survey miles, statute miles, and a number of others—all of which differ in length by country. It’s a huge pain.

“However, when it comes to the land and sea, in the aviation and maritime industries, everyone uses the same nautical mile as the main unit of measurement. The sky and sea are connected throughout the whole world, meaning it would be a problem if every country used measurements of their own.

“Unlike land miles, which follow a number of different standards, nautical miles have only one measure. If you travel once around the world, from north to south, you would go 360 degrees. Each mark of that latitude is 60 miles, and so 1/60th of that will always be one mile.

“The kanji for ‘Misato’ can also be read ‘Kairi.’ And that word is the Japanese term for a nautical mile.

“No matter where you go in the world, a nautical mile is always the same. I wanted to find a name that conveyed those universal qualities, and that’s why we picked your name.’

The girl let the feather pen glide along the page, inscribing her name.

Mile.

And so, the rookie hunter “Mile” was born.

Mile filled in the rest of the fields on the form.

Gender? Female. Age? Twelve. Occupation? Magic user. Specialization? None. Seeking a party? No. Past history and commendations as a hunter? None.

She returned the completed form to the clerk at the window, who accepted it without protest. “Miss Mile, is it?” she said. “Are you from around here?”

“No, I was born deep in the mountains, but both my parents passed away. Now I have to make it on my own, and there is no other work I can do…”

“I-I’m so sorry. I overstepped… Well, let’s get you acquainted with the guild!”

The explanation that Laura, the clerk, proceeded to give her was more or less the same as what she’d heard from the boys in her class.

Hunters had eight ranks, lettered G through S.

G-rank was reserved for what were called “guild hopefuls”—children six to nine years of age who were given odd jobs around the town or tasks such as accompanying those who went out to collect herbs.

At ten years old, these hopefuls were allowed to become proper guild members, but they started out at F, the lowest rank, and could only be tasked with collecting plants and minerals; tracking birds, deer, and wild boars for harvest; and weeding out jackalopes and other lesser monsters.

At E-rank, they could take on goblins and orcs, and at D-rank, restrictions were finally removed from the hunters.

Still, D-ranks had somewhat of a lesser reputation, and though it was not unheard of for them to be offered jobs such as being bodyguards and the like, most employers only sought hunters of C-rank and above.

Indeed, C-rankers were what would normally be thought of as “full-fledged hunters,” and their ranks were the largest. Thanks to this, however, their ability levels were greatly varied—from just beyond D-rank to just before B-rank.

B-ranks were first class, and highly esteemed, especially in smaller towns in the country. A-ranks were veritable legends, while anyone who reached S-rank—the highest tier—was heralded as a hero.

However, there were but a few S-ranks, even within the royal capital.

Promotions were decided by committee, based on a hunter’s completed jobs, achievements, and contributions to the guild. However, in some rare cases, only a minimum amount of time was required to be registered before a promotion occurred.

Promotion fraud was absolutely forbidden, and anyone caught undermining the system could be permanently expelled from the guild, no matter their position. In the worst cases, hunters had even been known to be executed. Therefore, there wasn’t a soul who would let themselves be led astray by anything less than a king’s ransom.

Guild members were expected to settle any internal disputes amongst themselves, so long as they remained petty quarrels. In the event that a hunter committed an actual crime, they were tried and punished by both the guild and the local law enforcement. The guild members were still citizens of the town, and a crime was a crime, so violent conduct and extortion and the like were dealt with accordingly.

As the clerk continued her explanation, the hunter’s badge, which she’d apparently started making after receiving the girl’s paperwork, was completed. It was a small iron tag, worn on a chain around the neck. On it was engraved an “F” (or rather, that world’s equivalent of the letter), as well as Mile’s name, the name of the guildhall, and a registration number.

Of course, as it was not equipped with any secret functions that automatically logged monster kills, nor received urgent messages from the guild, it was necessary to bring back a trophy as proof every time one killed a monster. If one relocated to another town, it was necessary for a letter of introduction and an assessment record to be forwarded to the new guildhall before the transfer could be finalized.

In order to preserve confidentiality, the specifics of these transfers were never made public, so there was no danger of revealing one’s whereabouts.

“Should you encounter the body of a hunter anywhere,” Laura said, “please retrieve and return that hunter’s mark. We will need to contact the family of the departed and process their removal from the register. Then, once their hunter’s badge has been marked as invalid, we return it to the family as a memento. Whoever returns the tag will of course receive a humble sum from the guild as a reward. In some cases, the relatives will also offer the finder a token of their gratitude. And of course, all items found on the body at the time of discovery, including weapons and armor, become the property of the finder.”

As the clerk handed Mile her badge, she continued her explanation.

The reward money was only a pittance, rendering it unlikely that a hunter would continually “find” other hunters’ bodies without good reason. This discouraged the hunting of other hunters. Indeed, it sounded as though this system had been put in place just for this purpose, to encourage the proper return of tags rather than the theft of deceased hunter’s belongings.

Her overview then complete, the clerk turned once more to Mile and said, “Welcome to the Hunters’ Guild!”

***

That evening, Mile lay in a bed at the inn nearest the guildhall, planning for the following day.

There were many jobs for F-rank hunters. However, these were not individual requests, but rather outstanding orders, or calls for material to be gathered in the area surrounding the town. Such orders meant that new job requests weren’t issued daily, but rather, kept perpetually on the guild’s records, so hunters could hunt and harvest as they pleased without giving formal notice and then simply bring back their trophies and goods to the delivery point to collect their payment. The listing was always accompanied by the daily reward for goblin slaying or medicinal herbs or jackalope meat—whatever good or service happened to be in demand during that particular season.

Other harvested goods weren’t covered by these outstanding orders, but there were certain items for which one could always find a buyer, provided they appraised well. These included birds, boars, and deer, edible tree fruits and mushrooms, wild vegetables, ores and minerals, and many other items. They were assessed by size and quality, with their monetary value changing according to the prices set in the city markets each day.

If Mile were only taking outstanding orders and harvesting, this would save her the trouble of waking up early to pack into the crowded guild for the daily assignment of new tasks. All she had to do was go straight from the inn to the forest.

There were also certain ways that Mile, an F-rank hunter, could hunt higher-ranked monsters than jackalopes in order to earn more money. One of those ways was to join a party, but that was something Mile wasn’t considering. Another way was to hunt down monsters from higher-ranked outstanding orders.

The job ranks were largely in place to prevent inexperienced hunters from taking on jobs they weren’t prepared for and losing their lives, as well as to minimize the failure rate for jobs that the guild accepted. On outstanding orders, which were not assigned like individual requests, there were no failure rates: if you failed, you could just do it over again. Plus, the value of materials requested via outstanding orders never changed.

Of course, this wasn’t especially recommended, but as long as one acknowledged the risks and took responsibility for oneself, the guild would turn a blind eye. However, Mile had no intention of trying her hand at battling higher-ranked monsters unless they happened upon her. She was just a normal, average F-rank hunter, after all.

As for why she chose the path of a hunter, there were several reasons. Firstly, it was something that anyone could become, no matter their age or appearance. With a hunter’s badge, she could easily and openly cross territorial and national borders. Thus, in the event that her name and reputation somehow spread to other countries, she could simply move to a faraway land and start over again as a newly registered F-rank hunter under a new name.

Also, as she would only be facing monsters and beasts, it wasn’t a big deal if she slipped up in limiting her power. Indeed, if she acted alone, she could use her magic and sword abilities as she pleased without others noticing. And if something unfortunate happened, she could immediately transfer to another country. By keeping her distance from other hunters, she could disappear without a trace and no one would care.

Besides, if she’d had to tend a shop from morning until night every single day, she would’ve been bored out of her skull. Once a week had been one thing, but she’d prefer to be able to save up enough to live a peaceful life of matrimony some time in the future.

With these reasons in mind, she couldn’t think of any other career that she could possibly wish to undertake—especially considering the fact that, above all, a hunter was a completely mundane, average, normal career, one that any old dunce could do.

***

The following day, Mile woke up bright and early to hurry out on her first job.

As she could use harvesting magic, she didn’t need any bags. However, if she were to go around empty-handed, people might realize that she was doing something unusual, so she slung a bag over her back. This was only to carry her spoils. The bread for her lunch and her water skin were stored away in the loot box space, so as to keep them from being damaged. The only equipment she wore was her leather breast plate and boots, along with the mystery sword at her waist. She looked very much like a novice hunter.

She was in a remote city, so it was but a short distance from the inn to the forests where the prey lived. It would take an adult about one hour by foot, but Mile arrived in fifteen minutes. Of course, it only took her that long because she slowed down when she saw other people—and because she avoided running at full speed so as to avoid trampling the plantlife along her way.

“So, this is the Hunters’ Woods…” she mused. She had received a map and directions from the clerk, and now there was no mistaking that she had arrived.

It was a dense forest, and there were no traces of other humans, so Mile let herself think aloud. Walking around in silence got a bit lonesome.

“The more experienced people go deeper into the woods or to a different forest entirely,” she muttered as she stepped deeper into the forest. “This is an area intended for novices, so of course there shouldn’t be any big, high-reward monsters around here…”

After a brief walk, she spotted a bird sitting on a tree branch. Though these woods were dim, she could somehow see it quite clearly.

However, though she could see it, there was no way her sword could reach a bird up in the top of a tree. Even so, it was a fairly large bird—if she could catch it, she would certainly be able to sell it for a nice sum. And if she didn’t, well, she might find herself going without food (her lodging, thankfully, had already been arranged).

Mile looked down at the ground, spotted a fist-sized rock, and picked it up. She wound up and pitched it at the bird as hard as she could.

Bwam!

A great roaring reverberated throughout the woods.

The bird vanished from sight. The upper part of the tree, where the bird had been sitting, vanished as well.

Somehow, she didn’t get the impression that the bird had fled.

Her vision still somewhat sharper than normal, Mile could clearly see bits of meat and feathers, and a few bloodstains, spattered against the remaining tree.

“Noooooooo…”

Several minutes later, she began walking once more, the pockets of her tunic stuffed with a number of small pebbles, each about the size of the tip of her pinky.

Something that size should only pierce them, she thought, deciding that she would aim for their heads. Mile was, after all, an intelligent girl.

However, perhaps because of the terrible roaring sound, there wasn’t another animal in sight. Without any other options, Mile resorted to picking herbs.

However, she had heard that they were exceptionally difficult to find, so she had to employ a bit of cunning. That’s right, she thought. It’s time for some location magic.

Mile was the sort of person who figured there was no point in doing a lot of hard work if you had access to a tool that might help you.

“Location magic! Show me the way to medicinal herbs!”

PROCEED SEVENTEEN STEPS BEFORE TURNING LEFT, THEN PROCEED SIX STEPS.

“What are you, a GPS??! Those are just directions! That isn’t magic!!”

WELL, REMEMBER—THE THING THAT EVERYONE CALLS MAGIC IS ALL OUR DOING, ANYWAY…

“Good point.”

Mile fell to her knees, a bit disappointed. Truthfully, she had been hoping for something a bit more magical—like a radar screen with red and blue dots, or a pillar of light that would radiate from the spots where the herbs were growing.

IF THAT IS WHAT YOU WISH FOR, WE CAN CREATE IT.

“Can you?!” Mile didn’t want to rely too much on the nanomachines, so she tried not to speak to them except when she was working magic. However, this time, she responded immediately.

If anyone were to see her, they’d probably have mistaken her for some kind of weirdo performing a one-woman show.

Before her eyes, the location magic shifted forms to a radar system—sans voice navigation. The signals seemed to be beamed directly to her retinas, and using these coordinates, Mile gathered the herbs. After accumulating a certain amount of one herb, she switched to a different variety, storing the first away in her loot box, figuring that it wasn’t smart to collect too many of the same thing.

A little while after she began gathering, the last echoes of the great boom she had instigated had finally faded, and the animals that had hidden away in their burrows and dens started to reappear.

Facing a jackalope that had appeared a short distance away, Mile drew one of the tiny pebbles from her pocket and flicked it with her fingers.

On Earth, there was a special finger technique whereby one could flick a metal ball or coin with one’s fingers in order to distract or startle an enemy. Mile’s version, of course, was different.

Whoosh!

The pebble struck the animal perfectly in the skull, piercing it right through, leaving the meat, pelt, and—most importantly—the horns undamaged. The jackalope’s sale value would be undiminished. Pleased with the outcome, Mile gave up on collecting herbs and switched to hunting beasts.

Jackalopes, birds, fox-like creatures—one by one, they fell prey to her pebbles. After a while, she stopped to replenish her stock of ammo, but was soon back at it with a vengeance.

With a spear or sword, the animals would have run before she could get too close, and the chance of actually hitting a creature with a bow and arrow wasn’t very high. As a result, normal hunters tended not to go for birds and other small animals. Then again, they would never have been able to spot them as easily as she was in the first place. Even without using location magic, Mile had an uncanny sense that allowed her to spot prey easily, one animal after another. And thanks to that, even when she missed and startled a creature away, she could still manage to fell it before it escaped her.

She continued her hunting until suddenly a giant boar appeared.

Bwoosh!

It was a huge catch.

Mile started on her path home, utterly giddy. But then, she realized something.

“I’m a mage, but I didn’t use magic even once…”

Apparently, she didn’t count the search magic she used while gathering herbs as “using magic.” Unlike combat magic, the things she had been executing weren’t exactly what one imagined a hunter mage doing—however, she couldn’t help but think of those things as a kind of roadmap.

Ultimately, at the end of the day, Mile had used neither her attack magic nor her sword.

***

Mile made her way back to the guildhall to exchange her spoils for money. Her bag, which carried but a portion of what she had gathered, was slung over her right shoulder. Thinking of future situations, Mile decided it was best not to hide that she could use storage magic. Instead, she would make the appeal that it was possible for her to hunt properly while still using it. Otherwise, she would never be able to carry all her prey.

But today, she was only going to be turning in her herbs and jackalopes, as per the standing order, as well as selling off the other meat and materials she had gathered. She headed straight for the reception window but was stopped along the way by a man’s voice.

“You have a moment?”

Does he mean to flirt with me? Mile wondered.

When she turned to look, the man—or rather, a boy of about fifteen—continued to speak, looking a bit flustered.

“Oh, n-no! Please don’t get the wrong idea! I just wanted to invite you to join our party! We’re five now, but we still don’t have enough attack power. We were hoping to gather one more person. This is all of us so far.”

Behind the boy, some boys and girls of around fourteen or fifteen years of age stood in pairs.

“I’ve never seen you around here before,” the boy said. “Did you come from some other town? Judging by that catch, you must be pretty skilled, but it’s easy to end up in a tight spot when you’re hunting solo.”

“We aren’t much older than you, and we already have girls with us, so you don’t have to worry about being the only one. How about it? Will you think it over?”

Mile had absolutely no interest in joining a party. If she hunted with others, they would discover very quickly that she was an anomaly. Soon, the other members of the group would start leaning on her—or worse, selling information about her to a noble somewhere.

At the same time, it was pretty peculiar of her to continue standing around talking with her bag on her shoulder. She didn’t want to start a quarrel with this young man.

“Um, well… Can I go finish turning in my goods first?”

“Oh, sorry.” The boy took her request literally and said, “I’ll wait right here.”

Mile proceeded to the exchange station and handed over her captured prey, along with her name and registration number. With this information, a hunter’s deeds—even if they were only everyday tasks such as gathering meat or herbs—could be recorded on their achievement log, to be referenced in their promotions.

“Well now, little lady.” The old man at the exchange station sounded highly impressed.

“You’re young, but you’ve got a lot of skill. You got a lotta these guys, and their pelts’re in perfect condition. I’ll put a special mark down fer this.”

“Really?! Thank you so much! Oh—that’s right—I have a few more…”

She pulled the rest of her prey out of her storage space and piled everything up on the desk. The old man’s eyes went wide with shock.

“St-storage magic… And there’s so much here…”

“Oh, I—is this unusual?”

“No, er, nothin’ unusual…”

When Mile finally pulled the boar from her bag, the old man’s jaw dropped.

Yet as unsettled as he obviously was by this turn of events, the man was still a professional. When he picked his jaw back up off the floor, he began sorting out the goods.

The birds and jackalopes were each worth 2 silver coins a piece, the vulpine creature was worth 8 silver, thanks to its pelt, and the boar was worth a whole 8 half-gold! She had brought in five each of the birds and jackalopes, so altogether, her payment totaled to 1 gold, 8 silver. In terms of modern-day Japanese currency, that was roughly equal to 108,000 yen.

Of course, it was thanks to the boar that the sum was so large this time. However, even without it, Mile would have brought in about 28,000 yen. If she worked thirty days out of a thirty-six day month, she would bring in 840,000 yen. That was a considerable salary.

Becoming a hunter was the best decision ever!!! Mile thought.

Overjoyed, Mile left the exchange station before suddenly, she realized something.

Oh wait! I forgot to turn in my herbs…

Having stashed the herbs in her loot box rather than using storage magic, Mile had completely forgotten about them. However, as long as they were in the loot box, they wouldn’t go bad. She could just turn them in next time.

Factoring in the herbs, Mile’s monthly salary would be ten gold pieces—over one million yen.

When she returned to the boy and his party, something about them seemed a little bit odd. Some were staring blankly. Others were completely agog. It was just like the old man at the exchange station before…

“So, about earlier—” she began to say.

“Hey, you!” A man in his thirties rushed in, interrupting Mile’s words. “You can use storage magic? How much can you hold?”

Mile was utterly appalled at the man’s arrogant manner. She completely ignored him, turning instead to the boy before her. “Please allow me to ask something.”

“Hey, brat!” the man snarled.

Mile continued to ignore him. “First of all, out of all of these hunters here, why would you choose me?”

“Are you listening?!”

“To be frank,” she went on, “I am much smaller than everyone else here, aren’t I? Did you not think that might hold you back?”

“Quit messing around!” The man was indignant. The boy was flustered.

In the evenings, the guildhall was packed with hunters, so a little quarrel like this was nothing out of the ordinary. Still, everyone looked on out of idle interest to see how the newcomer would handle herself.

“You are much too loud! Please, be quiet. Can’t you see I’m trying to have a conversation?”

“Wh-what…? W-well, you were ignoring me, so…”

“Oh! Were you talking to me? I do apologize. I couldn’t believe that you would possibly be so mannerless as to butt into someone else’s conversation without even a greeting, so I merely assumed that you were speaking to someone who I couldn’t see.”

“Y-you damn brat! You think you can mess with me… W-well, fine. You’re gonna join our party. Then you can do some proper work carrying our bags!”

“Anyway,” Mile turned back to the boy. “What is it that you four normally hunt for?”

“Can you even hear me?!?!”

“You, sir, are a nuisance. If you have something to discuss with me, please wait your turn. However, if you’ve come to petition me for either a loan or a date, I must preemptively refuse. I too have the freedom to choose—”

“You little twit!!!” The indignant man drew his sword, swinging it down at Mile. The other hunters leapt to stop him, but they could never have made it in time.

Shing!

Ka-thump.

Everyone froze. Several hunters stopped in place, as though they had seized up mid-run.

The man stood still and silent, gripping the hilt of a bladeless sword. Mile held the stance of someone who had just swung a weapon. And there, clattering to the floor, was the sword’s blade—but it wasn’t a broken edge that it had. The massive blade had been cut clean off.

“Wh-wha…?”

Schwip!

With a flick, Mile returned her sword to its sheath.

A beat later, the man’s iron cross guard snapped in two.

“Ee….” He stumbled back slowly, then turned on his heel and ran.

Two other hunters, most likely members of his party, followed in a panic.

It was probable that the man hadn’t actually intended to cut Mile down; there was a strong chance that he had instead intended to stop short, just to give her a fright. However, Mile was not the sort of optimistic idiot who would assume such was the case and simply do nothing. If she hadn’t acted and he hadn’t stopped short, then she would’ve been killed.

“Now, as I was saying…” Mile attempted to return to her previous conversation, but the boy only stared at her with his mouth agape, unable to respond.

As Mile stood there, baffled, another hunter in his thirties began to speak.

“Little miss, that sword of yours…. It’s amazing… Where did you get your hands on it?”

Oh dear.

It was likely that the hunter had no ulterior motive beyond simply an interest in swords, but if people thought her sword was amazing, then they would covet it.

“Uh, I just bought it at a shop, like most people, you know? It was just a used sword from the bargain bin.”

“You’re joking me! With an edge like that?!”

What do I do? Ah, wait!

“Um, could I borrow your sword a minute?”

“Hm? Oh, well, sure…”

The man detached the sheath from his waist and handed it to Mile, who fastened it on her left side, beside her own blade.

“Now, could I kindly ask someone to toss a copper piece into the air?”

“I’ll toss it!”

A curious crowd began to gather around Mile, and one of the hunters spoke up, pulling his coin purse from his breast pocket to produce a single copper coin.

“Here we go! And…hup!”

Shing! Snap!

Mile swung the man’s blade quicker than the eye could see, then thrust her left hand into the air.

“Here you are.”

Mile stretched her palm out to the man who had lent her the sword, revealing two clean-cut halves of a copper coin.

“N-no way…” He stared at it, dumbfounded. “W-with my sword…?!” The man plucked the coin halves from Mile’s hand, staring at them in a daze, his disbelief clear.

“You see? It has nothing to do with the sword. It just takes a knack.”

Was this girl serious? Everyone present in the hall, hunters and clerks alike, were confounded by Mile’s pronouncement.

However, as members of the guild, they were forbidden to launch an inquiry into another’s past or abilities. Invasive questions were frowned upon, so they merely watched and listened intently.

Mile returned the man’s sword, glad to finally get back to her conversation with the boy. “So. You were saying something about having insufficient attack power…”

“Y-yes! Right now, we have a sword-wielder, a spear-wielder, and a bow-wielder, as well as two mages, one of whom can use attack magic. The other’s more skilled at utility and healing magic… Anyway, things can get a little dicey in close-quarters combat, so we were thinking it would be nice to have one more decent swordsman to act as a rear guard…” This boy, presumably the leader, stumbled over his words as he attempted to explain the situation politely. Nevertheless, Mile understood his meaning.

“But, um, I’m a magic user, so…”

“Whaaaaaaaat?!”

This time the surprised shout came from the hunters behind them as well.

“B-but that sword—? And that thing you did earlier…”

“Oh, well, even as a rear-guard magician, sometimes enemies slip past the front lines and end up in front of you, right? And sometimes you get attacked from behind. So at the very least, I figured I should be able to use a sword well enough to protect myself, should that happen. I’m really a pretty half-baked swordsman.”

Bang bang bang bang bang!

Mile heard a strange sound behind her and turned to look, only to see the swordsman-like fellow she had been speaking to earlier banging his head against a wall. Had he eaten something bad? What was all that about?

Yet unlike the flabbergasted advance-guard swordsmen, the rear-guard magic users appeared somewhat relieved. If there were really a swordsman who was also able to use such a rare, high-level skill as storage magic, then there would be no point at all in having magic users of their level around. On the other hand, having an excellent mage who could also cross swords with the best swordsmen… That was thrilling.

“S-sorry… We figured you were a D-rank hunter, just like us, so…”

“Oh, um, D-rank? Wouldn’t having a two-rank difference make things difficult?” Mile had been trying to come up with a good reason to refuse, and now, the rank gap would provide her with an out. She had assumed that the boy and his party were also E or F-rank, so, really, this was a fortuitous surprise.

“Two? Ah, you’re a B, huh? That makes sense, what with the storage magic and your sword skills. You look rather young, but I assume you must be an elf or a dwarf? Please, forgive my rudeness…”

“Oh no, I’m just a plain, average, ordinary human. I only became a hunter yesterday. I’m an F-rank.”

Ka-thak!

Thwump!

Smack!

Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang!

A variety of noises resounded behind her.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!?!”

Mile was startled at the sudden ferocity of the voices behind her.

“Come on, even so…”

“There’s no such thing as an F-rank like you! Why didn’t you put in a skip application when you registered?!”

“Huh? A skip application? What’s that?”

At Mile’s blithe response, the hunters looked still more horrified, and at the front of the hall, the officials’ faces went pale.

“Someone call the guild master!”

At the command of a man who appeared to be a veteran hunter, one of the guild officials ran frantically up the stairs.

“Little miss, who registered you?”

“Umm, she was a lady with blonde hair, about seventeen or eighteen years old. I think her name was Leira? Or Lorrie…?”

“Laura! Damn that girl! This is ridiculous.”

Mile shrank back. This seemed to be becoming quite a to-do.

“Is there a problem…?”

“Don’t you worry, little miss. You’re not in the wrong here. The guild master’s coming to sort this out.”

After several minutes, the official who had run up the stairs returned with the guild master in tow. It had probably taken some time to fully explain the situation. After all, it would have been unthinkable for the master to meet with someone he had no prior knowledge of—especially now that a problem had arisen.

The guild master who descended wasn’t the tall, beefy sort that Mile had imagined, but rather the kind of man you might reasonably mistake for a regional bank manager. Perhaps, she thought, he had been selected for his managing ability rather than his combat skills.

“Is this the young lady in question? Where is Laura, anyway?”

“Yes, sir. This is her. And Laura is off today, but I’ll go fetch her straight away,” replied a nearby clerk.

The guild master nodded, then turned to Mile. “My apologies. It appears that one of my staff has slipped up, but I’d like to try and get this sorted. Would you mind coming with me for a moment?”

“Yes, of course,” said Mile.

The veteran hunter who had spoken up before chimed in. “Mind if the rest of us sit in on this too? We wouldn’t want anybody pulling the wool over the eyes of this innocent little lady. Gotta make sure she knows that this was a guild slip-up and not a reflection on all us hunters.”

The guild master nodded, and the veteran called over two other older hunters. Together, they all moved into the meeting room.

As they sipped tea, Laura, the receptionist from yesterday, arrived breathless, her face very pale.

“First off, let’s confirm Laura’s side. You were the one who registered this girl, Miss Mile, yesterday. Is that correct?”

“Y-yes…” Laura nodded, her face still ashen.

“And at that time, did you tell her about the skip applications?”

“N-no…”

“Why not?”

“W-well, she was newly registering at twelve years old, so I assumed she was just a beginner…”

“And what do the guidelines say?”

“Th-that we should explain everything to everyone…”

With this misstep confirmed, the guild master held his head.

“She listed her occupation as magic user, didn’t she? Why didn’t you confirm her skill level?!”

“Well, she was carrying a sword, so I figured that even if she said she was a mage, the sword was her main means of combat and her magic was fairly weak…”

“You idiot! She bested Matthew with her sword in one blow, and she can use storage magic! That’s the skill of a B-ranker at the very least! You would’ve made a person like this sit around for years collecting herbs and hunting jackalopes! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I-I wasn’t…” Laura, now in shock at the magnitude of her mistake, was on the verge of tears.

Truly, it was all quite understandable. The difference in earnings and reputation between an F-rank and a C or B-rank was as considerable as the difference between straw and gold. Her mistake would have sentenced a promising new recruit to sacrifice valuable years of their life, an irreparable act, and one that wouldn’t have occurred had Laura not decided to follow her own judgment instead of the guild regulations.

“Um…” Mile interjected timidly, still not grasping the gravity of the situation. “I’m okay staying like this…”

“Do you really think that’s possible?!?!”

The attending hunters stirred in anger.

“Do you know what kind of precedent it would set if the guild just let a mistake like this go?! Think about the other hunters! Since when have there been any F-rank hunters who could use storage magic?!”

As Mile stared blankly, one of the hunters elaborated. Storage magic was a fairly high-level magic, so the people who could use it were few. With such magic, you could carry large quantities of spare armor and weapons, food and water, and of course, collect materials and prey, so your rate of earnings increased several-fold. If you were able to use said magic, others would defend you with their lives, even if you were weak in combat. It wasn’t unreasonable that you would be able to join C through A-rank parties.

Thus, if you could use storage magic, no matter how poor your other abilities were, you would be authorized as a C-rank at minimum. And so, given that Mile could use other magic fairly well also, as well as being particularly handy with a sword, it was only reasonable that she would be invited to join parties of B-rank or higher.

“So then, could I just re-register?”

“If that were possible, this wouldn’t be such a problem.”

This time, the guild master explained. Apparently, in the past, there had been many nobles and dependents of such who tried to forcibly have their ranks raised, whether by bribery or influence. In order to prevent this, the rank promotion rules were firmly set, so that once a person registered, they could not re-register at a higher rank. Generally speaking, anyone who unregistered only to re-register again was placed at the same or a lower rank than before, as in the case of a retiree getting back into the business of hunting.

Early promotion was an option, but there were still obstacles. A minimum number of years participating in the guild were required, and exceptions were incredibly rare unless one was a hero acting in a time of national crisis.

Even if the guild was able to arrange such a thing quietly, thinking they wouldn’t get caught, the risks were too high and the punishments too severe: no one would ever dare put themselves in such danger. If one official, or even one hunter, slipped up, and word got around to the wrong people, it would all be over for the guild.

This was part of the reason why new recruits were to have their skills and abilities confirmed at time of registration. If it were found that their background or abilities qualified them for a rank skip, then it would be reported to the guild master, and that recruit would be tested before the guild officials and several high-ranking hunters, who collectively would decide the individual’s rank.

It was not uncommon for soldiers and knights to become hunters after retiring, as well as former court magicians driven out of their homes by civil war and other conflicts. Obviously, not everyone started at F-rank.

Even Mile, as things stood, should have started out as a C-ranker—even though that was the last thing that the girl herself wanted.

“What the hell do we do?”

“I’m really fine like this…” Mile insisted.

“YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!” The veterans all roared, ignoring the troubled guild master’s attempts to quiet them. Mile shrank back.

If she could net ten gold pieces a month, there would be no complaints on Mile’s part; however, the veteran hunters could not stomach the thought of someone like her wasting all her time on fetch quests and other menial tasks, day in and day out. Plus, an F-ranker would be excluded from the roster of important folks who were called upon to respond when a great monster appeared, when the guild was asked to escort someone important, or when hunters were needed to participate in a disaster relief effort.

All in all, the guild wasn’t prepared to let someone who would be useful in these tasks sit around for years, frittering her time away. In particular, it was hard to overlook Mile’s storage magic, which could be used to bolster logistical support in transporting goods and help guildhalls in other cities during emergency situations when they might be lacking in personnel. True, the hunters couldn’t overrule the word of the guild master, but it was nonetheless a matter of grave importance, one which would have an effect on their very lives in times of emergency.

“What about the prep school in the capital…?” Laura offered softly, her face still pale and her head hanging.

“THAT’S IT!!!” The guild master and one of the hunters leapt from their seats.

The other two hunters seemed to have no idea what they were talking about. Naturally, neither did Mile.

***

The Hunters’ Prep School.

It had begun operating in the country’s capital only six years before. The school was an experimental institute, designed to impart the knowledge and technique required of a novice hunter in just half a year, allowing one to attain a D or even C-rank upon graduation. It had initially been proposed by a nobleman from a hunter’s background, who was concerned by the fact that, due to the years of participation before one could become a full-fledged hunter, even the most talented candidates were limited in how much they could achieve before reaching an age for retirement.

“Whether they’re noble or commoner—or in certain cases, even slaves—anyone can enroll there without obstacle. Because no one is accepted without a guild master’s recommendation, the program has a high success rate; it’s part of every guild master’s duties to scout for new recruits. They stake their own reputations on these referrals. However…”

“However?”

“If the person a guild master refers is ever judged unfit to attend the academy, the student will be expelled at once. And the guild master who recommended the student in question will be looked at very critically by the higher-ups and should abandon any hope of promotion…”

As one of the hunters explained, Mile glanced in the direction of the guild master, who seemed quietly pleased, his eyes sparkling.

“I believe in you, Miss Mile…”

His eyes were no doubt those of an optimist.

***

And so, Mile consented to relocate to the country’s capital for enrollment in the Hunters’ Prep School. She got the impression that if she didn’t, Laura, the clerk, would probably be fired, and that the guild master—though his position was secure—would still face some kind of penalty.

Still influenced by her Japanese sense of propriety, Mile felt quite guilty. It seemed that this guildhall had carried on its day-to-day operations just fine until she came along: the anomaly, as always.

Laura learned from the incident, as well. Had she continued in the same manner, it was possible that she could have made the same mistake again in the future, but after this lesson, it was unlikely that she would ever again follow her own judgment over the guild’s regulations.

Frankly, it worked out for Mile either way.

She was going to end up a C-rank sooner or later, so it wasn’t a big deal when, exactly, it happened. The only reason she would have been a C-ranker in the first place was because she could use a bit of storage magic, and even if that were rare, at least it would still have put her in the category of an “ordinary” C-rank hunter. It wasn’t much different from being found out to have storage magic as an F-rank, anyway.

Plus, if she went far away and re-registered with a different guildhall, she would end up a C-rank, assuming she followed proper procedures. If she lied and registered as an F-rank, she would have to keep in line with other F-rank hunters, pretending she could not use storage magic at all—which would have been more than Mile thought she could bear. She had no interest in remaining poor by her own hand.

In the end, it was really only a difference of spending half a year as a student or not. And oh, how she wanted to. She wanted to so badly!

Her life as a student at Eckland Academy had ended abruptly, but she had relished it. She had conversed with everyone—like normal. She had made friends, and they had spent time together.

How she had longed to stay! She had wanted to be with everyone until graduation. How she regretted leaving. How her heart yearned.

With that in mind, her response was without hesitation.

“I’ll go! I’ll enroll!”

***

During the three weeks after it was decided that Mile would be going to the capital, she worked—worked hard.

According to a fellow hunter, tuition, lodging, and meals at the prep school were all free of charge. Plus, the students were allowed to continue working as hunters while enrolled, so really, the work she did during those three weeks was just to ensure that she had a bit of money to fall back on.

The next enrollment period was roughly a month from when she had decided to attend the school, which left her three weeks to work, followed by an eight-day carriage ride; the remaining ten days, she would spend preparing. If all went well, she would even be able to do a bit of sightseeing and take her time getting used to the lay of the land in the capital.

As has already been mentioned, Adele’s world had six days and months that were six weeks, so there were a lot of convenient ways in which the number of days could be broken down.

Now, as Mile did her hunting and gathering in the forest, she fought with magic and her sword rather than pebbles. This work did double duty, for as she hunted, she could also practice limiting her power, a skill she would need once she returned to school.

She had, of course, kept a cap on her strength while attending Eckland Academy; however, limiting one’s strength to match that of a typical preteen’s was not the same as trying to match the power of those who would also be graduating as C-rank hunters in half a year’s time. To do all this while embroiled in sword fights and combat magic would be another challenge altogether.

It is possible, Mile thought, that they might even conduct practice battles with real, bladed swords—not wooden ones. There might be magical duels. There might even be students there who were older than her, with more experience.

She caught birds with magic.

She bested jackalopes and vulpine creatures with a finely hewn wooden spear.

And boars and deer, she defeated with her sword.

Though she tried to keep her catches no more impressive than those of any other novice, she was constantly turning in prey that left the old man at the exchange station dumbfounded, and by the time she left she had stashed seven gold coins away neatly in her loot box. Combined with her previous earnings, she now had ten gold pieces in total—about 1,000,000 yen, in Japanese money.

This was more than enough to cover her travel expenses and interim lodging, as well as any other immediate necessities.

Finally, she would be able to purchase some clothes of her own, ones that weren’t hunting equipment or school uniforms.

***

And then, three weeks had passed since the discussion in the guild meeting room.

With the guild master, guild officials, and a few other hunters there to see her off, Mile’s carriage departed the city.

They would arrive at the capital in eight days.

Mile would have been able to travel much more quickly on her own, but as there was no need to, she refrained from drawing on that ability.

She was just an average, unremarkable F-rank hunter, after all.

As was only natural, the guild master and Laura shared the cost of her travel and meal expenses for the journey.

“There she goes…” the guild master murmured.

“Yes, indeed.” Laura replied.

“In six months, hopefully, she’ll come back to us as a C-rank hunter, and then it won’t be long—maybe a few years—before she reaches B-rank. She’s still quite young. I doubt that even A-rank would be out of her reach. It wouldn’t be a bad thing for the guild to have such a one among us.”

“Do you really think she’ll come back here? She won’t simply settle down in the capital?”

“Well, I’m sure she’s got family. She’ll have to come back for them, won’t she?”

“No, Miss Mile was born up in the mountains. She said that she only came down here to earn a living because both of her parents passed away. She isn’t from here, and she has no family.”

“Hm?”

“Huh?”

“Whaaaaat?!?!”

The guild master fell to his knees.

“P-please, at least let her graduate with honors so that my endorsement means something.”

He was nearly in tears.

Behind him, the several hunters who had overheard this conversation fell to their knees in disappointment.

***

The journey to the capital was a smooth one.

Mile’s new clothes were plain and cheaply made, giving her the appearance of a “typical, average” country girl.

Soon enough, the other passengers in the carriage became greatly indebted to her, as she was able to provide an endless supply of warm water whenever they stopped to make camp. Even so long after her time in the bakery, she still remembered a thing or two about customer service.

However, thanks to this skill, and the fact that she could store and produce food with storage magic, it was clear to everyone that she was someone special, plain clothes or no.

“So, you’re off to the capital, dear? Is it for work?”

“Um, actually I’m going to a prep school…”

“Ahh, you’re going to be a maid there, are you? It’s an elite school for hunters, so if you can snag yourself a good man with some potential, you’ll be set for life! A girl like you should have no trouble. In a few years, you won’t be able to keep the boys away from you!”

The woman who spoke was a bit of a flibbertigibbet, one of the passengers for whom Mile had produced warm water and venison. Mile smiled wryly at her assumption. The other passengers who overheard this exchange chuckled internally.

The idea of someone of such a young age who could use storage magic and summon that much water, working as a servant… The young woman was no doubt attending the school as a student in her own right.

Nine days after departure, the carriage arrived in the capital, a day later than expected.

It rained along the way, muddying the roads, and one of the carriage wheels had broken from the strain, delaying them. However, they had still arrived more quickly than one might expect in the face of an obstacle of this kind.

Except for those who were only stopping in the capital en route to other destinations, everyone disembarked at the central station, which was located directly in the middle of the city’s main square, and began to disperse.

“Thanks for the showers, dear!”

“Let’s ride together again sometime!”

The female passengers in particular offered their thanks for daily hot showers—a luxury not even enjoyed by most nobles—while all the passengers showered Mile with gratitude in the form of leftover food or trinkets from their hometowns.

“When you become a full-fledged hunter, I’ll definitely request you by name!”

At least someone had figured out that she wasn’t just going to work as a servant…

Naturally.

“So, this is the capital…”

The city, the capital of the Kingdom of Tils, had a much quainter feel than the capital of her former home, where she attended Eckland Academy. Indeed, in terms of national power—based on a calculation involving land area, population, and economic strength—the country possessed roughly one-seventh the power of the Kingdom of Brandel.

Here too, there was an academy attended by the children of nobles and other wealthy families. If Mile were to attend this academy, she might even make more friends like Marcela. Although the place was really none of her concern, it did prickle Mile, just a little, to think about it.

In any case, she would be residing in the city for at least half a year. She wouldn’t be able to move into the school’s dormitory until three days before the first of the term, or six days from now, which meant she needed to find an inn before taking a look around the capital. In the event that anything happened, knowing her surroundings could mean the difference between life and death.

But first she needed to secure a room. The sun was still high in the sky, so Mile set out, intending to ask some upstanding-seeming citizen where to find the best lodgings before making her own investigations.

She scolded herself for not simply asking the other passengers, many of whom had been native to the city.

As always, Mile had been quite careless.

***

That evening, just before sundown…

Mile stood in front of a humble inn.

On the advice of a kindly elderly couple, Mile had narrowed her decision down to three options, based on the conditions that they had to be safe for a young girl to stay at alone, relatively cheap, and provide good meals. From there, she visited each one to inspect the surrounding area, the quality of the other clientele, and the level of cleanliness around the entrances, before making her choice. Since this would determine her comfort, or lack thereof, for the next six days, she was fastidious in this process. If she failed in this regard, she could only chalk it up to her own lack of insight and perhaps a touch of bad luck.

Mile opened the door. “Excuse me, do you have any rooms available?”

“Why yes, we do!” said a cheerful girl in response as Mile stepped inside. The girl looked to be around ten years old and sat humbly behind the counter beyond the front door. She was probably the owner’s daughter, helping out while her parents were busy with dinner preparations.

“Well then, I’d like a room for six nights…”

“All right,” the girl nodded. “Lodging alone is four silver a night. If you want breakfast, it’s three half-silver, lunch is five half-silver, and dinner is eight half-silver. Hot water is five copper for one wash basin or two half-silver for a whole tub.”

“Hm, well I’d like to try eating at lots of different places while I’m here, so I’ll just have dinner for tonight and breakfast each morning, please. I’ll take care of the water myself.”

“Ohh, can you use magic?! That’s amazing…” The girl looked a tad envious.

Mile was aware of how blessed she was in this regard. Being able to summon water would be a very useful skill for an innkeeper’s daughter.

“The food should be ready any moment, but we only serve until the second evening bell.”

Mile had learned that the second evening bell rang around nine o’clock in the evening, while the first morning bell rang at six, and the second at nine. The first midday bell rang at twelve o’clock noon, the second midday bell at three, the first evening bell at six, and the second evening bell rang at nine.

“Ah, well, then I better go ahead and eat now.”

Once she had settled in, it would be a bother to come back downstairs, so Mile decided to eat while she was yet on the ground floor.

There were a variety of meal choices, but when Mile took a look at the menu posted on the wall, she found…

Orc Steak.

Orc Meat Stir Fry.

Orc Meat Stew.

Orc Kabobs.

Fried Orc Meat.

It seemed that the owners had a vested interest in getting people to eat orc meat.

Mile stared at the girl.

“Ha ha. They accidentally ordered way too much meat,” said the girl, smiling wryly.

It seemed that Mile hadn’t much choice. In truth, she had never eaten monster meat before. As was the case with most nobles, the Ascham family had never once served monster meat at their own table. Even at the academy, monster meat had never been served, out of consideration for the many nobles in attendance.

Yet it wasn’t as though the meat was poisonous, so Mile was not especially bothered by the thought of consuming it. In fact, she expected that she would be eating like this quite frequently from now on. It was simply a new experience. That was all. And soon, it wouldn’t be a new experience at all, as hunting would provide her with many more opportunities to eat such things. Perhaps she would even try cooking some herself at some point in the future. With this in mind, she placed her order.

“One orc steak, please.”

And soon, there it was before her. An orc steak, with orc meat soup, and bread and salad on the side. The amount of meat was almost intimidating. They were probably trying to use up as much of it as they could. In appearance, it looked a lot like pork. When she sniffed it, it smelled like pork. And when she tasted it, it tasted like pork.

In conclusion, it may as well be pork, Mile thought. I was worried about nothing!

***

For the next six days, Mile wandered the city with the inn as her base, memorizing the layout of the shops and streets as well as she could. She looked down some rather suspicious lanes and back alleys too, but her clothing, which was plain by provincial standards, was downright shabby compared to the fashions of the capital, and as a result, she was never robbed or assailed. It would seem that the denizens of the slums considered her one of their own.

When Mile realized this, she bought some new clothes in a hurry. Something that would count as garb a normal city girl would wear—plain, but not too cheap, by the capital’s standards.

When she debuted her new outfit for little Lenny, the innkeeper’s daughter, she was met with an ambiguous expression.

“I mean, the materials are nice, but…”

Clad thus, six days after her arrival in the capital, Mile stepped through the gates of the Hunters’ Prep School.

average 1.4

Chapter 5:
Goddess Incarnate

It was several days after the incident in the classroom, and Adele was busy at her job at the bakery.

Due to the nature of the business, the bakery was open even on rest days, but sales on these days were a fair bit less than during the week. This was to be expected. Most people used rest days to relax, and even working mothers stayed home, preparing all three of the day’s meals. Naturally, there weren’t many people who came in to purchase bread on their lunch breaks. Besides, not everyone needed bread to begin with. Many people baked their own, after all.

Nevertheless, the baker was the ally of the single person and the tired housewife. For the sake of the small segment of the population who needed bread, he opened his shop.

And as it happened, this whole problem of selling less bread on rest days was now a thing of the past.

Ever since Adele had started working, rest day sales began to increase, and now the bakery often sold as much bread on rest days as on weekdays.

Why was that?

“U-um, I’d like these ones please!” An apprentice from a nearby shop, a red-cheeked boy of fourteen or fifteen years, pointed at several pieces of bread.

“That comes to two half-silvers and three copper.”

Adele smiled as she loaded the bread into the boy’s basket and made change for the three half-silver pieces. As she handed him the coins, the boy’s hand jerked, his fingers trembling.

“Thanks very much!” she said.

“U-um, I was wondering… Are you free after the shop closes?” the boy asked.

“Sorry, but when we close, I have to hurry back, or I won’t make it in time for dinner. I don’t have the money to buy my own food. Besides, the school gates close early, and since the matron was kind enough to allow me to work here, I can’t risk breaking curfew…”

“I-I see…” The apprentice boy, who had painstakingly worked up the courage to ask Adele out, let his head hang in disappointment.

“Please come again!” she said.

“Y-yes, I’ll be back!”

The boy headed home, his cheeks still burning at the memory of Adele’s smile.

Adele was a good-looking girl, with a politeness born of her memories of Japanese hospitality. By this world’s standards, she was so incredibly considerate that it was no surprise young boys often mistook her good manners for genuine interest.

Furthermore, Eckland Academy—though inferior compared to Ardleigh—was, from a commoner’s perspective, a highly prestigious institution. Seeing Adele standing behind the counter of the bakery in her school uniform, most assumed that she must be an extremely gifted commoner, one who had been admitted to the school on scholarship. And as a commoner, boys assumed she just might be within their reach.

There she was, right in front of them: an intelligent, good-looking girl who would probably be able to make good money in the future. And to top it all off, she always had a smile to spare. There wasn’t a boy around whose heart wouldn’t leap.

A good many young men began appearing to purchase bread for their rest day meals, as well as the next day’s share. Oddly, they never seemed to pay with exact change. In fact, it seemed that they always made sure to purchase items that would leave their total at an odd number and paid with coins that were too large—for if they did, the chance that their fingers might brush Adele’s was doubled.

“Hee hee hee. You really are a wicked girl, Miss Adele…” A little old lady from the neighborhood teased her after the apprentice boy left.

“No, Granny! What are you saying?”

In her previous life, Adele had few if any fond memories of her grandparents, but in this life she got along well with the elderly.

The little old lady’s husband chimed in. “Now, now, she’s right indeed! You keep that up and you’ll have your own shop and a man to support you in no time.”

“Not you too, Grandpa!” Adele protested.

The elders of the neighborhood had also been dropping by the bakery on rest days.

With their children grown up and away from home, they were drawn to Adele’s youth, and she was happy to talk to them. They were a nice change of pace from her many would-be suitors, after all.

When it came to work, there was really only one thing she was unhappy about.

Lately, the shop had been so busy that they were selling out of most of their bread by the end of the day, which meant that there was very little for her to take home in the evening.

***

On this day, after finishing her duties, Adele headed back toward the dorms, only to suddenly find her path blocked by a flock of people.

“Um, excuse me. Is there something going on?” she asked.

An old lady Adele recognized from the shop explained. “Oh yes! The third princess’s carriage is coming through! Everyone’s hoping to catch a glimpse of her. They say if we’re lucky, she might even stop and open her window to wave.”

The third princess almost never left the palace, so there were few who had seen her.

Why not? Adele thought. It wasn’t every day you saw a princess. She might as well try to catch a glimpse of her. There should still be plenty of time.

Adele took advantage of her short stature to slip through the gaps in the crowd, until she had made it all the way to the front.

A few moments later, a group appeared on the opposite side of the main road.

At the front were four soldiers with swords at their hips and spears in their hands. Behind them were three soldiers on horseback, carrying lances. Following them was a gorgeous horse-drawn carriage, flanked at the back by more cavalry and foot soldiers.

Due to the narrow city streets, the princess’s carriage was unable to move quickly, and the foot soldiers had likely been stationed as a sort of perimeter to deal swiftly with thieves or attackers.

The carriage and its guards approached, and just as the first soldier passed in front of Adele, a young boy of five or six was thrust into the road by the crowd’s jostling.

“Impertinent brat!” The guard raised his spear and struck the child away with the blunt stone head.

The blow landed on the boy’s gut, and he was struck senseless, tumbling to the ground, unable to speak or move. Yet he had been flung forward into the path of the carriage, and to shove him aside, the soldier struck the boy once more.

He’s going to die!

By the time Adele realized what she was doing, her body was already moving, jumping out of the crowd and flying toward the fallen boy.

It felt like déjà vu…

It was just like before, wasn’t it? Would she die a second time?

Yet she didn’t stop moving, and as she threw herself over the boy’s body, a thought rang out in her mind. Lattice power, barrier!

A translucent wall appeared in the air, deflecting the soldier’s heavy spear just before it struck Adele.

Shing!

This was lattice energy, the cohesive force that bound atoms, molecules, and ions into a grid when a matter changed from a gas to a solid.

As she cast her mind about for something to protect her, Adele remembered the barriers she had seen in anime; however, just watching the shows gave her very little idea as to the principles behind the kind of protection she was trying to manifest. If she could imagine it concretely, then the nanomachines would be able to manifest it for her somehow or other, but even as she tried to conjure an appropriate image, it occurred to Adele that her knowledge of defensive energy was sparse. Instead, another term popped into her head: “lattice energy,” something she had read about it in a book once, in her previous life.

Lattices. Cohesive force. It sounded like something that could form a shield.

While she didn’t fully comprehend the meaning of these terms, Adele’s instincts sensed that they might be able to help her.

Indeed, using this notion of a lattice, Adele formed a dazzling image, a barrier that, when it appeared, was not a smooth, solid hemisphere, but a surface of what appeared to be innumerable connected glass plates.

“Wh…?”

Startled, the soldier raised his spear again and again to strike through the barrier. However, it did not crack.

“Move!”

At some point one of the mounted cavalrymen had descended from his horse. Now, he was approaching.

From his appearance and demeanor, it was clear that he was of a higher rank than the foot soldiers. He had been on horseback, so he was probably a knight…

He brandished his own spear, swinging it full force, with the point of his blade pointing straight at Adele.

Shing!

“Impossible!”

Oh God oh God oh God!

Adele was panicking.

As if getting into a scuffle with the royal guards wasn’t bad enough, now there was the issue of this lattice barrier, which had formed from her instinct to survive.

To the best of Adele’s knowledge, magic like this was unheard of in this world.

There was magic that could be used to dissipate other magic in a duel between magic users. There was also magic that could raise the earth to act as a shield against swords or spears or arrows. There was protection magic that drew on wind and water. However, even in books and legends, there was no such thing as magic that could shield one against physical attacks without the use of another one of the elements.

Anyone who could conjure such magic would be invincible in battle. With your enemy unable to strike, you could launch a one-sided assault.

They were definitely going to take her to the palace, where, Adele suddenly realized, she would probably be executed for attempting to assassinate the third princess.

This was very bad. She had performed unthinkable magic in broad daylight and inadvertently threatened the princess’s life! This was a double whammy. What could she do?

While still covering the boy, Adele wracked her brain desperately, trying to devise some plan. However, panic began to cloud her brain. She was fresh out of ideas.

“Wh-what are you, fiend?! Are you a monster or a demon?!” the guards shouted, fear on their faces as they edged away from Adele’s shield.

…A demon? Like an evil spirit? Wait a minute!

At this flash of brilliance, Adele dispelled the barrier.

With a sound like shattering glass, the lattice exploded into shards, which dissipated into thin air. There was no danger in dropping her shield now. Even if one of the soldiers attempted an attack, Adele was confident that she could grab a spear in time to stop it.

She stood slowly and turned to the soldiers, her expression blank.

“What impudence is this, to visit harm upon an avatar of the divine?!” she said.

“Huh?”

“How dare you attempt to cause injury to my vessel?!”

“Huh?”

Uncertain as to what was unfolding before them, the assembled crowd of soldiers and onlookers appeared taken aback.

The knight was enraged at Adele’s sudden hubris.

“Y-you’re speaking nonsense! Oi, you lot—seize her!”

At the knight’s command, the soldiers approached Adele with some trepidation.

“Lightning! Visit your wrath upon these fools who dare to raise their blades against a god!”

KABOOM!

Four lightning bolts crashed down, striking the tips of the soldier’s spears.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaahh!!”

The soldiers dropped their spears in agony, falling on their behinds.

“Wh-what just…”

It had not been flame magic. It was honest-to-goodness lightning, straight from the heavens.

It was a power unlike magic at all.

“Was that…the power of God…?”

The soldiers huddled in fright. Suddenly, they were no longer soldiers who fought for a living—they were human lightning rods.

What had really happened was that Adele had gathered negative electrical charges below the clouds and positive charges above, inducing a lightning strike by drawing the positive charges to the tips of the soldiers’ spears.

She had collected a low, secondary current that ran from the spear handles to the ground, so as to form an insulating membrane around the soldier’s hands and not accidentally shock the life out of them.

Next, she began a silent spell.

Refract and diffuse the light! Gather moisture into ice! Neutralize gravity and maintain formation…

Adele solidified the image in her mind and released her creation in a wave.

Shining particles of light began to float and swirl around Adele’s body and ice crystals gathered at her back.

“It’s… a goddess…” the knight whispered weakly.

Indeed, a young girl now stood before the soldiers, her body bathed in light and platinum wings sprouting from her back.

“What divine punishment shall I visit upon you? Shall I level your palace? Or shall I eradicate the nobles, the royals, and the soldiers as well? Better yet, perhaps the entire Kingdom…”

“Please wait!”

A girl flew out from the ostentatious carriage and ran desperately toward Adele, pushing past the two knights at the door.

She was golden-haired, fourteen or fifteen years of age—undoubtedly, this was the third princess.

When she reached the knight’s side, she fell to her knees, her head bowed.

“Oh, Goddess, please forgive them! This carriage before you is mine. So please, level all your punishments at me and spare the others!”

“Y-your highness, what are you doing? As captain of the guard, this is my responsibility. I should be the one to take the fall! Your highness is entirely innocent.”

“No! It is only natural that the person in the highest position should take the punishment, is it not?!”

Hmm, Adele thought. Rather than fighting to pin the blame on each other, these two were scrambling to take it. Perhaps they weren’t such bad people, after all…

The crowd was beginning to grow restless, and Adele’s original purpose had been simply to distract everyone for long enough to save the boy. She needed this over with.

She was already treating the boy’s wounds with silent healing magic. She made certain to ensure that any injuries to his bones or internal organs were healed, and there was no damage or internal bleeding around his skull.

“Silence! I detest such blabbering! Very well. Thanks to the generosity of your princess, I shall spare this place. However, I’ll show no such kindness next time. Do you understand?!”

“We understand! We offer the utmost gratitude for your forgiveness.”

What a humble speech from a princess!

If Adele was found out, she would most certainly be beheaded.

It was time for the finishing touch.

Adele turned and faced the soldier who had struck the boy. The man was still on the ground.

“You there. I understand that you thought merely to fulfill your duties, but you were foolish and rash. The blood you would have spilled would have been on the Princess’s hands! Would you wish for a rumor to spread throughout the lands that this country’s third princess was a cruel tyrant who murdered children standing in the way of her carriage? Could you live with that on your shoulders?”

At these words, the soldier was overwhelmed with the gravity of what he had nearly done.

“And now, I must depart,” Adele said, then added, “But just one thing before I do! This vessel I am inhabiting knows not of my presence. You must not speak of it to her. Understood?! You must never speak of this incident to anyone!”

Everyone, the crowd and soldiers alike, gazed intently at Adele.

They nodded emphatically, faces pale.

“M-my Goddess, I have a favor to ask!” the captain of the guards said.

“What is it?”

“At the very least, permit me to speak of this to the king…”

For some time, Adele mulled over this request from the captain of the guards, before finally nodding slowly.

With so many soldiers aware of the incident, it would be unthinkable not to tell their king.

“I suppose I must. You may. However, you may speak only to the king and no one else. This must be kept secret from the other nobles.”

“Y-yes. Yes, we will be sure.”

Just then, a bright idea popped into Adele’s head.

She turned to the captain of the guards, making something of a troubled face.

“Hmm. This girl—my vessel. She is impoverished and somewhat lacking in nutrition. Perhaps you will spare her a bit from your coin purse? Call it a ‘commendation for her bravery,’ or whatever you will.”

“Ah! Yes, of course, your Greatness!”

The captain’s reply was immediate. He could not possibly refuse.

Excellent, Adele thought. The captain’s money would be some consolation. Now, to end this charade!

Keeping her face stern, Adele fanned her hands over the boy.

“Light of healing, ease his wounds!”

The boy’s body was surrounded by particles of light—though this, of course, was just for show, as his wounds had already been mended.

Once the light and brilliant wings vanished, Adele returned to her position on top of the boy, where she had been when the shield had first risen.

“Hmm, yes, I believe it was just here. Now, each and every one of you had better keep your promises!”

Taking one last look over the nodding soldiers and the crowd, Adele closed her eyes, then opened them, blinking to feign shock.

“H-huh? What? I’m not hurt? What happened to the soldier with the spear?”

She looked around as she spoke.

Apparently, her acting skills had improved somewhat over the past year.

“Mmm… Huh? Who are you, miss?”

The boy had finally awoken. Thanks to the magic, he showed not even the slightest sign of pain.

The crowds who witnessed the scene muttered among themselves, but they didn’t want to risk saying something careless.

The captain of the guards called out. “U-um… No, uh, you there! Girl!”

“Hmm? Do you mean me?” Adele clasped both hands under her chin conspicuously, her eyes wide.

This time, at least, her surprise was artificial.

“Y-yes. I must commend you for standing up to my subordinate’s in order to protect that boy. It was courageous, and so, I would like to offer you this reward.”

The guard pulled a coin purse from his breast pocket.

Yes! It was all going perfectly according to her plan.

Adele fought fiercely to hold back her grin as the guard handed her the purse.

She was surprised at the weight of it.

It was then that she realized that everyone was looking—at her and the impoverished boy.

However you looked at it, the boy appeared far poorer than Adele, who was wearing an academy uniform.

How would it look if she took the money and ran?

Another problem.

“Y-you take this!”

“Huh?”

“That knight over there—he said it was an apology, for frightening you!”

“Really? Thank you!”

Adele groaned inwardly. There went her escape funds.

Still, she handed over the coin purse. Her hands trembled softly.

Seeing this, the captain of the guard bristled.

All the color drained from his face, but there was nothing he could do to stop the purse from changing hands. He could not violate the goddess’s orders by speaking of what had come before.

Just then, a voice rang out to save the captain, who was by now dripping with sweat.

“Allow me, as deputy captain, to reward this brave young girl in the captain’s stead.”

Thank goodness! the captain thought and reminded himself to thanks his deputy. He had seen his life flashing before his eyes.

Adele was equally relieved. What luck! Now I should be able to add to my escape fund!

In order to save a child’s life, Adele had reflexively used a barrier, a type of magic unknown to this world. On top of that, she had feigned possession by a goddess, tricked a pack of soldiers, and forced everyone to pretend that nothing had happened.

And thanks to this whole improvised scheme, she had even ended up with some money in her pocket. Adele was filled with an innocent joy.

But she was naïve, lacking in experience. She knew nothing of the cunning of man.

Those weaknesses left her wide open.

***

It was the evening following the incident.

Inside the palace, three individuals gathered in the king’s office for a discussion.

They were the king, the guard captain, who was called Bergl, and the third princess, Morena.

“Is this all true?”

“I would never dream of telling you such a lie.”

“Father, you must believe him!”

“Hmm…”

The king thought for a long time, and then made a decision.

“Very well. Bring that girl to the palace.”

“Father!”

“Your Majesty, we mustn’t!”

While Bergl and the princess panicked, the king spoke plainly.

“With so many people having seen the incident, there is no way we can stop the news from spreading. We cannot assume that such an important person would be left unmolested. Though some day she may still catch the attention of some other noble or the ruler of another country, for now, would it not be beneficial to ingratiate ourselves to the goddess?

“We can say that we are simply giving thanks to the girl who used her own body to shield a child, who prevented the tarnishing of the princess’s image. Is there any fault in that? Is it not a perfectly natural course of action, for a king and a father?”

“Ah…”

“Morena, you must give thanks to the one who shielded you from disgrace. You must befriend her, no matter what.”

“O-of course, I will gladly. That is all I could wish for…”

“All right, then. Bergl, as you know the girl’s face, I will leave to you the task of tracking her down. Begin your search at once!”

“Yes, sir!”

***

The search concluded swiftly.

Adele had been wearing her uniform, and the guards were quite familiar with the uniforms of both of the city’s academies. On top of that, Adele’s splendid silver hair made her stand out even more than she might have otherwise. Finding her was easy.

Straight away, Guard Captain Bergl met with the dean of Eckland and described Adele’s appearance.

There was no way that the dean could lie to a royal knight, who had come on the king’s imperial decree. Naturally, he ignored the viscount’s gag order and told the knight Adele’s full name and status.

The dean did this without ill intention, thinking that it would give the girl a better position. He truly believed that he was setting a young girl on the road to prosperity.

And so, the guard captain reported the results of his investigation to the king. Soon after, the honorable young daughter of Viscount Ascham received a message, inviting her to come to the palace straight away.

***

“…That is to say, the King would like to extend an invitation to the honorable young daughter of Viscount Ascham. Here is the letter.”

The messenger, a certain Viscount something-or-other, handed her the envelope. Adele stared down at it, a hand to her head.

How could this have happened?

Even with a goddess’s decree, it was impossible to expect that many people to keep a secret—or assume that kings and nobles would be happy to leave a girl who was touched by the goddess alone. Yet this thought had not occurred to Adele, who naively imagined that she would be able to continue living a normal, peaceful life. That all changed the afternoon a teacher called her away during lessons, leaving her to languish alone in the reception room with this messenger.

If I don’t do something, they’re going to lock me up or restrain me. Or even worse—will they strip me down and dissect me? No goddess is going to come leaping out of my belly!

What do I do what do I do what do I do?

I have to think!

Work, you stupid gray matter!

Suddenly, something occurred to her.

This noble messenger before her hadn’t been present at the time of yesterday’s incident, and the guards, who would have recognized her, weren’t present.

Furthermore, the messenger’s discussion with Adele made no mention of the goddess or of yesterday’s incident. He had merely offered an invitation to the “third princess’s benefactor.”

Even though he had said nothing of the goddess to Adele, it was still possible that he knew about it. However, given his fairly natural comportment, it was most likely he did not.

He hadn’t asked her anything about the goddess or the particulars of the incident. He’s just an errand boy! Adele realized. He must not know anything about it.

Thanks to that fact, she realized she had an out. It was time to test that newfound confidence in her acting skills!

“Hmm? I am to deliver this to young Miss Ascham?” she asked.

“Huh?”

The messenger gaped at her unexpected reply.

“What I am asking is, do you wish for me to deliver this invitation to the daughter of Viscount Ascham, who attends Ardleigh Academy?”

“What? Huh?”

Adele continued to press the increasingly confused messenger. “The honorable young daughter of the Ascham household attends the upper-class Ardleigh Academy—on the other side of the city. The Ascham family generously donated money so that I might attend academy, but I do not carry the Ascham family name. If I were to claim otherwise, I would be killed! Someone has made a mistake of some kind.”

“Wh-what?!”

“Please do not reveal that you came to me in error. I’ll be in a great deal of trouble if I displease the Viscount and lose my financial support.”

“I-I understand! Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul. I’m so sorry…”

With that, the noble messenger swiftly departed, no doubt heading for Ardleigh.

The invitation had been for tomorrow morning, Adele thought.

I guess this is it…

It was time for her to escape.

When she returned to the classroom, Adele was inundated with questions from her curious classmates. She’d caused a fuss by being called away during class, but she quashed the whispers with a simple explanation. “They had the wrong person.”

Marcela and the girls still looked worried, but they calmed down when Adele whispered, “They were looking for my stepsister.”

***

Upon returning to her dorm at the end of class, Adele quickly began her preparations.

First, she had letters to write.

One to her three friends, one to all her classmates, one to the matron, and one to Aaron, the baker. In each, she apologized for her sudden departure, expressed her thanks for their friendship and assistance, and explained that, due to unforeseen circumstances, she was dropping out of school.

Halfway through, she stopped to eat dinner, and by the time she was finished writing, it was already late at night.

And now, the next step… At least I don’t have much packing to do.

In the little more than a year at the academy, Adele hadn’t managed to accumulate any new luggage. Her spare clothing and the wages she’d saved were all stored away in the loot box. Her room appeared as vacant as ever.

After going back and forth for some time, Adele decided to keep the uniforms and gym clothes she had been lent. They were getting fairly worn, so it was likely that they would be disposed of rather than passed on to another student. She decided it should be fine if she kept them.

After all—if she didn’t keep them, she would have nothing to wear. As was only natural, Adele had grown in the year since her arrival. The clothing she had brought with her initially was now too small.

She lined up the letters on her desk and borrowed just one blanket from the bed, which she shoved into the loot box. Then, she looked around the room.

It was empty. Perfectly empty.

“Farewell!”

She uttered a soft goodbye, and then, suddenly remembering, took out from her desk drawer the plate with the bone.

Cats weren’t fond of humans who fussed over them too much, so Adele, who only scratched behind the cat’s ears or on her neck or face when requested, was the perfect companion. The cat visited often, and Adele let her sleep on her bed as she pleased.

However, in terms of food, Adele was only able to provide bones, which left the cat dissatisfied. It hadn’t taken Adele long to realize that the cat was wandering to the other girls’ rooms for handouts.

For some reason, though, it was only the girls’ rooms. She never visited the boys…

“You were a stray to start, so I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Adele whispered. “Besides, when the other kids mention the name of the cat they’re taking care of—Blackie, Goldeneye, Crooktail, Cricket Eater, and so on—I think they’re all referring to you!” Adele nodded to herself, then said, “Now that’s enough of that. It’s time to escape!”

***

The next morning, Adele didn’t appear in the classroom when the day began, and the worried instructor asked another teacher to go to the girls’ dorm and check for her. Upon arrival, the teacher found only the abandoned room and the four letters that had been left there. Soon, a panic arose.

Even though she had always hoped to be completely average, no matter how you look at it, Adele was an outstanding pupil, beloved by students and teachers alike.

Yet upon opening the letters, they found that her disappearance had been of her own free will. Furthermore, because she had expressed her intent to withdraw from the academy, the school had no further recourse. The best they could do was to contact her guardians.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” Kelvin demanded when he found out, his expression disturbed.

“Of what?” an unhappy Marcela asked.

“You know what I’m talking about! Adele! Where did she go?! Why did she leave?!”

He was as insufferable as ever, but Marcela could tell that, unlike before, his blood was boiling out of genuine concern for Adele, so she had no choice but to acknowledge him.

The letter addressed to the students contained only an apology for not saying goodbye and a thank you for all their kindness up until that point. Without any other explanation, it was more than natural that he would come to Marcela and the other girls, who had received their own, separate letter.

“Family problems. A conflict of succession. It’s not such a rare thing among noble families.”

“She was the successor?”

“No, she was in the successor’s way. They would’ve made her disappear, so she vanished herself first.”

“Wh…”

Kelvin was lost for words, but Marcela simply sighed.

“What are you so worried about? Whether that girl will make it out there? You should be happy that she’ll be living freely, without the burden of her meddlesome family. Just what have you seen in her all this time?”

“I just…. I never got to apologize, or to thank her…”

“She was always saying that she wanted to ‘live normally,’ but do you really think that’s possible for someone like her?” Marcela said. “Somehow or other she’s going to slip and end up center stage. Wouldn’t it be best for you to work hard to become a man who can proudly show his face in front of her, when that time comes?”

“………”

As Kelvin silently walked away, Marcela watched with a tender gaze.

Seeing this, the other boys began to whisper among themselves.

“Marcela… She’s a nice girl, isn’t she?”

All the boys nodded in agreement.

***

In the palace’s audience room, the king, the third princess Morena, and a number of nobles gathered. Other matters of the day had been dispensed with, leaving only the girl. Morena sat beside the king, prepared for the meeting.

Initially, she had thought they would meet privately, just the two of them, but this girl was to become an important acquaintance of hers. Therefore, it was determined they would wait until the end of the daily audiences, then bring the girl forward, so that everyone could see the princess with her.

“Presenting Viscount Ascham and the honorable young Miss Ascham!”

At the herald’s announcement, the Viscount and his daughter Prissy, promenaded into the audience room. They proceeded forward, dropping to one knee before the throne, their heads bowed.

They were both utterly delighted.

Yesterday, an agent of the palace had suddenly arrived, telling them, “The third princess most sincerely wishes to welcome the honorable young Miss Ascham to the palace, so that the two of them may become friends, if it so pleases her.”

A friend to the princess!

Having a friend in the palace was an extraordinarily valuable connection, and the princess herself would have a direct line to the princes and even His Majesty. There was a strong possibility that Prissy might even catch a prince’s eye.

She didn’t know what had caused them to seek her out, but perhaps the fourth prince, who had just entered the academy this year, had already come to desire her…

With these possibilities in mind, Prissy’s fancies flourished wildly, and the Viscount’s were not far behind.

“Show your faces.”

At the king’s order, the Viscount and Prissy lifted their heads, eyes sparkling.

The king looked to the third princess, Morena.

However, Morena only stared blankly, not speaking.

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“Ah, well, um… Who might these two people be?”

“What? Is this not young Miss Ascham here before you?”

“I don’t know this person…”

Overhearing the king and the princess’s conversation, the people assembled began to whisper. There had been some sort of mistake. Viscount and daughter, not understanding the situation, were dumbfounded.

“Where is Bergl?” asked the king.

A royal guard answered, looking troubled. “Ah, well, he went to the audience waiting chambers not long ago and then left in something of a hurry.”

A voice was raised from amidst the assembly. “Your Majesty, might I be granted permission to speak…?”

“Hm? Oh, Count Bornham. Yes, you may speak.” Perhaps this man would know something. The king gestured for him to stand.

“Thank you very much!” Count Bornham said, then turned to Prissy, the young Miss Ascham, and inquired, “Young lady, where might your mother be at this moment?”

“Mother? Why she should be at the Ascham estate here in the capital right now…”

“Hmm… Well then, your beautiful golden hair—I presume it was inherited from her?”

“Y-yes, that’s true…” Prissy answered, without understanding precisely why she was being asked such a thing.

Count Bornham now turned and addressed the king.

“My wife was close friends with the Lady Ascham during their time at Ardleigh Academy. Twelve years ago, we received word that she had given birth to a daughter, and my wife and I paid a visit to the Ascham home.

“The infant we saw at that time had gorgeous silver hair, inherited from her mother… However, that mother lost her life three years ago in an accident. Something peculiar is happening here…”

“That child has nothing to do with us!” Prissy suddenly exploded. “She was his first wife’s child! We Aschams have no need for her! So we flung her from our home and forbade her to use the family name! She—”

Viscount Ascham frantically clapped a hand over Prissy’s mouth, but it was too late.

Count Bornham continued, calmly. “A father has every right to raise his daughter as he pleases, but in this case, there is a bit of a problem with the situation.

“As I just said, my wife was close friends with the Lady Ascham during their time at Ardleigh Academy. Ergo, the Viscount only married into the Ascham family. The Ascham family blood runs through neither the Viscount who stands here nor this daughter, but through his previous wife’s daughter, who was chased away.”

“Usurper!”

“He overthrew the family line! That’s the worst a noble can do!”

“A crime worthy of the highest punishment!”

One voice after another cried out from the assembly, now in uproar.

Viscount Ascham was frozen, his face utterly pale.

“What say you, Viscount Ascham?” The king’s voice was firm. Everyone grew silent, awaiting the viscount’s confession.

However, Viscount Ascham remained silent, making no move to reply.

After some moments of this looming silence, the door of the assembly hall opened, and a single guard entered.

“Oh, Bergl! Where have you been?” asked the king.

Bergl drew an envelope from his breast pocket.

“Well, when I went to the audience waiting room where the girl was to be waiting, I saw a young woman I didn’t recognize standing there. Thinking there must have been a mistake, I rushed to the school attended by the girl we were seeking. However, it seems that she left the school this morning for a destination unknown, leaving only four letters behind…

“As could be expected, three of the letters were addressed to classmates and teachers and the like. Yet there was one more letter, addressed to a trio of girls who she was close to, which contained a few more clues as to the particulars of the situation. The trio allowed me to borrow this letter on the condition that I return it, thinking that it might be able to help their friend.”

“Tell us what it says,” the king ordered. Bergl looked over the letter in his hands.

“Yes, sir. In summary, she was called, by her family name, to come to the palace, despite having been forbidden previously to bear that name. Were she to do so, the girl explained, she would likely be killed, just like her mother and grandfather. She decided to run but told her friends not to worry. She planned to carry on a happy life somewhere out in the country. That is all.”

The king rumbled. “Killed like her mother and grandfather, you say?”

Now, Count Bornham responded.

“The previous Viscount Ascham and his daughter were assailed and killed by bandits. However, theirs was the only case of anyone having been attacked by bandits in that area within a period of quite some years. What, we must ask ourselves, are the chances of this attack falling on the one occasion that the carriage carried not husband and wife, but the rare combination of the old viscount and his daughter…?

“My wife always had her suspicions, but I did not wish to slander a household without evidence. I have kept my suspicions silent until this day…”

Viscount Ascham’s face had gone beyond pallid and was now pure white.

“Throw those two in the dungeon at once!” the king ordered. “Take the necessary agents to the Viscount’s estate and apprehend his current wife. Launch an investigation into all parties who may have been accessory to the murders of the late viscount and his daughter. Consider all those who turned a blind eye or accepted bribes to be an accomplice.

“Until the rightful heir is prepared to take over the Ascham family estate, their lands will be under the Kingdom’s control.

“Now, Bergl, you must find her. She is a young girl, so she couldn’t have gotten far in half a day’s time. It should be simple. Use as many men as you require. You must protect her and treat her well.

“Everyone, move out!”

With the king’s decree, all directed parties sprang from the room.

The attending nobles were a tad surprised, as the king was not known for making such hasty judgments. However, they knew that even a gentle king took speedy action when needed, and they graciously accepted their orders.

However, none of them knew of the rage that boiled in the king’s heart…

Once the remaining nobles left the audience hall, the third princess spoke.

“Father,” asked Morena. “That missing girl is…”

“Don’t say it.”

The king held his head.

Bergl had to find her. And fast.

average 1.3

The following day marked the start of their practical training.

“All right, you lot! Time to start your training!”

Apparently, their homeroom teacher, Mr. Burgess, was also in charge of their physical education.

All the students wore leather guards over their gym uniforms, and unlike the uniforms themselves, these hadn’t been provided beforehand. Instead, they were shared by the various classes, and the stench of leather and other people’s sweat filled the air around Adele and her classmates. Although the students at the prestigious Ardleigh Academy no doubt received their own guards, as well as weapons and armor, the Eckland students didn’t have the luxury of complaining.

“I should start with the fundamentals of strength training and technique, but I get the feeling that that’ll bore you all to tears,” began Mr. Burgess. “So, we’ll start with a practice battle so that you all can grasp the importance of mastering the basics.

“Let’s get a good example… Those with prior experience, step forward!”

Several of the boys stepped forward at his command.

“One of you—go ahead and show me what you’ve got!”

However, no one seemed eager to volunteer.

Just when it seemed that Mr. Burgess would have to give up and pick someone himself…

“I will!” Kelvin, the baron’s fifth son, took a step forward.

“O-ho! Kelvin, is it? All right, let’s go! I’ll allow you to select your opponent.”

At the academy, rank was rendered irrelevant, so even the children of nobles were addressed by their first names.

As Kelvin looked over the pool of potential opponents, everyone carefully averted their eyes. Half of the children assembled were nobles who had already witnessed his prowess during the physical assessment.

After taking the time to leisurely assess each student, Kelvin pointed a finger.

“You there! Let’s go!”

It was Adele. She stared back, mouth agape. “Huh? Why me? I-I don’t really have any experience…”

She looked to Mr. Burgess, hoping for an out.

However…

“It’s Adele, right?! Okay—well, this should be an interesting one. Let’s do it!” Mr. Burgess grinned. Rumors about Adele had circulated among the teachers as well as the students, and he was pleased with this chance to test her abilities.

“Huh…?”

Adele, for her part, was bewildered. Suddenly both Kelvin and her teacher wanted her to fight?

She had only just learned the face and name of the boy who had called her out—the boy who she always seemed to catch staring at her. At first, she’d wondered if he were in love with her, but his attitude suggested the opposite must be true.

In fact, his sharp gaze seemed to label her as his rival.

But if he had to choose a rival, Adele thought, wouldn’t it be better to choose someone of exceptional ability—not an average, ordinary girl like herself?

“Please be gentle with me…” Adele pleaded, as she lifted her wooden sword, but Kelvin only readied his weapon, silent.

Adele steeled herself. Kelvin seemed quite serious. These might only be wooden swords, but if he hit her hard enough it would still hurt, even through the leather armor.

Her strategy was decided.

Fighting in Normal Girl Mode, at the level she’d been at before her reawakening, would mean an instant loss. What’s more, she would have to continue to perform at that level in future practice sessions, meaning she would never be able to train seriously. That would be a problem.

Although she might be fast and powerful, Adele had absolutely no knowledge of technique. Therefore, in order to prepare herself for life after graduation, she would need to do some serious training. In order to do that, it made sense to show some strength and battle—at least from time to time—with the strongest of the boys, so that she could benefit from the guidance of the instructor.

Even if getting hit would be painful.

Or maybe she could avoid getting hit?

If she could manage that and let her sword be knocked away at an appropriate point, then perhaps the battle could end before she suffered serious injuries.

With this in mind, Adele prepared for the fight.

“Begin!”

Just as the command left Mr. Burgess’s mouth, Kelvin rushed toward Adele.

In this world, there was no suri-ashi or okuri-ashi, the stepping techniques of Japanese kendo. Rather, the aim appeared to be simply to take out as many opponents as possible on the battlefield.

Sensing Adele’s hesitation, Kelvin moved quickly, swinging his sword down from above. Of course, it would have been frowned upon to aim directly at a girl’s skull, so he moved instead to strike her shoulder, which was covered in the leather armor. In kendo, such a move would have been a kesa-giri strike.

Victory was in sight—or so Kelvin thought. But his sword cut through only air, with an empty whiff.

“Huh…?”

As Adele easily evaded his swing, Kelvin’s confidence wavered. However, he wasn’t foolish enough to allow an opening. He quickly raised his sword again and swung it towards Adele’s right side, she herself having dodged to the left.

Thunk!

She blocked his blow with her sword.

He sent a swift attack toward her left side, hoping he might catch her off balance. Yet this blow was easily blocked as well.

Kelvin continued attacking, and Adele continued blocking.

Kelvin swore. How could this be happening? The girl had the stance and technique of an amateur. How could she move so quickly?! How could she block each one of his attacks?!

Kelvin was overwhelmed with confusion—but so was Adele.

Eeek! His attacks were getting stronger. How could she gracefully lose the battle without allowing herself to get hurt?

Finally, Kelvin’s reckless side emerged.

If Adele was already blocking each move with her sword, he had no choice but to aim at her blade intentionally. Then, at least, he might have a chance of overwhelming her with his strength.

He bore down, aiming for the spot just above the grip of her sword. Drawing on both his strength and the blade’s momentum, he focused his energy on the third of his sword closest to the tip. Adele’s sword was stationary, and when he struck, he would hit it at the base.

He’s going to hit me!

Without thinking, Adele grew tense.

Cra-aaack!

Her sword made a terrible, grating sound.

Thwap!

Kelvin’s wooden sword struck Adele’s wooden sword near the handle. One sword flew out of its owner’s grip, going tumbling across the ground.

“Huh…?”

The one who was left staring down at his now-empty hands was Kelvin.

Rats, Adele thought. But it was already too late.

Just as with her magic and as she had seen with the door handle, it was clear that God had done something to impact her physical strength. And whether it was due to a mistake, a misunderstanding, or a deliberate choice, that did nothing to change the outcome.

In Adele’s life up to this point, she had always been able to hold back, almost subconsciously, carrying on her act as a normal girl with normal abilities. It was because of this that it had taken her until several days after the return of her memories to notice anything was off.

Now, if Adele exerted even a bit of strength, even unconsciously, her power would grow to a whole new level.

It was not unlike the gears shifting in an automatic car, the increase in horsepower creating an excess of torque.

What would happen if that level of strength were poured into a wooden sword?

Normally, when two swords exchanged blows, the force of one sword canceled out that of the other. However, if one sword remained stationery, the entire force of the second’s blow was reflected back into the arms of the swordsman.

It was as good as striking a lump of iron, and accordingly, there was an extremely high chance that one’s arms would go numb, causing the sword to fall. And this was exactly what had happened to Kelvin.

“That’s the match!” Burgess said.

“N-no! My hands slipped!” Kelvin protested as their teacher signaled the end of the match.

Burgess’s reply was exasperated. “Is that what you would you say if you dropped your sword on the battlefield? Would you say to your opponent, ‘Oh, just a moment please! My hand slipped! Would you give me a second to retrieve my sword?’”

“Er…”

This was not going well.

Even Adele, who was ignorant when it came to the subtleties of swordplay, could tell that this was not a favorable situation. She, a rank amateur, had bested a boy who was both confident and incredibly strong. Even though she had claimed it was her first time using a sword…

This was no good. For a “normal girl,” this was no good at all.

“U-um! I can keep going…” Kelvin said.

“Oh?” Burgess seemed intrigued as he turned to address Kelvin, who silently retrieved his sword. “What will you do?”

What will I do? Adele wondered. If she simply dropped her sword, it would be obvious she was faking. She would have to take a blow.

Adele readied her sword to fight again.

Kelvin’s stance changed, and the clash of blades began anew.

Although he hadn’t had enough time to recover from his previous exertions, neither had his opponent. And given that girls had little physical strength, it was only natural that she would be terribly exhausted. With this idea in mind, Kelvin charged again and again. Yet Adele continued to block each blow with precision.

As the fight continued, Adele showed no signs of tiring, and Kelvin began to grow impatient once more. Due to the violence of his assault, he was already reaching his limit. He could feel himself getting tired: his grip on the sword was beginning to weaken, and his breath grew ragged.

Why? he raged. Why can’t I land a single blow?! Against this girl—this amateur?!

Losing was not permitted—not by Kelvin’s standards.

***

As for Adele, she continued to block each of Kelvin’s blows almost reflexively, still lamenting the difficulty of losing the fight in a way that would appear natural and would not involve getting hurt.

She would prefer not to be struck anywhere without protection, or indeed, in any place where the leather was thin or weakened. Given that she had hardly wavered in the face of Kelvin’s earlier blows, it would look ridiculous for her to simply drop her sword casually. So distracted was Adele by these worries, that it didn’t occur to her that this level of speed, strength, and endurance was completely beyond the capacities of a normal ten-year-old. Nor that Kelvin, who was himself leagues ahead of the other freshmen, would be beginning to tire as well.

The battle continued until…

Now!

Kelvin’s form was crumbling, and his swings now were considerably weaker than those that had come before. Seeing that any chance to lose the battle would soon pass by her, Adele purposely slowed her own movements, turning her body in such a way as to allow Kelvin’s sword to strike her right on the spot where the leather of her armor was thickest.

All she needed to do know was pretend that she had no time to protect herself.

She tensed her body and squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for the pain of the blow.

…Huh?

The attack never came, and after several moments, Adele opened her eyes.

There was Kelvin, red in the face and trembling with rage, and next to him, Burgess, with an expression that said something along the lines of “Now you’ve done it.”

“Stop messing with me!” Kelvin shouted, then tossed his sword down on the ground and stomped away.

Adele stood, slack-jawed, not understanding.

“You know, kid… You ought to be more considerate of a man’s pride,” Mr. Burgess said. Behind him, the other students nodded.

What happened? What had Adele done wrong?

“Well, it is what it is,” their teacher went on. “I don’t blame him for getting mad, so I guess we won’t punish him for skipping class… this time. Now, the rest of you pair up and try sparring.”

The students split up into pairs and began practicing, but with Kelvin gone there was an odd number, leaving Adele on her own. Even Marcela avoided meeting her eyes.

How did this happen? Adele asked herself.

The handle of the wooden sword that she had gripped for so long was now dented with an impression of her fingers, rendering it unusable.

***

It was the first day of magic lessons and Adele was determined not to mess up the way she had last time.

Among the class of thirty, about six of them showed a spark of true magical prowess, while maybe nine more would be able to achieve at least an everyday level of proficiency. Overall, the proportion of skilled users was a bit higher than the norm, but this was no real surprise. It was only natural that those who hoped to become career magicians would do whatever they could to get into a decent school.

“To start, why don’t we try a few of the tasks that you learned about in your classroom lessons? Remember, this goes for all of you, whether or not you are able to use magic. Understanding magical technique, even if only in theory, will be useful to you going forward.”

At the direction of their instructor, Ms. Michella, the students began to recite their spells.

Next to Adele, the Marcela Trio was putting in a good effort.

Marcela’s abilities were of the everyday sort, while it appeared that Monika and Aureana had no magical capacity whatsoever.

Typically, the strength of a magic user was determined by the power they could produce with a single spell, how long they could maintain that spell, and how much time they would need to recover before repeating it.

No matter how strong the spell you produced was, if it could only last a few seconds or if it took a long time for you to recharge before you could use that spell again, your abilities were not particularly useful. On the other hand, even if your output was weak, those who were able to cast continuously and recharge quickly often proved handy.

In other words, someone who could summon only five liters of water at once, but could do so three times in a row—or someone who could summon only two liters at once, but recovered in an hour—was in far greater demand than someone who could summon ten liters only once per day.

Battlefield magic was the only place where, depending on the circumstances, raw power might be useful. However, this was an exception, not the rule.

Hmm?

As she watched her three friends cast their spells, something strange occurred to Adele. However, they were in the middle of class, so she banished the thought from her mind—she would deal with it later.

After they practiced their incantations, Ms. Michella, who was the perfect sort of person to be a teacher, allowed all those who could use magic to do so, while those who could not looked on in order to “become familiar with the phenomenon.”

Although Adele succeeded in using only the most normal of magic, when class ended, she felt a tad disappointed, as though her aim had been off.

“Um, could I have a bit of your time after class?” she asked Marcela, who could not deny such an earnest request from Adele, and readily agreed.

***

After school that same day…

“I’m sorry to make you come all the way out here.”

Adele had brought the three girls to a grove a short walk outside of the capital’s north gates.

“Wh-what are we doing in a place like this?”

“Sorry. There’s something that I wanted to talk to you about… But first—can you promise to keep all of this a secret?”

“O-of course, that’s fine.”

Following Marcela’s lead, Monika and Aureana nodded emphatically.

“Um, well.” Adele began. “Don’t you think it’s odd the way that we all use magic…?”

The three girls looked at her, confused.

“Um, well, when I was watching everyone in class, it seemed like they were concentrating really hard on their spells…”

“Well, yes,” replied Marcela. “That’s because spells are the most important part of using magic… Aren’t they?”

“They aren’t,” Adele said.

“Huh?”

All three girls were stunned.

“Spells are nothing more than a way to assist you in forming the image of the magic you want to produce. It doesn’t really matter what words you use. As long as you can form the image, you can use magic without even speaking. Haven’t you noticed that people who use magic don’t all use the same spells—and some people can do it silently?”

“Th-that is true…”

Slowly, Marcela was beginning to understand what Adele was getting at.

“Honestly,” Adele continued, “what’s most important is forming a strong image in your head—an image of what kind of magic you want to use and how you want to use it. Then, you make that image radiate outside of you. In terms of spells, all you really need are a few words that suit your image.”

The three of them stared blankly. Adele’s explanation of magic was nothing like anything they had ever heard before.

“A few words?” Marcela exclaimed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing! Even in silent casting, we were taught that you must still incant the words of the spell before releasing the magic. What do you mean by ‘radiate,’ anyway?

Adele explained the concept of radiating a thought pulse. The three looked skeptical.

“And as far as images… When you want to produce water, just imagine squeezing it out of the air, like wringing a wet towel. Go ahead, give it a try.”

Among them, the most curious was Monika, the merchant’s daughter, who couldn’t use magic at all. She was the first to attempt it.

“Umm… Water, water, come on out, water squeezed from the sky!”

Ka-splash!

“Huh…?”

About ten liters of water poured down in front of Monika, muddying the ground. Monika, who was supposed to be completely without magical powers! And now, she was exhibiting not the basic magic of everyday convenience, but the magic of someone with real potential—assuming, of course, that she possessed the casting frequency and recovery time of a capable magician. And if training allowed…

“No way.” Monika was flabbergasted.

As it happened, water magic had a great deal of utility for a merchant.

Humans required, at bare minimum, two liters of water a day. When journeying in scorching heat, of course, this need became even greater. On top of all that, a horse required something closer to thirty or forty liters a day.

For example, how much water would a driver of a horse-drawn carriage with three guards need to carry to survive a twenty-day journey, with no water sources along the route?

The answer would be roughly 1,600 liters, or 1.6 tons. Combined with food for the humans and horses, that begins to encroach on the space one has for storing one’s wares.

However, if you had access to a magician who could produce ten liters of water every hour? That was a different story.

As a middle-class merchant’s daughter, Monika already had a number of advantages. Now, on top of those other assets, she was an attractive girl who could also double as a giant water cask. Her value as a merchant had just risen immensely.

More importantly, though she had older brothers and sisters, the chances of her ending up as the mistress to someone of influence had decreased dramatically. At the very least, she would most likely be able to land a man of some wealth—or, better still, the son of a higher-class merchant…

“This can’t… this can’t be!” Monika fell to her knees.

At this, Aureana cried out, “W-water! Water squeezed from the air, show yourself before me! Aqua sphere, appear!”

The words sounded as though she were reading them from an unfamiliar book.

Splish!

There was nowhere near as much water as Monika had produced, but still, it was something. Enough that she would never need to carry a water skin, or fetch water from the well for cooking and bathing.

“Ha! Aha ha ha ha!”

“I-It can’t…”

Monika had watched the other two in stunned silence, but as her senses returned, she made her own attempt at the spell. She had been able to produce water from the start. And so now…

“O, water! Squeeze from the air and become my spear…! Fly forth, to pierce my enemies!”

Ka-splat!

A jet of water struck a tree ten meters away with a splash.

It was not enough to pierce the trunk, but regardless, it was a fine attack spell, one that would at least be enough to disable an enemy.

“I-I did it! An attack spell!” Marcela’s voice trembled.

A mere ten percent of people had the magical skills necessary to put food on the table. Of these, most had civilian jobs, replenishing water supplies and replacing fuel. Only one in several dozen was equipped to use combat magic.

Unlike magic that simply conjured water or fire, combat spells came with a number of additional hurdles. Rather than simply producing the substance in question, one also had to condense it, imbuing your spell with enough kinetic energy to propel it forth with sufficient power and speed.

And for those with an incomplete knowledge of magic’s true principles, it required considerable talent to radiate a thought pulse silently, without using an appropriate spell.

The people of this world believed that, whether or not you opened your mouth, you needed “words of power” to work magic, and as a result, a great deal of effort went into putting the right words together rather than forming a concrete image of the spell’s desired effect. This meant that it was difficult to produce magic continuously or spontaneously.

Rather than casting spells by radiating the pulse of an image, they believed that the effect was contained within the words themselves, which were heard and granted by mysterious beings. And of course, these spells did work as they were intended, thereby confirming this belief. It was thus that the people devoted themselves to researching incantations, never thinking that the success of their spells might be due to other factors.

As for combat magic, those who could manifest it had one of two strengths: the ability to create a clear image or thought pulse; or the capacity to radiate that pulse with great power. In neither case was this a process in which the user of magic engaged consciously; rather, when they cast spells, their subconscious powers allowed them to succeed where so many failed.

Thus, those who could use the so-called combat magic were fairly few.

And now, Marcela had just managed to employ it—with ease.

How many beautiful girls of noble birth could add that to their list of accomplishments?

With Marcela as a wife, you would always have a defender by your side, even as you slept. Furthermore, her talent might be passed down to children or grandchildren.

How much value would someone like that have in the eyes of an aristocrat with enemies?

Marcela would be receiving many favorable proposals. Most certainly.

Her imagined future as the second wife of some old man or the mistress of an influential noble were vanishing swiftly in favor of new paths.

“Sniff. Waaahhh…”

Adele had only planned to help her friends as a small thank you for their kindnesses to her and had never thought of the immense difference this knowledge would make in their lives. As they wept, she looked on in complete bewilderment.

Perhaps this had been a mistake?

“U-um, actually, we need to keep this kind of confidential, so… The next time we have magic practice, maybe you could pretend that all of this is a surprise to you? Like ‘Whoa, how did I do that?’ And could you try, maybe, to leave the ‘from the sky’ part out of your spells, if you can? Maybe just think that part in your head rather than saying it…”

Eventually, when the three girls were calmer, they understood exactly what she meant.

It would be disastrous for a secret like this to get out. If it were known that the differences between those who could use magic and those who could not were actually negligible—as well as the fact that those differences could be erased with little effort and that magical ability could be increased with only a few simple techniques—there would have been an enormous uproar. Adele would possibly be imprisoned for telling the truth, pressured for information by royal agents, or worse still, killed by her father and jealous stepmother for thwarting their plans…

“N-naturally!” Marcela stuttered. “There is no noble who would ever betray their benefactor…No, their friend!”

“There’s no future for a merchant who breaks her bonds!”

“A-and, and… a peasant always keeps her promises!”

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!” They all laughed together.

Two days later, at magic practice, Ms. Michella was ecstatic to see the three girls’ magical talents suddenly bloom, one after the other. It was clearly the product of her good teaching.

In particular, she took an interest in Marcela, who showed a level of ability that would be impressive even for an adult magic user. Before long, her fascination with Adele, who could use only standard apprentice-level magic, dissipated.

***

It had been one year and two months since they first entered the academy.

During this time, Adele, now a second-year student, had managed to lead a fairly peaceful life without standing out from her peers. The majority of their classmates had remained in Class A after their promotion—just a handful had been transferred to other classes due to falling grades.

Adele, whose birthday fell early in the year, was now twelve years old.

In a little over a year, she had earned 144 silver pieces from her job at the bakery, half of which was banked away in her loot box. Were it not for Marcela’s generous gifts, she probably wouldn’t have been able to save even this much. Undergarments, after all, could be expensive.

As for her body, Adele’s chest was not as prominent as it had been at twelve years old in her previous life, but it was starting to grow a little…

The undergarments that Marcela had gifted her over a year ago included some camisoles and brassieres, but until very recently, these had slumbered away inside the loot box with Adele’s old clothing and her silver coins.

The thoughtfulness Marcela had shown in choosing padded garments made Adele’s heart ache.

Adele excelled in academics. In sports, her technique was lacking, but her strength and speed made her a strong backup player. In terms of magic, she was a perfectly normal “amateur with potential.” The only time she had produced anything the least bit remarkable was the piddling fireball she had silently cast during the initial assessment.

That was the state of things for Adele at school.

Marcela, on the other hand, had become something of a rising star ever since her magic had begun to blossom.

Once her family learned of her new abilities, they began sending frequent letters with advice such as, “Don’t be hasty,” and, “Take care to surround yourself with only the best.” Naturally, they hoped to ensure that she would make the best marriage possible. Marcela herself declared that she would wait until the right man struck her fancy and settle for “nothing less than a wonderful gentleman.” As a result, there had yet to be any talk of an engagement.

“This is all thanks to you,” she told Adele. “I would never have thought that I’d have the power to choose my fiancé.”

“No, no, I should be the one to thank you. You were the only one who could draw the boys’ attention away from me.”

Marcela and Adele grinned at one another.

As soon as others became aware of her aptitude for water magic, Monika also began receiving proposals from the sons of her father’s trading partners and a clerk in the family’s business, an ambitious young man who hoped to begin his own enterprise.

Yet she chose to wait, also, declaring, “The life of a merchant is risky! Five years from now, my betrothed could be bankrupt, and then what would I do?!” In this, too, Monika was truly a merchant’s daughter.

Meanwhile, Aureana, having received a scholarship, would be required to work as a civil servant or teacher in the future. Though the magic she could use was still very much of the “everyday” variety, suitable for housework and other small tasks, the fact that she could use magic at all continued to delight her.

She would never have to worry about water again, for even if she were stranded somewhere, she would always be able to summon enough to drink. In addition, Adele secretly taught her how to use magic to make water colder, which was quite useful as well.

Of course, chilling magic had always been around, but the method Adele taught Aureana was far more efficient. Even with her relatively modest abilities, she was able to make drinks colder, as well as preserve meats and fish. All of this was very useful.

***

“Hey! You already know, right?”

“We know. It’s match day.”

At Adele’s response, Kelvin, who had approached the girls aggressively a moment before, turned back with a flat expression.

“There’s no deterring that one, is there?” asked Marcela.

“I guess not…” Adele replied, her smile bitter.

Ever since their practice bout at the start of their first year, once a month, Kelvin had challenged Adele. He even made arrangements with Mr. Burgess to hold a practice match during their physical education lessons, so time was no problem. Still, as far as Adele was concerned, the whole thing was an ordeal.

She knew that he was putting in an enormous amount of effort, and it wasn’t as though she didn’t understand his feelings, but she hated seeing the way his eyes burned with animosity, or his blank, speechless face when he inevitably lost. They were classmates, so Adele put up with it, accepting his challenges each time, but she certainly didn’t enjoy them.

Besides all that, however, Kelvin seemed like a decent sort of boy who got along easily with his classmates. Adele often wondered why he treated her the way he did, and the longer she pondered this, the more her discomfort increased.

She could no longer lose on purpose, not after Burgess’s lengthy private lecture on the “fragility of man.”

“Come on now, you can’t just fake it!” her teacher would tell her. “If you keep doing this, he’ll know for sure. Honestly, try to consider the man’s pride…”

It was hard to meet Kelvin’s eyes each time one of their bouts ended.

However, Burgess’s lectures on “the nature of boys” had helped Adele—indeed, had helped her quite a bit.

***

It was time for combat practice.

As always, the class began with Adele and Kelvin’s match, and as always, the victory went to Adele.

In terms of technique, Kelvin was leagues beyond her, but that meant nothing in the face of the overwhelming difference between them in terms of power and speed.

Of course, the strength she showed wasn’t truly superhuman, but now that Adele had abandoned her “normal mode”—in other words, the amount of power that might be expected of a girl her age—there was no way a preadolescent boy could best her, no matter how talented he was. Not unless she lost on purpose.

Yet not only had Burgess forbidden her from doing that, but Adele had, by now, become painfully aware of her own lack of acting skills.

Kelvin’s expression was unpleasant, and that day, seeing him glare at her the way he always did, Adele began to grow agitated. Why did he have to look at her like that? She had never done anything to deserve it. They had been through this routine at least ten times now, and every time, he had made that face and given her that look. This time, somehow, it angered her—as though the rage had been accumulating inside her and now escaped all at once.

“I’m not going to fight you again,” she said. “We’re through!”

“Huh…?”

For a moment, Kelvin stared at her blankly, as though he could not comprehend her words. Then, he flew into a red-faced rage.

“Wh-what are you talking about?! Until I beat you, I…”

“Can you not see how selfish that is?! What does that have to do with me?”

Kelvin opened his mouth to reply, but Adele cut him off before he could do so. “After all these times, are you really going to be satisfied and think, ‘Oh yeah, I’m the strongest!’ after winning just once? If you’ve got one win to twelve losses, are you really just going to stop? Are you stupid?!”

“Wh…”

“What, exactly, is it that you would gain from beating me? From beating someone who’s not even aiming to be a knight? What would you say to them? Yes, that’s right, my three years at the academy were occupied by attempting to defeat a little girl who works at a bakery. And now, that girl is preparing to be a bride.’ Is that really what you want to say?!”

“Pfft!”

A number of their classmates burst out laughing. Even Mr. Burgess had to hold back his laughter. A conscientious teacher mustn’t be seen laughing at such a thing. Certainly not.

“You’re aware that I’m a magic user, aren’t you? I’m not great with swords. Are you going to tell them that, too? Just proudly announce, ‘Oh yes, I had fourteen sword battles with a mage who sucks at swords, and on the fifteenth try, I finally seized victory!’?!”

“Gaha! Bwah ha ha ha ha!” The conscientious Burgess finally caved.

“Wh-what are you…?”

“That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?! You’ve never once battled me at magic, which is my specialty; you only come at me when we’re practicing something you’re good at. What’s so great about beating a mage at a sword fight?”

“Uh…”

“Uh?”

“Uh-I, I…… Waaaaaaaahhh!”

Kelvin went running.

“Adele, my girl…” Burgess looked troubled. “Can we chat a minute? There are some things in this world you shouldn’t say to someone, no matter how justified you are…”

The remainder of the class turned into another one of Burgess’s lesson for Adele about “being considerate of boys’ egos,” with the other students piping in now and then.

“So, I was wrong?” she asked.

“I’m not going to bother punishing Kelvin for leaving. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to bear that dressing down.”

Everyone in the class nodded in agreement with the ruling. Except for Adele.

“After that though, hmm…” Burgess turned to Marcela and company. “Wonder Trio, follow me.”

“W-wonder Trio? Do you mean us? What is that…?”

The girls look perplexed at their new title.

“Aah, sorry. That’s the nickname we teachers have for you all. A commoner, a merchant’s daughter, and a noble—despite coming from three very different backgrounds, the three of you get along wonderfully. More unbelievably, all three of you have seen your magical abilities blossom. It’s like you caught the attention of the spirits who control magic, or the goddess was smiling on your friendship. So yes, Wonder Trio, Miracle Trio, Magic Trio… We have a lot of different names for you three.”

“Huh?” The three were stunned and began to blush.

“But that’s not the point. There’s a certain delicate boy who needs comforting, and I’d like to enlist the help of the Three Popular Beauties of Class A, Plus One.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The three were surprised, but seeing the state that Kelvin had been in, they couldn’t possibly refuse.

“I suppose we must—if there’s anything we can do to help…”

Yet as one might expect, these three girls still hoped for something in return, even if their actions were for the sake of a classmate.

“Oh, all right,” Burgess conceded. “Next time something comes up, I’ll take care of it for you.”

“That’s a promise then. And by the way…”

“Hm? What is it?”

“What did you mean by ‘plus one’?”

“Oh, that.” He pointed to Adele. “Though I guess, for now, we had better keep the culprit out of this.”

***

And so, as though the three girls had worked some kind of miracle, Kelvin showed up for afternoon lessons.

After the final class was over and the teacher left the classroom, he approached Adele’s seat.

At the sight of this, Adele wrinkled her nose, knowing trouble was brewing.

I wish he’d just leave me alone already!

“I won’t lose! I am the fifth son of Baron Bellium, and on my name, I…”

“Oh?” Adele’s low voice echoed through the quiet classroom. Her anger had begun to build again as soon as Kelvin started speaking.

It was then that her classmates knew: the morning’s long talk about being considerate of Kelvin’s feelings hadn’t exactly sunk in.

“Who are you?”

A series of gasps echoed around the classroom, as everyone else was shocked right alongside Kelvin.

“Wh-what…? Are you…?” Kelvin was flustered but tried to save face.

Adele ignored his babbling.

“The one I’ve been fighting is a boy named Kelvin, a classmate who, no matter how many times he loses, keeps forcing me into one challenge after another. The one who I put up with time and time again, in spite of his mysterious grudges and creepy glares.

“And now? You aren’t the one called Kelvin, my opponent and classmate, the one who keeps fighting and wants to be a knight, you’re some creature called the ‘baron’s fifth son’? What business do I have with a thing like that?”

“Huh…?”

“What is a ‘baron’s fifth son’ anyway? Is that impressive? Is that supposed to mean something? All it means to be a noble is that a long, long time ago, your ancestors did something the king liked. Until then they were just normal peasants like everyone else.

“Sure, maybe that person was amazing, but just being their descendent doesn’t make you special. Or does your blood run a different color than a commoner’s?”

There was an intake of breath as Adele and Kelvin’s classmates reeled at this scathing critique.

“Um, actually, being a noble doesn’t mean that you were born a noble,” Kelvin said. “It means that you were born to become a noble. You’re raised with your parents’ example, and educated as a noble, and your heart is filled up with a noble’s spirit—noblesse oblige, a ‘noble’s obligations.’”

The tables were turning! The classroom breathed a sigh of relief, but Adele continued. “What are you right now? You’re studying among commoners, you haven’t been trained as a noble, you haven’t contributed anything to this country or its people. You haven’t done anything but live off our taxes. What right have you to declare yourself anything at all?

“You think you deserve to call yourself a noble, when your only qualification is that special family name? Really? And you’re willing to take the chance of sullying that name?”

“Uh…”

This was not going well. Seeing Kelvin backed into a corner, the students began to panic. It was beginning to feel like a repeat of that morning.

“…Is your heart burning?”

“Huh…?” Kelvin stared blankly, unsure of what she meant.

“Was all the passion you’ve poured into practicing combat really born of your own desires? Or was it something you were duty-bound to do, to protect your pride as a noble’s fifth son?

“Did you even enjoy your training? Were you glad to grow stronger? Or was it difficult and painful—did you have to force your way through?

“And when you did, did your heart grow dark and cold? Or did you burn hotter and brighter, believing in a future when your own strength would shine through, regardless of your family name?”

Kelvin was silent, his face bright red again.

“To me, you aren’t just a noble or a ‘baron’s fifth son.’ You’re a boy, one who believes in his own power, who keeps training because of his own will, and who keeps on fighting to improve himself, regardless of his upbringing. That was what I believed, and that is why I always answered your challenges.

“Did you know that there’s a place where the word ‘Kelvin’ is used to measure the temperature? It isn’t a nice little scale, where water freezes at zero degrees, and boils at 100.

“In Kelvin, it’s 273 degrees below zero. That is the temperature at which all matter freezes solid—even the motion of time. It’s a terrifying sort of scale that fixes that point as zero degrees—or as they call it, ‘absolute zero.’

“As for high temperatures, they’ll give you a blazing world where even rock and iron melt and evaporate!”

With a snap, Adele pointed a finger at Kelvin.

“Are you a meaningless child with no merit outside of your position as a ‘baron’s fifth son’? Or are you a man who lives beyond that family name, who has a heart that blazes fiercely and a soul that shines with brilliant light—’Kelvin, the Inferno’?!”

“Uh—I… I…”

Seeing Kelvin’s eyes beginning to well with tears, Adele snapped back to her senses. She looked around her to see her classmates gazing in awe, as though they had just witnessed something unbelievable.

Oh dear. Had she overdone it?

Flustered, Adele looked to Marcela, but Marcela simply shrugged her shoulders and pointed silently toward the door.

Following that admirably succinct advice, Adele hurried out of the room.

***

The following day, Adele entered the classroom timidly to find an atmosphere of unexpected calm. The other students greeted Adele normally, as they always did.

She was relieved.

However, the strange part came later.

Not that it was a bad thing.

It was just that everyone seemed to be putting forth an exceptional amount of effort.

During their classroom studies, during physical education, during magic practice…

They worked enthusiastically and asked productive questions. The noble students’ efforts were particularly noticeable.

This was a good thing, surely. However, their attitudes were completely different from those of the previous day. Adele was greatly confused.

Even Kelvin had an oddly calm demeanor and seemed perfectly normal as they sat for lessons. There wasn’t a fragment of the irritation or agitation he had shown every day for the last year.

Mr. Burgess was convinced that this was due to the efforts of the three girls, and news spread amongst the teachers that these three were particularly useful. More and more teachers began to put various requests upon them until it began to be a bit of a bother.

Adele couldn’t help but comment on the changes.

“You know, Marcela… You managed to draw all the boys’ attention away before, but lately it seems like it’s started to turn back toward me, hasn’t it?”

Marcela shrugged and replied, “Miss Adele, have you ever heard the expression, ‘You reap what you sow’…?”

average 1.2

Adele began the school week in high spirits. On the rest day, she had received another two silver pieces from her job at the bakery, and on top of that, she was allowed to take leftover bread with her, which she could store in the loot box without having it go stale.

The moment she stepped into the classroom, she was bombarded with questions.

“Morning, Adele!”

“What’d you do on your day off?”

“Let’s eat lunch together today!”

Attack of the boys!

Adele was a bit of a hot commodity.

She had the smarts to make it into Class A, the physical prowess of a lady knight, impressive magical talent—plus, a personality so demure as to try concealing all of this.

Furthermore, though she was passing herself off as a commoner, she had entered the academy without taking the entrance exam, and it appeared that her family themselves had paid the full tuition. Most importantly, she was beautiful, too.

Though they were only ten years old, in three years Eckland’s students would make their first steps into society, and two years after that, they would be considered adults. It was not strange that, in the midst of this gifted class, many were already trying to forge connections for the sake of their futures—romantic or otherwise.

“Do you all never learn?! Look, you’re smothering her!”

Once again, the girl with the chairman-like air—perhaps it was easier just to call her the chairwoman?—intervened on Adele’s behalf.

“Th-thank you. I’m not really good at talking to boys, so…”

As she spoke, Adele could sense the boys considering her carefully. Half, it seemed, might give her space, not wanting to intimidate such a retiring beauty. But the other half looked ready to press harder in order to take advantage of her inexperience, to test her reaction.

The other girl smiled, and all at once, Adele realized something. What the girl had done—that was something a friend would have done. The girl might be…a friend! And if she were, she would be the first friend Adele had ever made—her previous life included.

***

The first week of instruction took place in the classroom.

As one might expect, the students didn’t launch directly into physical or magical exercises. Instead, they began with general education, as well as safety practices, and the theory behind their martial and magical training. They wouldn’t begin practical studies until the following week.

For Adele, these classroom activities were a breeze. With the memories of an eighteen-year-old from a civilization that was centuries ahead of this one, there was no way she could possibly fall behind her classmates.

Besides, Misato’s powers of reasoning remained a part of her. Did God assume that she needed intelligence in order to absorb Misato’s consciousness? Or had the intellects of humans in this world continued to advance, even though their civilization had failed to do so?

Even when there were errors in the magical theory that their teacher was presenting, Adele didn’t point them out, and the week proceeded without incident.

Then came the day preceding the next rest day.

“Miss Adele, we would like to speak to you about something later.” It was Marcela, the third daughter of a baron, flanked by two of her friends. At her words, Adele’s heart leapt.

“O-of course!” Adele stuttered. “But where…? Oh! My room should be big enough, shouldn’t it?!”

“Uh… sure, that’s fine…” Marcela replied, bewildered by Adele’s eagerness.

A friend! And an invitation! This was the moment she’d been waiting for.

***

Viewed from afar, the three girls—Marcela, a baron’s third daughter; Monika, the second daughter of a middle-class merchant; and Aureana, a commoner who was attending the academy on scholarship—look like nothing so much as a noblewoman and her attendants.

Marcela was a typical aristocratic type. However, she was also quite the generous spirit, and along with Monika, a friend of Marcela’s from before the academy, she had helped to relieve Aureana, the commoner, of a number of worries. It was, she claimed, a noble’s duty to alleviate the suffering of the powerless.

This time, though, the three of them were acting together.

“What could she mean by ‘my room is big enough’? All the rooms have the same layout, do they not…?”

“Who knows? I guess we’ll find that out when we get there.”

“Let’s go teach that cheeky girl some manners!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Marcela could not stand her—that girl Adele. She hadn’t witnessed it for herself, but she’d heard about the impressive power Adele displayed during the assessment. That much was fine. Every person had her own strengths.

However, what she could not abide was the way that one glance from Adele sent the boys into a tizzy.

Once she returned home after graduation, Marcela would be groomed as a bride, and two years later, if things went well, she would become the second wife of a middle-aged aristocrat, a trophy bride, or—at worst—the mistress to a powerful noble. Until then, she needed to keep her options open.

The fact was that the academy was filled with girls in search of romance, and any individual who threatened to monopolize the attention of the school’s male students was breaking an unspoken rule. Marcela, the poor baron’s daughter, was determined to make this apparent.

Without the expectations that came with noble blood, Monika and Aureana were not as troubled by all of this. However, for the sake of their friendship with Marcela, both girls offered their support.

At the sound of knocking, Adele jumped up, rushing to open the door.

“W-welcome! Please come in!” Her heart fluttered with joy and nerves. Even in her previous life, she had never had the experience of welcoming a classmate into her own space.

But as her guests entered, Adele realized… I don’t have any chairs but the one!

Why had she been so careless?

Having a visitor sit on one’s bed was surely bad form. Moreover, having three friends on the bed while she sat in a chair would create an odd sort of one-versus-three situation.

“I-I’m so sorry! I forgot to prepare any seating! Please wait a moment, while I borrow some chairs from the common room.”

She flew from the room without waiting for a reply.

“What a scatterbrain!” Marcela said.

Monika nodded. “She certainly is. But at least I understand now what she meant when she said her room was big.”

It was true: the space felt large. But in fact, Adele’s room was the same size as everyone else’s. The difference was that, in this room, there were no chests, no luggage, and no lamps. There wasn’t a single decoration, accessory, or stuffed toy. The room was practically vacant.

Even Aureana, the commoner, had outfitted her room with a cheap, used chest that she had purchased in town and decorated using trinkets gifted to her by her fellow villagers.

Looking around Adele’s room, she spoke in a stunned voice. “It’s amazingly empty…”

Marcela seized the handle of the built-in armoire.

“Milady! You musn’t—”

Ignoring Monika’s warning, Marcela flung open the doors. “She has no clothes!”

All that hung inside were the uniforms the school had provided.

Next, Marcela reached out to open the drawers below.

“W-we can’t! It’s not—” Monika tried to grab Marcela’s hands, but the drawers had already slid open.

Once again, there was nothing inside.

“Empty…”

Just then, there was a pained shriek. Marcela and Monika pulled back their hands and turned to see Aureana standing over the desk drawer, an awful expression on her face.

“What is it?!”

Marcela drew closer to peek inside the drawer, and Monika followed suit, looking apprehensive.

They looked inside the drawer and gasped.

Marcela stood, stunned, and Monika had tears in the corners of her eyes. Aureana was already weeping.

In the drawer was one thick bone.

It was on a plate, but there were no scraps of meat. The bone was clean, covered in knife marks, as though it came from a kitchen.

Marcela’s eyes were wide. “Is this…her snack…?”

***

By the time Adele returned from the rec room, carrying a pair of small chairs, they had returned the room to its former state and dabbed away their tears.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting.”

“I-It was no bother…” Marcela cleared her throat. “Anyway, there is something I would like to ask you.”

Adele arranged the two chairs she had brought in a semi-circle next to the one that had already been in the room. She herself sat down on the bed. Even in a room as empty as hers, there was not much space for seating.

“What is it?”

“It seems that you didn’t sit for the entrance exam when enrolling at the academy. So we’d like to know—are you, in fact, a noble?”

So, Adele thought, they’ve found me out. However, she couldn’t bring herself to lie to her new friends, and so she answered frankly.

“Well, yes… It’s true. But if I were to use my family name, it’s likely that I would be killed—by my father and my new stepmother, whose child is meant to take my place.”

Marcela fought desperately to remain composed and do credit to her noble pedigree.

Aureana was silent, her face white as a sheet.

Finally, Monika gulped, her voice wavering. “I-I see… W-well, are you gifted at sports or magic, then?”

“Hmm?” Adele asked. “No, I’m fairly normal. Even during the assessment, I only performed as well as whoever was in line ahead of me…”

Marcela began to understand the rumors that were circulating. This girl was clueless!

Was it possible that she really had no idea that the people ahead of her had been top of the class in each of their respective fields? Could she truly not know that everyone had noticed the way she deliberately held back in order to match the others?

Perhaps her parents had instructed her to conceal her exceptional abilities, so as not to cause trouble for this stepsister.

“I-I see. Normal, yes. Normal…”

“Yes! It’s nice to be normal, isn’t it?”

“………”

In the long pause that followed, Marcela remembered the reason she’d come to Adele’s room in the first place.

“Miss Adele,” she began. “You seem to get along awfully well with the boys…”

Adele leapt at the bait. “That’s true! Although I can’t figure out why… I’m awful at talking to boys in general. The only man I’ve ever really spoken to before is my father.”

Adele continued: “I certainly have no plans of getting a boyfriend right now. I’d be perfectly content just to find one once I’m out on my own, as an adult. I just wish there was some way of getting them to leave me alone…”

“Wha…?”

The three girls were dumbstruck. There was something very wrong with this situation.

The thing that they had originally come to speak to her about no longer seemed important, after all.

To break the silence, Marcela asked the first question that popped into her head.

“Well, do… do you have any plans for tomorrow?”

“Oh, yes. I spend the rest days working. I have no funds and receive no allowance… With the pay I get tomorrow, I should hopefully be able to buy at least one more spare undergarment!”

The way that she said these words—so cheerfully!—was too much for the three girls to bear.

Aureana trembled, her face pale.

Monika was bright red, her teeth clamped down on her lip as tears welled in her eyes.

Marcela, meanwhile, prayed desperately for serenity.

“W-well, we won’t trouble you by overstaying our welcome. Perhaps we should get going…”

“Oh, you’re welcome to stay…”

Marcela replied, standing, “There will be plenty of time for that later. We still have three years here, after all.”

“Of course!”

The girls bade farewell to their classmate and returned to their own rooms, leaving Adele overjoyed.

“I did it! I can finally cross ‘having friends over’ off my list! Three of them, no less!”

What Adele didn’t know was that the three of them had walked home in complete silence.

Meow.

“Oh, you’re back!”

A little black cat slipped into Adele’s room through the open window.

Adele pulled the plate from the drawer and set it atop the desk, as the cat jumped eagerly for the bone.

“You really like that bone, huh? I’ll try to get you a new one next time.”

***

It was the beginning of the second week in the Class A homeroom.

“Miss Adele, do you have a moment?”

“Oh, Miss Marcela!”

Adele bounded happily toward Marcela, who shoved a paper bag in the other girl’s direction.

“I wasn’t sure of your size, but I purchased this thinking that you may be able to wear it.”

“Huh? For me?”

The bag was rather large.

“Thank you! Can I open it?”

“N-not right now! Please open it when you return to your room!”

Judging by the redness of Marcela’s face, Adele was able to form some idea of the bag’s contents.

It wasn’t something that a girl would normally misjudge the size of.

“Miss Marcela…”

Adele inched closer, then hugged Marcela tightly.

“St-stop that! Miss Adele, let me go this instant!”

Marcela struggled, turning bright red—but there was no escaping Adele’s inadvertently forceful embrace.

Their classmates looked on, envious of Adele’s attentions.

From the next day on, Adele’s classmates began bringing her gifts of sweets and dried meat, girls and boys alike.

Adele found this odd but accepted the presents gratefully. Still, there were no more joyful embraces.

“Why didn’t I get a hug from Adele? Hey, tell me!”

“I-I don’t know anything about that.”

The other girls in the class pressed Marcela for answers, with more and more students joining in.

“Marcela, what exactly did you give Adele that time that she hugged you?”

“I-It was nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing! What on earth did you give her?”

“I-I don’t remember!”

“Please, tell me! I want a hug from Adele!”

“Me too! I want Adele to hug me!”

“And I want to hug her!”

“Me too!”

A male voice piped in. “Me too…”

“YOU BOYS STAY OUT OF THIS!”

average 1.1

“Hmm. Well, I suppose if she’s one of yours, then there’s no problem.” The bakery owner turned to Adele. “Here, we do the important work of putting food on everyone’s tables, so we can’t take even a single day off. I’ve been thinking for some time now that it would be nice if, one day a week, I might take a little break once the day’s baking is finished.

“With that in mind, we’ve been looking for someone to come in and sell bread once a week, from morning to evening. What do you think? If that sounds good, why don’t you come and try working for us? If it doesn’t work out, you’re welcome to quit at any point.”

It seemed like the perfect job for Adele.

Even a ten-year-old girl could easily remember the prices of bread, and the baked goods there couldn’t be all that different from what they sold in Japan… In any case, this was Adele. Even if there were a mountain of loaves, she could surely memorize their prices quickly enough for the baker.

Besides, the job was only once a week—how difficult could it be?

“I’m in, if you’ll have me!”

And all at once, it seemed Adele would be able to live the life of a normal student after all.

In this world, each week was six days, with six weeks in each month. Thirty-six days in a month and ten months to a year. So, 360 days. The weeks and months were easily divisible, as well as numerous, so this was convenient in a number of ways.

On top of this, at the end of the year, there were the two “Days on Which We Mourn the Departing Year and Offer Our Thanks,” as well as the “Changing of the Year Day,” and the “Day on Which We Welcome the New Year and Celebrate.” This last was actually two days, which made five extra days altogether, for a total of 365 days a year.

Each week, one of the six days was generally a rest day for everyone, including the academy, so this was the day when Adele would work at the bakery.

Of course, this meant that Adele had no days off, but that couldn’t be helped. In any case, Adele thought, a school intended for children aged ten to thirteen couldn’t possibly be all that difficult for her, so she didn’t imagine there would be any problems arising as far as homework was concerned. Though many students would surely study independently after returning to their dorms, that was unlikely to be necessary for Adele.

Today wasn’t a rest day, but in order to give her a proper training, the baker decided Adele would work the remainder of the day for practice. And so, the matron left Adele there and returned to the dorm.

***

Adele’s training was a success.

In her previous life, Misato had had few acquaintances, but that hadn’t been for lack of desiring them. In truth, it was less that she was awkward or uncomfortable in the company of others, but more that few ever reached out to her.

Armed with her memories of Japanese hospitality, it was simple for Adele to play the role of a young shopkeeper, and immediately, the customers took a liking to her.

And so, that evening, Adele headed back to the academy’s dormitory, two silver coins clasped firmly in her hand.

The fruits of my labor! My very own earnings! Money that I can use however I like! Adele was walking on air.

However, a sense of unease quickly overtook her elation.

What happens if I lose my coins? What if they get stolen?

There were few thieves who would stoop so low as to target a ten-year-old, but Adele couldn’t convince herself to calm down. After all, there remained a part of her brain that was still eighteen years old, fully aware of the world’s dangers.

Suddenly, she remembered—the loot boxes!

If she stored her coins in a loot box, they could never be lost or stolen.

At the thought of this, Adele relaxed and cast a silent spell with her thoughts alone. At once, the coins in her hand disappeared.

Next, she tried retrieving them. In seconds, the sensation of metal returned to her palm. She stored the coins away again at once.

For a moment, Adele’s heart swelled with pride at her success, but suddenly, something else occurred to her, and her face paled.

If the spell had gone wrong, she realized, she could have lost all her hard-earned money. Why hadn’t she tested it on a pebble first before experimenting with the coins? She’d been an idiot.

Well, she reflected as she plodded on, at least, I didn’t lose the coins. Everything was fine. But she would have to be more careful going forward.

To compare the currency of modern-day Japan with that of Adele’s world, a single copper coin was worth roughly 10 yen. A half-silver was worth 100, a silver worth 1,000, a half-gold worth 10,000, and a full gold worth 100,000 yen.

Fruits and vegetables were cheap, meat and other luxury items expensive, and tools and jewelry an exorbitant price by Japanese standards, meaning a simple monetary conversion would have been pointless. However, judged in terms of what might be required to maintain the average person’s standard of living, Adele’s wage was quite reasonable.

Typically speaking, the average craftsman with a family took home a salary of around 3 gold pieces a month. Minus rest days, a person worked 30 days a month, for a converted salary of about 10,000 yen per day.

By contrast, Adele’s salary was two silver a day, or roughly 2,000 yen, which worked out to about 250 yen per hour. Though it might not have seemed like much, it was a perfectly adequate wage for a child. A monthly salary of 12 silver pieces, or roughly 12,000 yen, would be more than enough to cover her daily necessities. Most likely, she wouldn’t be able to purchase any clothing, but as her school uniform was provided, Adele would get by.

In order to maintain appearances, the school provided mending services and allowed students to exchange outgrown garments free of charge. All things considered, though all that was said to be free, in truth, such things were paid for out of the students’ tuition.

She would have to deal with her undergarments herself, but at this point, Adele had no need for anything on her top half. While the eighteen-year-old in her did not exactly consider this to be fortunate, for now, it was one less thing to worry about, and she was grateful for that.

In any case, it seemed as though her money troubles had been solved.

From then on, on the days Adele worked, the baker continued to come in before dawn to begin the breads. The locals dropped by to purchase fresh-baked bread for their breakfasts, and those who worked on rest days would pop in at noon to get something to carry them through the day, just like always. In the afternoon, however, the baker left the shop under the care of his counter girl, taking advantage of the chance to get out and enjoy some rest for the sake of his health, or spend time with his wife and children.

***

The following day was the examination, when all the noble children came together to take placement tests and be sorted into classes.

Of course, truly noble children like Prissy would be attending the far superior Ardleigh Academy. Those at Eckland were the children of far lesser aristocrats—those who had only the dimmest hopes of inheriting; those who would not even prove useful as pawns in a political marriage—those who were, to put it simply, mediocre. Their prospects were hardly better than those of a merchant’s child.

The other students were those very children of merchants, including daughters from families without sons, sent to make connections that might help them marry into more influential merchant families.

All this was a great deal for a ten-year-old to comprehend, especially a ten-year-old noble raised in privilege, told since birth that he or she was different from mere commoners. And yet, amidst all of this, Adele breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t stand out from the others present at the examination as much as she had expected. Though her clothing was of a far lower quality than what Prissy was granted, Adele’s garments were in fact that of a noble’s daughter, and despite being quite rumpled from the carriage ride, she found that her appearance was not too different from that of, say, the youngest child of a low-ranking noble. The fact that her clothes had been soaked and had then wrinkled as they dried further aided in the illusion.

***

The day began with a written exam.

This test covered basic history, the names of the King and other influential figures, facts about neighboring countries, etiquette, basic logic, and a variety of other topics.

Alienated as she was by her family, Adele found little to do besides study. As a result, Adele’s intelligence had already been considerable even before her memories returned, and now, armed with her new perspective, she mastered the exam easily.

The mathematics section was similar. Compared to what she knew from her previous life, these calculations were child’s play, and Adele worked the problems with all her might. If she didn’t end up in the highest-ranking class, she knew that she would be bored to tears. And besides, the concept of a girl who had an aptitude for studying was a fairly ordinary one. It was natural for someone to be at the top when it came to exams.

As it happened, most class placements were made according to the results of the written exam. In order to carry on lectures and the like, it was necessary to group students by level, for if the school were to mix students of vastly differing abilities, it would have been difficult to settle on a curriculum that could be completed by all.

Yet this approach wasn’t practical in all cases. It would be incredibly difficult for teachers to manage a class filled with geniuses or the opposite. Everyone would require the same amount of attention, after all.

By mixing students of an advanced and beginner level, teachers could leave the more advanced children to their own devices and focus on the students who were in greater need of their guidance. And, should any students show themselves to be at a higher level than even the instructors, there were various methods of independent study that might be employed.

Specifically, when it came to magic and physical education, it was more convenient not to divide the students by ability. While this made things a breeze for the more skilled children, some complained that it meant that they didn’t have much chance to improve.

Similarly, even those who couldn’t use magic were required to take magic classes. After all, in the future, one might become employed as the assistant or secretary to a magician—or, should one become a soldier, one might have to fight against magic users someday. Thus, even if one couldn’t use magic oneself, having a basic knowledge of the magical arts was vital.

***

A physical assessment came after the written exam.

No one was expected to enter the school as an athlete. They only needed to show that they were relatively healthy and fit enough that they could participate in the school’s physical education class.

Adele performed each exercise precisely as directed. She couldn’t afford to display any abnormalities in this area. She was, after all, a “completely normal, average girl.”

So, accounting for the number of children lined up in front of her, she tried her best to adjust her performance to what appeared to be an average level.

They were divided into teams of five and directed to complete various exercises in succession. Adele had been placed in the number two spot on her team, leaving only the one child ahead of her as reference.

She made calculations in her head. The student ahead of her was a boy, but at this age, Adele estimated it wouldn’t be too strange for a girl to perform at the same level. Didn’t they say that girls grew faster than boys when they were young, anyway?

In any event, as long as she stayed within the average range, it didn’t really matter if she did well or poorly. As long as she didn’t stand out.

In every event—sprinting, running, long jump, chin-ups, push-ups, and javelin—Adele strove to receive exactly the same marks as the young man ahead of her.

This way, even if she appeared to be slightly gifted for a girl, she could still be counted as a “normal” child.

***

Finally, they came to magic.

In this world, about thirty percent of all people had some magical ability. Among those, perhaps another third had a knack for it. This meant that true magic users were around ten percent of the total population. Everyone else was only able to complete simple, practical tasks such as lighting a furnace or summoning enough water to quench a mild thirst.

Before her reawakening, it wasn’t clear whether Adele would have been able to scrape her way into that top ten percent, even with training. However, she had at least always been one of the thirty percent. If a carriage traveling through the desert happened upon some trouble, with Adele on board, their chances of survival would have been slightly higher.

But now…

To be safest, it would be better for Adele not to use magic at all. She knew that much.

Unfortunately, this strategy was impractical. Because she was able to use magic, it would have been a shame not to allow herself to try, just a little. Pretending not to be able to use magic could make trouble later; if there were ever a time when the circumstances called for it, Adele did not want to be unprepared.

So, just as with the physical exam, she planned to adjust her level to resemble that of the other magically-capable students.

Just like the previous time, Adele carefully studied the others who used magic before her, and when her turn came, she calculated her own efforts accordingly.

The average human had about 1/6,800 of her magical strength, so if she suppressed her powers to about 1/10,000 of their greatest strength, the effects would be equal to that of the child immediately in front of her.

Poof.

A fireball of just the right size came flying out, and Adele breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t a combat-worthy spell, just a dinky little flame.

But everyone, including the instructors, was staring at Adele, mouths agape.

“Sh-she didn’t use a spell…”

Adele felt her stomach fall. She had forgotten to recite the incantation.

Of course, in reality, an incantation was not required to expel a thought pulse. However, for most humans, unable to instantaneously conjure the necessary image or the molecular movements and chemical reactions involved, it was necessary to facilitate the image and thought pulse formation by using a spell: “O, flames! Swirl and gather to me, and dash my enemies!”

The easiest way to actualize this was to recite it aloud, and although not impossible to do silently, it was more difficult, the sort of technique used mostly when a sneak attack was necessary. If one chose not to articulate a spell aloud, the power of its magic would diminish considerably, even if one took the same amount of time to think the appropriate words.

However, Adele visualized and enacted this phenomenon without her expression even changing. At the same strength as the child before her. Though this also counted as “silent casting,” in terms of power, it was so great that the people of this world could not fully appreciate what she had done.

Fortunately for Adele, even the adults watching didn’t totally comprehend the magnitude of her casting—though it was obvious to all that her magical abilities were far beyond what would be expected for a child of her age.

Inwardly panicking, Adele strove to justify her mistake. There must, she told herself, be plenty of people who can cast without incantations. It’s just that most people don’t choose to do so. I’m just a normal girl who happens to be particularly skilled in fire magic. That’s it!

The new students had yet to introduce themselves to one another. So, while under other circumstances the room might have filled with whispers, silence reigned. Despite their obvious shock, the instructors decided to carry on the test as planned. There would be plenty of time to ask questions later.

The class sorting concluded without other incidents, and when the students were dismissed from the training grounds, Adele headed back to her room.

***

Only one boy remained on the grounds: Kevin von Bellium, the fifth son of an impoverished baron.

The Bellium family was poor. Despite this, the charming Baron, after being blessed with three sons and a daughter by his wife, had relations with her lady’s maid and acquired two more sons, as well as another daughter.

The Baron wasn’t some immoral philanderer. He provided richly for the maid who had granted him these offspring. He allowed her children to live in the mansion and raised them as his own. His wife and her children were never cruel to them, treasuring them as family would.

And yet, the maid’s family still wanted for money.

Originally, the Baron had planned for his wife’s sons to attend Ardleigh Academy, but this would have left no tuition money for the sons of the lady’s maid.

The eldest son was the Baron’s heir, and the second, his spare should something happen to the first son. The third would, God willing, become a knight or a guardsman, or else a high-ranking bureaucrat. If he were lucky, he could marry into the family of a baron or viscount with no male heirs of his own.

Normally, all three girls would have been sent to Eckland Academy, whose tuition was one-tenth that of Ardleigh’s. However, with the necessary assets, there was the possibility that might be able to wed themselves to the heir of an aristocrat or the son of a prominent merchant, thus raising the family’s fortunes. In order to give his daughters a better chance of finding eligible spouses, it was necessary for the Baron to send them to Ardleigh, even if it meant overextending the family’s meager accounts. Such were the gambles a poor noble’s family had to make in the hopes of being freed from their hardships.

As it turned out, the maid’s daughter was a beauty. So much so that, even as the illegitimate daughter of a baron, she was sure to marry well. With the maid’s daughter set to attend the more prestigious school, it was impossible for the Baron to send his eldest daughter, the Baroness’s daughter, to the lesser academy. If he did, people might wonder whether something was wrong with the girl, thus destroying any chance she had of making a good marriage. Therefore, though it was beyond the means of the poor baron’s family, both of the daughters were sent to Ardleigh Academy, and the family prayed for the younger’s beauty to bring them a fortune at long last.

Thus, it came to be that the Baron’s fourth son—his first with the maid—and the fifth son, named Kelvin, were set to attend Eckland Academy. That was how it would be.

Yet, the fourth son had a magical talent. It was just enough that the boy would be able to make a living on the road—or even, depending on the circumstances, become a court magician or enter the wizards’ guild.

His parents were elated, and at the last minute, it was decided that he too would be sent to Ardleigh, leaving only Kelvin, the fifth son, to attend the Eckland Academy all on his own.

Out of seven children, he was the only one.

How? Why? Kelvin railed against the injustices of the world, even though, deep in his heart, he knew that it couldn’t be helped. Sending one’s children to a prestigious academy was no small burden for the family of an impoverished noble.

Even after the high entrance fees, there was three years’ worth of tuition, textbooks, food, lodging, uniform fees, and more to account for. Multiply that times seven, and there was simply no way the Baron’s family could manage it. The unexpected cost of the fourth son’s tuition had already probably put them in quite a bind. They even sold some of the wife’s jewelry and taken on loans. It was a huge gamble to take on the child of a lady’s maid.

Rather than complaining at the cost of educating her maid’s children, the Baron’s wife apologized profusely. If only there had been money for Kelvin to attend Ardleigh with his siblings—but there was none.

And so Kelvin arrived at Eckland Academy, which was, when all was said and done, one tenth of the cost of an Ardleigh education. He was the fifth son, born to a maid, and although he was physically strong, unlike his brother, he had no magical abilities.

Yet Kelvin was determined to make the best of his situation.

If I’m going to be stuck in this place, he thought, I may as well shoot for the stars! He dreamt of becoming Eckland’s top student, excelling far beyond the upper-crust sons and daughters at Ardleigh. He would graduate to great fortune, paying back his mother, his father, and the Baroness for all they had done for him.

Thanks to the time Kelvin spent with his older brothers, he knew his body was strong, and he looked forward eagerly to the physical portion of the placement test.

Right away, I’ll show them who’s boss, Kelvin had thought.

But then, just after he had shown off his very fastest sprint, the girl behind him provided exactly the same display.

He had pushed himself to his limits when it came to chin-ups, but yet again, the girl stared at him, then completed the same number. Worse still, he could tell that she only pretended to grow tired, stopping at precisely the same number as him even though she could have carried on much longer.

It was the same with the javelin. And long jump. And push-ups.

She stopped when she matched his record in every one, even though she still had more in her.

And on top of all of that, she could even use magic.

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!

She was tormenting him, but next time, Kelvin resolved, he would beat her.

Kelvin von Bellium, the Baron’s fifth son. That was the moment his goal for the next three years was decided.

***

It was the day after the assessment: the long-awaited textbook distribution day.

In truth, Adele was not particularly excited about receiving her course materials. What she really wanted was clothing, which was distributed at the same time.

There were two uniforms, one for summer and one for winter, as well as two gym uniforms for the same, along with a variety of shoes and stockings.

Finally, she would have fresh clothes to wear, and, as long as she was in uniform, no one would notice if she wore the same thing every day. Even better, if she outgrew her uniform or gym clothes, or if either were seriously damaged, she would be able to exchange them. If there were too many exchanges, she might receive used items that other students had outgrown, but that prospect didn’t particularly concern her.

Her new possessions were too numerous to carry in one load, so after several trips to the supply room, Adele changed into her uniform. She had been given one that was slightly too large, in anticipation of a growth spurt, but this gave off a very “average” sort of feeling, which she relished. Her single item of personal clothing had grown somewhat tattered from being worn for so many days running, and to keep it safe, Adele decided to store it inside a loot box.

Facing the mirror, she took in her appearance.

I hope I make a hundred friends! Adele, who had yet to make friends in this life or her last one, beamed with hope.

***

That afternoon, she went down to the announcement board to find that the class rosters had been posted.

Later that afternoon, they would be lining up according to these rosters to practice for the entrance ceremony. Tomorrow would be the entrance ceremony itself, followed by self-introductions. Classes would begin the following week, after the rest day.

As she expected, Adele had been placed into Class A.

In truth, this was not actually the “A” from the alphabet of Misato’s world—but as it was typically the first character taught in that country’s writing system, “A” made a good substitute.

The entrance ceremony practice, and the actual ceremony the following day, went off without a hitch. Some of the children’s families were in attendance, but in many cases, their homes were too far for them to make the journey. In addition, although there were more than a few lower-class noble families who lived in the vicinity, Eckland’s entrance ceremony took place at the same time as Ardleigh’s. If parents had children at both academies, they invariably attended the festivities at the higher-ranking of the two schools.

Those children from poor families and those who had been sent to Eckland to get them out of their parents’ way were also alone, and as one might expect, Adele was amongst them.

***

Following the ceremony, teachers showed the students to their classrooms.

After having little time to converse with one another, it was finally time for the children to get to know their classmates. Adele’s heart was roiling with anticipation and anxiety. Would she be able to make friends easily? Or would she be no good at it, ending up as lonely as she’d been in her past life?

The homeroom teacher for Class A was a man of solid build, around thirty years old.

“I am Abe von Burgess, the homeroom teacher for Class A. I will be responsible for each one of you this year. In fact, I plan to be the second-year Class A teacher also, so I will likely be seeing some of you next year, as well. That being said, at the end of the term, the class sorting may change depending on your grades, so I will be saying farewell to anyone who fails to keep up their performance.”

Mr. Burgess sounded less like a teacher and more like a slightly-aged ruffian, the sort who would be a mid-rank hunter in the local guild. Yet the “von” in his name indicated that he was an aristocrat, and it was clear that he meant to warn any particularly thick-skulled noble children that their status would be no substitute for hard work.

“Now then, let’s start with introductions. Why don’t we go down the line, beginning with you?”

“Y-yessir!” The boy at the front of the far left row began his introductions, as directed. “I’m Marcus, the third son of the Buick family. I’m from the capital. My strengths are…”

The class was made up of twelve boys and eighteen girls—thirty students, all told—and each gave their names, hometowns, strengths, interests, hopes for the future, and the like: a fairly standard introduction.

It was only natural that the girls outnumbered the boys in this class. To start, there was a higher proportion of girls at the academy in total, as the sons of lower class nobles and merchant families were more likely to attend the superior school, while any girls not likely to make an advantageous marriage were sent to the lesser school. Beyond this, many boys put their effort into athletics rather than their studies, meaning that their grades weren’t as sharp as the girls’ were.

Adele had always struggled to remember faces, but as she was determined to make friends, doing so would be an absolute necessity. As each student gave their introduction, she stared intently, memorizing their features. Those who noticed this strange behavior began to grow flustered, their cheeks burning red, yet Adele hadn’t the slightest notion she was doing anything wrong.

“I am Kelvin von Bellium, aspiring knight. My specialty is swordplay. It is also my hobby. My goal while at Eckland is to become as strong as I can!”

Kelvin’s declaration, so different from the rote introductions that had come before, couldn’t help but pique Adele’s interest. Of course, it scarcely occurred to her that this was the same boy who she’d shadowed so closely during the physical assessment earlier that week… Nor did she notice the glare that Kelvin flashed her way as she looked toward him.

The introductions continued down the line, until finally it was Adele’s turn.

“I am Adele. I have no special abilities. No matter how you look at it, I am a completely normal, average girl.”

Everyone in the classroom, other than Adele, all had the same thought at once.

She’s lying.

They were in total agreement. This girl, who could casually cast combat spells at the same level as those incanted by those of the greatest magical ability, who precisely matched the physical achievements of a noble son in peak form, when she clearly could have gone farther—she had to be lying. Perhaps she had meant to help the boy save face, but in truth, she had done him a disservice—though she didn’t seem to realize that that was the case.

Was that her true nature? Or some kind of act? Since the moment the placement exams had ended, whispers such as these had been circulating amongst the noble children in the common areas and the dining hall.

“This is my first time in the capital,” Adele went on. “My interests are reading and eating delicious things. I haven’t had many friends before now, so I hope to get along well with all of you.” She smiled.

She’d done it, she thought. A perfect introduction by a perfectly normal girl. This was the beginning of her new, “average” life at Eckland Academy.

Adele, however, had no idea that the other children had seen so easily through her act during the physical assessment, nor did she realize that she’d had the bad luck to copy only the children at the top of each field. There was more: despite claiming that she was a commoner, she had taken the assessment along with the children of nobles. Furthermore, she’d made the outlandish statement that her interests were “reading and eating delicious things,” despite the unlikelihood of a commoner having access to expensive books or tasty morsels. Stranger still was her declaration that she’d reached the age of ten friendless.

Yet Adele truly believed that she would fit in as a completely average student. She had no idea what her classmates truly thought.

***

After the introductions came orientation. Mr. Burgess explained the layout of the school, its routines and regulations, and the lessons that would begin at the start of the next week. Then, the students were dismissed. It was only a half-day, and he instructed them to use the afternoon and the following rest day to take care of any necessary shopping to prepare for the week to come.

Adele’s situation was different. The next day, the baker would be expecting her, and besides, she still didn’t have any money with which to shop. Purchasing her absolute necessities, such as soap, notebooks, and ink, would easily use up the coins she had made on her first day in the bakery. As those were all considered luxury goods, they were expensive. Her existing funds would barely be enough.

It would be best, Adele determined, to set aside tomorrow’s pay for something equally important. She would’ve liked to purchase two more changes of undergarments at the very least, but that would have to wait for another occasion.

As she stood pondering her dilemma, Adele found herself surrounded by a knot of boys.

“Adele, would you like to go shopping with me?”

“No, come with me! I grew up in the capital, so I know all the best shops!”

“No, I do!”

Adele withdrew reflexively. And yet…

Although the boys had surprised her, they didn’t seem to have bad intentions. Did this mean she was…popular?

Adele stood for a moment, perplexed. As Misato, she’d been gorgeous. Despite being born to parents who were utterly plain in appearance, Misato was a classic beauty, with sharp features, the kind one might expect to be pursued by talent scouts and modeling agencies. Still, she had never been the slightest bit popular in school. Because everyone assumed she was out of their league, no one had ever dared to ask her to spend time with them.

While Adele had a nice, symmetrical face, her appearance was otherwise unremarkable. She was not glamorous or striking; rather, she had the sort of pleasant appearance that tended to put people at—

Wait.

In that moment, Adele remembered a TV program she’d seen many years before. The presenter had explained that, if one could average the features of hundreds of human faces, the result would be “universal beauty”—not standout looks, but a pleasant appearance, one that made people feel at ease.

If one could average the features. If one could average…

No. When she’d said she wanted an “average” appearance, she had meant average as in normal, generic—just another face in the crowd. Not average as in universally beautiful!

“I-I’m sorry.” Adele stuttered. “I’ve already finished my shopping!”

Seeing Adele flustered and blushing, the boys only pressed harder, the competition turning fierce.

“Boys! Settle down!” A girl with the air of a council chairman scattered them with a roar. Adele offered her thanks and fled the room, her mind swirling.

Until now, whether in her life as Adele or Misato, the boys in her class had never said a word to her beyond “Lemme see your homework!”

Upon returning to the dormitory, she slipped into the washroom and examined herself in the mirror, which was little more than a polished piece of metal.

She was slightly shorter than the norm. She had odd, silver hair, inherited from her mother. She didn’t exude beauty in the way that Misato had, but her face was well-arranged, and it did, she suppose, give off a sense of equilibrium.

Am I attractive?

A bubble of laughter rose in her chest.

Walking by the washroom door, the other girls averted their eyes at the sight of Adele’s strange expression.

It was all wrong, anyway. She wasn’t supposed to be attractive. She was an average girl, and she certainly didn’t need a pack of suitors—especially not before she was grown up.

Yet as Adele shook her head at herself in the mirror, another thought occurred to her.

It was strange, wasn’t it, that at age ten, she had barely begun to develop? In this world, the more precocious girls began to hit puberty around seven or eight years of age. Misato herself had started to develop as an eight-year-old, and by the time she hit eighteen, her bust size had been slightly above average. Adele, on the other hand, showed no signs of any kind of development. There were already plenty of girls in her class with noticeable breasts, but this was one area in which Adele was nowhere near “average.”

Why was that?

It was true that she hadn’t eaten much in the two years after the death of her mother and grandfather. Perhaps that had stunted her growth?

Adele sighed. She looked like an elf, or a dwarf…

Oh my god. Adele was aghast as a horrible thought occurred to her.

Together, humans, elves, and dwarves made up the class called “humanoids.” However, if God considered them all to be a single race…

She should have been an average height, but in fact, she was shorter. Her chest was almost entirely flat.

No no no no no no no!

There were far fewer dwarves and elves than humans. Including them in a calculation of the average should scarcely have had any effect…under any normal circumstances.

But in a special circumstance…it would have been a bother to calculate an average based on the entirety of the world’s population, so what if one were to simply look at an “average human,” an “average dwarf,” and an “average elf,” for ease of comparison?

And what if a certain idiot assumed that these three individuals could make for an accurate average?

Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait!

Adele looked around her room frantically. It shouldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

At least orcs and goblins weren’t considered humanoids….

Bang bang bang bang bang!

A few minutes later, Adele’s classmates found her smacking her head against the wall of the dorm hallway.

***

Lying on her bed later that afternoon, Adele attempted to console herself.

And at least dwarf girls are pretty cute…

In fact, female dwarfs weren’t all the different from their human counterparts. They were a bit shorter and somewhat rounded in appearance, but they weren’t stocky like the males, and of course, they didn’t grow beards. They weren’t much different, Adele thought, than a petite adolescent girl. That was something.

Besides, if Adele did have dwarf characteristics, then the equivalent aspects of an elf’s physique would cancel them out. Both male and female elves were tall and slender, so that rather than having a huge influence on Adele’s figure, her dwarflike qualities would be mostly negligible. Or so it would seem.

Yet Adele’s height, combined with the matter of her chest…

She shook her head. This was all just speculation.

If she were to ask the nanomachines, then the truth would…

I can’t ask them about that! What happens if it all turns out to be true?! It’s all too awful.

YOU RANG?

“I DID NOT!!” Adele screamed at the top of her lungs, then looked to her left and right in a panic. Thankfully, it seemed that the occupants of the neighboring rooms were out, so she received no complaints about the disturbance.

Tprg5.13

“Wah!” Whirling around in surprise, the man saw a well-to-do lady standing on thin air. She didn’t bother attacking; wearing a listless air about her, she lazily pulled out her pipe and began smoking once more.
The marquis glared at her and the sickly sweet fragrance she exhaled, only to notice something: the left eye that he had eulogized was closed, a streak of blood streaming from it. A hazy mist leaked from the crack of her eyelid, leaving a faint—yet definite—trail that connected her to the amorphous beast like an umbilical cord of murky jade.
“Wh-What—you—what have you done?! What have you unleashed upon the world?!”
“Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure myself. What I do know, however, is that I chanced upon a cursed land engulfed by ichor a short while before arriving in the Empire—and it was there that I made contact with a distortion in time.”
Not a soul in the Empire knew this secret, but Agrippina’s heterochromia was not a born condition. The eyes her parents had gifted her had both been a deep, enchanting blue.
“It was such a magnificent twist of fate. I’d gotten a glimpse of the secrets of time, the meaning of reality, the flow of existence, and the essence of magecraft... I was so overcome with gratitude that I even offered my thanks to the gods. So very unlike me, I know, but the episode showed me what I want most in life—and how to attain it.”
But of the two deep sapphires she had been born with, she had lost one on the day that she peered into the broken abyss where the laws of time lay buried.
“Alas, you see, it seems that even the most beautiful of life’s gifts come at a cost. A gorgeous art gallery charges fees for entry; the seats to a thrilling drama must be purchased; even the stunning view from atop a hill demands payment in the form of the effort to climb it.”
The beast, too dreadful to depict in words, broke free from its invisible prison after no more than ten seconds; immediately, it lunged for the closest target. One knight who’d been fortunate enough to survive the melee in the smoke now found themselves swept up in a muddy torrent of fangs that shredded armor and flesh alike. Another drew nearer in an attempt to save the first, but was instantly bisected lengthwise and, as expected, eaten.
The thing had no scruples: not in regard to what it killed nor what it ate. Hunger was its solitary logic. The sin of observation was cause enough to attack, and worldly notions of justice and evil had no bearing on it—after all, the wisdom and virtues of man meant nothing in the face of otherworldly law.
“I imagine that the ordinary price of discovering Truth is one’s life. And I must admit, I struggled to fend off that beast when it came for me—never would I have imagined losing a whole eye.”
By some stroke of incredible coincidence, a young Agrippina had stumbled upon her calling in life and the means to see it through. Yet it came with a steep cost: physically nebulous and infinitely starving, a creature fashioned of cosmic filth had been unleashed to hunt her down.
Although she only barely managed to keep it at bay, the joy of survival had not been enough for the adolescent methuselah. Something about the defeated beast intrigued her: What truths might I uncover if I see the world through its eyes?
“So, naturally, I reclaimed what had been taken from me.”
“Th-Then that eye—your missing eye! That link... Don’t tell me—”
“All is as you imagine: half of my vision is filtered through that.”
Agrippina grinned from ear to ear and wove a magic formula into the smoke of her pipe. Matters of existence and nonexistence as they pertained to the physical realm were her specialty, and she had summoned a massive sphere of nihility. The black hole was oblivion: a single touch was all it needed to jettison anyone or anything to the furthest reaches of reality.
Marquis Donnersmarck instantly recognized the destruction the black ball could bring. Falling back, he began preparing his own mystic attack: a thunderbolt. Command of lightning, crackling in from the heavens above, was a privilege of the gods; a normal mage could hardly activate such a spell, let alone control it. Concentrating heat that surpassed the stars in the sky into a single point, it split the air in two to eradicate anything in its path. But above all else, it crashed down at speeds that left its own sound in the dust, making it completely impossible to avoid.
Impossible, indeed.
Arcs of lightning snaked toward Agrippina, trapping her in a coiling static web, but it was no use. The black orb swallowed all of them whole. Not a single one landed: not the bolts that had fanned out just before impact; nor those that split into two and then regrouped later on; nor even the ones that the marquis had fired at random to make sure not even he could read their trajectory.
It was as if she had known exactly where they would be.
“That’s preposterous! That’s infeasible! For a mortal?! Methuselah or not, no mind can bear such burdens!”
“Anything is possible if you set your mind to it, Marquis. Like so.”
Nonchalantly making her way through the chaotic thunderstorm, Agrippina exhaled another cloud of smoke. Propelled by a basic formula, it drifted over to the marquis’s side and then rearranged itself into a greater spell.
“Gragh?!”
The moment it was put together, the puff had become a counterspell, perfectly jamming his attack and causing it to backfire spectacularly. The blast sent his lithe frame flying, and he plunged toward the ground. Aftershocks from his own spell burnt his face, branding his cheeks with arcing electricity.
“Oh, you poor thing. I do hope your eyes are still intact.”
“Eep!”
As the long-forgotten sensation of visceral pain gripped the ascendant organism, he looked up to find Agrippina lording over him with a pitying expression as if her presence was perfectly natural. But even with space-bending magic, she shouldn’t have been here this quickly.
“Y-You madwoman—no! It can’t be!”
“Aww, not going to call my name? And here I’d thought we were close.”
“You...can see...the future?”
Agrippina neither affirmed nor denied—she only laughed. Yet that was the most unambiguous answer she could have given: she could, and did. Her foresight extended mere seconds into the unknown at most, and was by no means an absolute prediction, but she could see the future.
For now, her ability only offered a shortsighted vision of events that were liable to be overridden in the presence of improbable fluctuations; even for this imperfect power, usage imposed massive tolls on her body and mind. Yet in spite of the drawbacks, she had transcended beyond the bounds laid out for mortal souls.
Wit can’t win. Internalizing the futility of resistance, Marquis Donnersmarck bit hard into his lip in frustration.
This was a charade. No matter how meticulous his strategy, no matter how exhaustive his attack, he had no hope of beating a magus of her strength if she knew his next move. How could he hope to win a hand at the table if his cards were out for her to see? All she had to do was wait and pick the right counter to anything he tried to do.
Victory was unattainable. For the first time in his life, the marquis found himself drowning in a sea of despair. Until now, he’d swum through the currents of politics and won, and won, and kept winning—even when he didn’t win, he never lost. But out on the open oceans, he was no more than a bigger fish’s meal, and that realization crushed his soul.
“Shouldn’t you be doing something?” Agrippina said. “A good number of them are gone, but these are your little favorites, aren’t they?”
Alas, there was no time to wallow in grief. The starving dog tore through more of his prized forces with every passing second. He’d spent a great deal of time and care bringing them up, and the assassins in particular were irreplaceable. Unlike Viscount Liplar, he hadn’t merely bought these soldiers with a mountain of silver. In all likelihood, the forces he’d sent to the annex in case the viscount’s men failed had also been routed; he couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.
Though Marquis Donnersmarck viewed people as pawns, he was deeply fond of his pieces.
“Wh-What do you want?! What do you need from me to make you stop that thing?!”
“I don’t need anything, really. I won’t even demand that you cease your meddling in the county. After all, I can deal with a man of your talents whenever I please. But you know, aren’t you forgetting something important?” Outranked but not outclassed, the count looked down on the marquis groveling on the floor. Curling her pretty lips into a sweet little smile, she hissed, “Where’s my ‘please’?”
Her words gave form to his humiliation. The statement was a partisan declaration of their standings that didn’t bother to ask for a second opinion, but he had no right to object.
To choose pride was death. Unlike Agrippina, he had no means of handling the beast, and thus couldn’t save his subordinates. While he alone could escape if he used the rest of his enchanted treasures, losing all of the sepa would be worse than cutting off his left hand.
“Wit... Hngh...” There was a faint squish: he’d bitten straight through his lip. A streak of blood running down his chin, he finally squeezed out, “Please.”
The marquis had wrung out the word like it represented the collapse of everything he’d ever known; in contrast, Agrippina scoffed lightly like she’d heard a tiresome joke.
“Very well.”
With a snap, she sectioned off a chunk of reality. The black sphere that had been revolving around her split into six and surrounded the rampaging blue-black blur. Outlining a spatial rift shaped like an eight-sided die, they trapped the monster inside. For all its ferocious flailing, it had no means of escape; not even the claws of twisted time could penetrate the boundaries that separated this dimension from the next.
“Take those who are still breathing and run along while you have the chance,” Agrippina said. “Worry not, I shan’t give chase. Besides, it truly is a shame that Viscount Liplar would cause such pandemonium in a desperate fit of insanity. Isn’t that right?”
“...Wit have never understood the hearts of those who bent the knee before me, walking away with one last resentful comment. But Wit understand perfectly now, Count Ubiorum.”
Though his dignity was shattered, his schemes thwarted, and his losses great, the man dusted himself off and stood up like a proper noble. The shock still echoed loudly in his soul, but there was much to be done. Making up for what had been lost should by all means have been the first priority, but...
“Remember this. Wit shall make you rue the day you let me walk free.”
...it was too late for him to abandon the machinations that gave his life meaning.
“I shall await you with bated breath. The only reason you’re alive is because things are easier for me this way, but I’m always looking forward to a thrilling and unexpected twist.”
After watching the marquis limp off—it seemed he’d injured a leg during his fall—Agrippina turned to the spatial cage. Not content to give up, the beast within growled, snarled, and lashed against the inside of its confines. She watched it struggle for a bit, but eventually sighed and mumbled, “You never do get any friendlier, do you?”
Snapping her fingers, she commanded, “Sit.”
The vertices of hollow space rapidly converged toward the center, compressing their prisoner into a single point. Making a disgusting noise, the barrier crushed the otherworldly dog; but as the black orbs finally disappeared into a dense speck, they left an eyeball in their place.
Agrippina picked it up, blew off the dust, and popped it into her hollow socket without the faintest hint of ceremony. A few blinks later, she was satisfied with how it sat; she wiped the blood off her face and brought her monocle back out, placing it where it belonged.
After all of that, a stray thought crossed her mind.
Speaking of dogs, I wonder where that golden hound of mine has gone.

[Tips] Agrippina’s hound is a class of extradimensional creature that comes from a place where impossible physics are the norm. Its purpose is to hunt down all who dare perceive the tangled flow of broken time, and permanently hungers to that end. Although its form is a nebulous smattering of tainted, bluish-greenish goop, it vaguely resembles a canine when taken at its broadest strokes; as such, Agrippina refers to it as her pet hunting dog.
While it is perfectly possible that the denizens of other dimensions have different names for it, only the highest strata of gods—those who preside over the infinite expanse of multiversal space—would know it.

Facing the rising sun, I looked out at the mountain of rubble, popped the cork out of an expensive-looking wine bottle, and got to chugging.
The situation demanded a drink, okay?
The sudden shock wave had sent me straight into the annex wall, knocking me out cold. Only awoken by the Craving Blade’s piercing wails, I opened my eyes to see some kind of terrible monster painting the place with blood.
Obviously, I ran. I refused to spend even one second in the presence of a Ragnarok-worthy monstrosity. I’d put in my hours as an Investigator, and freaks of supernature like that had left me with nothing but trauma. In this case, I hadn’t even accidentally peered into a mirror that let me see the future or whatever, so I was not letting myself become a victim of collateral damage.
I fled the scene in a rush, though I made sure to pick up Schutzwolfe before I did—the Craving Blade could find her own way to me, so I left her there. Once I was out of range of any stray projectiles, I decided to run over to the stables: I couldn’t predict what might happen next and wanted to make sure the Dioscuri were safe. There, I began to feel sorry for the other horses. Letting them get swept up in our human struggles was too much; I decided to free them all, leading them up to this removed hill overlooking the manor.
I’d come across a storehouse on my way out, and swiped the wine from there. Despite my dehydration from the long skirmish, I’d made my escape without stopping for any of my luggage. Eager for something to quench my thirst, I’d figured I deserved this much with all the shit I’d gone through.
In any case, the signs of battle had faded for quite some time, and I began wondering what had happened to Lady Agrippina. I hadn’t seen anyone else this whole while, so I was confident she hadn’t lost: had the viscount or marquis come out on top, things wouldn’t be so quiet. Although there were some Liplar guards and citizens gathered near the front gate, the knights stationed around the premises were surely on strict orders not to let anyone in.
Hrm, what to do... Should I go look for the madam? But there’s a chance that beast is still lingering around, so I don’t really want to...
Knowing I wouldn’t stand a chance against that thing, I was of the opinion that not pushing myself was for the best. Besides, I didn’t exactly have the courage to willingly challenge a foe when it could shrug off attacks just because they were based in physical reality.
As my mind wandered and my hand reached for a second bottle, I saw a shadow stir near the mansion. Though it was too far to make out in detail, the outline was definitely person-shaped.
Until now, I’d refrained from using Farsight out of fear that I might catch the monster’s attention; a person, however, was fair game. If someone was still alive down there, then the creature must have been subjugated. Upon extending my vision, I saw—as expected—one Lady Agrippina in sound condition.
Uh-oh, she noticed me. My spell had evidently given me away, because she was looking straight at it and motioning with her finger for me to come.
Hurrying onto Castor with Polydeukes in tow, I made my way over. I arrived to find my boss in a terrible mood, smelling thickly of sweet smoke.
“Uh... I am most pleased to see your safe return, my liege.”
“Is that so? I’m pleased myself to see how blessed I am with help: you certainly seemed to be enjoying a nice break for yourself from afar.”
“I had my own problems to deal with, okay?!”
The madam was one puffed cheek away from a full-on pout, but I had to put in an objection. Ignoring me, she took a seat on a nearby bit of rubble and held out her hand.
“I’m thirsty.”
“Erp—yes, ma’am.”
How very keen of her to spot the bottle of wine still nestled into Castor’s saddle pouch. Taking it in hand, she spent a moment reading the label and eventually decided it was good enough to put up with. She popped the cork off with an offhand spell and drank straight from the bottle, just as I had with the first.
“Terrible maintenance. All the flavor is gone.”
“By the way,” I piped up, “I can see that you’re safe and sound, but what have you been doing all this time? The fighting stopped quite a while back.”
“Hm? I was collecting intelligence and doing a touch of groundwork. That, and tonight has been rather exhausting, so I’ve been smoking to recover the mana I spent.”
You?! Tired?!
The uncharacteristic claim caught me off guard, but it seemed last night’s brawl had been an ordeal great enough to drain even the madam; that freakish monster must have been the root of her fatigue. She herself claimed to be killable, so tiring out every once in a while seemed plausible. Probably. Okay, maybe.
“So what do you plan on doing next?” I asked.
“Hm? Ah, let me see... First, we shall head to Kolnia, where we will dispatch a messenger to the palace to sort this incident out. Goodness, there’s an awful lot to do. Oh, but quelling the chaos here comes first—I’ll need to stop by the city’s main office.”
Yeah, I imagine you’d be busy. After all, the manor didn’t look like a very hospitable spot to find survivors in, and this chaos would leave the viscount’s seat vacant. I wondered how she was going to deal with that.
“Say, Erich. I’ve just had a passing thought.”
“What might that be?”
“Instead of leaving next year, how about I ordain you as my personal knight?”
“Excuse me?!”
What the hell was this witch saying? Why were all her ideas so overblown and ridiculous?
“My problems are only going to grow more numerous, and I’m not sure I’ll ever stumble across another retainer as useful as you.”
“I understand, but that isn’t something to offer so casually.”
“But I really do want you around going forward. Won’t you stay? Spend a few more years with me, and I would be happy to adopt you so that you can inherit the Ubiorum title. Act now, and I’ll even set aside the Liplar viscounty for free!”
I see your endgame.
And of course she’d try: being Count Ubiorum was nothing but trouble for her, but it was too great a responsibility to haphazardly toss aside. Now that she’d gotten a bitter, firsthand taste of the burden she’d been saddled with, her first thought had been to conjure up ways to legally off-load her position. I was just the closest sacrifice in reach.
Mhmm, yup. I get it. I really do...but you aren’t the only one who’s sick of this.
Sporting the brightest smile I’d ever had in all my life, I gave my answer: “Not a chance in hell.”

[Tips] Commoners can be ennobled if they accomplish tremendous feats for the Empire. In this particular case, a boy who has assisted in righting the course of a county time and time again, contributing greatly to its continued peace, can easily be adopted to honor his achievements. From there, inheriting the title would be a matter of course.
Otherwise—though this is a serious stretch—one could attempt to win a title by insisting that they descend from noble blood unbeknownst to the public record.

Having long resisted the call to give up their snowy mantles, a lofty range of mountains was finally letting their outer coats melt away. Nestled among them was one of the leading recuperation facilities in the Empire, and in it, a small cabin.
This was the home of a College professor who, in spite of their qualifications as an iatrurge, had grown tired of the less than peaceful cases he’d been saddled with in the palace. Having retreated to live a more hermetic life, he was retired from his official position in all but name.
Being located directly on a hot-spring resort for the gentry, the clinic’s clientele naturally came with very mundane issues. Nobles strained by the bureaucratic system came to him with stiff shoulders or back pain more intimate than a spouse, and some—though very quietly—stopped by to get help with embarrassing matters such as hemorrhoids.
Alas, every now and again, a nuisance came along.
Yet the iatrurge did not deny them—nay, he couldn’t. Receding from the tedium that bubbled at the heart of the Empire was not as simple as throwing up one’s hands and shouting, “I’m done!” and the doctor’s successful escape had been the product of a powerful backer. Duty demanded he treat injuries suffered in the shady power struggles he had so loathed, and the state-supervised art of limb regeneration was just another item on the menu.
Sectioned off in a personal room, one patient slowly unwrapped the bandages covering her arms. The intricate formulae woven on made them look like never-ending talismans, but at last they fell away to unveil a restored surface of olive skin.
Gentle rays of sun filtered through the window and onto her arms. Cautiously, oh so gingerly, she wiggled her fingers. Though a touch of numbness and a light funniness of feeling remained, her calloused digits moved to her whim.
One by one, she carefully bent them down until they formed a fist. After confirming that, she went on to test a few more shapes. Satisfied with the movement of her hand, she reached to touch her own arm and was shocked: she could feel.
The sensation in her arm was stifled, as though a thin layer of cloth were impeding the contact of her fingertips; yet when she pressed harder, she could certainly feel that her arm was being held. Gliding up her arms, she at last came to the scar: a ring of lightened skin left a trail all the way around the circumference like a crawling worm—on her left arm and both of her upper ones.
Of her two sets of two, she had lost more than half. But despite being completely severed, the iatrurge had managed to put them back with a literally reality-defying level of skill. Her bones, arteries, and even nerves were exactly as they had been. While she would need some time to accustom herself to the oddities in sensation, disciplined practice would solve that issue. In fact, the doctor had noted that the precision of the cuts had left her arms in good condition; she would be back to full health sooner than most.
“Does it feel right? Oh, thank goodness you can move.”
A voice interrupted the patient’s thorough self-examination. The speaker had been waiting silently in the corner of the room for her to finish unbinding her arms, but now he reached out. As his fingers traced the painful tracks of discolored skin, he bit his lip—surely a shocking display of emotion for those who only knew his genial smile.
Who could ever expect to see Marquis Donnersmarck, of all people, let his bitter feelings show? And in the presence of a mere sepa girl, hailing from a people unrepresented in imperial high society, at that.
“Oh, my darling Nakeisha. Wit couldn’t so much as sleep for the fear that your arms might not heal.”
“My sincerest apologies for worrying you, Marquis Donnersmarck.”
“Don’t apologize. Please, Nakeisha, it’s fine. More importantly, there isn’t anyone else here. Won’t you please—”
As he nuzzled his forehead against her hand, the man was cut off by a knock at the door. He answered, somewhat irritably, and was met with the voice of his elderly retainer.
“Marquis, as thorough as our counterintelligence may be, I bid you to take more care in your remarks.”
An old sepa walked in carrying a tray with hot water and tea leaves. His limbs, like Nakeisha’s, were completely sheathed in enchanted dressing; though his head was uncovered, the horrific burns on display were enough to make an onlooker wince. All of his graying hair had been shaved off, leaving only battle scars too deep for iatrurgy to eliminate. Upon closer inspection, his stern amethyst eyes were gone, replaced with the showy yellow of arcane implants.
Though his scars would eventually fade with proper treatment and his eyes would regain their original luster with time, seeing him as he was now induced secondhand pain. Yet the marquis’s expression upon turning to him was closer to a pout.
“Don’t be so petty, Rashid. Everyone knows. They know our relationship too, O Father-in-Law. If Wit can’t relax at a remote hot spring, then where will Wit ever?”
“You have nothing but my gratitude for the love you have shown my daughter, and her daughter after her. But our clan has an image and honor to uphold. So long as this resort is publicly open to guests, I must ask that you show prudence in restraint.”
“What a nagging old man you are—is this what age does to a person? Wit should hope Wit never turn out this way.”
“If I’m not mistaken, Marquis—are you not centuries my senior?”
The old sepa’s face scrunched into a frown, but the methuselah brazenly waved him off, commenting that he could pass for the man’s grandson. Perhaps the irony was most palpable when considering that not only was the methuselah older, but he’d sponsored this clan since they first arrived in the Empire.
The sepa whom Marquis Donnersmarck so prized as his best agents could trace their lineage back to a line of retainers once tasked with serving royalty of the Southern Continent. At the end of a long struggle for the throne, the new king had held reservations about keeping around a clan of spies who’d failed to protect their own monarch; resolving to leave before they could be forcibly removed, the sepa had abandoned their homeland in search of a new one.
Eventually, their journey had led them to the Trialist Empire, whereupon they found themselves at the behest of a then-young Marquis Donnersmarck. Through the twists and turns of fate, the methuselah had helped restore them to their glory, and now they served him—not in any officially recognized capacity, of course—as his most trusted retainers.
The depths of his love were perhaps best seen in the treatment of his mistress: a sepa agent he’d fallen for. He fawned on her as lavishly as any other would a lawful wife, and she enjoyed a life of safety and luxury. Meanwhile, the pair’s daughter had received the thoroughest of educations, and was well on her way to becoming the next head of the clan.
“Marquis Donnersmarck.” Though she couldn’t call him as such, the girl cut into her father’s pointless argument with her grandfather with a question. “May I ask you for one selfish wish, as your daughter?”
A doting father to his core, the marquis excitedly answered that he would give her anything she wished for. Despite sending her on perilous missions in the name of rearing a strong successor to the clan, his affection for his daughter was indisputable.
This time, she’d suffered terrible injuries at his command, but he couldn’t justify rewarding her for an incomplete mission; he’d been hoping to make it up to her with a more personal request from the very start. After all, she hadn’t been the only one to fail: this whole debacle could be traced back to his own error in calculation.
“You said before that I am free to choose with whom I bear my successor, yes?”
“Of course, my darling—Wit shall get you any man you please. Wit can’t offer you the comfort of a lawful daughter, but that comes with freedom in marriage at the very least.”
“In that case...I would like that servant of Count Ubiorum’s.”
“...Huh?”
Gasping in ignoble bewilderment, the marquis’s jaw went slack. He understood the words she was saying. He knew whom she was referring to as well. But the blond tyke that the count kept on her person like a concealed dagger was the very target he’d tasked his daughter with killing. Having heard the reports of his skill and knowing the boy might have had a means of emergency communication, the marquis had sent an entire unit of his best men to assassinate the little beast; no matter how he twisted his mind, the methuselah simply couldn’t understand why she’d choose that gremlin.
Paying her befuddled father no mind, the girl raised her three wounded arms and gazed at them with a longing sigh.
“I lost... I was decisively beaten, like I’d never been before. It was almost as if he was even holding back.”

The girl’s awestruck gaze remained fixed on the patchwork scars. Each slash had been fiery and intense, and yet cold and precise; she hadn’t stood a chance. In all her training and work since coming into her own, this marked her first major injury—no, her first real loss.
When she closed her eyes, she could see it again in vivid detail: those sparkling blue eyes gleaming from within his helmet; his small frame, nimbly dancing about; the dreadful storm of swords, each threatening a fatal blow. They resurrected the chill in her spine and the long-forgotten, burning excitement that came with teetering on the edge of death. Even now, she could feel his bloodlust wash over him.
And the heat of battle resonating from her pounding heart burned on in the pit of her gut. Her reason had returned to her when the war-fires dimmed; she knew that this was a mere biological reaction. It was a warning system of sorts, built into every organism to incite the passing of genes when death approached.
Yet even so, even knowing that, even after telling herself it was but a trick of the mind, the flame of yearning would not go out.
One thought commanded her head: if she could sow the seed of his talent, what kind of ungodly monster would their child become? She didn’t care whether they were mensch or sepa, boy or girl—so long as they were born healthy, she was sure they’d be a warrior like no other.
But if she had to choose, she would’ve liked for them to inherit those moonlit colors that clung to the core of her soul.
“One day, I should like to have my revenge and offer a toast with his skull. But at the same time, a part of me desires to hold that same head close, still attached to its neck. Do you understand?”
“Uh... Th-That is a very...nuanced set of emotions. How about it, Rashid? Can you elaborate on your granddaughter’s feelings?”
“Please do not pass this matter to me. How can a grandfather hope to comprehend what the father cannot?”
As they watched their child’s wistful gaze, the two men struggled to process her incomprehensible emotions. They were happy to let her experience love, but...that thing? And that her first awakening to love had come in such...instinctual ways was another point worthy of pause.
Alas, the girl cared not about her family’s deep discomfort and hugged herself, covering each scar with a hand.
“I swear to grow strong enough that you will understand. When that day comes, I will go and make him bend his knee by my own hand. Father, please give me even greater challenges—I require more opportunities to polish my skills.”
“...Very well. If that is what you want, Nakeisha, Wit will do my best to answer.”
“Besides, father,” she added, “you haven’t given up either, have you?”
Marquis Donnersmarck was genuinely surprised by his daughter’s comment. He had made no public comment, but it seemed like he was withdrawing from the county based on how he’d reassigned personnel; those working under him were all convinced the affair had put him off fighting for the Ubiorum name.
But his daughter knew the truth—she knew him: this seemingly friendly methuselah was the sorest loser in all the land. For the first time in ages, he had come across a player who could totally dismantle him and force checkmate; in no universe would he ever give up on her, and his daughter alone had understood that.
Although he would pull out of the territory for the time being, this was only a temporary maneuver to begin weaving a new web. This time it would be larger and sturdier, completely entangling her. He didn’t care that she had tamed the manifestation of violence itself as her pet; absolutes did not exist, and a perfect plan could very well ensnare her.
Now was the time to sleep on a bed of cold logs, lapping at his wounded pride so that he could conjure up yet greater schemes. He knew now that half measures carried along by inertia would not suffice to win the Ubiorum county. In that case, he would build up a grand conspiracy over the next few centuries, until his victory was a forgone conclusion.
“That’s right. Wit want to place a ring on that finger of hers like nothing else. Taming a foul and beautiful beast is a man’s truest joy.”
“...Is that why you raped mother?”
His daughter’s abrupt riposte caused the marquis to choke on his own spit, and for once, the sepa elder’s poker face crumbled.
Turning away from her father’s frenzied excuses, the young assassin clenched her fist.
When would they next meet? Though the golden wolf evaded her reach even in her daydreams, the girl let her mind wander to fantasies of their next encounter.

[Tips] Demihumans who trace their lineage back to aggressive insect species tend to prize strength above all else when selecting a suitable partner.

Tprg5.12

“Do I look alone to you? That’s a shame.” Reinforcements burst through the door and froze in striking confusion. I would’ve liked to capture their likenesses and frame them; they belonged by the entry for “flat-footed rubes” in the dictionary. “You’re up against seven. Looks like you didn’t bring enough men.”
Who could blame them? I doubted they’d expected to see five crossbows and a sword floating in midair, hovering around a swordsman wielding a terrifying, jet-black blade.
A volley of crossbow bolts intercepted the new invaders. The werewolf who’d opened the door—presumably the unit’s captain—looked solidly built with all his hairs standing on end, but even the sturdiest body couldn’t withstand the focused fire; he went flying.
Tossing three of the empty crossbows, I used two of my newly freed Hands to reload the remaining ones, and the last to pick up a longsword dropped by the original squadron. Armed once more, I jumped over the limp werewolf and into the hallway.
Ooh, they sure brought out the welcome wagon. The knights who’d been lying in wait had rushed over in droves. Still, they must’ve underestimated me as just a single kid: they were largely unarmored, much to my convenience.
Not wanting to dive in recklessly only to be skewered by spears and swords from every angle, I threw out a mystic flashbang. I dashed into the dazed crowd, slicing with all three of my swords; the reinforcements were gone in the blink of an eye. I wasn’t going to struggle against blinded foes—this had been easy pickings.
“Okay, now what?”
Walking along the blood-soaked halls, I considered my next move. Daylight had completely forsaken us, but the False Moon was hiding tonight and the Mother Goddess’s true form shone with exalted vigor. I couldn’t count on fey support—I doubted they’d even be able to materialize.
In my pockets, I had five more flashbangs and three sticks of thermite. I couldn’t justify using the Daisy Petal spell given my surroundings—the thought of putting uninvolved servants in the line of fire ate at my conscience—so that was it for my arsenal. That meant I wouldn’t be able to brute-force things with magic alone. A viscount’s personal abode was sure to be crawling with guards, and that was all the more true with Lady Agrippina here to visit.
I guess I might as well head toward the manor. I could hardly imagine myself being the priority target, which meant the madam was sure to be suffering some kind of attack on her end. Split up as we were, common tactical sense dictated that regrouping was the best course of action.
And on the way, I’d cut down anyone in my path.
“Another serving? Glad to see the hospitality isn’t slowing down.”
Spurred on by the silence on the upper floor, another group came marching up the stairs. That said, there were only three of them—not even remotely a threat. It seemed like they’d left a skeleton crew to deal with me while the majority of their forces went to subjugate Lady Agrippina.
Well, while I was sure some might disagree, I figured these guys had gotten the better draw. With any luck, they might even survive the night.
One came down on me with a sharp battle cry, but I knocked his blade away and slashed through his right elbow with a floating sword. Keeping the other two swordlocked with my other Hands, I took each down with a thickly laid-on serving of crossbow bolts.
Skill was no longer prerequisite to my one-way massacres; this was the full form of a build fashioned after fixed values. Every roll of the dice was a mere formality: anything between the poles of fumbling and criticality would accomplish the same thing. Though some would deride this as boring, I couldn’t think of anything more satisfying than to conquer fortune with the fruits of my own effort—this was beauty in its finest form.
I tore through another handful of knights on my way downstairs and stepped outside. The midnight gales of early spring were still frigid, and even under a full set of repaired armor, my skin was covered in goosebumps.
Brr, it’s cold. These were the sorts of nights that I would’ve liked to spend huddled up by a hearth... Oh, I know!
Just walking into the main manor would be too humdrum. Instead, I could light the thing on fire to stir up some confusion. While the estate undoubtedly came equipped with the means to fight a fire on the premises, I doubted it’d be enough to handle my arcane thermite. I’d heard that the peasants of Edo had lit mansions ablaze out of anger or simply in pursuit of warmth; why not take after them? If nothing else, I was sure it’d be a dazzling show that would warm me up.
But as I made my way to the main hall, a faint tingling of ill omen nipped at my back.
Permanent Battlefield had given me a warning, and I heeded: tumbling forward, I glanced back to see something stuck in the ground I’d occupied a moment prior—four somethings, in fact. They didn’t seem like arrows, but they were too deeply buried for me to get a good look. The sound had led me to envision throwables, like perhaps stones slung from the rooftops; yet that seemed out of place for a nobleman’s personal knights.
My evasion must have been factored into the enemies’ calculations, as I sensed something else coming my way. Another set of projectiles barreled toward me at violent speeds, and despite being too fast to track, I had a hunch as to where they were going to land.
Combining my four floating swords—I’d picked up more to keep my reloading Hands busy—with the Craving Blade, I wove together a shield of arms to cover my head, neck, and core. Twelve projectiles, all keenly aimed at my vitals, bounced off.
Are those counterweights? You don’t see that every day.
Sailing through the air, a set of tipless metal cones gleamed dimly under the shining moon. The narrower end led to a lead chain that allowed the weight to slither back to its wielder.
Tracing the links, I saw four figures emerge from the shadows: two clung to the manor’s outer wall, one was waiting on the second floor of the annex, and the last stood directly in my path.
At long last, I had a good look. The backlit sunset had gotten in my way last time, but with the moon this bright, there was no mistaking it: they were sepa. The one standing before me had an all-too-familiar presence—that of an assassin I’d come to know in the time since this Ubiorum episode had begun.
“I recognize you: hard to notice yet a menace in battle. Are you giving me a chance to avenge my cracked rib?”
I pointed my sword her way, but she said nothing in return. In lieu of a response, she bared her extra set of arms without hesitation, revealing two long metal poles with weighted chains on each end.
What a crazy set of weapons! Mensch could never dream of handling such unwieldy tools. I should’ve known a world this cosmopolitan would come with unimaginable weaponry!
I would have been incredibly excited, if only my first look at the things hadn’t come with four lead weights that needed dodging. Not only was her sepa footwork as difficult to grasp as ever, but the projectiles were supersonic. If I let one land, a serious injury was guaranteed regardless of armor; a hit to the head would cave in my helmet and skull alike.
The other three synced up, combining for a total of sixteen objects zipping all around me. This was bad: evading everything was as hard as avoiding the fallen leaves whipped up in a tornado. Worse still, they were meticulous with the placement of each attack. I wouldn’t have struggled to keep up if they were all aiming for my vitals, but they threw in feints and suppressing fire toward my hands and feet; I needed to accurately assess the course of each and act accordingly.
Dammit, they’re good—all of them! I guess she wasn’t at her best back on the rooftop.
Though I was getting by with my extra swords for now, I couldn’t keep this up forever. Blocking enough of the projectiles to dodge the rest put me on a razor’s edge, and this level of focus was hard to maintain. If I didn’t put an end to this soon, they’d reduce me to a mass of pulped tissues haphazardly bagged in a human skin.
Yet I didn’t have a way in! Three of them clung to unreachable walls, and the one on equal ground kept retreating every time I advanced. With all this covering fire, I couldn’t close the gap.
In which case, these things have gotta go first!
“...?!” I could feel my enemy’s surprise resonate through their chain.
After dodging a strike aimed at my leg, I stomped on the projectile before they had a chance to draw it back. But of course, I didn’t delude myself into thinking that’d be enough to hold it in place. My foes had the size advantage: a tug-of-war would produce an instant loss.
Instead, I abandoned the crossbows I’d been threatening counterattacks with and slammed their bolts through gaps in the chain’s links, pinning it to the ground. With this, I’d effectively eliminated two projectiles from one of the— Hey, wait! That comes off?! Hold on, you can still use it with only one weight?!
This is so unfair!
The killer unlinked the pinned chain from the handle and continued harassing me with the unbalanced weapon. If I’m being honest, I really hadn’t expected their arms to be so advanced. I’d just assumed that the chains were welded on for stability and strength.
Fine, I’ve got more tricks. Another chain whizzed past my face; as soon as it went taut, I had it. Even with Divine swordplay and a blade that transcended the bounds of mortal craftsmanship, slicing through a flexible chain in open air was a herculean task. Yet all I needed was one instant of tightly drawn rigidity.
With a low, dreadful crack, the metal shattered. All that remained was a short chain, stripped of its threat and impossible to control.
I yanked one more chain with an Unseen Hand and knotted up another with two spare swords; one by one, I thinned out the torrential rain of projectiles. Every chain disarmed gave me more room to breathe; with fewer attacks to block, my swords had all the more opportunity to retaliate.
Around the time I’d eliminated half of them, fortune struck.
The add-ons I’d taken for Unseen Hand had turned my invisible appendages from toy tweezers to the brawny arms of a fully grown bodybuilder. Still, I knew a single Hand couldn’t beat a sepa in a contest of raw strength...but what about all six?
When sixteen lead weights had been tearing through the air, I’d been forced to dedicate all my resources toward defense. However, the same could no longer be said; with the storm of metal abating, I grabbed one of the chains and pulled it with everything I had.
Entirely abandoning defense, even for a moment, was a massive gamble—but it paid off. Ripped from the safety of the wall, the centipede tumbled toward me, flailing.
Reconstructing the wall of swords to cover my rear, I sprinted to catch his landing. Though he made a frantic attempt to right himself, it was clear that being yanked off-balance was a new experience. Despite raising his weapon to shield himself, without proper footing or posture, the attempt was no better than a plea for mercy. Your trunk’s wide open!
One down! Timed perfectly, the Craving Blade reclaimed its original form to place the pinnacle of her massive arc halfway through the falling sepa’s body. As I tore through the middle of his trunk, I could feel bones and carapace alike disintegrate; the acceleration from the gravitational assist gave way to a hand-numbing collision, but I held firm to complete the strike.
The sepa screamed and thrashed about, scattering blood as red as any mensch’s. Evidently, not even this was enough to kill. Centipedes were hardy critters who would keep biting even if their body was chopped in two—a lesson I’d learned a lifetime ago when visiting my grandmother’s rural hometown for summer break. While we’d used boiling water and detergent to kill those pests, I didn’t have them on me now, and using my limited supply of thermite as a finisher was such a waste.
After all, they were still mortal: a severed head was more than enough.
Just as I leapt forward to seal the deal, the other sepa clinging to the main hall gave up the high ground to pounce on me.
You care about your friend, huh? I respect that! But now you’re playing in my range!
Her long metal poles suddenly became a hindrance, and the other two couldn’t support them without risking friendly fire. Unable to make full use of her weapon in close quarters, the assassin was wide open for a flurry of quick swipes. She swung with the whole of her considerable strength, but four swords were enough to stop it. I used my last two Hands to pull at her chains and throw her off-balance, making sure to land as many hits as possible regardless of how lethal each strike proved.
Fingers went flying, with a whole hand following suit; I was quickly reducing her to mincemeat. Although her armor was tough enough to ward off any fatal blows, at this rate it was only a matter of time.
Yet when the kill was finally in sight, the hail of lead resumed once more; simultaneously, the cornered assassin pulled the same trick that had thrown me off back at the inn rooftop: kicking her large trunk up, she bought herself space to run away.
Hm? And while I hadn’t been looking, the half-sundered sepa had vanished. It looked like the second one had been buying time; unlike most wetworkers, I guessed these sepa didn’t operate on the principle of “failure equals death.” Maybe the possibility of redeeming themselves in battle outweighed the shame of returning home in tatters.
Well, I supposed if anyone had the money to put together two nearly bisected halves, it would be a marquis. Survivors had their own appeal weighed against loyal sacrifices, so I supposed it was a shrewd policy either way.
But boy, was I starting to run out of breath. Not even I had the stamina to do this forever. We had to have been at this for half an hour at least—I needed to end this sooner rather than later.
Both the assassin on the annex and the one I’d crossed paths with once before began to close the distance on me.
I knew that their teamwork was perfect; not once had any of their sixteen chained projectiles gotten in another’s way. If they were pushing up now to crush me two-on-one, then my best course of action was clear: take one out first.
I bolted toward the assassin who’d been manning the annex. He threw two chains my way, and I knocked them aside; two more came to sweep my legs from behind, but I entangled those in a floating sword each. But with a deft maneuver, the man managed to redirect his deflected weights to swing back toward my head, forcing me to duck low in order to dodge.
Unfortunately for him, I was in the perfect range to toss my catalysts.
For all my casual commentary on how I’d never use it on a real person, a stick of mystic thermite sailed through the air. Even after bringing up the Craving Blade to shield my eyes, the intense brilliance of the reaction threatened to cook my retinas. Flames thousands of degrees hot bloomed in the blink of an eye, torching the assassin alive.
His screams were too profoundly pained to be captured by words. Lowering my sword, I saw a living ball of flames desperately rolling around.
Sorry, but that’s not gonna cut it. Powered by chemical reaction, neither water nor mud would put the flames out. His frenzied panic managed to fling off bits of the superheated material, but the blaze wouldn’t dissipate until the reaction had run its course.
That said, it wasn’t burning him as well as I’d expected. Had my magical tweaks to the reaction’s length affected the strength of combustion somehow? No, that couldn’t be it—my results in the practice room had proven as much. In which case, his cloak and armor probably had some sort of flame-retardant enchantment built in.
Still, his face was melting and I’d surely robbed him of his vision. With the catalyzing solution stuck to his face, he was going to suffer too much damage to remain a real threat. I didn’t know whether DoT would secure the kill, but he couldn’t stay on the battlefield any longer.
Now, the only thing left to do was to clean up the last remaining— Whoa, what the hell?!
An unexpected line of attack caught me off guard: the final assassin had thrown one of her weapons at me whole. I ducked; the rod-and-chains that zipped past spun so wildly that it looked like a single flat disc. In the time I was busy dodging, the final sepa removed the chains from either end of her polearm and gripped them tightly in her lower set of hands.
“I see. So this is your real melee style.” I could hear the wailing diminish in the distance: the assassin was escaping, even while burning alive. He could run as far as he wished—I didn’t have the time to stop him. I needed to settle this fight and get to the main manor to support Lady Agrippina. “Let’s finish this.”
“Words are cheap.”
At long last, she spoke. Her voice was the same as it had been in the palace: charming and easy on the ears. Who knows? Maybe if it hadn’t been steeped in animosity, it would have been enough to woo me. Well, that, and if it hadn’t come with two chains whizzing by on either side, boxing me into a narrow lane.
Hoisting her polearm high into the air, she began to spin it with the force of a jet engine’s fan. She swerved from side to side, obscuring her intentions and using the centrifugal force to bolster the threat of her lead whips. I’d always thought this sort of thing had been a cinematic invention thought up to look stylish, but facing it in battle was as problematic as it was intimidating.
Blocking the hit wasn’t an option. She had the advantage of height, gravity, and angular momentum bolstering a battlestaff that most mensch would struggle to lift. Even with all five of my swords plusmy two spare Hands, she’d crush me. The Craving Blade would hold firm, but the rest—even Schutzwolfe—would crack, not to mention my fragile arms.
Parrying a strike this forceful was also a no-go. A plank of wood diagonal to a stream could redirect its current, but it’d snap in half when faced with the torrential rapids of a flooding river.
I liked it. The whole of her being came through in this one attack: she’d kill me or die trying. How could I hate something so gallant and forthright?
In fact, I was flattered: she’d surmised that she needed to go this far just to grasp at some chance of victory. It looked like I’d gotten pretty strong after all.
All right then. I’ll answer with everything I’ve got.
Putting my gimmicks to rest, I prepared myself for the counterattack. I let my Hands fizzle away to dedicate all my concentration into one strike, letting every last neuron dial in on the moment. Endowed with Insight, my eyes did not tunnel in on any one point, instead taking in even the most minute movements as fragments of the greater whole; I processed the stimuli as part of a Permanent Battlefield, acutely aware of every element that made up the big picture.
At the apex of focus, my Lightning Reflexes kicked in. Time dilated; submerged in flow state, I followed the golden path laid out for me in a slow world where the next move was always certain.
I heard the sound of screeching chains. With an expert flick of her wrists, she’d whipped them back from past me to loop in toward my head and back—easily avoided with a simple crouch.
The weights went wide, opening a path for their master to rush in, her staff still held overhead. Despite the infamy of weaponized chains and ropes coming back to bite their wielder, I hadn’t gotten my hopes up. She was a master of her craft; in a contest of Dexterity alone, there was a real chance she was my equal.
Her footwork was too erratic and her eyes too well hidden by her hood to read her intent from those, but I’d finally gotten used to it. Watching her writhing footwork wouldn’t help, but the angle her trunk twisted at was set in stone. Every time she summoned her strength to attack, her legs and trunk had to sync up.
Like now!
She did not shout; she employed no dramatic flourish; she struck with technique honed to bring death and nothing more. Despite starting with the staff hoisted up, she swung up slantwise from below to make her blow as difficult to intercept as possible.
But I had a read on her. The reach her polearm provided generally made it hard to invade her space, but that was only the case if I didn’t know what was coming. One beat late and I’d throw myself into her attack; one beat early and she’d have time to correct her course. Victory invariably lay on the precipice of defeat, and I leapt into close quarters.
It wasn’t the flashiest moment, but this was what a duel between masters was like. There was a good reason why old samurai flicks always ended with blink-and-you’ll-miss-it exchanges.
Having dodged her death blow and earned myself perfect positioning, I opted for a clean uppercut. As her arms came down, the Craving Blade went up and severed two at the forearm.
Yet that wasn’t the end: my opponent was my size several times over, and had one out left. If she could tackle me and constrict me with her trunk, she would walk away the victor. Immediately tossing her staff, she reached out with her remaining limbs.
Too bad. I had a read on this too.
I slipped under her attempt to grab me, quickly hopping up onto the back of her lower body. She whirled around in an attempt to catch me, but I’d already kicked off; twirling back, I slashed at her while fading away. Truth be told, I’d been aiming for her neck, but she’d managed to pull back her left hand to survive the hit.
Still, three arms was hardly a cheap price to pay. I skipped backward a few times, eyeing her next move from a safe distance. But three flooding wounds and one arm weren’t enough to fight me with. The battle was all but settled.
“Hrgh... Ngh...”
Evidently, losing three limbs was finally enough to draw a pained groan from beneath the veil. Yet even now, she wouldn’t back down: she produced a spare chain from her pocket in a stunning display of valor.
If nothing else, she had earned my respect for showing the most zeal in battle of any foe I’d faced thus far. She was prouder than the kidnapping mage; nobler than the crazed Helga; more vivacious than the undead adventurer looking for an heir; and more sincere than the masked nobleman.
Few were the occasions in life where one could receive such genuine emotion from another. You’re making me blush.
Fine, then. While I could leave her here now that she posed no threat, I decided to see our dance through till the end. How could I call myself a man if I refused to face the boiling core of bloodlust glaring at me?
For our final bout, I would take her head in one swift stroke. An easy death was the least I could do to honor the efforts of a masterful warrior. Ready to lunge, I held my sword beside me and took one step—when a piercing noise split the air.
Something had been thrown at incredible speeds. Looking over, I saw a lead weight with something tied to it soaring through the moonlit skies like a whistling arrow. Strangely, it wasn’t aiming for me. It landed instead by the final assassin, and a moment later, flooded the night with a blinding radiance.
I put up an arm and lowered it once the light was gone, only to find that my foe had vanished with it.
Turning in the direction the projectile had come from, I saw a fleeing figure trailed by smoke. The singed holes in his cloak identified him as the assassin I’d torched with thermite. Not only was I surprised that he’d stuck around to wait for an opportune moment, but I was shocked that he could move at all.
“What a flashy retreat,” I grumbled.
I’d been had. I’d noticed earlier that they preferred dishonorable escape over glorious death; it seemed the others had forced their companion to run.
Furthermore, whatever they’d used had been no ordinary flashbang. The thick scent of magic lingered on the scene, and it seemed like they’d used space-bending magic in the form of some enchanted tool or catalyst. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how expensive that would be—even as a consumable, it could go for tens of thousands of drachmae and still find buyers.
“And they managed to pick up after themselves too. Argh, this is gonna make tracking them down so much harder.”
Had they left a body part or two, we could’ve used it to pin down their location and air out any further grievances. As it stood, though, the blood spilt on the ground wasn’t quite enough.
Man, I’ve got a bad taste in my mouth. What a sorry way to cap off a great fight. It wasn’t that I’d wanted to kill them, but that this felt too inconclusive to satisfy me. And sure, I could celebrate the fact that I’d come out unscathed, but as a frail little mensch, this was about the only way I could ever win anyway. Had any spectators been present, they would surely boo the episode as a boring spat with an abrupt ending.
Oh well. I guess I’ll go join up with Lady Agrippina and—suddenly, the small pouch at my waist shivered. It was the little pocket I kept Ursula’s never-wilting rose in.
On a night much like this one, where the False Moon hid out of sight, she’d once wrung out what little power she could muster to tremble in the same way: it was when I’d first stepped into the sea of trees leading toward the ichor maze. Had I heeded her warning then, Mika and I wouldn’t have ended up knocking on death’s door.
So I’m not going to the main hall, I guess?
I’d failed to take notice of her signals once and gotten burnt for it; daring to do so again could put me at serious risk of being spirited away to the twilight hill. It was probably best to listen. Walking away from the manor, I decided to try contacting Lady Agrippina with a spell instead...only for an explosion at my back to send me flying.

[Tips] Corpses represent a great deal of information that may fall into enemy hands. Survival—or at least, retrieval of the dead—is a top priority for assassins and secret agents, second only to the success of a mission itself.

Smoke with the scent of sweet fruit blanketed a pair of methuselah. By the time the last of her leaves had burnt to ashes and the final drop of his wine had been lapped away, their conversation had naturally drifted to newer topics.
“Now then, Agrippina. Wit have a gift for you.”
“A gift, you say?”
“Indeed. It would please me greatly if you’d accept it.”
The marquis reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small and classy box. Coated on the outside with crimson felt, he popped the lid open to show a single ring hidden within. It was a mystarille band capped with an emerald larger than the tip of his thumb. Smaragds, as the jewel was commonly known in the Empire, were certainly popular as gemstones; though, in recent years, it was more in vogue to send them to others with a certain mystic meaning in mind.
Emeralds were said to ward off poison and defend virtue in the face of temptation. As such, there could only be one interpretation for a man giving a woman such a jewel: a proposal.
“I see your material never gets any better. Did a lowborn minstrel inspire this little idea of yours?”
“No, no, Wit am serious, Agrippina. Don’t you think it sounds wonderful? Count Agrippina Voisin von Ubiorum—otherwise known as Marchioness Agrippina Voisin von Donnersmarck. Wit simply thinks it has a marvelous ring to it.”
“I’m afraid I disagree entirely. In fact, I’ve heard tone-deaf bards drunkenly stumble through hackneyed tunes that were less grating on the ears. Besides...”
Agrippina plucked the ring out of the box and held it up toward the light, eyeing it over without a hint of interest. It was well made: the mystarille was properly fashioned, the gemstone had been sanded down into an intricate shape with great care and skill, and the design was a traditional mainstay that would never grow old no matter how many years ticked by.
Alas, she simply didn’t like it.
“The design is old and in poor taste. This ring would be best fit adorning the finger of some country bumpkin—or perhaps you ought to play the part of a dutiful son and send it to your mother.”
“Oh, how cruel of you, Agrippina—how cruel. And here Wit had imagined a gleaming emerald might fit the beautiful hue of your eye.”
“My, is this eye of mine to your liking? It seems you do have some good sense.”
Though their good-natured expressions did not fade, the air between them creaked under the tension—literally. Trace amounts of the mana swirling within their bodies leaked into the room, warping it; the mystic lamps flickered and stray shards from the broken flowerpot shattered further.
“But I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. May I ask you to come again at a later date with a better engagement speech? And I must say, this isn’t exactly the most romantic of situations. Proposing in a cramped tearoom with the deathly stink of a dead orc fouling up the air is sure to cause even passions stoked for a century to fizzle out into cinders.”
“Wit ask not for passions to last a century, Agrippina, but for love to endure a millennium. Take my hand, and we can lay claim to vast swaths of the Empire—fifty years, and an electorate seat may be in reach. If all goes well, we could have legal ties of relation to the throne.”
“Is that so? But tell me: where in this happy future of ours am I taken out of the picture?”
Their dashing smiles oozed with toxicity. With his ostensible “flirtations” failing to land, Marquis Donnersmarck shook his head.
“My proposal was made out of concern for you. It is no exaggeration to say that the majority of noble households in the county are under my sphere of influence. Should you push forward alone, who knows how many will turn coat and cease to be of use?”
“I never expected anything to begin with. His Majesty has personally vested me with the authority to cut up the region as I see fit, and truthfully, such a revolt may be my easiest path forward. I hear the young Graufrocks are just itching for a fight, and I’m sure they’d be more than happy to make the hike over.”
“...But then the county will slip out of your fingers. With so many notable names involved, it would become impossible to rule as you please. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“Since when has that ever been my goal?” Disappearing the pipe from her hands, Agrippina peeled off the last layer of her facade and propped up her chin. As indescribably showy as ever, her everyday sneer was on full display. “Frankly put, the fate which befalls this territory couldn’t possibly interest me less, so long as it doesn’t cause me any issues. Whether two hundred people die in this very manor or all 250 thousand citizens of the county perish, it isn’t my concern.”
“Agrippina, you don’t mean—”
“Marquis Donnersmarck, you have made a terrible miscalculation. Power? Politics? I simply don’t care. You see, the only thing I want out of life is to see all the stories it has to offer: all the long-lost chronicles of the past, every saga taking shape at this very moment, the sum of history yet unwritten, stretching out to the ends of eternity.”
As excitement took hold of her, Agrippina’s jade eye began to melt. The definite bounds of her black pupil grew hazy as a whirlpool of color swirled into the center; though Marquis Donnersmarck had crossed paths with countless arcane oddities in his time—many of them effectively mystic embodiments of malice—even he shivered when he locked eyes with her.
“So allow me to answer your proposal without any affectation, Marquis.”
“...Please do. Wit do hope for an agreeable answer. We can do so much together. A splendid future for both of us lies ahead.”
While he remained a picture-perfect gentleman on the surface, the marquis couldn’t keep his cool inside—especially when the count suddenly grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. Face-to-face, her eyes nearly touched his own. A single bead of sweat formed on his forehead, and it finally sank in.
These eyes—no, this woman...
“Stand in my way, and you will die, imbecile.”
...is mad.
Annihilation swallowed them whole: neither heat nor light accompanied the raw burst of magical power that erupted at their feet, erasing everything it came across as the blast devoured the building.
Marquis Donnersmarck kept a handful of magia in his orbit, and had instructed them to prepare a Great Work of polemurgy in the basement of the manor that could be activated with a remote incantation. In the event that his attempt to win over the count went awry, his failsafe had been to simply obliterate the entire estate.
Naturally, he had an excuse as well. Viscount Liplar had recently purchased a dragon egg, you see—not an egg bred from one of the domesticated line of drakes that were kept in Rhine, of course, but one belonging to a true dragon. Enraged, the parent had followed it here and exacted its vengeance.
Without cameras or telecommunications, the cover-up was perfectly doable. Originally, his story had included an emergency of statecraft that the viscount would have been out of the house to settle, allowing for all eyewitnesses to be eliminated but him. By the time anyone from the College made their way out to investigate, the traces of mana would have dissipated; lacking any other survivor testimony, the inconvenient truth could be swept under the rug of a draconic calamity.
“Ergh... Not even she could survive that, Wit take it?”
The man magically floating midair had only made it through the ceremonial spell of destruction thanks to the arsenal of enchanted gear he carried on his person. Casting his gaze over the rubble that had once been a house, he mumbled to himself in awe; being in the blast radius hadn’t been part of his plans, but any later and he was convinced he would’ve died.
Although the viscount had broken the voice tube, it had still served as a tiny hole in the antithaumaturgic barrier surrounding the tearoom. Sending a signal through it, the marquis had ordered that the Liplar house be vaporized alongside its guards, knights, and servants; still, the smoldering ruins retained enough shape to be recognizable.
A midnight breeze rolled through, whisking away the smoke...and there she was, standing without a care in the world. Her lavishly set hair retained its perfect form; her scarlet dress remained untainted by even a single speck of dust.
Despite finding herself at ground zero, the lady carried herself as though the explosion hadn’t affected her in any way—and in truth, it hadn’t. After all, she’d been somewhere else the instant things went off.
“Ha...ha! Are you some sort of immortal, Agrippina?”
“Oh please, I’ll die if you kill me. This is simply a matter of your efforts falling short. No matter how mighty the spell, it means nothing if it can’t reach my sanctuary, a dimension removed.”
Sensing that an arcane attack was imminent, Agrippina had bent space to slip into a separate layer of existence. The rest was a simple affair: after waiting out the few seconds it would take for the explosion to settle, she’d popped back into her original position. Yet the remarkable speed with which she’d navigated the intricacies of space-bending was beyond even the marquis’s wildest imagination.
“Ah, of course... A mistake on my part. Wit shouldn’t have let my preconceptions of possible and impossible cloud my judgment; perhaps a powerful counterspell was in order.”
“Though in that case, I doubt you would’ve been able to rely upon your own mystic defenses. Well then, with that out of the way, how do you intend to entertain me next? I’ll have you know that I’m not very keen on boring gentlemen.”
“Agrippina, you truly are a wonderful woman. Your every word and action makes me want you all the more—but you would be better dead than alive.”
Still, now that she’d revealed her hand, he could simply jam her magic. Returning to the scene instead of making her getaway was her biggest mistake. Even if she’d come equipped with her staff, ready for a proper fight, Marquis Donnersmarck had prepared a backup plan in the event that the Great Work failed to trigger: his forces marched out of the woodwork to surround her.
“Oh, that’s it? How tasteless. This is a cliché that belongs in the tepid productions of a public theater.”
Since the ritual’s range had only encompassed the manor proper, his subordinates whom he’d placed just outside were perfectly fine. Dozens upon dozens of sepa crawled out, clad in shadowy robes, each an expert mage, marksman, or knight in their own right.
Welcomed in by the late Viscount Liplar, the marquis’s personal army was on the scene. With their skills, any attempt to teleport away would be blocked by the mages, allowing the rest to overwhelm her with sheer violence; a magus afforded no time to focus on spellcasting was no better than a regular person.
“This is my last offer, Agrippina. No matter how powerful a magus you are, this is not a situation you can overcome alone without so much as a vanguard to protect you. Sign, and you shall be spared.”
The man tossed a loose sheet of paper toward her. Imbued with a mystically binding contract which wrought death in the event of a breach, the document served as an absolute oath. Upon reading through a marriage form utterly devoid of romance, Agrippina scoffed and burned the parchment to a crisp.
“A boring man remains boring to the end—not even pub drunkards could hope to be so humorless. Oh, and let me ask you one last thing.” Gently, her hand rose to pinch the ever-present monocle adorning her left eye. “When did I ever give you permission to speak my name?”
“A true shame. Goodbye, Agrippina.”
The marquis’s farewell marked the beginning of an unbridled bombardment. Standard offensive magicks like waves of flame or frigid gales were interspersed with airborne blight that spelled death at first breath; in conjunction, a hail of arrows and arcane grenades rained down on her.
While their allies laid down a battery that would topple the most fortified outpost of knights, the melee forces began to advance. As they did, the back line shifted gears, opting for attacks that limited the enemy’s range of movement. The merciless fusillade began to let up, and the vanguard advanced into the cloud of dust that had arisen from the barrage.
They crossed the boundary of their enemy’s defensive barrier into a bubble of space free of smoke...only to be met with a ruthless storm of claws and fangs that rent them into mincemeat.
“What?!”
Screams flooded out from within the fog, heralding the brutal massacre of the marquis’s peerless soldiers. Bloody mist tinted the air, and though those at range laid down their best covering fire, the echoing throes of death went unabated. Recognizing that they had no hope of saving their friends, the mages began to dish out large-scale destructive spells, but to no avail.
Having finished feasting on those audacious enough to approach it, the vicious thing turned its attention outward in search of its next mark.
“What the hell is this?!”
Marquis Donnersmarck had no idea what this beast now gnawing on his physical barrier even was. Here was a man who’d lived for centuries, accumulating a vast wealth of knowledge and experience, who’d written and sung many a poem—yet not even he could muster the words to describe it.
Perhaps the closest description would be to say that it was a blue-black, amorphous haze of mud. It oozed like the viscous goop of a rotting, festering brain, but boasted countless mismatched sets of claws and fangs that appeared and disappeared at random. Scattering fetid pus as it rampaged, it zipped about, howling ravenously.
Steered by insatiable instinct, the living curse summoned talons and teeth from thin air in a desperate attempt to sate its urges. Where catapult fire would have bounced right off the marquis’s force field, this beast had cracked it open; talisman after talisman, ring after ring, his defenses shattered as it made its way through the layers.
Although the squadron of mages fired off spells to save their lord, nothing worked. Or rather, it wasn’t that their attempts had no effect; the viscous mud was taking the form of a starving, skin-and-bones canid for seconds at a time to eat their spells.
Realizing that a monster capable of wolfing down magical phenomena and the concepts his barriers were built with was nearly upon him, Marquis Donnersmarck swiftly changed the orientation of his arcane shields: the bubble he’d been using to protect himself became a cage to lock in the beast. Stuck on the inside of a perfect sphere, the creature lost the surface it had sunk its teeth into and plummeted to earth. Even so, it showed no signs of injury and resumed wrecking the layers of its new enclosure.
“Wh-What is that?! What the hell is that thing?!”
“That would be my hound, Marquis Donnersmarck.”

Tprg5.11

The Ubiorum county was both a merging point for imperial trade routes and a manufacturing giant in its own right.
“Whoa... This makes the capital look rural.”
“Your first mistake was comparing a political city to an industrial one.”
I peered out the window to see an expansive highway; it bore the load of an endless stream of travelers, among them massive caravans a few hundred strong. With the start of spring came the first chance for people to start up their business again.
The sheer scope of the products being ferried in and out of the region spoke volumes to its industrial might, and to the fact that this was one of the few places in the Empire that could rival the capital’s population. But unlike the capital, the metropolitan areas of the county sprawled out unabated. Berylin was impressive in its own right, of course, but that was because it packed so many people into a single urban center; there was next to nothing in the land surrounding its walls.
The capital was like Tokyo: every inch of the twenty-three special wards was packed with people maneuvering through a forest of skyscrapers, but one short train ride was enough to reach pastoral lands undeveloped enough to warrant a second look at a map.
While the region lacked any castles to rival the palace’s luster—to be fair, castles had gone out of style for nonsymbolic purposes—giant, walled cities with populations in the quintuple digits dotted the highway network. A day in any direction on horseback would guarantee a traveler to come across at least one town with a thousand people.
If I was being frank, this was way more city-like to me. I’d once called Osaka home, living only a few stops away from the bustling downtown districts. Something about this atmosphere just felt more glorious to me.
But now that I was seeing it with my own eyes, it was hard to believe the state had just let the entire region simmer as the property of the crown for half a century. Continuing the analogies, it was akin to the central government of Japan deciding to leave the entirety of Nagoya to its own devices. I couldn’t tell which feeling was stronger: amazement that the underlying system was sturdy enough to chug along despite that, or exasperation at the absolute authority of the ruling class.
“Wow, look at all those chimneys,” I mumbled. “And they’re all puffing smoke! Now this is what I imagined the city to be like.”
“And that, in fact, is Liplar. It is the heart of the county’s metalworking industry, and the birthplace of the Empire’s ironworking union. The history of the city is rather rich, and it boasts a population of some twelve thousand, if I recall.”
Having reclaimed her lavish robes and her original hair and eye color, Lady Agrippina expanded on my observations. We’d joined up with a force of imperial guardsmen who’d been waiting for us at the last inn, so we were free to rock along in a carriage like a proper noblewoman plus company; the disguises had been retired.
But wow—twelve thousand people in a city that wasn’t even the territory’s capital was astonishing. With several cities of similar size and abundant mines surrounding them, it was no wonder that people were willing to kill anyone in their path to lay claim to the Ubiorum name.
“As an aside,” the madam went on, “the Ubiorum capital of Kolnia is roughly a week away. There, the permanent population hovers around forty thousand, but reaches nearly sixty when factoring in the laborers who commute into the city.”
“Sixty thousand? That’s incredible—that puts it on par with Berylin.”
“Well, that’s also exactly why the squabbling was so horrendous when its rulership went up for debate. Even with the greatest might in the nation, the best the Empire could do was to shelve the county as property of the crown.”
In essence, the region was too big to get the axe; no pretext could suffice to come down on it with armed force. Still, anyone could see that a house built on rotting foundations needed to be rebuilt. Those in the neighborhood were sure to be less than pleased to live by a disaster waiting to happen. Maybe the Empire had been biding its time, waiting for the vacant house to decay to such a state where none could object to its reconstruction. Or, possibly, that had only been one of many plans, and they would have gone with something else had Lady Agrippina not conveniently been around.
Whatever the case, the madam’s new reign would probably settle the matter in the most peaceful way possible under the circumstances; perhaps a round of thanks were in order. If nothing else, this was a much better outcome than burning a dilapidated manor to ashes after the whole world had lost hope for its revival.
“Is Viscount Liplar’s estate close?”
“We ought to be nearly there. The viscount’s administrative office is within the city proper, but his personal residence should be in a more secluded—”
A knock on the carriage door cut the madam off. I glanced over at her, and she nodded me along. Pulling down the window opposite to the one I’d been staring out of, I was greeted by one of the jagers—though he wasn’t in official regalia on account of being lent to us—who’d been accompanying us as Lady Agrippina’s bodyguards.
“Viscount Liplar has sent a troupe of knights to receive us.”
“Is that so? Very well.”
“They wish to salute you. Shall we let them through?”
“Yes, by all means.”
The jager gave the order, and our coachman stopped the vehicle. My master and I stepped out to wait for a few minutes, until a young man leading a horse came along, helmet in hand, with quite a few other unmounted cavalry in tow.
“Jurgen von Huthkass, imperial knight under Viscount Liplar, at your service. I have come to lead the good count to the estate!”
“Well met,” Lady Agrippina replied. “And the others?”
“Ma’am,” he said with a salute. “We have prepared a company of forty knights, led by Sir Solle, to escort you safely to the manor.”
The spokesman was a young and manly mensch. His looks were liable to sit well with ladies—he had no doubt been chosen for the mission precisely to that end. Even if success was unlikely, it seemed the viscount hadn’t given up on carefully selecting his men for a Hail Mary play.
But honestly, what could he possibly do at this point? We’d already officially entered the city, we had a unit of veteran imperial guards with us at all times, and we could summon dozens more of these inhuman supersoldiers with a single call. Personally, I couldn’t think of a single means of dealing with the manpower we’d assembled. What kind of tricks did the viscount have up his sleeve?
“I see,” Lady Agrippina said. “And I take it the process of handing off security has gone smoothly?”
“All is as you have intended.”
Huh? Wait, what? What’d she just say?
“Von Bohl,” she said to the jager, “thank you very kindly for your service.”
“Of course, Count. But if I may mention: should you give the word, we would be happy to accompany you until the end of your journey.”
“I’m Count Ubiorum, you know. How could a count possibly refuse the service of her subject’s knights in her own county? No, you are free to go. And do tell His Imperial Majesty that the count sends her thanks.”
“As you will, von Ubiorum. It was an honor to have served you.”
The imperial guardsmen saluted in unison, and then promptly began giving up their spots in our formation to the new knights. Hoisting a flag bearing the Ubiorum emblem with the Liplar banner flown beneath, they made their allegiance to the county known as they knelt to their new lord.
“It is with great honor that I welcome your arrival, Count Ubiorum! On our lives, we swear to deliver you safely to the Liplar estate!”
“And a pleasing welcome it is. I look forward to your continued service. Now then, lead us to the viscount without delay.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Wait. No, no, no, wait. What? Is this part of the plan? Why are we letting the jagers go? Hey, no, hold on—they were the whole reason I could relax and enjoy the sights! Come back!
Though I would’ve loved to grab the madam by the collar and violently shake her down for answers, that was obviously insubordination. The best I could do was to glare at her after the carriage doors were closed; this, too, was a breach of conduct, but I felt like I had the right to scowl.
Okay, sure, I understood on the surface. We’d borrowed troops from the Emperor on the pretext that summoning local knights to the capital would have pushed our arrival back by a year; therefore, when we finally reached Ubiorum territory, it made sense to entrust our safety to the madam’s subjects to uphold their societal image.
But this was enemy territory in all but name. I mean, who was responsible for choosing these knights? I’d known that something was off since our original host, Baron Erftstadt, had come down with a “sudden illness” that rerouted us to the Liplar viscounty, but now I was totally lost.
I whispered low into a Voice Transfer to avoid being listened in on and questioned Lady Agrippina.
“What in the world are you plotting?”
“A secret. Worry not, this is all according to plan.”
Gods, she’s shady.
As showy and nefarious as ever, her grin threatened to snap my heart in two. Oh, gods, how I wanted to heal the cracks in my soul with a ray of pure innocence. I missed Elisa’s beaming, angelic smile so much that I was worried I might die on the spot.
Holding back a groan—I couldn’t show these knights any disgraceful conduct—I cast my gaze outward to distract myself. After a little while of staring outside, the scenery changed as we entered Liplar proper.
This titan of metallurgy was encircled by three layers of city walls. The outermost ring that we’d just passed was only about three meters high and wasn’t very thick; it was less a military fortification and more a deterrent to criminals trying to enter and exit as they pleased.
Off in the distance, I could see the second set of walls rise to around five meters with considerably more girth. Those were apparently a vestige of the period of warring city-states that outlined the historic city limits. In the modern day, they served to protect important factories, companies, and government buildings.
Lastly, a fortified mansion sat within, protected by another set of similarly sized walls. That was supposedly the lord’s official station, but our business today was at the viscount’s personal estate, located between the first and second walls.
It made sense to me: the truly wealthy could always be found away from the hustle and bustle of the inner city, even if the locale wasn’t as convenient for everyday life.
In Earth terms, it didn’t matter how far the closest train station was if you could just pay a chauffeur to drive you. I’d been to those sorts of places on business in the past, and the affluence on display had been palpable: not in the rent, but in the services and mediums of transport available. When the only grocery store in town was by the station and every restaurant was a bougie café with a wait-list, an empty stomach could only be remedied by a thirty-minute walk or enough money to call the chefs to you.
This was probably the same logic that had put the lord of the viscounty in such an out-of-the-way spot. It wasn’t as if a blue-born noble was going to care about proximity to twenty-four hour food to fuel his midnight snack addiction.
“Wow,” I whispered. “How many crimes do you have to commit to build a mansion like that?”
“A hidden mine or two would be plenty—but it seems our friend here has a little more than that.”
For as long as I could remember, I always jokingly wondered what kind of body count could buy the extravagant houses I came across. Never had I imagined that I’d end up getting a serious reply.
Hidden mines, huh? I guess that’s all it takes to live in luxury.
The personal home we had arrived at was so grand that its existence alone was testament to its owner’s sins. The main manor was a four-story building flanked on the east and west by U-shaped wings. Hard coats of plaster left the walls stark white, and incredibly, the roof was a stunning blue. Nothing on display could be called standard by imperial measures; if anything, it looked like a feat of Southern architecture one might expect by the sea.
Plaster was seen in small quantities on the insides of buildings, but gathering enough to coat the whole exterior—not to mention the craftsmen needed to apply it neatly—must have cost gods know how much. Those blue shingles could only be made by specially trained craftsmen using particular furnaces, meaning each must have cost several dozens of times more than standard roof tiles too.
All I was saying was that, boy did he lay it all on thick.
Furthermore, the front yard had its own charms vying for the viewer’s attention. A gigantic fountain sat in the center—and if I wasn’t seeing things, the gaudy statue sprouting from the middle was made of gold—with hedges spreading out into beautiful geometric patterns from that central point. Just imagining the cost of upkeep on the greenery made my head spin.
But as if that wasn’t enough, it seemed like the plants had been mystically altered: though the chilly air of early spring nipped at my skin, even the most infamously seasonal flowers continued to bloom. Adding to the list were a hedge maze hidden in the back and an orangery built purely from tiled glass; just how many cantons would one need to sell wholesale to match the price of this single estate?
It turned out that money really did talk, and dirty money had the loudest voice. Yet at first glance, it still appeared to be regal and classy—much to my chagrin.
Surrounded by knights, we passed through the gates and finally arrived at the estate’s driveway.
“Lady Agrippina von Ubiorum, Count of Ubiorum, has arrived!”
One of the knights opened the door with a pompous declaration and lent the madam his hand to descend from the carriage. I followed suit, but let it be known that my poker face would have crumbled had I been any weaker of will.
“Ah, Count Ubiorum! I have spent many a weary day awaiting the moment I might have the honor of laying eyes upon you!”
Viscount Liplar had gone out of his way to greet us by the front door, but no one had told me he was an orc—and one whose bulging frame was two sizes larger than the blue-collar workers I often saw in the capital, at that. The good fellows I ran into at street stalls were all plump enough that a mensch of their size would be diagnosed with some kind of disease, but they were better described as bulky or stout than fat. The viscount, on the other hand...was flat-out obese.
The roundness of his figure threatened to tear his magnificent blue doublet and white tights with every movement; his piggish face had so much extra meat that he was a caricature of the “evil aristocrat” trope. I know I’d come from a culture where orcs tended to be portrayed as villains, but I don’t think my biases were at play here: ask anyone in the Empire, and they would peg this man as an evildoer.
Ah, no, but wait! Would anyone let someone this blatantly corrupt be a real bad actor in this day and age? Looking back, my old tablemates and I had once spent so long snooping around a stinking old priest who reeked of villainy that we’d let the true mastermind slip away—the guy had just been an honest worker with a fondness for bookkeeping.
Maybe there was a higher-level game being played: had he tailored his appearance this way on purpose in order to lull his enemies into underestimating him? After being sold short in battle for my stature time and time again, I knew better than to judge a book by its cover.
“Thank you for the warm welcome, Viscount Liplar,” Lady Agrippina said.
“No, no, of course! To tell the truth, I should have been the one to staff your escort over the entire journey! That you have forgiven my failure of hospitality and traveled all this way to visit of your own volition is the greatest honor I could ever wish for! I’m sure you’re exhausted from the long trek—please, take the time to ease your weary legs, and I shall offer you the best accommodations I can muster!”
Oh. No, I’d been wrong. His bootlicker energy was coming through in spades. If this was an act, then he was too skilled an actor for me to see through his front.
Was this what life in a lordless region did to a person? Imperial lands were sort of an insular bubble, and that cultural dissonance may explain why he seemed categorically different from the dignified nobles I’d met in Berylin. If they were the C-suite executives of major conglomerates, then this guy was the president and founder of a small construction company.
“I have heard that misfortune befell you on the road here, and that you tragically lost some of your men. I turn in bed every night, wishing that I had been there to help...”
“There’s no need to worry. My most capable retainer is still with me.”
“What wonderful news! Then would you like to give your servant a moment to rest as well? I can provide as many attendants as you need while the boy relaxes!”
I moved to politely reject his offer, but for some ungodly reason, Lady Agrippina nodded. Huh? Wait a second. Are you tossing me to the wolves?!
“Please. Do treat him well.”
I looked at her in shock, and she flashed me a smooth smile.
Oh, gods. What in the world is she scheming now? I’m scared of being alone!
More importantly, this was an unthinkable scenario. I was her servant and bodyguard; why would the viscount dare try and pull me away from her? Although I understood that I looked like a mere display piece, being a kid and all, the mere suggestion of depriving a superior of her security was preposterous. It would be one thing to comply with an order that came from her, but offering stand-in attendants as compensation for isolation was horribly base and a major faux pas.
A retainer on a trip like this was akin to a private secretary: the expectation should have been that I was an important confidant whose presence would be a given during talks. No normal person would have the audacity to shoo me away.
Yet Lady Agrippina had agreed.
Hmm, I had no idea where this was headed—more precisely, the madam had refused to tell me to “minimize information leakage.” A likely excuse. Was I supposed to be a decoy in her grand design?
In that case, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about my situation.
“If you’ll follow me, young man, we shall see to your accommodations.”
Another knight—unarmored, probably because he’d been stationed on the premises—led me out of the western wing through a back door and to the annex I was meant to stay in. Although it was a notable three-story building, its exterior was simple and showed few signs of use. It was probably reserved for people like me: the guards, servants, and workers of real guests.
The staff offered me a royal reception, but I refused on grounds of fatigue and asked to be shown to my room. I was led to a suite fit to house a captain of an ordained troupe of knights, but the lavish lodging did nothing to take the edge off. They went out of their way to bring supper up to my room as well, but I wasn’t exactly starving; a bath was heated up in my name, but I couldn’t find it in me to partake.
All I could do was sit on the edge of my bed and think.
I had a feeling that things were going down tonight—an omen that was more premonition than guesswork. Lady Agrippina may have been a lazy homebody, but she was also the type to clean up tedious chores as quickly as she could when they had to be done. Here she was, separated from her beloved atelier; between lounging around in enemy territory and settling matters by day’s end, it was clear which she’d choose.
And the other party at the table tonight was someone who’d put a hit out on her. Whatever happened was not going to end amicably.
Which meant the reason she sent me off on my own...huh. Was the madam hedging against the chance that she might need to fight at full power by putting me in a place that wouldn’t get caught in the cross fire?
I knew better than anyone else how frail I was. As I’d feared, my run-in with the myriapod demihuman had left a hairline fracture in my rib—though it had been fixed with magic—driving home the point that, for all my investment in combat, I was always at risk of dying if an attack connected with me.
Sure, I could roll off momentum to mitigate damage, but that only worked against sensible opponents. If an unrivaled master of the sword cut me, their blade would sever flesh and bone alike; if a space-bending mage caught me in their spell, I’d be blinked out of reality without a trace.
Lady Agrippina was an inhuman freak who was a touch too unbound by the limits of the universe for my swordplay to reach her, even at Scale IX. I still needed to pull out a few more screws with unfair skills and traits to reach the level of absurdity required to think about challenging her one-on-one. At the very minimum, I would have to be able to erase magic at the root, cutting through fortune and phenomena alike with my blade alone—and this would have to be with every passing strike, not just my most serious swings.
“Oh, so that’s it? I’d just get in the way, huh?”
A vanguard who dies from the splash damage of their back line’s spells is a useless vanguard. The only reason we tabletop players can laugh about throwing fireballs at our own tanks is because they have the HP to eat the hit and survive; not even we would accept collateral damage if it led to the death of a party member.
So if I wasn’t worth using as her front line, this was Lady Agrippina’s way of telling me to work within my means. Like, say, by distracting a portion of the enemy’s forces.
Looking at the situation objectively just made me feel pathetic. While I was more than aware that I wasn’t strong enough to pose a threat to archenemies like Lady Leizniz or the madam herself, forcing her to look out for me like this was incredibly vexing.
“Gods, it pisses me off when she throws everything my way, but being babied like this is just as annoying.”
Emotions too complex to process sank into my gut as I leaned back onto the bedding. Dammit, this mattress is nice. Why the hell can’t I have this sort of thing when I actually get to use it?

[Tips] Within the Trialist Empire’s system of governance, lords ruling over named territories are akin to governors, but they also serve as mayors of their region’s capital city. Their direct subordinates—lords in their own right—are basically mayors of other major cities in the region. Knights and magistrates can be thought of as members on a city council.

An epicurean dinner; a splendid orchestral performance; and a popular musical drama set to the tunes, performed by the most revered troupe in all the county—these were the parts that made up Viscount Liplar’s most successful night of hospitality, tuned through years and years of experience. Once this was over, he would prepare the most beautiful women in the viscounty for his male guests, or the most handsome knights in his barracks for his female guests, and have them receive his visitor in a more private setting.
Until now, this had been enough to get his way, whatever it was. Though he hadn’t dealt with too many nobles from the inner circles of the Empire, shifting focus to more sterling topics had sufficed on the occasions he had. All he had to do was stick to the plan—that was what he told himself. But then he had to wonder: why was he still sweating bullets after showering Count Ubiorum with every amenity in his playbook?
“Whatever might be the matter, Viscount? You haven’t touched your cup at all.”
“Uh? Oh, well, ha! Ha ha! This wine is so far beyond what my palate can handle that my tongue couldn’t keep up, is all! I should have expected nothing less from you, Count! Even your choice in drink is a cut above!”
The orc’s laughter was utterly dry. He knew that this situation was enviable on paper; all he asked was that someone take it off his hands. Sipping top-notch wine alone with a top-notch woman would have made any man’s mouth water, out of context. After the night of entertainment, she’d whispered in his ear that she wanted to speak with him in a more private setting; both viscount and count had retired to a tearoom carefully designed to shut out interference.
But before they’d convened, Agrippina had evidently stopped by the powder room, as she was no longer wearing the robe she’d arrived in. Dyed in her favorite scarlet, her dress stretched down to her feet in proper ladylike fashion—save for the deep slits cutting up into each leg and brazenly exposing swaths of tantalizing skin on the way. The only thing keeping both sides of the cleavage from flapping away was a set of thin, treacherous lace; without it, salacious fantasies of what might lie beyond her elegantly woven legs could begin to manifest themselves. Brought together by a silver pelt—either a wolf or fox—protecting her shoulders from the cold and a lavish fan held in hand, she was a charmer who could seduce more than just her fellow humanfolk.
Alas, even so, the poor viscount could not summon an ounce of excitement for her. He knew himself to be a lustful man, keeping over twenty mistresses in addition to his young wife, but not even he could muster any strength between his legs when a dagger was digging into his throat.
By his estimate, this was all part of a game to the hollow beauty sitting across from him. She was toying with him, savoring his sorry reactions to everything she did or said.
In fact, she’d taken every opportunity to prod his weaknesses during the festivities—but even that was underselling it. The wickedness of her actions had been akin to carving out his flesh, lodging a great hunk of salt there, and then closing the wound with a cast of molten iron.
Every sentence contained an allusion to silver, or to daggers and the like. Context and repetition had joined together to produce a chilling statement: I know what you’ve been doing, and I have the evidence to prove it.
As if to mark the final nail in the coffin, her Seinian royal wine—a high-class vintage worth entire mansions, no less—was being poured out into a silver wineglass. But it wasn’t just any silver cup: it was pure. The metal was popular amongst the nobility for its use in detecting arsenic, but an entire chalice of unalloyed silver was absurdly overdone: if this wasn’t a threat, then what was? She knew about his hidden mines, and she didn’t have to speak a word to tell him that.
“Please, there isn’t any need to be modest. You’re one of the most celebrated figures in the entire county; I picked this bottle from my collection thinking it would suit our meeting best. You partake in similar wines often, I’m sure.”
“No, no, I would never be able to...”
“Humility in excess is poison to the soul, you know?”
It took everything the man had to keep his shoulders from jerking at the mention of poison.
Viscount Liplar had been looking for ways to kill her from the moment he’d received word of Count Ubiorum’s impending arrival. However, he’d realized that his army and all the troops of his allied lords wouldn’t be of any use when not a single one of the expensive assassins he’d hired had returned.
Besides, his scolding had come with information: apparently, this peerless beauty eyeing him with the sweetest of smiles was a one-woman army more than fit to don the title of polemurge if she so chose.
If physical means were out of the question, the natural course of action would be to poison her. Unfortunately, few toxins were potent enough to fell a methuselah, and fewer still could get past a magus. Aristocrats were already prone to carrying enchanted talismans and arcane tools to stave off poison; trying to spike a specialist’s food and drink would be utterly thoughtless.
As a result, the viscount had been forced to consider less palatable options. His plan was set and his preparations finished, but it was here that the viscount found himself backed into a corner.
“By the by, Viscount Liplar,” Agrippina whispered, “I have a proposition for you.”
“A...proposition, you say?”
“Quite. A very lucrative one, in fact. Tell me, wouldn’t it be wonderful to legally distribute these lovely works of silver within the Empire?”
The man had thought it impossible for his heart to hurt any more than it already did, but in an instant, it skipped straight from missing a beat to the edge of bursting.
What is she trying to say?
Throughout the night, her words had lapped at his soul, driving home the point that she knew about his mines. As such, he’d been more than prepared to be challenged on that front...but his backroom dealings? He hadn’t realized that she knew his goods were being sold abroad.
And so the question ate at his mind: What was she going to say next?
“It would be such an awful shame to lose a man of your talents,” she sighed. “And all the more wasteful to lose you over petty rules and regulations.”
“Wh-What, uh, whatever are you—”
“Writing off an undeclared silver mine or two as honest mistakes ready to be corrected would be all too easy with my help. Imagine: you’d be hailed as a hero for discovering greater bounty for the Empire.”
Although his gut reaction was to doubt her, the viscount realized a moment later that she wasn’t necessarily lying. Not only was the count a favorite of the Emperor’s, but she was a major authority on the aeroship technology that was steering the nation’s industrial power. He’d also heard rumors that she was personally close with the imperial families, and that Martin I had introduced her to all seven electorate houses.
Perhaps she really could get her way via brute force. At times, the facts were secondary to money and authority; with enough power, the blackest raven could be white, gold, or any color of the rainbow. It was well within the realm of possibility that she had the means to save his hide.
“I’d like to avoid a dispute over the Liplar name. Besides, I’m sure you’ve had your own burdens to endure. With all this wealth, I can’t even imagine how many heartless vultures flocked around you... Oh, how the thought brings tears to my eyes.”
The vultures had, in fact, come to circle him.
Originally, House Liplar had been one of the parties embroiled in the Ubiorum fight for succession; but that ambition had met its end by the same hands that had bullied the viscount into drafting tonight’s plot.
Not only had the viscounty lost a newborn with Ubiorum blood, but its secret mining operation had been exposed. The position of viscount had become the equivalent of a walking purse, and while the deal had come with massive profits, the current head of house was an insignificant fellow dissatisfied with the situation.
Forgettable goons were ever prone to hoping for more than they were due. Just as he now buttered Agrippina up with a smile on his face, he’d long licked the boots of his backer while flipping him the bird behind his back. Had everything gone to plan, he could’ve used his ill-gotten fortune and his familial connection to House Ubiorum to lay claim to the entire county; the potential this forgotten glory represented clung fast to his mind, no matter how uncertain success may have been.
Though mortals forgot their debts quickly, grudges passed from generation to generation. Much like how the people of Kyushu had bottled up their hatred for over a century to bring down the great shogunate in Edo, Viscount Liplar could never forget the title of count that had been snatched out of his grasp, as if the title he’d inherited came hand in hand with the enduring resentment.
“Everyone needs a little spending money—it’s human nature. I completely understand. But what if, going forward, you could openly use your fortune without any mind to the attention it might bring? And it would be barely any smaller than what you have now. Weighing the two... Well, I’m sure you can see the difference.”
The untalented were quick to be moved. Gauging pros and cons took up the greater part of a shortsighted mind, and the slightest hint of a less resistant path was incredibly compelling.
Loyalty was adamantine: it was built upon ideology, hardened into a tightly knit core unassailable to the outside world. The only recourse was to smash it to bits or to swap it out for something new.
Spite was unforgettable: it could never be wiped away. Although a new coat of paint could hide hard feelings, it would only serve to hide the lower layer, a heart stained deep in hues of bitterness and hatred.
However, incentives were a different story. No one knew what would happen ten years from now, and thus the promise of immediate payout was sure to persuade. There wasn’t any guarantee that such a decision would lead to a happier future in a decade’s time, of course, but that was a separate matter.
“All I ask is one simple thing: swear fealty to me. Do that...and perhaps I might adopt a son of yours. I don’t have any plans to marry, you see, and I’m sure you can imagine where I’m heading with this. Methuselah...”
“...D-Don’t have many children.”
“Yes, precisely. But I can’t rule out the possibility of misfortune befalling me. I need a capable heir, just in case. Yet I have no interest in marriage—His Majesty even warned me that he would like to keep the voices at the table of aeroship development from growing any further.”
A thin layer of rouge became a voluptuous red, and the words these lips formed were terrifyingly moving. Sending a son to the count’s side would bring the county within reach; even if he failed to inherit the house himself, their bloodline would gain legitimacy in the line of succession. With that, the most trivial twist of fate might place the Ubiorum name in Liplar hands—perhaps, the viscount thought, even while he was still alive.
“What do you say, Viscount Liplar? Take my hand—I shall give you all that you desire. My only request is that you tell me who led you off the just path. That’s all it takes for everything to go your way.”
“I-I, er, I am a proud and loyal servant to the Empire, and I have never done anything—”
“Viscount, please. It’s only us. What could there ever be to fear? Won’t you please tell me? That’s the only thing left stopping you from seeing the breathtaking view at the top... Or would you prefer a twine necklace instead?”
Sweet nectar lay side by side with frightful threat; the viscount wiped away the greasy sweat running down his face and swallowed hard. His thoughts began to tangle: things were already in motion, but maybe he could order his men to stop now. Yet his orders had been to carry out the plan when the time came no matter what else happened. It was more than likely too late. But then again, how upset would she really be over one measly kid?
The viscount took another gulp. His spit was so hard that he felt like it might cut his throat open from the inside, but he finally opened his mouth...
“An ill-advised decision, Viscount.”
...only to be cut off by a reproving voice.
“Huh?! Wait, th-this voice!”
The orc frantically turned to and fro, his head whipping around as if someone were slapping him; yet he and Agrippina were the only two in the cramped room. Nothing had changed: not the handful of paintings on the wall, nor the small flowerpot on the desk, nor even the tea table with only enough room for two.
Totally panicked, the viscount scrambled to find the source of the voice. Not only did this room have an antimagic barrier, but it had been physically soundproofed as well. It should have been impossible to listen in, and to his knowledge, the gods offered no miracles to an end as base as eavesdropping. So where is he?!
While the man frantically searched, Agrippina moistened her lips with a sip of wine and casually responded.
“My, I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us, Marquis.”
“Of course. If you were to come, Wit figured a greeting was in order, and accepted the viscount’s invitation to prepare your reception.”
“Wh-Where?! Where are you?! Show yourself, Marquis Donnersmarck!”
Naturally, the one to interrupt the count’s temptation had been the very same man who’d fed the viscount information and strung him along like a puppeteer.
Tired of the dim-witted viscount’s antics, Agrippina pointed at the flowerpot. He ran over in a frenzy and hoisted it up; much to his surprise, he had uncovered one end to a speaking tube. The receiver was engraved with hexes designed to boost its ability to pick up sound, and it cleverly blended into the pattern of the wallpaper on top of being placed behind the removed vase. No amount of acoustic deafening or thaumaturgic protection could keep the goings-on of the room private when this pipe was carrying all conversation to another location.
“Wh-What is this?! When did this get here?!”
“Building the room is very good, Viscount, but it won’t do to skip on maintenance. Wit understand that this is your own home, but it isn’t as if you spend every waking moment in it. The only way to notice when something is out of place is to carefully check—wouldn’t you agree?”
“Ah... Agh! Arghhh!”
The viscount threw the celadon vase from a faraway land, scattering its pieces and the roses it once held across the ground. Still his wrath was not abated, and he grabbed the mouth of the pipe, yanking the whole thing straight out of the wall with brute strength. With it came the wood and chunks of plaster it had been installed in; evidently, the contraption had been fashioned to extend to a lower floor.
“My, what a dated contrivance,” Agrippina commented. “Come now, Viscount. Inspecting your home with every return is a must—either by your hand or a trusted retainer’s.”
“Sh-Shut up! W-Was this a trap?! Are you and the marquis conspiring against me?!”
“What in the world would I even stand to gain from that?”
“Wit agree with her completely.”
The supposedly locked door smoothly opened to welcome a new, uninvited guest. Marquis Donnersmarck entered wearing a modern fit, styled with slim pants and a vest to match. He displayed no shame whatsoever over having renovated a nominal ally’s private conference room unsolicited; the smile plastered on his face was as gentle and kind as ever. Though he seemed like the sort of genial fellow too neighborly to cast judgment on anyone, something about his innocent demeanor came with a hollow air.
“Viscount Liplar, you disappoint me... Wit told you that all would be well should you follow my plans, and yet you were still convinced by that blatant sweet talk. Don’t you remember my words? ‘Hold fast no matter how honeyed her words may be.’ Did you truly think that Count Ubiorum would let you live?”
“How rude of you, Marquis. I’ll have you know that I err on the side of magnanimity. By my estimate, he would have had a happy five years or so to enjoy.”
“Hm? Is this your unaffected self, Agrippina? Interesting—ah, yes, splendid indeed. Wit can only hope that you remain this way in front of me always.”
Viscount Liplar was still trembling in rage, but the marquis nonchalantly walked by to claim his now-unoccupied seat. With a dainty touch, he lifted up the bottle of wine and read the label.
“Ooh, a Seinian red Bas-Rhin, and 224 years, at that! Complete with the royal seal of ‘virgin’s blood.’ This is a gorgeous drink, Agrippina. Even Wit only have a handful in my collection. Isn’t this a tad overdone for a night with Viscount Liplar?”
“I have no interest in drinking liquors beneath my tastes. I may accept whatever is offered in public settings, but if I have the right to choose, I shall.”
“D-Don’t ignore me! Listen here, Marquis Donnersmarck! I don’t care how distinguished you are; you’ve crossed the—”
Unable to bear being forgotten in favor of a cordial chat, the viscount began his objection—but was unable to finish it. As soon as the marquis pointed at him, the orc started silently flapping his lips like a fish waiting to be fed, and then grasped at his neck. The paleness of complexion that had come with his anxiety was rapidly overwritten with a remarkable blush fueled not by rage, but by suffocation.
Annoyed by the fool’s yapping, the marquis had deleted the oxygen from the air around his head. He collapsed, writhing around on the floor. Meanwhile, the methuselah had poured himself a cupful of wine—after thoroughly wiping down the chalice with a napkin—and begun to drink. By the time he swallowed the last drop, the room was silent.
“Is that not an issue?”
Having watched but not helped, Agrippina pointed to the lifeless sack that had moments ago been Viscount Liplar. The marquis answered with the face of a man who wouldn’t hurt a fly.
“With all that you already know, what use could he possibly serve? In any case, Wit have no need for a bothersome piece that chooses its master. Whether he is here or not, the silver will continue to flow. Plenty of my children draw Liplar blood, and preparing a more convenient pawn will be a trivial affair.”
“Is that so? I can’t imagine you inspire much confidence in those you command. Even the most insignificant, minor pawn can serve its purpose—but I must admit I’m a tad jealous of how deep your toy box is. An advantage afforded by your head start in imperial politics, I suppose.”
“If you would deprive me of that edge, then Wit would truly have no foot to stand on. You’ve turned the playing field upside down in a bombastic way, and naturally, my only hope of contesting you is to bring the battle to where Wit hold the advantage.”
Despite the corpse in the corner of the room, the pair were all smiles as they went back and forth over drinks. That is, until Agrippina’s ear twitched.
This room may have been fortified, but some amount of sound continued to leak in and out. There was something going on at the building’s annex, and the sound of clashing metal suggested it wasn’t a friendly welcoming party. Unfortunately, she had no means of checking from within the room, and she couldn’t send her servant a telepathic message either.
That said, Agrippina had completed her read on the balance of power. Reminding herself that there was no need to worry, she slowly reached into her pocket and asked, “Do you mind if I help myself?”
“A woman, smoking? It isn’t exactly the most illustrious of pastimes.”
“Oh, Marquis, don’t be so old fashioned. Plenty of ladies enjoy an occasional puff nowadays.”
After all, even Agrippina herself would have to put in a smidge of real effort to kill that boy as he was now. He’d surely handle whatever they threw at him with ease. And if the servant was to manage his tasks, then it was only fair that the master play her part and finish hers.

[Tips] The Empire has a system that is at once somewhat similar to and completely unlike plea bargaining on Earth, wherein a criminal party can be pardoned for their wrongdoings on account of great value provided to the nation. The specifics are unwritten in law, only given short mention as an exceptional clause that may be invoked within the walls of the imperial office.
In summary, the Emperor may overlook what he deems necessary evils for the continued glory of the Empire, or for “the continued glory of the Empire.”

A group of men clad in silent gear sneaked through the darkness. They slunk through the halls, making their way into the annex of Viscount Liplar’s personal estate.
Eventually, they came across a splendiferous room reserved for guests of honor. The short man at the helm produced a small tube from his pocket: both ends were shaped like funnels, one larger than the other. Meant to be used by doctors examining their patients’ heartbeats, it doubled as a tool for listening in on a room from beyond the door.
For a few minutes, the man placed the device on the door and listened with bated breath. No sound.
They’d already confirmed the room was dark from the outside. The guest seemed to have gone to bed early, just as he’d said he would—but of course he did. His supper had been laced with a minor dose of sedatives. He wouldn’t pass out on the spot, but ingestion was sure to make him drowsier than he otherwise would have been. This sort of trickery was standard fare for the viscount’s crew: their chef was also a trained apothecary, and the dosage was sure to be perfectly tuned.
The agent with the listening tool nodded and made way for a larger member of the team to step up with the master key for every lock in the annex in hand. At times, a simple spare meant to cover for a lost key could become the ticket to a clean murder. The lock was regularly oiled for just such occasions; with a gentle touch, the key fit snugly inside and could turn without a single sound.
Yet even with the door unlocked, the hitmen refrained from swinging it open. Instead, they cracked it ajar and cautiously peered inside. As expected, the room was lightless and lifeless. Just to cover their bases, the man in front reached in with a pocket mirror in hand to confirm that no one was lying in wait behind the door.
The only presence was a person-sized mound in the bed. The covers had been pulled up past the pillows, probably to cut off any light or sound; though they couldn’t make out the target’s breathing through the thick layers of sheets, it was clear that he was fast asleep.
After checking every item off their thorough list, the men finally stepped inside. They lined up at the side of the bed, each pulling out a weapon from underneath their cloak: an eastern crossbow.
During the Second Eastern Conquest, the mounted desert natives had used these weapons to great effect against the imperial army. Designed to fold in two, a hook protruded out to snag on the bowstring when the stock was folded up, allowing the wielder to reload it with a relatively light pull on a lever. This mechanism made it possible to load the deadly weapon on horseback, and the Empire’s soldiers had brought it back home once the war was over. For as many friends as they’d lost to the things, even they had to admit they were good arms.
A long way from home, the technology now enabled a group of assassins to unleash on the sleeping figure. Five thick bolts sank into the blankets. These projectiles had earned the epithet of “knight-killers” for how easily they pierced solid armor; this was beyond overkill.
Still, the men stayed alert and readied a second volley. The skewered victim didn’t budge, but the men waited at the ready for a few seconds before the large fellow who’d opened the door gave a signal with his hand. Two quick waves forward: he was ordering the others to confirm the kill.
The men on each flank obliged; one was posturing to shoot, and the other tore off the blankets in one swift motion.
“He’s not here!” he exclaimed in a hushed tone.
Where they should have found a dead boy, the vanguard had instead unveiled a bundle of spare blankets fashioned into a human shape.
“Shit! Did he get away?!”
The order to search was on the tip of the large man’s tongue, but such commands were wholly unnecessary. After all, he had come to them: sword in hand and clad in armor, the would-be victim leapt out from the wardrobe.

[Tips] Eastern crossbows were popularized by the minor desert lords to the Trialist Empire’s east, but are in fact endemic to the Eastern Empire on the other side. Modern Rhinians have come to acknowledge the utility of the weapons; research and development has continued based on the reverse engineering carried out during the war.
Although they fail to match the stopping power of traditional crossbows, the ease of reloading offered enables use on cavalry, and allows competent marksmen to fire off fifteen bolts in a minute’s time. The advantages the foreign design presents are highly regarded, and military consensus is that it will become the new standard going forward.
What was I supposed to say? I mean, did they really think I’d waltz into enemy territory and leisurely help myself to their food, drink, and bed?
Perhaps our enemies had thought that we’d totally let our guards down upon sending away our personal guards and crossing the Liplar border. Unfortunately for them, I was too fainthearted for that.
I’d secretly thrown out my dinner, water and all, and fashioned a body double to take my place in bed; meanwhile, I was sitting in the wardrobe, taking a nap while cradling Schutzwolfe in a full set of armor. If nothing happened, I would awake in the morning a bit worse for wear and laugh off my excessive paranoia; if they did come, I was ready to cut them down to the last.
But to think I’d actually have to steel myself for this.
Ugh, what a pain. They were just as desperate as I was, so keeping them alive for information would... No, it was time to drop the charade: pulling punches because I didn’t want to kill them wouldn’t fly here.
These weren’t common thugs or bandits who’d count toward a larger payday alive. All I’d get for sparing them was more danger. If they were ready to come after my life in a situation like this, then failure was a fate equivalent to dying in battle; they knew that better than anyone else, and would keep chasing me so long as they drew breath. Even if I knocked them out, they’d resume the attack as soon as they regained consciousness. The future of the entire viscounty rode on tonight: the knights and soldiers here fought for their children, their wives, and the honor of their family names.
Then I guess the only exchange left to be had is one of life or death.
“Grah?!”
I leapt out, focusing all my momentum into my blade to cut into the apparent commander from the shoulder down. A jolt shot up into me as the blow connected with something hard, but I’d cleanly sliced through his relatively light coverings: my sword had crashed through his spine.
“Captain—hrgh!”
Schutzwolfe’s tip did not reach the floor—before she could follow through, I shifted the angle of my swing to run parallel to the ground, keeping low to split open another man’s knee. After a deep swipe, I’d left his left calf perilously attached to the rest of his body. If he didn’t get magical or miraculous treatment soon, he’d never walk again.
But if I was being honest with myself, he’d bleed out long before then.
“Where the hell did—augh?!”
“Shit! Call for back—mmfgh!”
I’d been watching from inside the closet all this time; I knew how these things worked. My Unseen Hands plucked two crossbows off the assassins I’d already felled and fired at the pair on the other side of the bed. One took a bolt to the shoulder, and the other to his gut—an unfortunate spot. With his stomach pierced, he’d need to carefully patch up his abdomen if he wanted to live for any longer than a few minutes.
That’s four down, one to— Oh no you don’t.
The last killer finally managed to react, pointing his weapon my way. I dragged up the man with the busted knee to serve as my shield, and in a stroke of misfortune, the bolt landed square between his eyes.
That was awful of me... Too late now, though.
My hands had been soaked in blood from the day I killed Helga. I could tell myself I had no other choice, but at the end of the day that didn’t make the weight any easier to bear. I’d murdered her—I’d given up on her future to preserve my own.
I’d killed again in the hallway of that inn, blinded by rage. I’d felt so sick of myself that I spent the entire night cradling my knees and staring up at the moon. But three days later, I was back to eating hearty meals without any issue.
That had been the moment it finally sank in: I was already firmly planted in a world where the trade in human life was swift and eager. And if my hands were already stained, then what was another layer of taint for the sake of my own future?
Besides, these guys were here to take my life; they had no right to complain if I ended up taking theirs!
“Nghf?!”
“Sorry, I can’t afford to go easy.”
Laying Schutzwolfe horizontally, I grabbed her by the blade with my left hand and used my right to guide her upward. In a swift stab that gave him no time to reload, my sword pierced the underarmor around his neck and entered through the jaw to burrow out of his skull. On top of piercing his windpipe and brain alike, I gave Schutzwolfe a light twist, boring out enough flesh to pull her out without snagging. The man fell over, instantly lifeless. He couldn’t so much as twitch: with his brain stem snapped, any nervous signal carrying orders was doomed to be trapped in his head forever.
Three confirmed kills, and two half-dead.
“Ugh, hng, oww—augh?!”
“Count your blessings that you’re alive and sit still.”
I went back to crush the third man’s other shoulder to totally disarm him.
Although this seemed like a one-sided beatdown, I couldn’t let myself slip. I’d held the advantage because I’d managed to take them all out before they could react, not the other way around; if I pulled my foot off the gas, the risk of injury was real. Assassins were the most cutthroat of opponents—and it looked like I was in for a second helping.
Thudding footsteps echoed in from the hall beyond the door. They’d prepared more people to close in on me in case the first squad failed.
Well then, let’s see what the viscount’s personal knights are made of. Apologies, gentlemen—I’m starting this fight at full force.
I raised my hand to summon my spells, and Helga’s gemstone glimmered disapprovingly in the moonlight.
“The hell’s going on?! What’s the holdup for one...lone...brat?”

Tprg5.10

[Tips] Despite the Trialist Empire’s strict enforcement of law, the existence of criminal organizations specializing in murder and kidnapping is undeniable.

A lone man worked away at a simple, functional office desk. Beginning to gray, the mensch was the living embodiment of robust sincerity. His jaw was defined and blocky, and he’d slicked back his short, ashen hair with a bit of oil. Altogether, Baron Moritz Jan Pitt Erftstadt personified austerity in every way; that was precisely why Agrippina had entrusted him with the responsibility of leading her few loyal retainers, and an ace in the hole to make sure he could.
“Like honeybees chasing their hive,” he sighed, scribbling through the towering mountain of papers on his desk. The paperwork flowing in and out of the county was thrice—no, five times the typical amount.
Swaths of corrupt lords and magistrates were groping in the dark, trying to find any lead on the new count’s plans before she arrived in the spring. Those whose crimes were relatively light had banded together and made themselves busy trying to justify their wrongdoings as clerical errors of the state, which would be belatedly “corrected” alongside an apology for their “mistake” in exchange for survival.
Meanwhile, the worst of the lot had also banded together, threatening to go on strike if their new lord dared to run around purging them from power. At present, they were in a mad frenzy, writing to any and every noble in the area to garner further support. Their hopes rode on the idea that if they stirred up enough chaos in the opening months of the new Ubiorum’s reign, then the Emperor might step in and dismiss her. However, Baron Erftstadt had seen the reality of the situation with his own two eyes, and considered their attempt an exercise in futility.
In all likelihood, His Majesty would gleefully round up the titles of those who abandoned their posts, handing them off to the second and third sons of his most trusted supporters. Though that would set off a few years of turmoil in the region, the drawn-out changing of the guard they were planning for could be cut from a quarter of a century to five-odd years. The Emperor would welcome their strike with open arms.
None of these fools had what it took to look ahead; suckling on nothing but sweet wines did the body no good. Many cursed their forefathers for setting off on the path of treachery, to be sure, but they easily forgot that complicity was yet another marker of guilt. Seeing them squirm with no mind for remorse was comedy gold.
Knowing the virtue tied to the Erftstadt name, the damned masses had come to him hoping that his aid would be enough to deliver them from immediate harm, but he was already sick of their pleas. The baron tied up a bundle of worthless letters, massaged his temples, and let out a heavy sigh.
This was a farce. Worded at its most glamorous, it was a life-and-death contest on the stage of politics; more aptly, a swarm of small fry was floundering around, desperate to slip free from the net it was in. While he knew that he needed only to persevere until Count Ubiorum could arrive and clean house, the wretchedness on display chipped at his faith in humanity. Soaking in the fate of the once-proud Ubiorum legacy was almost enough to draw tears out of the somber gentleman.
Upon finishing his paperwork, Baron Erftstadt set out to summon a retainer so that he might ask how the welcoming preparations were going. But just as he reached for the bell on his desk, he heard the faint sound of squeaking metal.
Darting his eyes over, he noticed the window had been opened. It seemed like a breeze had caused the hinges to creak, but when had it been opened in the first place? His attendants were all thoroughly trained, and they wouldn’t dare leave a lock haphazardly open.
Wait. Wind? Instantly, the baron shot up, reaching for his dagger. But while he’d managed to draw his weapon, it was already too late.
Two dirks pierced through the back of his seat; he narrowly managed to parry the one aiming for his neck, but the other stabbed him clean in the chest. His clothes were a family heirloom, enchanted by his forefathers to be as tough as armor. Alas, it failed to save him: either the assassin’s blade was a spell-breaker, or he was just that skilled.
Oriented horizontally to weave past his ribs, the dagger dug deep into the baron’s lung. Its walls burst, flooding with blood that backfilled into his mouth. Although he felt little pain, his strength was draining at an unstoppable pace.
He broke away and tried to catch himself on his desk, but failed and collapsed onto the floor. The distance allowed him to get a look at the instrument that had pierced his lung; judging from the amount of blood dripping from it—along with the pain that accompanied every breath—he didn’t have long.
The veteran had seen this scene all too many times on the battlefield. One clean hit in the chest, and any normal person was out for good. He had five minutes, tops; most got less than that before the lights went out.
“You—ack! Hrgh! You rat... Who—gah...sent you?!”
Despite his daggered glare, he couldn’t make out the details around the assassin, still hidden in the shadows. The silent hit man simply folded his arm, wiping the blood from his weapon with the pit of his elbow.
The baron knew from the killer’s cool demeanor that stalling for time would do him no favors. He was a straitlaced military man who’d survived a pit of corruption and depravity despite his well-known commitment to righteousness. Not a moment went by where he wasn’t ready for an attempt on his life, and he kept loyal counterspies in his employ. Recent goings-on had caused him to tighten up security around his room; that this assassin was here, and that no one had come to his aid already, were proof enough that their lives had been taken before his own.
In short, his enemies had overpowered him, plain and simple.
Having sheathed his blade, the assassin drew closer, callously grabbing the baron by the hair and pulling out a few gray strands. He tossed the sample into a small vial produced from his pocket and waited a few seconds for a reaction before downing the contents.
“Ugh!” The killer winced and grabbed his own face. In the next moment, he removed his head coverings to unveil the exact features of one Baron Erftstadt.
“Oh... So that’s—hngh—what you’re after...”
The baron had heard of this. Some inventor at the College had developed a disguise so perfect that it allowed one to assume another’s identity. The technology posed such a threat to the order of the Empire that knowledge of its existence was off-limits, let alone its manufacture.
Which meant whomever this lowlife worked for had the connections to procure forbidden goods of the highest degree.
Baron Erftstadt knew that, at this rate, the county was in danger; as much as it pained him to do so, he pulled out his trump card. He never wanted to do this—having his own lord at his beck and call was a tremendous slight on the honest man’s dignity. But he feigned clutching his chest in pain for the greater good, reaching into his inner pocket to snap a talisman.
“What did you just do?”
The crack of a thin wooden plate made hardly any noise, but the intruder took note. Being confronted by his own face and voice was a disturbing feeling, but the baron exercised his underused facial muscles to twist his lips into a smirk.
“My liege treats her subjects well.”
A dull snap rang out.
The assassin didn’t understand. He had come prepared with layer upon layer of arcane protection, and yet, for whatever reason, his head had been plucked off his shoulders without any chance to react. The remnants of his mystic preparation strung his consciousness along, but a head without a body could do little more than look around for the culprit and mouth soundless words upon finding them.
Ah, but he had no need to search: his killer made herself known. She hoisted what was left of him up by the hair, and oh-so-kindly brought him up to eye level.
“What a peculiar guest you’re entertaining, Baron Erftstadt. I take it this isn’t your twin coming to visit?”
The woman who’d picked him up was a methuselah in common travel wear. Her deep-brown eyes peered at him dubiously from behind a pair of glasses. Realizing that the mission was forfeit, the wetworker pulled out the final trick up his sleeve—though he hadn’t expected to use it, he showed no hesitation when the moment came.
“Eek!”
Crying out in a surprisingly human way, the methuselah tossed the severed head away. Black smoke was billowing from the neck, mouth, and ears; bubbling blood oozed from every pore, melting the structure of the skull.
“Tch. So the brain came with a failsafe.”
In his final moments, the assassin had activated a kill switch to eliminate any chance of an opsec leak. He’d had a mana stone surgically implanted inside his head as an unstoppable last resort, ready to boil his brain and deprive psychosorcerers of the secrets he took to the grave. Since the brain was one of the origins of internal mana, it was nigh impossible for an outside force to jam the activation in time. The device was the ultimate show of loyalty for those whose wills were iron enough to proactively kill themselves to atone for their mistakes.
“What a waste,” the methuselah sighed. “I suppose I shall count my blessings that I managed to save a loyal vassal. Are you... Well, I suppose I can see that you aren’t all right, now are you, Baron?”
“You have... Grgh, m-my—my sincerest... Blagh!”
“No need to push yourself. Losing someone as dependable as you would have been a far greater pain in my side. Oh, dear, wait a moment. This is a rather deep wound—and the blade had some sort of hex, as well. I won’t be able to fix this myself. Ah well, I’ll have to take you to the College to see an iatrurge.”
Before donning her travel gear and assuming her current identity, the methuselah had been known as Agrippina; the very same Agrippina who had rewarded Baron Erftstadt’s dutiful report with a protective charm.
It was a simple thing: break it, and the creator would know. The new count had handed it to her loyal vassal with strict orders to let her know if his life was in danger, and with a promise to find some way of sorting him out so long as his head remained intact.
Though the man’s lung had collapsed and his heart was a minute from failing, that was but a hiccup to be solved for the most experienced magia. All she had to do now was keep him alive, and her privileges as count palatine would see to the College accommodating him with its finest healers. He’d be back to full health in two weeks, if that.
Placing a hand on his chest, Agrippina had just begun her emergency treatment when epiphany struck.
“Say, Baron. How would you like being ‘gravely injured’ for half a year while enjoying a nice vacation with your family?”

[Tips] There are hushed whispers that speak of an arcane disguise so powerful that it can allow anyone to turn into anyone else—that not only does it change one’s appearance and voice, but it can even trick mystic barriers. But any time a magus is questioned on its existence, they laugh the matter off; whether yes or no, they lack the liberty to answer in definite terms.

When the madam came out of nowhere and declared that we were changing course, I nearly spat out my morning porridge.
It was the day after the gruesome attempt on her life, and just when I thought she was done settling matters—with every bit of authority vested in her, mind you—she’d vanished. I’d borrowed a room at a new inn to wait for her, and the first thing she said upon returning already threw me for a loop. Sure, I was well aware she was this sort of person, but I was really starting to get sick of it; the tastes of my past world had come to include being bossed around by gorgeous folks as part of its fetishistic canon, but this monster in human skin was a touch too broken inside to count.
“I thought we were going to visit Baron Erftstadt,” I said. “Weren’t we going to base our operations at his estate?”
“We were, but my plans have changed. Off we go to the Liplar viscounty.”
“Uh...huh.”
I’d heard of that name. It had shown up over and over on the letters I’d been tasked with, and my impression of the viscount was that he was the spitting image of a sycophant. He inquired about Lady Agrippina’s mood at every turn and sent great piles of silver and gems to her estate at the capital, but every time, the madam sent them back twofold.
We’d turned away all his offerings and kept correspondence to the bare minimum high society would let us get away with; he didn’t seem all that important from my perspective. The Liplar business was primarily in ironwork and mining, which wasn’t much to note. Combined with how relatively low the man’s title was, the viscounty seemed much too humble to serve as Count Ubiorum’s new destination.
But while we hadn’t paid him much mind until now—frankly, we’d actively pushed him away—heading his way on the morning after an assassination scare had to point to something more sinister.
From the madam’s perspective, Baron Erftstadt was a gentleman who wouldn’t think to betray her in a million years. We certainly weren’t changing course to avoid the mastermind of last night’s plot; thus, the reasonable conclusion was to think she wanted to jump into the lion’s jaws of her own accord and split its mouth open from the inside out.
I’d just suffered through a bloodbath last night—did she have to insist on inciting more violence? Sure, I’d trained up specifically to fight, but my strength was supposed to help me shine in heroic liberty, not fanatic servitude.
More to the point, who did this witch think I was? I wasn’t her personal knight, though you wouldn’t know it from how she treated me. While I’ll admit that I was the perfect frontline pawn for a magus like her, I was supposed to be a little indentured servant boy. Not that I’d ever pull the “Pwease, I’m just a weak widdle servant!” card, though, since she’d probably just laugh at me.
“Changing our destination is well and good, but what about our itinerary? Castor and Polydeukes are still worked up from yesterday’s attack, and I’d like to give them another day to calm down.”
“That’s fine. We may proceed as we had before. In fact, the Liplar viscounty is on the edge of Ubiorum territory, so we ought to arrive sooner than first anticipated.”
If you say so.
I knew all too well that trying to read my boss’s intentions was a fool’s errand; I didn’t have the brains to deal in backroom political games. A fundamental tenet of TRPGs was that specialists were better than generalists: if my build revolved around fights and chores, then I’d leave the bluffing and diplomacy to another PC.
Shutting off my brain and trusting her plans only worked because I was absolutely confident that she wouldn’t lose under any circumstances, but that wasn’t such a bad thing. It’s not like I could get away now, anyway. The clever thing to do was to take the path of least resistance until the current stopped pushing me around.
“Mm, at any rate, I have matters to settle in the capital, so I shall take a day’s leave. Feel free to do whatever you’d like.”
“I’m the central figure in last night’s chaos. I’ll be a pariah wherever I go.”
“Then why not lend a hand with the innkeepers’ funeral? If you’re as troubled as you seem, then I won’t mind you getting a bit involved.”
Man, I can feel my heart shriveling up. Not only was I stuck living out on the road, but I’d brought bloodshed with me.
I wanted to see Elisa, Mika, and Miss Celia again—to share trivial small talk, to play ehrengarde, to eat supper, and to go to the baths.
And the urge to see my family and Margit swelled ever greater.
One year, I told myself. One more year. But boy, is this gonna be a long one.
I wanna go home...

[Tips] When the last member of a common household passes away without any inheritors, the larger community they reside in usually reclaims the property. In these cases, the local magistrate will temporarily administer the affairs until more distant relatives can be contacted; if none exist, then the land is auctioned off to the highest bidder.

Tprg5.9

Road Events
Random happenings may stop a party on their way from one place to another in order to prevent movement from becoming a boring scene change. The introduction of uncertainty may manifest in a peaceful journey, a bandit attack, or even the fortunate discovery of treasure. While many systems provide their own list of possibilities, these are oftentimes derided as “boards of doom” for how intense the outcomes of each encounter can be.
Organizing the contents of the letters she’d sent and the replies she’d received in her mind, Agrippina made her final judgment: the last of the candidates for the purge had been selected.
After sending out a great deal of notices to the residents of her county that she intended to inspect the premises come spring, she’d gotten quite a few different reactions. Some were plainly disgruntled, others asked for her to reschedule to give them time to prepare—whatever might they need to prepare, she would have liked to ask—and others still welcomed her cordially.
With everyone gathered in the capital for the social season, some had even gone out of their way to inquire at Agrippina’s Berylin residence. However, she had yet to so much as set foot in the mansion, since she did all of her work from the palace and her atelier; they invariably went home with nothing but discouragement to show for their efforts.
Agrippina, you see, refused every private meeting. Knowing that their objective—namely, bribing her—would be impossible in public spaces, she left them to squirm and fret as they waited for the day of reckoning. Her torturous message was as clear as it was wordless: I will not accept foul play.
Her little golden servant wasn’t around; he was busy frantically running around and making last-minute preparations for their tour of the territory. But if one were to get ahold of him, he would have likened the situation to an endless rerun of the last day of summer wherein none of his homework was completed.
At any rate, the conclusion was that a few dozen people were sure to be hanged in the coming weeks and months.
Those who fudged the numbers on their taxes, buttered up government officials, or treated a handful of cantons as their own personal property weren’t all that bad. These were wrongdoings that could be found in any region, and crimes this minor were practically a part of the job; nothing would ever get done if one tried to police these.
However, the flagrant avoidance of taxes, brazen sale of classified information, and unofficial toll checkpoints were unforgivable. Worse still, some had engaged in the expressly outlawed business of human trafficking, and had set up illegal mining operations in the area.
Agrippina couldn’t overlook these: her image as their ruler would crumble. This matter required austerity, and she was prepared to callously trim off the fat without the slightest pang of guilt.
Nobility were expected to be ever noble, and the imperial code of justice spake thusly: Let every penalty atone for one hundred sins.
“But to think,” Agrippina mused with a smile. “I’m impressed that earnestness can survive in a place like this.”
Taking one letter from the stack of papers, the count looked over the critical intelligence given to her by a man who’d taken a drastic leap of faith to do so. His name was Baron Moritz Jan Pitt Erftstadt. In the depths of the corruption and rot that dominated the Ubiorum county, he was a rare fellow, untainted by its evils.
While Agrippina had received many requests for an audience, his alone had been of a different zeal: he humbly requested a moment of her time so that he might personally report an important matter with evidence in hand.
The Erftstadt barony was just as old as the county itself. Before being ennobled, the original Ubiorum had taken in the first Erftstadt as a vassal, and had implored the Emperor of Creation to honor his faithful subject’s service; the two houses had entered the imperial bulwark together.
Although the descendants of Count Ubiorum had fallen to darkness, the virtuous souls of House Erftstadt had held fast to their primordial integrity until this very day. Convinced that the region had life left in it yet, their dutiful service continued, generation after generation.
At long last, the time had come for the baron to call a new master his own. In one hand he held an abundance of hope; in the other he carried the culmination of enduring his peers’ unwithering evil for years upon years while conspiring against them in secret. The final dossier he’d submitted had been passed down from his father, and his father before him: the man’s grandfather had begun collecting proof of his neighbors’ wrongdoings to be delivered “when the good count returns.” Each Erftstadt had swallowed their bile to greet the traitorous rats around them with a smile, and their great suffering had produced evidence to match.
Agrippina had meant to get to this eventually, and now she had a solid few generations’ worth of a head start on her work. Loyalty wrought reward: the new count had a task of the highest distinction to assign to her patriotic baron.
The lady of the county was going to inspect her territory this end-of-winter, and the Erftstadt estate would be her lodging—and this was what had driven her servant to near expiry.
After all, the bulk of Ubiorum’s resident landowners were praying for Agrippina’s death. Being the harbinger of ruin that she was, housing her invited untold dangers; nobody wanted that responsibility. The risks certainly wouldn’t stop at harmless pranks: these rogues would do anything to keep the messenger of their reckoning away. Lighting the mansion on fire was an expected opener; assassins were practically a welcoming envoy; if anyone was feeling particularly skittish, they might raise an army to surround the barony.
The new lord hid nothing. Her appointment was an overt proclamation: I shall use you as bait to sweep away more of the rot at once—are you willing to prove your loyalty?The baron’s answer was unwavering: Yes, my lord.
His answer was the epitome of a steadfast vassal’s, worthy of praise to the end of time; pleased, Agrippina had set the current plan in stone with a weighty nod.
Her luggage was totally packed, and the blanket of snow covering the capital was thinning every day. Behind-the-scenes negotiations were all done, and what few preparations remained would be finished soon. All that remained was to wait and see how her enemies would react.
“Not that I expect to be surprised,” Agrippina scoffed to herself, tossing the letter into an unearthly pocket of space.
Since the dawn of time, those who found themselves on the back foot of machinations beyond their control had only one hope to escape: if the mastermind and their people died, the matter would be solved. Forever.
Agrippina may have been the daughter of an important foreign noble, but there were ways to remove her without incident. She simply needed to pass on in a way that would involve no legal hearings, by some means emphatic enough to leave no room for debate. And then, no matter how powerful her family was, they would have no means of uncovering an elaborately concealed truth that took place far from home; even the strongest arcane barriers paled in comparison to the protection provided by time and space.
A stray thought brought Agrippina back to an incident report she’d read many years ago: a tale of assassination so absurd that it had gone on to spawn a theatrical comedy. While recalling the details called for more effort than she wished to spare, she remembered that the story had chronicled the death of some count whose enemies had lured a dragon into his territory to blow him away, estate and all. Young or old, every member of his bloodline had been killed.
As tempting as it was to decry the account as a deus ex machina better fit for a tale set in the Age of Gods, the meticulous scheming and believability of the plot had made for a compelling story. Gratifying to watch unfold and utterly unique, the scheme was inherently impossible to litigate, allowing the conspirators to get away with their thrilling revenge story.
That had been the end to a play, of course, but that wasn’t to say there weren’t ways of reducing everything to ash in her own situation.
“I do look forward to seeing what they have in store. I can only hope they stray from the most banal of scripts.”
Gently exhaling a puff of smoke, the methuselah decided to sleep. Her kind could live without it, but the soul was ever in need of sustenance when battle drew near.

[Tips] Aristocrats given the right to manage human resources are allowed full discretion over matters of life and death, so long as their decisions are proven to be rational and lawful. Whether such decisions take the form of rope around a neck or poisoned cups offered in exchange for honor is a topic that goes unquestioned.

The snow had gone, but the chill it left on the earth continued to crawl up my legs as we set off from the capital.
“Mm... Is this really how people manage?”
“It really is.”
There was no lavish carriage to be found, no multiman guard detail. Our journey would be made in the plainest travel wear, and on the backs of Castor and Polydeukes alone.
“This is—how shall I say—horribly uncomfortable. I can’t imagine this is good for my skin.”
“You were the one who told me to prepare travel gear that’d let us pass for commoners.”
“I know...”
The woman dribbling complaints like a leaky faucet was who else but Lady Agrippina, but she looked nothing like I’d ever seen before. Her hair was magically dyed—using the official release of the product Mika had gotten a prototype of—a dull shade of brown, and a pair of mystic glasses made her eyes appear a similar hue.
On top of that, her polished blue-blooded fashion was gone, replaced with hemp travel clothes I’d purchased for cheap from a thrift store. Her rustic top, thick pants, and large mantle had been designed with only sturdiness in mind; each was packed tight with cotton to retain as much warmth as possible. I was wearing the same thing: this was a necessity to keep ourselves safe on the road.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything better? I can already imagine how sore my inner thighs will be if I ride in these.”
“A commoner’s skin is hard and tough. I’ll have to ask that you make do with the magic you’re so talented with—any better than this, and we’ll have to change our story.”
We weren’t role-playing as retired daimyo—although if we had one more, I was ready to be Kaku-san—but rather hiding Count Agrippina von Ubiorum’s identity to avoid any prickly situations that might arise. Plenty of people benefited from Lady Agrippina drawing breath right now, but just as many would have preferred her a trifle more inert; as bothersome as it was, this was our means of evading assassinations and assaults on our way to the territory.
That, and we had a lot of body doubles.
I don’t know what kind of sublime mastery she’d displayed in her negotiations, but the madam had managed to squeeze every penny and every last drop of authority she could out of the Emperor; our decoys were the imperial guard. Each unit revolved around a jager who specialized in disguises or a hexenkrieger who’d mystically altered their appearance placed inside a carriage. Surrounded by a convoy of knights each, our distractions had left the capital a few days prior.
Frankly, I’d failed to see in what universe we’d need to worry about Lady Agrippina being assassinated, but it turned out that this was more a trap to sniff out her enemies than a guarantee of her safety; it clearly wasn’t my place to get smart. From what I could surmise, she’d probably leaked fake intel to suspicious actors to see which of them would bite.
Because otherwise, I couldn’t see any reason she wouldn’t just send a messenger with a location marker for her to warp to, skipping the tedium of travel and the risk of assassination. I felt for the GM, and could see why space-bending magic had been reduced to a lost art. If just anyone could hop around through tears in space like the madam, then something like eighty percent of all problems that might arise in a campaign could be solved before they became issues at all.
Getting back on track, the perpetrator of any attack on our decoys could easily be discerned. The information she’d leaked had assuredly been carefully tailored to make sure she could trace the flow of information back via factors like location and name of inn.
As for us, we were quietly slipping out of the city after all the other teams had left to make sure we didn’t have any turncoats closer to home. According to Lady Agrippina, the list of people who knew of this plan was extremely limited: a select few nobles from the newly formed faction surrounding her, a handful of high-ranking imperial guardsmen in charge of coordinating the decoys, and me and Elisa.
So we should be good! is perhaps what I would have thought if I knew nothing of my own bad luck or my employer’s talent for drawing heat. I already knew that all this planning wouldn’t mean anything, and something was bound to happen—absolutely guaranteed.
Ugh, I hate this. It took a particularly awful set of circumstances to make me wish I were traveling by myself instead. This was worse than being at a bar or baseball game alone with my old boss.
“I’m trying to keep my arcane footprint to a minimum,” Lady Agrippina grumbled.
“Isn’t that a bit much to hope for when your plan includes opening a portal back home to sleep every night so that you can avoid the inns?”
“Please. My arrangements on that front are airtight. I had some Polar Night scholars seal our tent with an order-made barrier. As it turns out, an imperial order and a blank check are motivation enough to make a remarkable product.”
“That sure is something... Just how remarkable is it, exactly?”
“If you stood inside and used your entire mystic arsenal without reserve, I wouldn’t be able to notice from just outside.”
That’s pretty fucking remarkable.
That finally gave me some perspective: she’d ordered me to leave the low quarter without her, lead the horses to some lonely woods, and set up the tent here in the middle of nowhere...only for her to scare me silly when she opened it from the inside and appeared.
Oh, and I’d neglected to mention this, but I was also in costume. My public image had become that of the madam’s sworn retainer; if I stayed in the capital while Lady Agrippina “left,” only to depart on my own at a later date, everything would fall apart. The imperial guard had moaned about how hard it’d been to scrounge up a team of combat-ready mensch with my build and height, but I was willing to chalk that up to the stress talking and move on.
My hair and eyes had been alchemically dyed to match Lady Agrippina’s—to the great displeasure of the alfar—and I could probably fit in perfectly with my brothers and father now. In the past, I’d been mistaken for an adoptee when my mother wasn’t around, seeing as how Elisa and I were the only ones to take after her. Seeing myself like this in the mirror had been a new and refreshing experience.
I bet they’d be surprised to see me like this too.
Alas, Ubiorum county was months away from Konigstuhl on horseback, so I didn’t have any hope of taking a quick detour on the way.
“Hm,” the madam mused, “I suppose I’ll put up an ultrathin barrier on the inside of my clothes—agh, but that’s just a different form of discomfort in and of itself.”
“Then perhaps the best solution would be to make the trip as quickly as possible.”
“You’ve grown quite the mouth—do you know that? Well, whatever. Let’s be off.”
Lady Agrippina nimbly hopped onto Castor without the slightest hint of her usual listlessness. Not wanting to be left behind, I jumped on Polydeukes and followed after her.
“I suppose this marks the beginning of my journey...with this brat of a brother.”
“...Indeed it does, Sister Dearest.”
Ahh, of course. I’d done my best to keep it out of mind, but however could I forget this vital part of our backstory? The two of us were apprentices in the capital who’d just been given leave to visit home: the older sister Julia and the younger brother Alfred.
Funny, isn’t it?
Hide her trademark ears, and the methuselah was easy to take as a mensch; on a purely cosmetic level, maybe calling it easy was understating it. But what this pretext failed to account for was that I would have to refer to her as “Sister Dearest” without wincing in pain or choking on my own laughter—a true challenge indeed.

[Tips] The use of body doubles in times of peace is part of imperial aristocratic culture, but the truth remains that not all nobles need them for all outings. For most, their usage depends on circumstance.

The point-to-point distance from the capital of vanity to the Ubiorum county’s capital city of Kolnia was roughly four hundred kilometers; it was closer to six hundred and fifty along the linchpin highway. The trip was comparable to the journey from Konigstuhl to Berylin, meaning that we could’ve finished it in a few hours on a twenty-first-century Japanese bullet train but instead had to settle for a few months on horseback.
Beasts of burden tasked with ferrying along people and their luggage could usually manage twenty to forty kilometers a day—maybe sixty on a really good day. On top of that, they needed to rest every four to six days of walking, so a solid estimate was around two or three hundred kilometers of progress every ten days...if the conditions were right.
Unlike cars, the restrictions on when horses could perform at their potential were plentiful enough to forget about any semblance of steady, regular progress. Their horseshoes could fall off, their hooves could crack, and they could even come down with a stomachache; the troubles of living could manifest themselves in our very alive mode of transportation. Taking care of our steeds’ health was just as important to our progress as taking care of our own.
Other than that, poor weather could limit our range of travel on any given day; given that we had to keep track of both our supplies and the distance to the next place to stay, this could mean we’d be stuck in one place for days at a time. Combined, these factors meant a one-way journey took three months to complete.
As an aside, a traveler with a particularly high-held nose, picky about their choice of inn and insistent on a large security detail, would need an extra month or two. Not only would the greater number of people slow the operation down, but hotels that could accommodate a giant party of guards, servants, and their horses were few and far between; such journeys were doomed to even more obnoxious routing issues.
An emergency courier swapping out horses at every stop could make the trip in a month, and a drake rider could shorten that into a handful of days, but we had the misfortune of dressing up as normal travelers trying to get by.
Instead, we’d trotted along for the past month without much to note. It had been a peaceful journey thus far. Though the heavens sometimes sprinkled us with snow as if they had suddenly remembered the season or whisked away all sight with fog too thick to see my own nose, these obstructions had been well within our calculations. At our current pace, we’d make it to the Ubiorum territory by our promised date.
We were currently checking into a hotel just before the major city of Braunschweig—a rather foreboding name, I thought—located in the center region of the Empire. The inn’s name was The Golden Birdie, and it was the sort of place a regular worker might barely be able to afford. Instead of being protected by a random bouncer, the guard was a real fighter worthy of his title; the stables were nice and secure.
We’d borrowed a room for two, but Lady Agrippina had quickly slipped into the safety of the tent’s barrier and retired to comfort. I couldn’t really blame her. Mastery of space-bending magic meant that she didn’t have to sleep in this dingy—though I found it rather luxurious—room and could relax in her personal laboratory; why wouldn’t she go back?
“Man, I’m tired!”
Falling backward into bed, I could feel the stiffness built up over a long day on the saddle melt off my muscles. For one sweet second, everything felt worth it—this had to be one of the best parts of any journey. Sans getting home, that is: the eventual return was out of the running on account of being locked up in the hall of fame.
The bedding was wonderful: there wasn’t any question that it had been cleaned since the last guest had left, and the stuffing smelled fresh enough to assume that the owners regularly changed it out. Few things in this world could command as much gratitude as a bed free of fleas and lice.
One night in this room, along with a meal, bath, and use of the stables, cost one libra and twenty-five assarii. Different people would have different opinions on whether that was a good or bad deal, but personally, I thought it was a low price for what they offered. Real scams made me want to grab the innkeep by the collar for being audacious enough to take money for the “services” they provided.
Lady Agrippina went home every night anyway; the only thing that mattered to her was having proof we stayed in an inn, wherever it was. As a result, she had no qualms about settling for a mangy establishment if it was the only one around, and gods, did I suffer.
Ticks, fleas, and crab lice were par for the course, not to mention the time a crowd of those unspeakable vermin scattered out of sight as soon as I opened the door. That night, I’d realized that camping outside would be much nicer, and had sneaked out in the dead of the night to pitch my own tent. Living in the capital, I’d forgotten that four walls and a roof weren’t always better than the great outdoors; I understood that I was the only one who had to deal with the rooms, but would it have killed her to be a bit more considerate?
“Shoot, I can’t kick back all day.”
As tempting as it was to continue snuggling with the bedsheets, I had to clean up. I took apart the madam’s teleportation tent and then stuffed the other bed with some spare cloth to make it seem like someone was sleeping. In the unlikely case that someone came in, I had to make sure our story kept up.
With my forgery done, I decided it was a good time for a bath. The folks running the inn would bring up our supper on their own later, so I wanted to clean off some of the grime of traveling before then. Well, at least, as much as I could in a steam bath without a tub of water.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said to the proprietress. “Is the bath ready to use?”
“Oh, of course. But you know, with how slow business was today, I was this close to not lighting the fires.”
Happy day! Not many people traveled at this time of year; real traffic only began to spring up once it got a bit warmer. Readying a large sauna for the few workers who lived here on days without guests was probably a tremendous waste of money, so I really lucked out.
“Will your sister be bathing as well? The facilities flip between being open for men and women every other hour.”
“Uh... She said she was tired and went to bed, so I think she’ll probably pass.”
I flashed an empty smile and walked away from the front desk. As much as I still hated it, I’d grown used to pretending like that creature was a sibling. Still, I did not appreciate how she’d started having fun with our assumed identities by giving me shit in a manner befitting an older sister, fakeness notwithstanding. Seriously, what was the point of going out of her way to fix my clothes or hair in public, or to wipe my mouth like an actual caretaker? No, wait, I’ll answer that: she was killing time by watching my reactions.
Putting that out of my mind, I headed toward the bath and stripped down in the changing room. Inside, I found a sauna that was much more nicely kept than the price would suggest. The failings of lesser businesses were absent: no slimy floors due to insufficient cleaning, no benches that creaked and snapped at the lightest touch, and no filthy water that made me want to jump in a wild creek instead.
Praise be. In a world where money couldn’t buy honest service, places like these were true godsends. I tossed some water on the red-hot stones on the stove, filling the air with steam. When a white cloud of fog set into the room, I finally felt like I was taking a real bath.
Ahh... This is wonderful. If I had to nitpick, I would’ve liked for it to be a degree or two hotter, but I knew I shouldn’t add more firewood of my own accord, and heating it with magic was out of the question. I’d have to live with it; but hey, the missing heat could always be made up for with a longer stay. After that, the only thing left would be to hit the sack: no caring for the madam meant a nice, leisurely night awaited.
I had spent a while rubbing myself with a birch branch to improve my circulation and scrub out any dirt that came out of my pores when I noticed some other customers arrive at the bath. I heard the door to the room before this one open, and a series of footsteps...
Hm? But there was a distinct lack of rustling clothes. I waited with ears on full alert, and made out that they hadn’t even taken off their shoes in the changing room.
Letting my instincts take the wheel, I crouched down by the entrance with my towel in one hand. I didn’t so much as breathe for the next twenty seconds, totally erasing my presence...until some unmannerly buffoon violently kicked the door open.
Oh, I see. So that’s how you want to play it.
Then I guess I don’t have any reason to hold back.
On the other side of the doorway, the most obvious pack of goons I’d met yet awaited. But before they could bring their guard back up from breaking down the door, I swung my towel straight with all my might, landing a hit squarely in an intruder’s face.
“Gah?!”
Of course, it wasn’t just a wet towel: I’d folded it in two to cradle a burning-hot stone, fresh from the stove. Swinging my makeshift blackjack with a reversed grip, I caved in his hooded face with superheated pain. Judging from the crunch, it was clear that I’d broken more than just a nose.
The combination of scalding heat and forceful impact caused him to collapse, and the ink-dyed short sword in his hand went loose. Snatching it out of the air, I bolted into the changing room—to find two more attackers. Fair enough, I supposed; backup was more than expected.
They wore darkened leather armor and gloomy cloaks that covered their entire bodies. Furthermore, their hoods had been enchanted to hide their faces no matter the angle. These weren’t your everyday robbers: they were career wetworkers, accustomed to swinging blades in the shadows.
Still, the task of taking out an unarmed, unclothed kid lazing about in the bath must have had them feeling safe, because their reactions were several beats too slow. I understood the shock of seeing their companion’s skull rearranged, but this was hardly professional behavior.
“You little—hrgh!”
“What theaaugh?!”
With a quick turn of the stolen sword, I sliced at two hands: one holding a dagger, and the other reaching for a strange crossbow I’d never seen before. These sorts were liable to keep fighting so long as they could move, so I forwent mercy and chopped straight through their wrists. Any hand being used to kill an innocent little boy didn’t deserve to be attached to a person anyway.
As the two of them gripped at their wounds, I bashed in their heads with the back of my sword; just for good measure, I went over to the guy cradling his face and kicked his head like a soccer ball to add three tallies to my score. Unlike the capital’s guards, I could do whatever I wanted to these guys so long as I didn’t kill them.
“Huh. That was a letdown.”
To be blunt, these guys were chumps. After my run-ins with magia and the imperial guard, I’d been trembling over what a nobleman’s assassins might look like. But if this was all they had to offer, then the sauna would be a faster way of working up a sweat. Wasn’t this a bit too easy? I’d prepared all sorts of stuff to counter specialized killers, but it seemed it was all for naught—though I did have to admit I hadn’t expected them to jump me in the bath.
“Hm... Yeah, no, I don’t recognize any of them.”
I tore the hoods off the unconscious men—I made sure to stop their bleeding since it would be a pain to have them die on me—and, as expected, recognized none of them. The dagger-wielder was a werewolf, the backup crossbowman was a mensch, and the first guy...was too mangled to figure out, so I gave up.
Thankfully, it didn’t matter whether I knew them or not. All I had to do was tie them up, and Lady Agrippina would take a little peek into their heads for the rest. The only ways to hide something from her would be to use the same Sympathetic Barriers I and other magia used, or to have unbelievable levels of grit; neither seemed likely.
“...Wait, shit!”
After tying the three of them up, I realized I’d missed something critical: I knew that the madam wasn’t in our room, but they didn’t. And if they weren’t afraid to kill anyone they came across...
I threw on my pants and shoved both feet into my boots without so much as putting on my socks first, then bolted out into the cold. Sprinting back to the main lodge, I realized that my fears had been well-founded.
I had been too late.
“You rotten bastards!”
Inside, the innkeeper and her guard were dead. The proprietress’s body was at the front desk, her face buried in the hotel ledger with blood running down to the floor; her neck must have been cut from behind. On the other hand, the guard had fallen out of the chair by the entrance. His hand was still holding his sword, despite the crossbow bolt buried in his neck. He’d probably risen as soon as the owner was attacked, and had gotten shot for his troubles.
Rage threatened to reduce my vision to a boiling sea of reds and blacks, but I forced it down and ran for our room. As much as I wanted to go over and close the victims’ eyes, the clock was ticking.
On the way there, I passed two wide-open doors. Quiet and lifeless, it seemed those rooms had contained guests who’d met similar fates to the innkeeper. In fact, I suspected the same had happened on the third floor, where the husband of the operation was sure to be resting.
I turned the corner into our hall—There they are!
A group of four shadowy figures dressed exactly like the ones at the bath was huddled around our room. One was fiddling with the lock, so it seemed like I’d caught them just as they were preparing to strike.
You’re not getting away with this. Sure, the room was empty, but I could search every corner of my heart and I wouldn’t find it in me to let them go for what they’d done.
“Huh?! Who are you?!”
One of them noticed me, but I didn’t care; I just hurled the short sword I’d stolen. My Hybrid Sword Arts training included impromptu throwing, and the blade sank into the frontmost enemy as if guided to him by a magnetic pull. Nice and full of oxygen, the resulting geyser of blood was a pure scarlet, sputtering far to coat the well-kept floors in its filth.
Apparently, my attempt to contain the fury in my heart had failed. My aim was slightly off, and the sword had landed right between his head and shoulders, all but decapitating him as it cleaved deep into the trunk of his neck.
Shit—that guy’s dead. I cursed myself for letting him off with a quick death; what was I going to do if he was the one in charge?
But for now, I needed to pull myself together and deal with the remaining threats. These assassins were a cut above ordinary bandits, moving to intercept without delay: no expletives, no surprise, and no care for their fallen friend.
One came at me with a one-handed sword, well suited in length for indoor combat; another carried a smaller dagger made for stabbing. Behind them both, the last maintained his position by the door, pulling out a wand.
You have a mage?! How fucking nice!
Although Hybrid Sword Arts did highlight the ability to fight unarmed, trying to tackle this situation without a weapon was going to be rough. I could tell from their postures and gaits that these were experienced fighters: whatever style of combat they employed, I was convinced they were at least VII: Virtuosic in their mastery. A hotel hallway was practically no distance at all against a savvy opponent. I needed my next weapon, and fast.
So I called for it—the horrific blade who crawled to my bedside every night to sing her twisted songs of love.
“—!”
Crying out in an ecstasy that brought reality itself to the brink of shattering, her wordless delirium was the backdrop to a swift uppercut. In one stroke, an arm was severed, leaving a trail of misty blood in its wake—naturally, it wasn’t mine.
“Graaah?!”
I’d aimed for the slim opening in the vanguard’s armor to cut straight through his right elbow; not even the hardened killer could stay silent after that. He cradled his wound and stumbled head over heels. I bet he couldn’t believe it: I was some half-naked brat who’d foolishly thrown away his only weapon, so why was there a sword in my hands?
The ear-shattering joyful yelps sounding in my mind were of gratitude, for the Craving Blade knew no greater happiness than for a swordsman to need her as a sword.
But the weapon was too heavy to be swung from below—and more importantly, it was too long. The unwieldy zweihander required both hands, and should have been impossible to use properly in a cramped corridor.
“Good girl.”
Her pitch-black blade was as dark as ever, and the illegible ancient writing carved into its sides was no less ominous; yet as the last vestiges of daylight beamed through the window and reflected back as an obsidian glow, the image produced was clearly of a sword that was shorter than before.
More precisely, about the same size as Schutzwolfe.
Let me clarify that this wasn’t a sudden idea I’d come up with on the spot. I’d taken the Craving Blade out for a bit of practice one day—but also because her nagging at night became particularly insufferable if I neglected her—only for her inarticulate screaming to take the vague form of a meditation on love.
If love could only be earned with love, she conveyed, then she’d failed me. But she wanted mine; then it was only right that she demonstrated her passion.
Before I knew it, this accursed blade of mine had learned to fit any form I desired. By failing me, I assumed she was referring to my mortal combat against the masked nobleman. Her claim was that, had I wielded the weapon best suited for me, every cut could have been deeper, closer to being lethal. But none had done the job, and I’d nearly died because of it.
So the sword, in the depths of its adoration, had decided that songs were not enough; actions were needed to prove her devotion. Ever since, she had begun to morph in both length and width.
Nowadays, she could become anything I desired, so long as the final form could be considered a “sword.” Anything from a short sword barely bigger than a dagger to her original, nigh unusable heft was fair game. I’d thought her like a woman changing her wardrobe to suit a new lover’s palate, but who was I to deny that that was indeed an expression of love? Wanting to draw every last drop of attention from your chosen soulmate is a natural wish.
Besides, men were prone to styling up in clean suits and reaching deep into wallets to do the same. Having someone willing to dedicate everything to me in the name of love was a good feeling, and that was no different even coming from a blighted sword that chipped away at my sanity.
The second ruffian pushed past his fallen comrade to thrust his dagger forward, but he was too late. I ducked under his attack, slicing at the back of his knee to capitalize on his overextended leg; hard tactile feedback told me I’d cut through muscles and tendons to reach bone. All his weight had been resting on this leg, and he went flying forward as soon as I rendered it useless.
Letting all that momentum dissipate on impact with the ground would be wasteful of me; I extended my foot ever so slightly to catch his face. Despite not putting any force into it, I could feel the shock of a gnarly collision. My boots had metal plates on the bottoms and tops to prevent damage from traps and stomping, equipping my kicks with a real blunt weapon.
Ouch, that’s a bad angle. He’d lost an eye at best, and might have had his socket pulverized at worst. He wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.
“Cotton embrace—pinch of lily—a stem of rose, freed from thorn...”
But I didn’t have any time to spare. The mage in the back had his wand in one hand, a catalyst in the other, and was even chanting an incantation. Though he didn’t seem like a magus, those three supplements combined would surely bend reality in unthinkable ways.
So I just need to stop him before it goes off!
I leapt with all my force, closing the distance in a single breath. While I hadn’t touched my Agility in a long time, it was more than enough to cover distances this short.
“...lead these souls to a gentle graaagh?!”
And an attack made with a sword that could grow midswing was sure to reach. The Craving Blade reclaimed her original form, the tip of her edge cutting through the hood and across the mage’s mouth before he could give his spell any more verbal structure. The tiny white fragments riding the wave of blood were the last hurrah of his teeth, and the small chunk of flesh belonged to his tongue.
Only half-constructed, the spell had lost both its caster’s attention and the support of incantation in one fell swoop; it exploded. I jumped away on reaction, only to see a cloud of white smoke envelop the assassin.
I’d covered my face and made sure not to breathe it in, just to be safe. The incantation sounded like it was borrowing a line from a lullaby, so it seemed plausible that he’d been trying to cast a sleepfog—a terrifying spell that put enemies to sleep if they failed a resistance check. It was so broken that GMs concerned with game balance tended to treat it like a lost art, but my old tablemates had been the sorts to use anything in the toolbox; I had experience on both ends of its effects.
These guys sure used some awful tricks. If I dozed off, all my training would cease to matter. The story would be different if I had someone to watch my back, but I would be doomed by myself. Hadn’t anyone told them that it was bad manners to use crowd control on a hero without a party?
Admittedly, there was a chance that my Sympathetic Barrier would have blocked its effects, since it was a spell that affected my state of consciousness. Either way, I was still happy to prevent it from going off at all.
Thinking about it, this was probably how they’d managed to clean out the building without causing a scene. I wasn’t exactly the most sensitive listener ever, but not even I would have idly lounged in the sauna had I heard screams coming from the main building.
Dammit. I might’ve been able to save some of them if I had sharper ears...
But my frustrations and regrets would have to wait; there could still be more assailants lurking around. For now, I would need to apprehend these rogues and lug up the three I’d left in the changing room. Once Lady Agrippina was done pulling intel out of them, we could turn these crooks in to the local magistrate—their deaths wouldn’t come easily.
After finishing the knot binding the assassins together, I figured I should head back into our room. I’d left my Voice Transfer transmitter in my luggage, and wanted to put some clothes back on.
But just as I got up, something came flying through the hallway’s window without a sound.
I didn’t spend a single moment trying to process what the round object was before I tossed it right back out with an Unseen Hand. Immediately after, I shouldered my way into our room, hitting the floor with my hands on my ears and my mouth open.
A few seconds later, an explosion shook me so violently that I could feel my brain shake despite covering my ears. I didn’t know whether it was chemical or magical, but that thing had been a bomb. Isn’t that a bit extreme?!
As it turned out, my hunch that I hadn’t finished off the last of them had been right—and whoever was left was skilled enough to evade my Presence Detection to boot.
“Argh, you bastards! Give me a break!”
I couldn’t tell if the grenade was supposed to kill me or silence the failures for dropping the ball, but if they wanted a fight, I was happy to give them one. This was already a train wreck; what was another twenty or thirty goons? In fact, I’d just been thinking that all the poor innocent folks they’d killed might need some company to lead them back to the gods’ laps!
Pulling my cloak off the wall with a Hand, I slid into it and ran back out into the hall, summoning another invisible appendage to toss the goons into our room. With one foot on the windowsill, I looked around and saw nothing... So they’re above!
“Lottie, boost me!”
“Wha?! Um, ’kay!”
I twirled into the air and called the name of an alf sure to be loitering around somewhere or another. Despite her surprise at the sudden request, she managed to pull it off spectacularly.
Charlotte the sylphid could heed my call wherever the wind blew, and she summoned a gale as powerful as it was gentle to lift me onto the roof. A natural gust strong enough to carry a person would have come with an entire tornado behind it, but her physics-bending fey whirlwind carried me softly upward.
Perhaps that was why I managed to react to the dagger zooming my way.
As soon as I got up, I had to jump to the side to avoid the projectile precisely placed to send me falling back down. It had been a twitch reaction based solely on the dilute, yet palpable bloodlust tickling my senses. A flurry of shingles scattered as I broke my fall and instantly bounced myself to my left with an Unseen Hand—no sooner had I evaded the first round than another callous clump of steel barreled my way.
The follow-up attack split the air as it rained down on me: a rod-shaped dagger specially made for throwing. Had I let myself get comfortable after dodging the first, I would have paid the price now. While a weapon this small wouldn’t have spelled death, I would’ve sustained a serious injury.
My opponent was a genuine threat. Their presence and intent were so thin that I could hardly get a read on them; they were leagues above the oafs I’d mopped up downstairs.
Noticing that they were trying to sweep my landing, I held the Craving Blade close to my frame to block the hit, using the force of impact to buy myself some space. The attack had been so powerful that trying to stand my ground would’ve been suicide: while my sword could take the abuse, my body was better off rolling away the momentum over two or three somersaults.
Come to think of it, getting to take a movement action on a successful reaction made me a really annoying enemy to fight, huh?
Quips aside, I used the excess energy to regain my footing. Turning with the Craving Blade at the ready, I finally got my first good look at who I was fighting, and man, were they hard to describe at a glance.
The profile of their upper body was obscured by a hooded cloak, but the long trunk extending from below was anything but mensch-like. The army of thin legs propping them up pointed to a demihuman—probably either a millipede or centipede.
As the careening sun said its final goodbyes and the divine Father reclaimed His gift of sight, it became nearly impossible to make out even the broad strokes. What little sunset remained only served to cast a backlit shadow, and the only thing I could confirm was that an endless array of legs was poking through the cloth wrapping around their trunk.
This person was cautious enough to keep even their gender ambiguous, but the massive pole they carried was plainly visible. It was every bit as long as their wriggling trunk, and they twirled it around with great elegance as they sized me up for dodging their initial offensive.
This was...problematic. Their arms were long and flexible, and their weapon of choice was longer than anything a humanfolk could wield on our stubby legs. But most vexing of all...
“Hm?!”
...was their unreadable footwork!
Advancing on an abundant set of skittering appendages, my opponent maneuvered in ways that were far harder to anticipate than a fighter resting their weight on two. Legs were the foundation of movement, and usually, watching them and the chest was enough to get an understanding of how a fighter’s arms would move; together, that would suffice to scope out the angle of entry. But here, I had no idea how they’d approach.
Not only did their unorthodox gait free them from having to commit weight in any direction, but I was stuck floundering at how to best dodge or block, putting me on the back foot. Worse still, they stood up tall, flexing their trunk to extend their already-obnoxious reach into something that enabled wide arcs of attack from above.
The unstable footing of the roof didn’t help either: while they scurried up, down, left, and right with ease, I was struggling to take solid steps on the poorly cemented shingles. Every one of their deft steps felt like a mockery of my efforts.
But perhaps their most damnable trait was the raw power their giant frame provided. This utter monster could probably plow through a squadron of regular soldiers with ease.
Shit! You’re telling me a freak this strong was just waiting here in case the first group fucked up?! Gods, it would’ve been easier if they’d just come at me indoors!
The polearm whipped around at rapid speeds, engraving the air with a series of short arcs; but for as flashy as it seemed, their movements were delicacy incarnate. Drawn by the hefty metal spinning around, each curve of motion was simultaneously an attack and an invisible barrier barring my entry. As if their elegance in footwork weren’t enough, they were now skillfully eliminating any potential opening.
I knew we were opposed, but I couldn’t help but be impressed. This was a style of combat that betrayed a keen awareness of their physical boons, and I would’ve asked to see their character sheet for reference had I come across them over the table.
The precision of their attacks was just marvelous. For us on two legs, the great tragedy of offense was that every step introduced brief moments of instability; freed from such struggles, they carefully selected where to place their strikes, always finding the spot that would cause me the most trouble.
They were a genius, deserving of a more splendid stage than the shadows of assassination.
Since the centrifugal force bolstering their swings could crash straight through a half-assed defense, I opted for evasion as I stepped forward and eyed for an opening. Gripping my blade in reverse with both hands, I redirected a diagonal strike aimed for my shoulder. I’d used the same trick when dealing with the batons and spears wielded by the guards of Berylin; instead of suffering recoil in an attempt to knock the weapon away, it was better to gently guide it off its course. Sir Lambert had distilled years of fighting polearms on the battlefield into our lessons, and that pain was hard to forget.
I could tell this attempt had been particularly successful from the resistance against my hands, and I sensed an expression of surprise flash across my opponent’s hidden face. I bet they hardly felt the collision at all.
Now it was my turn to attack. Weapons with reach excelled at controlling space, but they suddenly turned into a weakness if I could get up close. Plus, unlike a lamia, this demihuman’s segmented legs couldn’t curve in every direction: they didn’t have the option of flinging their trunk forward as a whip. And while they could run backward at tremendous speeds, it wouldn’t be enough to shake me off.
Considering the skill of those I’d fought, this person was almost definitely in charge. I wasn’t going to let the biggest archive of intel get away. But just as I began considering whether a severed thumb would suffice, a terrible omen zipped across my neck.
I raised the Craving Blade on reflex. I heard the sharp clang of metal bouncing off metal...and felt the dull pain of something sinking into my gut. Swallowing back a groan, I made full use of my Lightning Reflexes to observe the first projectile gliding through the air: a throwing knife, painted in ash to obscure its form in the dark of night. Just like the first short sword I’d stolen, it was a tool of the trade, tailored for hushed kills.
But my opponent had thrown two.
By layering the second attack into the shadow of the first, they’d managed to hide its course. I’d seen such feats in manga, but never thought I’d see someone actually pull it off, and while wielding a polearm, to boot. The technique had been facilitated by the second set of arms peeking out that had thrown the projectiles while the main pair handled the battlestaff.
Ah, shit. I should’ve known. Had I given it some thought, I would’ve realized that they’d begun this encounter with both daggers and a pole swipe. Since the rod was too long to be wielded with one hand, I should’ve suspected another limb from the very start.
Boy, was I glad I’d grabbed my cloak. Despite its humble appearance, the inside of this mantle was actually lined with Lady Agrippina’s own defensive formulae, making it tougher than a two-bit set of armor. I’d been forced to keep my equipment down to the bare minimum for our trip, and this had been her way of making up for my loss in safety.
AC was prone to being ignored or written off with all sorts of poorly explained excuses, but it was vital to survival. Without this, I might’ve been screwed: from the angle it had hit me at, it could very well have hit my liver for an instant kill.
But just because I’d blocked it didn’t mean that this hurtling clump of steel in my gut didn’t hurt. So, figuring I’d pay back some of the pain, I turned up the engines and began hacking and slashing at full gear; I should’ve known from the start that this wasn’t a foe I could afford to go easy on.
I needed to do my absolute damnedest to kill them, and if they ended up alive after that, then that was a lucky break. Trying to secure anything more would just end badly for me.
The assassin toiled to block with their staff and pulled out more daggers at every turn, but two more attacks just meant two more opportunities to roll for counter actions.
And I, too, had cards hidden up my sleeve.
Trying to put themselves back in optimal range, my opponent desperately pedaled backward, but I stuck fast. Reaching a Hand into the pocket of my cloak, I pulled out the catalyst for my mystic flashbang. I’d hidden a few instances all over; knowing something like this would happen eventually, I wasn’t going to go around unprepared!
But I wasn’t done: passing the dagger that had hit me to another Unseen Hand, I thrust it forward. I mean, they’d gone out of their way to deliver me a new weapon. Wouldn’t it be rude not to make use of it?
The extending Hand was both more precise and more powerful than something soaring through open air. My promptly regifted present returned to its sender by lodging itself deep inside their shoulder. I did unto them as they had done unto me; I wasn’t necessarily trying to copy them, but admittedly ended up stealing their moves— Whoa?! That was close!
Unbelievably, the assassin used the inertia of being stabbed to tilt over backward and whip their legs at me in a kick—though the term felt strangely inaccurate—akin to a cracking whip.
No, actually, the maneuver had been more of an acrobatic trick, making full use of their physique to open a path toward escape. I hadn’t expected that at all.
Not wanting to get slammed with the equivalent of a swinging log, I ducked low and dodged. Their rampant flailing kicked up a minor tornado, ripping out both the shingles and the base roofing they were built on to twist through the air. With power like that, a clean hit could’ve torn out half my rib cage whole.
The assassin had gone prone so that they could let their lower half go wild, and maintained that posture as they zipped off so quickly that I let out a shocked, “Hwha?!”
This was absurd; we’d been at point-blank range. I’d landed a flashbang that should’ve totally blinded them! My surprise was so great that it took a few moments for me to rise to my feet; by the time I did, my assailant had skittered off the rooftop and disappeared to the wall below. Despite dashing over to the edge in a hurry, they were nowhere to be found by the time I got there.
“Aw, dammit! Get it together, man! Who the fuck cares if I’ve never fought someone with a build like that?! I let them get away with way too much!”
“...Wanna chase?” Lottie gingerly landed on my head. “I can have a look-see if you want.”
“I don’t have the speed to chase them down even if you find them,” I sighed, angrily kicking a shingle off the roof. “Shit, I screwed up at the end.”
I’d been so confident that I’d gotten their eyes and ears...but how could I forget that insectoid demihumans often had different sensory organs from mensch? The fact that millipedes and centipedes could use touch and smell to get around had completely slipped my mind.
Also, their movements had been so intertwined with their multilegged anatomy. It rekindled long-untouched memories of my childhood companion when she was on the hunt. Though she couldn’t keep it up for long, Margit had displayed alacrity that was similarly impossible to catch when she got serious.
Most of our enemies were dead and I’d secured a source of intel, but I had failed to win a decisive victory. At most, this was a draw with losses on both sides; I bet other reinforcements had managed to recover the assassins in the changing room while I was preoccupied here.
Whatever the case, we’d caused too big a scene. The building was completely trashed, and the locals were panicking from the sound of a bomb going off. If I didn’t hurry up and get my noble lady on the scene, there was a real chance I would be the one getting tied up. Someone checking in on the commotion was sure to find the dead innkeeper and her guard, and the assassins I’d captured would mean little without an authority backing up my claims.
Ugh, gods, why did this have to happen everywhere I went? They’d let us enjoy a leisurely month on the road, so couldn’t they have waited two more?
“Oww... This better not have broken a rib.”
Curling up my cloak, I looked over my wound as I dropped through the giant hole in the ceiling that we’d made during our fight. My stomach stung when I landed; I knew it was far lighter a pain than what the poor innocents here had endured, but it still hurt all the same. Seeing as I could breathe without spasms, it looked like I hadn’t broken anything, but I was probably best off bracing myself for a fracture at least.
Ah, crap. I gotta put some clothes on before I call the madam.
The last warmth of my pleasant bath was no longer detectable. If nothing else, I could only hope I wouldn’t catch a cold.

[Tips] Personal spats within city limits, cantons, inns, or any other location geared toward daily life can be punished with a minimum ten-libra fine or a half year of community service. If weapons are drawn, the fine jumps to a drachma or more with arrest and imprisonment on the table. Finally, attempted assassination carries the absolute sentence of execution, for both those who carry it out and those who plan it.

In a wood a short ways off from the scene of the attack, a band clad in midnight garb assembled in the trees.
Had anyone been present to witness their deep-navy silhouettes, they surely would have struggled to believe there were only four people in the canopy: each boasted a giant body two to three times the size of a mensch, coiling around branches to gain a most alien purchase. An infinite array of legs found footing where anything on two would struggle to stay upright; the group was composed entirely of sepa.
“How is your injury?”
One of the tree-dwellers removed his hood, exposing a wrinkled face and a head of snow-white hair that told a story of many moons gone by. His composure as a seasoned spy could be seen in how still his lips were as he spoke—but perhaps was better illustrated by the cold, unflinching eyes he fixed on his wounded comrade.
In turn, the agent removed her own hood. Though it was just barely agitated, she took a moment to catch her breath before answering with a similar expression.
“I’m fine. It didn’t hit any vital arteries.”
Burning orange hair, amethyst eyes, and olive skin with the faintest trace of blush; she was the same girl that had called out to Erich in the servants’ room of the palace. A cylindrical throwing knife was wedged deep in her shoulder, but as she reached to pull it out, the old man grabbed her hand to stop her.
“Recklessly tear it out, and you risk damaging important veins and muscles in the area. Leave it until we return to safety.”
“Understood.” The girl nodded, but her poker face wavered: years of disciplined training had sealed her mouth shut, but now it was ajar, her inner jaw visibly chittering in irritation. “And you have my apologies. I even returned wounded.”
“Calm yourself,” the old man said. “She who carries the blood of our lord should not allow emotion to command her lips.”
“But Elder,” one of the others responded, “the young lady has never suffered damage in the field before.”
“She’s still young,” the last concurred. “I don’t think we can blame her for feeling frustrated.”
Though they remained hooded, the other two sounded relatively youthful from their tones of voice, and they came to the girl’s aid. They, too, understood the pain of taking one’s first hit outside training. Every mistake in a real fight could lead to death, and yet the girl had let the enemy go while suffering an injury. Returning after failing a mission like this left an indescribably bitter taste on the tongue.
That was all the more true for the clan’s beloved prodigy—for a girl who’d finished mission after mission without once knowing defeat. And of course, though secretive as their ties would remain, falling short of her father’s expectations piled onto the mental burdens weighing her psyche down.
“Hmph,” the elder grunted. “I understand—I understand all too well. But I’m telling you to hold that grief back regardless. Do you think this is behavior fit to serve our lord?”
“You’re as harsh as ever, sir.”
“More importantly, what’s our next move? Would you like us to resume the operation? If the two of us occupy the swordsman, I’m sure we’ll be able to take care of the remaining assassins.”
The elder thought the suggestion over with folded arms, but shook his head after a brief pause. The swordsman in question had injured their fledgling genius—he was no normal opponent. By now, the sepa surmised, he’d probably dragged the remaining captives to a windowless room to funnel any attack to a single avenue of entry. It was unlikely they’d be able to bring him down, even with all four of them...
At least, not when they weren’t fully prepared.
“Our first order of business is to do what we know we can,” the old man said. “After that, we’ll wait for orders. We need to question those we’ve captured.”
Although he made no indication of singling her out, the girl with the fiery hair nodded and began her descent. She was to interrogate the spies waiting in the forest’s shadows, whom they’d secured from the bathhouse’s changing room.
“You two cover our tracks and prepare a messenger pigeon. Our foe is no mere child.”
“Yes, sir,” the young pair answered.
Seeing the others off, the elder followed after the youngest of the bunch and climbed down to the ground. Her twisted expression betrayed her unabated frustration. He patted her on the shoulder, his hand conveying a kindness and sympathy that was absent on his face.
“Your chance at redemption will come. Show me your best then.”
“...I swear it.”
With one last chirp of her mandibles, the girl assumed her usual emotionless demeanor, cogs dropping and shifting in the workings of her mind to bear the work ahead. But still, one thought clouded her mind: He was the first man other than grandfather to land a clean hit...

[Tips] Sepa are much lighter than their bodies suggest, allowing them to perch in tree branches with a bit of finesse. Further, their flat trunks allow them to squeeze into crevices, giving them surprising stealth for their massive size.

Here was a room full of the most splendiferous works of art, fit in every way to be an aristocrat’s personal chamber, but something was missing. Save for a single chair, not a single article of furniture was tailored for the comfort of the room’s resident.
It was a methuselah’s bedroom, you see, and quite a stereotypical one at that. Born free from the need for sleep, many of their kind considered the activity an unnecessary luxury. To more reasonable forms of life, their personal quarters resembled a distorted parody of human habitation.
But where the common person would struggle to relax, Marquis Donnersmarck sat leisurely in his chair. He was still soothing his soul in the realm of paintings when a pigeon entered through a tiny window; gently raising his arm, he extended his hand for it to perch.
“Welcome back. Is something the matter?”
Strangely enough, he began to speak to the little bird.
“The world shall come to he who waits.”
And even more strangely, the pigeon answered with a low growl of a voice. It had recited a long-standing Rhinian adage praising patience—but also one that spoke to the frightful nature of methuselah. While magecraft had the means to convert a familiar into a telephone, it lacked the ability to replicate the quality of one’s voice; these call signs were imperative to identify the speaker, both from other operators and any bad actors who may have gotten their hands on this means of communication.
“Ah, Nakeisha. Your mark was B-1, as Wit recall. Has something happened?”
“I have two matters to report. First, you have my sincerest apologies, my lord. I have failed you.”
“Oh? A rare statement, coming from you. Tell me what happened.”
The man employed swaths of spies strewn across the lands, but at present, most of them were out on this Ubiorum business. Split into countless squadrons, his people were keeping tabs on every crew of travelers that might be the count’s, even knowing that most of them were simply decoys—and one of them had sounded the alarm.
Nobles were, by their very nature, prone to proceeding along politically motivated paths. They had peers that absolutely required an audience should they be in the area; they had enemies who would endanger their lives if they dared cross their territory. The course of a single trip was often enough to betray the details of one’s identity.
As such, the schemer had spared no effort, investigating every lead in order to find something about his mysterious and powerful foe. Of those he’d marked, the codename Bedeutung-1 referred to a set of promising travelers that were highly likely to be the VIP. The suspicion had arisen from an agent noting that it would be odd for the target to forgo the horses she’d used since rising to professorship, and thus they’d begun pursuing those with similar steeds. On the surface, the brother-and-sister pair looked perfectly normal; the spies stalking them had simply funneled years of experience into a keen intuition that had told them they were on the right track.
“The mark was attacked by a third party of assassins. They slipped past us just as our squadron was changing watch, and...we failed to stop them.”
“That is certainly a stroke of misfortune. Then what of B-1? Are they safe?”
“Mark B-1-a remained unseen throughout. Mark B-1-b was alive and well—rather, he fought off most of the assassins alone.”
“What news! Then the other report must be...”
“Bedeutung-1-a is our person of interest, with B-1-b being her personal blade. He was fearsome in action.”
Nakeisha and her unit had allowed the hitmen to begin their assault due to a lapse in security while switching guard duties, but their response immediately after had been swift. There had been four enemy lookouts posted to allow the assassination to proceed without interference, but the sepa squadron had instantly incapacitated and captured them. Melting into the dark, they’d waited and watched: no matter what else occurred, they couldn’t let Count Ubiorum face any danger.
However, things took a turn for the unexpected. Unbelievably, the brunette brat managed to plow through the entire attacking party all on his lonesome—with refined swordplay and magic, at that.
This created a new problem: at this rate, the count would get her hands on a living font of information. While the sepa weren’t keen on letting them die here, these were undoubtedly killers hired by someone embroiled in the wrongdoings of the county; allowing even the slightest morsel of intel to reach enemy hands was dangerous.
Those who’d been left in the changing room were out of the boy’s reach and had been easy enough to retrieve. Yet the same couldn’t be said of the others, right under his nose.
Figuring the death of a bodyguard was hardly of note, Nakeisha made the call to clean house with an arcane bomb. Much to her surprise, not only did she fail, but the boy intercepted and even wounded her.
“Ah, that must have been an ordeal. Are your injuries severe?”
“Your worry is my greatest shame. My arm will move fine in half a month.”
The spy laid the whole of the situation bare, honestly reporting both her successes and especially her failures; the marquis did not scold or shout, but rather honored her efforts. This was the mark of the faith placed in his retainer. If they were skilled enough to slip past Nakeisha—she wasn’t fully equipped on account of the covert operation, but still—then the entry of these third-party assassins had been inevitable. Perhaps he would’ve lost his temper had she commanded twice the number of troops she did; as things stood, though, she had done as much as he could reasonably have expected of her.
To let fleeting emotions compel him into angry shouting was folly; the surest course of action was to calmly move to the next step in the plan.
“Say, have you had a moment to ‘chat’ with the assassins you apprehended?”
“Yes, sir. They were criminals-for-hire, willing to do anything from killing to snooping for the right price. One coughed up that the request came from an imperial knight by the name of Berckem.”
“Ah, then the culprit must be Viscount Liplar.” Sifting through the immense network of entangled parties, the man instantly named the source of the matter; he didn’t have a single doubt that his agents’ interrogation had produced reliable intel. “How impatient. Wit warned him not to act too hastily too.”
Marquis Donnersmarck was connected to Viscount Liplar: he was the conduit for the viscount’s illegal mining operation, after all. Had it been a simple iron or copper mine, or even a source of gems or stone, no fuss would be made. Alas, the Empire made it explicitly clear that all were duty bound to report the discovery of precious silver.
Silver was second only to gold in its value as liquid currency. Wanting greater control over the stability of the domestic economy and more resources for international trade, the state took matters regarding the sterling metal out of noble hands and into its own. Naturally, the owners of the mines saw a cut of the profits, but it amounted to less than a quarter of what they could expect if they settled the matter on their own terms.
Viscount Liplar had thought this to be a terrible waste. And so, instead of reporting the vein to the crown, he’d turned his silver mines into his own personal treasury.
However, distributing the goods in Rhine would draw the attention of financial commissioners with sharp eyes. To avoid their watchful gaze, the viscount’s business revolved around smithing products out of silver and smuggling them abroad to return absurdly high margins. Although Marquis Donnersmarck remained careful not to leave any trace of his involvement, he was perhaps the silver swindler’s greatest ally: he was the gateway to the outside world.
Having won so much wealth from their exchange, the methuselah found it a touch regrettable that the man would be hanged. When the viscount had come crying to him, pale as a sheet, the marquis had calmed him down by promising to sneak him out of the country should true danger rear its head. Alas, it seemed an unwritten oath hadn’t been enough to quell the fears bubbling in Viscount Liplar’s heart.
But while his illicit gains afforded him skilled assassins, the fool was far out of his depth.
For all the centuries under the marquis’s belt, Count Ubiorum was such a remarkable powerhouse that he knew a one-on-one fight between them would end in the magus’s outright victory. A handful of killers—and those who could be bought, no less—stood no chance. Even with an army hundreds of men strong, he suspected that stunning girl would wipe them away with a merry tune and a casual snap; it wasn’t even worth considering.
Ignorance truly was a terrifying thing. What else could possess a man to challenge a burly knight clad head to toe in armor, armed with nothing but a fork? If Viscount Liplar was going to be cowardly, then the caution to know his enemy’s true nature would have served him well.
“What an awful situation,” the marquis sighed. “Count Ubiorum has drawn quite the powerful card. Now the tables are truly against us; Wit suppose a—hmm, how best to put it... Let us say a less than elegant path forward is in order. Shall we have Viscount Liplar perform one last task?”
Lovingly petting the cooing pigeon, the marquis began to plot. He needed to soften the blow of Count Ubiorum’s next move, if for no other reason than to prevent uncertainty from stoking another idiot into actions that would obliterate his plans.
But in truth, this game had been unwinnable from the start. It was the equivalent of a bout of ehrengarde with an equally skilled opponent at eight-piece odds. Not even Marquis Donnersmarck could come out on top when his opponent had this great an advantage.
Of course, he’d meticulously set up his ploy so that even if all his pawns in the county were hanged and wrung dry for information, no lasting harm would come his way. But losing over a tenth of both his revenue and information network would sting harshly.
“Perhaps it is time for a wager,” he mused. “A job well done, Nakeisha. Wit shall send a replacement unit; remain on the scene until they arrive.”
“Are we withdrawing, sir?”
“Indeed. Wit have more important work for you. Rest easy and stand by in your best condition. You and your subordinates may go relax at a hot spring, if you’d like.”
After a short silence, the pigeon warbled, “As you will.”
Letting the bird go, the marquis picked up a bell and rang it. As he waited for a servant to bring him another pigeon, he sank into his machinations.
Now then, which of these units was closest to the Erftstadt barony?

Tprg5.8

Even in the melting pot that was the imperial capital, they were a rare breed—so much so that this was my first time ever meeting one. Much like arachne, their ancestral origins began near the Southern Sea, but had branched out all over the world; the key difference was that they fared poorly in colder climates, and thus most had settled into the warmer parts of the Empire. I wondered why someone like her was up so far north.
But of course, one look at her immaculate attire left no room for confusion. She was like me: an attendant, here to serve or protect her master here in the palace.
Still, even as someone who was used to dealing with all sorts of demihumans, I nearly yelped in terror. The surprise of seeing someone in a spot that no normal person ought to occupy had stacked on top of the striking impact of her appearance. I wasn’t going to deny that she was pretty, mind you. But the intimidation of a trunk several times larger than her upper body tapering off into an aggressive tail—I later learned they were just her final legs—beneath layers of skirtlike fabric was something else.
“Uh...” I made an ass of myself by freezing for a moment and following up with, “Good evening?”
I know, I know. But let me just ask this: Was there anything I could have said other than this?
“Good evening,” she replied. “A lovely night, isn’t it?”
She dropped down from the ceiling without a single sound, though a quiet slink would have fit perfectly. It was evident that she had clearly perceived me in spite of Ursula’s protection.
I wasn’t sure whether she was using some kind of magic or miracle, or whether she was a scout that was just that attentive. Either way, the important lesson was that I couldn’t let my guard down around her.
“Yes, well, I suppose it is a nice, peaceful night...but may I ask for which noble house you work? I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Seeing as we’d already exchanged greetings, I couldn’t exactly ignore her now. I sat upright on the sofa to address her properly, to which she responded by taking a seat in a chair, deftly wriggling her lower half around so that she sat at roughly the height a mensch would.
“You are correct. This is our first meeting, and I found myself a touch too absorbed in observing an unfamiliar face. I sincerely apologize for my rudeness.”
“No, you have my apologies for the unconcealed surprise. I am but a clumsy farmer’s boy, and I pray that you might have it in you to forgive me.”
“Then let’s say our misconduct was equal and leave it at that.” After a pause, she said, “I am a servant to Marquis Donnersmarck. He and I both should hope to get along with you. May I ask whoever it might be that you serve?”
The girl’s eloquent palatial speech took the structure of a servile variant, and her pronunciation was pitch perfect, but there was one thing that bothered me...
Her mouth wasn’t moving.
Ventriloquism was an art I’d seen even before reincarnating, but I didn’t understand why she was bothering to employ it. However, in spite of my misgivings, I pressed on and introduced myself while entertaining the possibility that a racial quirk necessitated it. With how far the conversation had progressed, I had no choice but to answer honestly; one question posed to someone who knew the truth was enough to peg me as Lady Agrippina’s attendant.
“I am Erich of Konigstuhl, servant to Count Agrippina von Ubiorum.”
“Ah... So you’re from House Ubiorum.”
The utter lack of a reaction hinted to me that she’d approached me knowing my identity from the outset. I felt less like I was being appraised and more like I was being hunted.
After exchanging another two or three rounds of small talk, the door to the room opened, and a palace servant announced Count Ubiorum’s intent to retire for the night. Only a select few individuals could employ communications magic on the premises, giving rise to physical messengers like these.
I glanced at the time and found that it had slipped away from me at a rapid pace. Solving the dilemma of how I would replace Child Prodigy had really bogged me down, it seemed—which then made me wonder: How long had she been watching me from the ceiling?
Thinking that I had no enemies here—or that they’d at least be unable to break the rules of the palace—I’d let myself get too comfortable. Permanent Battlefield was strong, but it wasn’t impervious; it would do to keep my master’s position in society in mind and carry myself accordingly. Even if I died because I lacked the strength to defend myself, I wanted to make sure I went out holding my sword at the ready. Being stabbed in the back was the most shameful way a swordsman could go out.
“If you’ll excuse me, my master is calling.”
“Of course. Apologies again for surprising you. May we meet again.”
Pulling myself together, I stood up and said my farewells, only for her poker face to waver for the first time since meeting. Her lips parted in a faint smile that let a tiny sliver of her mouth peek through, but what flashed through were not teeth...but mandibles, neatly tucked inside.
Ah, I see. She must have been trained to speak without exposing the intimidating presence of her jaw. It seemed likely that a noble might consider it inelegant to allow something so frightening to show.
Oh, this is bad. Things are looking bad, Lady Agrippina. I’d been marked by an obviously talented scout—nay, she better fit the image of an assassin. Our enemies were just raring to get this show on the road...

[Tips] Sepa are a demihuman race that come from the tropical areas near the Southern Sea. While they can be found all over the globe, their presence is a rarity in the North’s icy climate. Their most notable characteristic is their long, segmented trunks, which boast a great number of legs, enabling them to scurry about whether on flat ground or sheer bluffs.
Equipped with a second jaw—known as a mandible—protruding from the insides of their mouths, they can crack incredibly hard shells and carapaces to facilitate their omnivorous diets. Some subgroups can inject venom with this inner bite, which has led certain migrant groups within the Trialist Empire to develop a culture of hiding their fangs whenever possible.

A gorgeous pair moved rhythmically to an elegant melody in triple meter, drawing one another close; yet even in the face of their opposite’s beauty, the couple’s dance was merely the backdrop for their conversation.
“This year’s winter is a cold one indeed. The weather brings hope for a great bounty next spring.”
“Oh, is that so? I was unaware that harsh winters are prone to give way to ample harvests.”
“Yes, for the frigid cold that coats the earth kills a great deal of the vermin who burrow in its shallows. The lack of pests to pick away at produce allows for greater yields.”
At first glance, this was a joyous scene: the young lady, welcomed into noble spheres with red carpets but otherwise lacking in basic knowledge, was receiving a word of sagacious advice from an experienced lord. Alas, the reality of the situation was nothing more than a pair of liars groping for the other’s real intentions.
Agrippina was a voracious reader who powered through any book that came her way; pastoral writing had been a mainstay of her literary diet. The memoirs of career agriculturalists reflecting on their work had left her with more vocational knowledge than the average farmhand getting by without much thought.
On the other hand, Marquis Donnersmarck knew that drawing attention to what a talented actress the count proved to be would be uncouth. Not wanting to paint himself as the villain—it was clear whom the other gentlemen present would choose to defend between a handsome yet dubious man and a dazzlingly beautiful woman—he simply smiled and played along.
A private exchange might offer the opportunity to scope out flaws to be picked at, but they both wore cordial masks when in public. Although they were mutually aware that their attempts to feign innocence failed to work on one another, the need to keep up their airs with everyone else meant the show must go on.
“How lovely—you have me excited for the spring. A bountiful field of wheat cradled by the wind bobbing this way and that is such a wondrous sight.”
“The overflowing vitality of crops reaching up for the skies is a fantastic scene indeed, Agrippina. Wit have a villa back home with quite the view of the plains... What say you come to visit next summer to get away from the heat?”
The marquis wove in an invitation; it signaled their intimacy to those listening in and probed at her schedule without having to ask outright.
Agrippina could have sidestepped the question, escaping into the safety of ambiguity, but she didn’t. No, she deliberately chose to rock the boat; tidying up all her problems in one fell swoop was her key to good fortune. When tasked with waking the lethargic fools cluttering a bedroom, the best course of action was ever to pour cold water on everyone at once.
“My, thank you for the charming invitation. Unfortunately...I will be greatly busy come next spring, and it may prove rather difficult to take time off in the summer.”
The implication of something greater caused the man’s gentle brow to arc ever so slightly. Where most would have missed this cue, Agrippina took it as her opportunity to layer on an even more shocking reveal. Those within the Ubiorum county would find out soon enough anyway; she figured leaking this to him was the best way of stirring up the pot.
“His Majesty has given me strict orders to enrich the territory he has granted me. It won’t do to forgo a personal tour of the region, now will it? I’m sure that the local lords wouldn’t be pleased for an absentee ruler to dole out orders without any personal investment.”
Experienced in backroom dealings, the lady-killer reaffirmed his suspicions: taking her in as a subordinate was a pipe dream. Truth be told, the cleanest, cheapest method of laying claim to the Ubiorum county was to bring Agrippina into his sphere of influence—the odds of that were looking slimmer than ever.
Setting aside her monstrous and indomitable spirit, her proximity to the Emperor made it difficult to string her along with the prospect of profit. He had a loose read on her lack of passion for loyalty, meaning she had taken her position with full intent to use its privileges; it was obvious to see she was competent enough to do so.
But Agrippina wouldn’t be satisfied until she dropped an earth-shattering bomb.
Steeped in the pretext of dance, the pair were the life of the party. Naturally, their eavesdroppers were plentiful. There were no doubt a good number of people utilizing various tricks to duck under the palace’s antimagic field and snoop on their conversation; she made her statement as much for them as for the marquis.
“On top of that, I’ve been entrusted with the honor of being count thaumapalatine. I’m sure an official notice will be sent out soon, but the truth is, a practical demonstration of new aeroship-related technologies is slated to occur in the near future.”
“Oh? Are you sure my ears were meant to hear such news?”
“Many of the regular visitors to the palace are already in the know, and the imperial announcement is not so far off. I’m sure His Majesty would be more than happy to share with someone as neighborly as you, Marquis.”
In awe at just how sly the fox before him was, Gunther’s interest in the young methuselah swelled. He wanted her, and that desire showed no signs of simmering down. If only he could make this girl his own, the possibilities for the future would expand beyond the horizons; better yet, she would surely make these political games all the more entertaining.
“We’ve developed new techniques for surveying land that involve using the vessel’s elevation. By making use of mystic waves to accurately measure the distance from ship to ground, this advanced method will allow us to recalculate agricultural acreage to within a razor-thin margin of error, all from the comfort of the aeroship.”
“That is...quite the technology. An epiphany of the talented minds of the imperial topographical association, Wit take it. Put into practice, it will surely lead to great gains for the Empire at large.”
“You couldn’t be more right. The original idea came from the topographers, and I hear a group of capable Daybreak mathematicians turned it into reality. We hope to use the new arrangement to verify the lay of the lands and adjust any errors that might be present in current official records.”
This is bad. Though his expression remained static, the marquis was too deeply embedded in the wrongdoings of the Ubiorum county to remain calm. He was thankful that no one could see the cold sweat dripping down his back.
The protracted absence of any form of oversight save for the occasional imperial minister that could be led astray with a cut of the profits had reduced the territory’s revenue to a tragic state of affairs. Having been a key figure in creating this haven for tax evasion and corruption, receiving this bombshell at the worst possible time imaginable made Marquis Donnersmarck want to scream.
By the time Agrippina was sworn in in autumn, it had already been too late to fix the numbers: the tax reports she’d received were exactly as fraudulent as the taxes themselves. If she surveyed the land now, the jig would be up.
He couldn’t line the pockets of those working on the aeroship; having been the last Emperor’s pet project, the whole crew was staffed with unshakable imperial loyalists. And of course, destroying the ship was out of the question. There was no way to prevent her from reassessing the county’s arable acreage.
With the count herself involved in the mission, it would be impossible to hide his crimes. He doubted she’d be susceptible to the tricks of psychosorcery that he sometimes used to implant convenient memories in those that vexed him, as well.
As the marquis contemplated the many people who would be backed into corners by this move, the young lady drew herself closer, almost pressing her chest into his own.
Showy beyond words, her smile was so very articulate: Well? Checkmate is nearly at hand—whatever might be your next move?
The woman had been suddenly thrust into an impossible task but had turned it around, crafting a trap inescapable for anyone lacking even a single piece of the puzzle. The man’s avenues of reversal were limited—so limited that he would need to begin considering less than elegant solutions to his problems.
Knowing that the pawns he would need to sacrifice were many, Marquis Donnersmarck readied himself for battle with an unchanging smile. He, too, believed that checkmate was close.

[Tips] Aerial surveying is a cutting-edge process planned to be tested in the near future. Upon discovering that the aeroship is capable of maintaining a fixed altitude and position, imperial topographers surmised that it could be an effective way of making maps or measuring acreage, and immediately put in a request with their contacts at the College. By using magic to accurately measure distance and geometry to rearrange those numbers, they have effectively created a mystic variant of laser surveying.

After preparing the carriage, I went to pick up my employer, whom I found waiting for me alone. A more rabid socialite standing at the center of gossip might have made her triumphant return with a man or two in tow, but it seemed the audhumbla gentleman had unfortunately not been up to snuff.
That said, I was happy for him, personally. I didn’t want to see the promising future generations that would lead our country sucked into the petals of this carnivorous plant. If any of them dared lay a finger on this woman, the enticing hope of nectar would give way to a hell handmade to suck them dry. Her rise as a noble in her own right meant she would probably need to find a spouse before long, but it was going to be a spectacle to see which poor bastard got slam-dunked into the ring of misfortune.
I’d be free from this mess by then, though. That meant I would be able to enjoy the show safely from a seat in the audience.
But tonight, I played my role without a fuss and saw to the madam’s postbanquet arrangements once we reached the atelier. She caught me off guard by giving me a tip—a consolation for making me wait so long, she said—suggesting that tonight’s ball had been a troublesome ordeal. Curious, I asked what had happened, but was met with an answer that made me want to furrow my brow.
“Marquis Donnersmarck came by to disturb me tonight. It seems he still has yet to fold his hand, so I flaunted a rather distressing secret to see if he wanted to continue this farce. With how numerous his conspirators seem to be, I’m sure it’ll come with the added value of drawing out reactions from them too.”
Sure enough, the name of interest came up. I told her about what had happened in the servants’ room, and she rolled her eyes, undoing her hair with a snap. Then, she began listing off unfamiliar family names, bending a finger for each one.
“What exactly are these evidently prestigious names meant to be?” I asked.
“These are the lords of the Ubiorum county who I’ll eventually have relocated to more scenic positions.”
Wowzers, I almost said aloud, breaking every rule in the servant’s handbook. A “more scenic position” was a euphemism for the gallows; reworded, it was an assertion that “hanged, your neck makes for a picturesque scene.”
While I understood why my master was planning out a massacre—collective punishment wasn’t on the table, but many would certainly die, especially seeing as nobles didn’t fare well in vocational changes—I was totally fed up with the sheer volume of her enemies. They weren’t harmless twigs on the forest floor; they were wielders of power who kept detectives and assassins in their back pockets. Just thinking about what was to come made me depressed.
Even now, I hardly wanted for unsavory visitors trying to meddle in my affairs; rather, what I wanted was for them to all go away. We were due for an uptick in desperate rebels whose only alternative was execution or jumpy magistrates whose hopeless situations pushed them to rash action.
“Honestly, the circumstances of a new noble unaligned with a strong political faction are so tiresome. My only company are fools misjudging my worth and those trying to exploit my position—even I find this exhausting. And all this is doubly true as a count of the palace.”
Lady Agrippina’s lackadaisical complaints ran on as she dropped her coat on the floor, kicked off her shoes after they untied themselves, and loosened up her dress. After degrading her fabulous party wear to a disheveled mess, she fell onto the sofa, pulled out her beloved pipe, and curled her lips into a wicked grin.
“But fair is fair. I shall use the cards I’ve been dealt to the fullest degree. The authority that comes with the credentials of a Great Pillar and the Emperor is no affectation. Not only have I wrung out plenty of funding, but I even managed to expedite a new technology slated for next year to be completed now.”
Man, did she look evil. I hadn’t seen her this devilish since the day she’d recognized Elisa as a changeling and invited us to join her. That smile was enough to bring a child to tears.
“Mmkay,” she hummed. “Run along and prepare my bath—ah, and I’m feeling like rose petals today. As for the scented oils...well, I shall leave it to you.”
“As you will, my liege.”
“Oh, and feel free to complete this any time before you leave tonight, but I’d like you to pen letters to all the names on this list. You’re aware of the reason I’m leaving this to you, I’m sure?”
“As an insurance policy to plausibly deny any official commitments on your part—yes, I’m very much aware. You know I haven’t written any concrete names andthat I take express care to diverge from your usual handwriting, yes?”
The madam simply puffed a cloud of smoke my way, and I lost any will to argue. Look, if this monster was going to make an effort, then things would probably work out. A lowly kid like me had no business worrying about whatever the hell she had in store.

[Tips] Ghostwritten letters are the product of busy masters entrusting the task of correspondence to their hired help. However, they come with the added benefit of being able to deflect any demands that the statements within be honored by the simple question, “Do you have any proof that I wrote this?” making them a useful tool in wrongdoing.
More official letters will include both a note apologizing for not penning the words personally and a seal to authenticate the contents within. However, even then, the writer will take great care to omit any evidence that might be able to prove the letter’s origins.

Tprg5.7

Politics
Systems of politics are indispensable when the main cast assume the positions of important kings or generals. Actions may include listening to the demands of the people, snooping around enemy states, or quelling domestic tensions. In systems like these, the players must determine who their enemy is before engaging in a climactic conclusion, lest their swords fall upon a mistaken target.
If you leave a person on the brink of death for long enough, they’ll get used to living that way.
I’d absorbed that particular lesson in my past life from an old university classmate who’d gone on to work for a pretty terrible company. We’d gone out for drinks every now and again, and every time I’d wondered how he managed to get by waking up at five in the morning and taking the last train home every day without any notion of weekends or holidays.
Where I normally just consoled him and listened to his grievances, one night, we decided to hit up a second bar. After half a bottle of whiskey each, my tongue slipped, and I asked the question: “If things are so bad, why don’t you leave?”
I didn’t want to come off as boastful, but having been classmates, I knew his education and background were solid; on top of that, his commitment to this awful company meant his work history looked clean as well. Among our other close college-era friends were attorneys who’d survived law school, certified tax accountants, and licensed social-insurance consultants. With strong connections on both legal and financial fronts, it seemed likely that he could sue and win compensation for all the wrongful overtime they’d wrung out of him.
He’d known this just as well as I had, but his answer had caught me off guard.
“If you toss a frog in a boiling pot, I think it’ll know it’s gonna die... But even then, I don’t think it can bring itself to make the effort to run. Who knows? Maybe whatever’s beyond the water’s just as bad, or worse.”
I could no longer remember his name, but the feeble sight of his head slumped down on the edge of the bar curiously stuck with me in vivid detail. The bitterness of the memory outstripped any liquor—but enough of that. I had my own godsawful job that I’d gotten used to.
At this point, a mountain of letters was fodder for my Independent Processing; my colleagues—that is, the government mediators sent to help with the madam’s affairs—who had initially eyed me wondering who let a kid into the room now welcomed me when we worked together.
It seemed that people were hardwired to feel some level of sympathy when they witnessed a literal child earnestly working with bags under his eyes. A little bit of intrigue sufficed to uncover the villainy of many of my employer’s enemies, and I had to admit it got to me a bit when swindlers as immoral as them pitied me enough to give me candy.
But my SAN points were oiling the machine nicely. Despite being surrounded by conspirators, pawning off what work I could assign to them still lightened my load. In fact, entrusting them with the madam’s business lulled them into thinking they’d somehow earned our trust; by inviting them to be bolder in their plots, I streamlined the process of catching them later.
This process, put to use over the waning autumn months, had allowed me to all but finish labeling the actors at large in the Ubiorum domain. The broad strokes were that half of them were pretending to be loyal; twenty percent were clearly conspiring with outside powers but had kept their crimes small enough to remain beneath notice; another twenty percent were decent folk putting in their honest share to keep their territories afloat; and the last tenth were loyal vassals of the crown who swore fealty to the greater Empire as opposed to the old masters of the county.
Did I wander into hell?
You have no idea how abhorrent the tax reports we’d received had been. From the looks of things, news that the crown was going to relinquish the region and hand the reins to a new Count Ubiorum had come as just as much of a surprise to its residents as to everyone else. While there had been traces of an attempt to piece together something presentable, the final product had drawn out a peculiar groan from me, perhaps best rendered as, “Ughab?”
The lack of oversight in imperially protected territories and the subsequent laxity of those who exploited it was blatantly apparent. My relationship with economics only went as far as a midlevel Bookkeeping Certificate I’d earned as part of a college course, and even I could find clear falsehoods at every turn.
Liquid tax and population failed to match up as a matter of course, and the story wasn’t any better when the reported earnings were compared to agricultural acreage. After crunching the numbers, I came across several cantons where I wanted to grab the local lords’ collars and ask if they’d somehow managed to let every single one of their residents starve while no one was looking.
Until now, it seemed as though they’d slipped under the radar by fudging the overall numbers and lining the pockets of the bureaucrats sent to hold them accountable. Unfortunately for them, the new count’s financial advisory team reported directly to her—after all, the only two members were Chief Agrippina and Lackey Erich—rendering their trickery useless.
Had this been an empire-building simulation game, we could have immediately cut off our ties and their heads to replace the corrupt magistrates with new ones. The problem with that plan here was that we lacked an infinite gacha that turned money into lords; dispatching new rulers was too much of a hassle to start lopping off heads as we pleased.
As an aside, I think the severity of the issue can be made most apparent by stating that Lady Agrippina, a woman who’d anticipated next to nothing from her new territory, had furrowed her brow at the report.
This was a perfect example of the depths of depravity people could sink to without a watchful eye to stop them. Even a haphazard recalculation of projected earnings proved that the count should have been due at least double the actual sum. I could still muster a dry chuckle because I was just a retainer, but this wouldn’t have been a laughing matter had I been the one in charge. Lady Agrippina’s job was to turn this mess around and bolster the nation’s bottom line; the road ahead was long.
Realistically, her best bet was to hang a few of them to prove she wasn’t messing around. From there, she could whip the unmotivated into shape and replace those truly rotten with new blood. Removing too many troublemakers at once was liable to incite a revolt that would plunge the region into chaos; she would need to take her time and slowly put her people into place.
If all went well, I imagined it would take her, say...a quarter of a century? In mortal terms, that was an entire generation spent just turning a negative into zero; the futility of it all would make anyone bound by a life span lose heart. A business in this situation would just scrap the company and try again elsewhere.
So long as Lady Agrippina cast her lot with the Empire, she would be forced to deal with this hotbed of strife forever. As much as I could sympathize with her suffering, it wasn’t as if my suffering were any less real.
“Are you ready yet?”
“Give me one more moment, please!”
I answered the madam’s lifeless attempt to rush me from outside the room and looked in the mirror to check over my appearance. Despite his deathly expression, the boy staring back at me was dressed in the best money could buy.
Today’s outfit was a black pourpoint. I hid my neck with an ascot tie in lieu of the more fashionable ruff making the rounds these days, and had generally put myself together in outdated styles to emphasize my lower standing. Though nobles liked to dress up their hired help, maintaining at least a one-trend lag in terms of dress remained standard.
“Okay, clothes are good...”
Nothing was wrinkled, my collar was set, and the fabric was clean from tip to toe. I left no room for critique; none could fault me for coming short of the picture-perfect servant.
Now, you may be wondering why I was proactively stuffing myself into one of Lady Leizniz’s gifts, and the answer was simple: work. Obviously, I’d never choose such an overstated fit of my own volition. My preference was simple shirts and pants with enough slack to move around in, particularly with pockets to conceal smaller tools, and comfort while unsheathing my sword in a fluid motion was icing on top. Alas, I couldn’t exactly accompany the madam into the imperial palace looking like that, so I dredged up one of the finer sets of threads I did my best to keep hidden.
After confirming my attire was in order, I moved on to my face. I wasn’t going to nitpick about the structure of my bones or whatever, but I’d made an effort not to look bad. Permanent bags had formed under my eyes, so I’d concealed them with a touch of powder; I resisted the natural outbreak of acne at my age every day with a carefully tailored diet. I’d even taken care not to allow any grime to turn into blackheads.
All right. Having taken a bath yesterday to scrub down whatever might remain on my face, I was looking as ready as could be. The final touch was to comb through my hair, applying a light coat of oil and tying it together near my neck. My bangs were manageable on account of regular trimming, so I swept them to the side and hooked the excess over my ear. Today’s do was a simple one; I didn’t have anything against the northern method of weaving together a bunch of separate braids, but that would take too long for my current schedule.
Despite being at the point where I wanted to cut off at least some of it, my recent attempt to do so had produced a fey protest—featuring alfar I’d never seen before, to boot—so I’d given up. I’d started growing it to earn their favor; it tracked to see that mission through until the end.
Well, if nothing else, I supposed that it was nice to be able to wrap a tuft of hair around the side of my neck in this cold weather. Besides, it was stronger than it looked, and bundled up like this, it served as a bit of protection: I’d heard once that ancient warriors had grown out their manes as a last resort to dull enemy blades.
I did a final pass in the mirror, making sure to check my backside as well. No bedhead, no frayed edges, no shirt sticking out from my slacks—I was relieved to see that I wouldn’t be mocked as unfit to trail behind my master in high society.
“What do you think, Elisa?”
“You look as wonderful as ever, Dear Brother.”
And lastly, I made sure to get a second opinion. The madam’s recent uptick in outings meant I’d begun to leave my dress clothes in a new wardrobe, here in Elisa’s room. While the capital’s roads were mostly paved, there was always the risk of dirt or mud stuck to someone’s horses flicking off in the streets. Getting changed here was the safest bet, and it meant I could return to the atelier to answer an emergency summons without needing to go home and prepare.
As a result, I’d been intruding on Elisa’s massive bed—the one Lady Leizniz had given her, with a canopy and everything—a lot lately, but I needed the sleep, so I asked that she put up with it.
But if I never went home at all, the Ashen Fraulein would sulk. It was getting difficult to fulfill my dual duties as a servant and as an individual: every problem solved teed up a new one elsewhere. I knew this was just the way of the world, but man, did I wish I had a cheat code for it.
Well, worries aside, I had work to do.
“You’re late.”
“My apologies.”
Heading into the workshop proper, I found Lady Agrippina dolled up to breathtaking levels—assuming the hypothetical observer didn’t know her character. She wore an ashen-white gown that accentuated the fairer tone of her skin, and the deep cut into her chest bared as much of it as possible. Counterintuitively, though, the design gave off a certain modesty; her long, flowing hair, gracefully set, paired with it to round off a thoroughly seductive impression.
I’d never seen her wear this sort of style before; perhaps it was indicative of an attempt to further refine her fashion sense. I supposed it only made sense: the grand ball being held in the imperial palace tonight was an occasion fit for the infamous Count Thaumapalatine Ubiorum to take center stage.
Lady Agrippina had already morphed into the main character of domestic politics, so maybe this was her attempt to branch out as the main character of an otome game. Frankly, my employer was the polar opposite of a wide-eyed, innocent heroine, better fit to play the part of a haughty villainess; though I supposed the kind of scoundrel who could fend off the protagonist and her romantic interests all by herself had no business being the antagonist. How in the world was anyone expected to beat her for a happily ever after?
“Make sure not to forget your arms.”
“I am aware, madam.”
I couldn’t help but remain curious whether she’d amass an army of handsome men as her harem or as her opponents in battle, but I chased away the delusions to the back of my mind and slung the tool of the trade around my hip—I was a retainer and bodyguard, after all.
That’s right, I was now Lady Agrippina’s bodyguard. Here was an elite enemy that begged all manner of miracle to fell, and she needed a security detail, at least on the surface. Apparently not wanting to clue her adversaries in to her tremendous might, she refused to call for knights from home and added yet another set of responsibilities to my name with a casual, “You alone will do, won’t you?”
Isn’t that funny? You know, an ordinary count was supposed to be accompanied by a squadron of guards at any given time, but maybe I was misremembering.
At any rate, Lady Leizniz had gone out of her way to gift me a new scabbard—though one a bit too much form over function for my tastes—which I slipped onto my belt, Schutzwolfe and all. To digress for a moment, she’d also offered to prepare a more chic weapon for me despite looking worse for wear than usual, to which I had to politely refuse.
Utility aside, I didn’t want to be saddled with a rapier built aesthetics-first. Not only did it clash with my personal tastes, but my Hybrid Sword Arts training emphasized rough play involving the handle and handguard, and even extended to half swording. If I ever actually had to fulfill my role as a bodyguard, it would be much easier with a familiar weapon than an unfamiliar one; stabbing weapons had separate add-ons from one-handed swords, and my munchkin heart ached at the thought of throttling my damage potential.
“All right,” she said. “Shall we?”
The madam pushed up her hair without a word and I dutifully laid a fluffy white fur coat over her shoulders. Evening gowns were hardly enough to stay warm in winter. While magia like her could shrug off the weather with a barrier, it wouldn’t do to look cold wandering around without outerwear.
As such, I wrapped myself in a mantle of my own, produced as always by Lady Leizniz. The cloth draped only over my left side: it both toned down the threatening nature of the sword hidden underneath and protected my heart. Mystic embroidery lined the inside with enchantments resisting blades, impact, and changes in temperature to make for a wonderful final product. The idiosyncrasies in the formulae evoked memories of the days when the dean had occasionally tutored me in magic; it seemed she’d prepared this for me with her own two hands.
As embarrassing as this design was to wear, I couldn’t get over the practicality of its features and had ultimately failed to refuse it.
“I wish you a safe journey, Master.”
“Mm. Well, I shall return before sunrise if I can. Don’t forget your homework in my absence.”
Elisa saw us off and we put the atelier behind us. That I felt a tinge of loneliness from her willingness to let us go proved that I really was a hopeless doter of a brother.
But even more curious than that was the sensation of carrying a sword on the streets of the city—I still couldn’t get used to it. I steered Castor and Polydeukes over the bridge to the palace from the driver’s seat of the cab. Krahenschanze’s position as one of the four castles guarding the palace made the ride here a short one, but the sensation of being armed really made me feel out of place on days where I had to walk around town. My personal stature had remained the same, and yet the dizzying changes of those in my proximity threatened to disorient me entirely.
The imperial palace knew not of my troubles, and its heavenly white walls rejected the darkness of night as gloriously as ever. Countless spires pierced the skies, the torches within bleeding out from the terraces. The maniacal attention to detail required to ensure the building would maintain its majesty from any angle was such a ludicrous display of artistry that it overwhelmed my critical eye for beauty and left me drooling with a “Duhhh... Pretty.”
Come to think of it, regularly coming and going from the palace was an unbelievable thing as an imperial citizen.
I stopped the carriage by the front parking lot beside countless other fabulous vehicles, helped Lady Agrippina get down, and followed her inside. The guards took one look at our cab’s insignia—the Ubiorum crest of a dual-headed eagle holding a sword and scepter—and let us through. Apparently, the marking had an identification spell woven into it, allowing persons of importance to pass through without hassle.
The main hall was reminiscent of the throne room in that it was lined with spoils of war taken from defeated enemy nations in service of the Empire’s historical grandeur. No matter how many times I saw this imposing scene, the overpowering majesty of it all continued to intimidate me.
Not only had magic been used to artificially expand the ceiling to bewildering heights, but every pillar, every article of furniture, and every inch of the ceiling had been covered in ornate designs. Yet strangely enough, the masterful architects had managed to stop just short of the gaudiness seen in nouveau-riche displays of wealth.
Upon seeing my master to the palace’s waiting room, my job was finished. From here, she would be accompanied by a fellow aristocrat into whatever meeting room or banquet hall the gathering was to be held in.
The Trialist Empire preferred for its nobles to be joined by an escort for formal occasions: the married were brought by their partners as a rule of thumb, and those unwed most often opted for family or friends of equal rank, or superiors with whom they were well acquainted. Seeing as Rhine wasn’t an absolute patriarchy, the tradition could be traced back to the early ages of the Empire, where an introduction from a colleague was proof that one wasn’t a complete outsider.
In those days, the country had still been a coalition of several distinct states, and every gathering was sure to include people completely unacquainted with one another. When suspicions of foreign ties could snowball into accusations of espionage, the tacit declaration that one was here in the good graces of a respected peer had been important enough to live on to the present day.
This custom meant that the palatial waiting room was a popular place to convene for pairs wanting to adhere to the rules of etiquette. Among its users were people averse to the thought of being picked up directly from home, but others like Lady Agrippina simply resided too close for a more personal rendezvous point to make any sense.
Having seen my master off, I started for the servants’ holding room, only to see her pop right back out of the room with an escort in hand. He was a young audhumbla of imposing size and striking vigor; the stability of his gait betrayed a military background as opposed to a bureaucratic one.
The man’s clothing was first rate—I was an expert at judging ensembles at a glance at this point—pointing to remarkable wealth. Still, his outfit was coordinated not to step on the toes of those who might outrank him; he was probably the eldest son of a wealthy, say, baron or thereabouts. Given the confidence he carried himself with, I saw him as a man of considerable pride.
Alas, the poor fellow’s enthusiasm made it clear his intentions with Lady Agrippina were serious. I pitied him: he hadn’t realized that none of the men who’d escorted her thus far had ever been called back for a second opportunity.
On every occasion where the madam visited the palace, she employed a new partner as company. The first had been a sleazy mensch who typified the word “playboy,” and the next had been a methuselah handsome enough to make me envious. Other notable choices included a goblin who’d looked like a child next to her and a siren whose avian heritage had confused me. If my assumptions were correct, this was her way of avoiding any pesky bonds from forming—a move taken straight from the playbook of an experienced hustler at a hostess bar.
As she left the scene, my master glanced my way and flashed me a wicked grin. I saw her off once more and then quickly made my way over to the holding room, making sure to whisper a request to the unwilted rose hidden in my palm as I slipped inside.
The privileged sphere had been a sight to see, but this was quite the exhibit itself: I felt like I’d wandered into a museum of pretty boys and girls. Despite its moniker, the servants’ section was every bit as spacious as the upper crust’s waiting room, and it was crawling with beauty of every form—to the point where I felt awkward placing myself among them.
The wealthy were ever prone to employing winsome people. I wasn’t aware of any particular historical impetus for this cultural tendency, but I suspected the simple answer of human nature sufficed to explain in this case. After all, I’d heard of some who went so far as to retain generation after generation of attractive vassals to cultivate whole clans of thoroughbred servants.
I made my way to the corner of what was basically a full-fledged salon and took a seat on a sofa, contenting myself to hide away with Ursula’s protection as I waited for the madam to be done. The butlers and maids waiting here passed the time in insulated groups, proving the solidity of factional bonds even in this lower caste of high society.
These sorts of connections were probably of great importance: vital political information could very well come from lowly lips. However, I had no mind to familiarize myself with any of them, nor did I want them to come to me.
My master had explicitly warned me not to get too friendly, you see. I had no doubt this was an effort to bolster the legitimacy of her fake persona. Agreeable nobles would see my isolation and take pity, offering to introduce the madam to attendants who would one day take my place; those who were less charitable might have their prejudices about the ignorant foreign lady reinforced.
For my part, I was very grateful for her consideration. By this time next year, I was likely to be leaving this job in the dust.
Around the time of assuming her title as count thaumapalatine, Lady Agrippina had expanded Elisa’s curriculum to formal magical theory. My sister’s recent command of manners had convinced the madam that she had mastered the basics.
Although Elisa had been instructed in simple mana sinks for quite some time, she was beginning to explore more technical knowledge about the construction of spells and cantrips that went right over my head. The arcane talent afforded to me by my blessing was fundamentally an intuitive process; what she was learning was forged in reason and cast in logic. I could theoretically come to understand the material if I invested more experience into magecraft, but the depths of knowledge she was marching into were uncharted territory.
To clarify the chasm between us, I was like a driver who’d passed a normal driving exam, and Elisa was learning the machine’s workings from the inside out. She had to know how every part worked, how they came together, and the techniques a driver could use to affect them, and at the end of it all, she would eventually race in a circuit against other experts to come out on top.
Seeing as my employment would end with Elisa’s enrollment, I had no need to involve myself in political games. In fact, the madam had made an offhand comment that I was probably best off doing everything in my power to avoid them; I was more than happy to oblige.
While I’d already made a few ties with the government agents involved in the Ubiorum succession, they were flimsy enough to cut by never seeing them again. I’d been as happy as I was astounded Lady Agrippina was looking out for me: I didn’t want to catch too many eyes and have to weasel my way out of a job offer I couldn’t refuse after retiring as her retainer. Of course, when I’d let my surprise show on my face, she yanked my ear with an Unseen Hand, but that had proven to be a good memory in hindsight.
Alas, there wasn’t much I could do if someone had already set their sights on me.
At the turn of the season, I’d heeded my master’s advice and invested in an V: Adept Sympathetic Barrier, and I felt something snag on it. Someone had managed to flag me down in spite of my fey guardian and was engaging in a bout of mischief.
Ursula had been lazing about underneath my mantle, but got up with a pout as soon as she noticed. I knew she wasn’t giving it her all for this everyday request, but the svartalf seemed miffed at the thought that someone had challenged her ability to conceal.
Well, I guessed being targeted was a matter of course. My master was the infamous count palatine that the Emperor had welcomed with flourish and fanfare, appearing out of the blue from a foreign land to win Collegiate professorship with a cutting-edge thesis. No method of gathering intel was off the table, and a seemingly inexperienced servant boy made for a particularly juicy target.
Woe was me. I’d steeled myself to be swept up in the madam’s dealings, of course, but how brazenly she’d used me as a decoy highlighted just how miserable my state of employment was.
Then again, mental attacks were far more gentlemanly than being ganked in a dark alleyway, so I supposed I could let it slide. I’d received a rather passionate invitation the other day, you see: I’d been leisurely making my way home from the market when someone suddenly tried to pull me into the backstreets.
I ask that you infer the fate of the culprits by my quietly sitting here in good health.
Hey, come on, I hadn’t killed them. They might struggle in work or daily life henceforth, but I’d let them off with all four limbs still attached; as far as I was concerned, they’d paid their dues with a bit of experience.
To begin with, jumping a literal child with a crew of six grown men was outright immature. I know I was Lady Agrippina’s only servant and all, but it wasn’t like I had any dirt on the woman, anyway. The closest I came was my knowledge that her stunning looks were a gilded veneer hiding a core of concentrated indolence, that she forwent the act of dressing herself when lazing about her abode, and that even when she did wear something, it was often a nightgown that she brazenly let a tit or two spill out of.
Er, actually, that was pretty terrible. My old world had seen slovenly beauty expanded into a popular character archetype, but the people of this world would genuinely recoil with disgust if the truth got out.
While thinking through all this, I’d been ready for a follow-up offensive at any moment...but it never came. I couldn’t sense any approaching shadows or uninvited stares with my Presence Detection; it looked like whoever the offender had been wasn’t keen on repeating their impoliteness.
I whispered to the puffy-cheeked alf, asking her to mask me again with a little more strength. Crossing my legs again, I rested my weight on the armrest. If they weren’t going to bother me further, I would simply kill time with my hobby. Armed with an unexpected payday, I summoned my character sheet to dive into the realm of possibility.
To be perfectly honest, I had a serious issue to tackle: the clock was ticking, and the trait that enabled my whole build was due for recall—my time as a Child Prodigy was almost up.

[Tips] Escorts in the imperial sense traditionally offer their left hand to the escortee, who reciprocates by lightly putting weight on them as the pair walks together. There is no expectation that men are always to be the escort, and indeed, the inverse is often true.
This is an extension of the imperial hesitance to refer to a lady at the helm of a noble house as Countess Such-and-Such as opposed to Count Such-and-Such, or Duchess So-and-So as opposed to Duke So-and-So. Positions within the social hierarchy supersede gender in Rhine.

Toxins concealed by smiles and daggers carried on the softest words painted a gorgeous scene if one looked no further than the surface. Youths unacquainted with the ways of the world aspired to stand at the center of these upper-stratum parties; beggars aching in the throes of poverty were taken by murderous rage at the luxuries fit to feed them for years.
Yet those who knew the truth felt no such appeal. How astonished the uninitiated would be to find that the shimmering decorations of high society did little to allay the thick acid smog that dominated its atmosphere, only permitting abominations resilient enough to swim the murky waters of a heavy-metal ocean to remain.
“This is merely a personal opinion, but I have some difficulty agreeing fully with the new Emperor’s intended course. While I agree that the reorganization of our forces would be most efficient with an accompanying policy of demilitarization...”
A handsome audhumbla navigated a trending topic, making sure to emphasize his military expertise and come across as a capable man. The tragedy of the scene was perhaps at its clearest when observing the stunning woman listening to him: though she made her attraction known without reservation, his opinions failed to draw out even an ounce of interest.
After arriving at the evening ball, Agrippina had given her partner for the night no more than a fraction of her attention at any time. She was beautiful, favored by His Imperial Majesty, and perfectly poised to alter national history as count thaumapalatine; the young man was desperate in his attempt to woo her. Alas, his sincerest attempt came short of arousing her curiosity.
This wasn’t to say that the man was a trivial nobody that Agrippina could afford to neglect entirely. He was the heir to a powerful barony that boasted marital links to an electorate house, and despite his youth, had made a heroic name for himself by putting down ne’er-do-wells in the east. The words that came out of his mouth carried the scent of intelligence: even his criticism of the Emperor was reasonable—if a bit loudly spoken—and could be considered correct from a purely militaristic perspective.
While methuselah ideals of beauty tended to fall in line with mensch standards, it was clear enough for Agrippina to see that the ungulate ladies in attendance were glaring her way with great envy; he must have been quite the looker as well.
Yet none of that mattered. Frankly, he was nothing more to her than a ticket to take part in tonight’s event without incident.
Agrippina had concealed her everyday misanthropy expertly of late. She wove into tea parties and out of ballrooms, riding the waves of the upper crust in a bid for information; as she picked out friend from foe, she took great pains to collect new allies wherever she could. As such, the count could not afford to break the rules of conduct. Every outing called for a partner worthy of accompanying her, and she selected based solely on those criteria.
In this narrow way, the audhumbla gentleman was the perfect escort. He was sufficiently accomplished in war—that is, enough not to be looked down on by their peers—came from a reputable house, was attractive enough to deny that she’d only chosen him for his stature, and had promising prospects for the future.
For now, Agrippina would keep him close, but at arm’s length. She would call upon him again after some time had passed to maintain interest, and he was respectable enough that she might even pull him into her orbit in the long term. But at present, there were more important matters to attend to.
A bespoke divination piped the clamorous conversations that filled the room into her ear, sifting through the rough to uncover diamonds of gossip. The nifty little tools that she employed to slip past the palace’s antithaumaturgic barrier from the inside had been quite the undertaking to procure, but that was proof of how valuable the intel to be gained here was.
Agrippina was keenly aware of her place in the public eye: show up, and she would become the center of conversation. She was bait and hook in one, teasing out fragmented rumors from every corner of the crowd to piece together a greater collage of consensus—meaningless alone, each morsel of information added to the panorama.
For example, a group of wives had taken their place in the corner of the hall; one of them watched Agrippina merrily chat with the young officer and smiled. Though it lasted for but an instant, it was decidedly not a friendly look: the curled corners of her lips had been a sneer to ridicule the newly ennobled count. Beside her, the other women in her entourage put on a show of chastising her. Yet in truth, they, too, were enjoying the mockery.
At a glance, this was an ordinary scene of a group putting down a notorious character out of their reach in the name of self-satisfaction. However, a closer inspection of their identities was key to navigating the tides of the upper crust.
That wasn’t to say Agrippina was keeping a book of names of all those who’d laughed at her. Her sole objective in diving into the intricacies of interpersonal politics was to gather the requisite intelligence to bring down her juiciest marks.
On a personal level, she couldn’t have cared less what they had to say. As much as she couldn’t stand being underestimated by someone she considered her equal, being used to prop up an inferior person’s pride was a different matter—it was less insulting and more pitiful. Glaring back was the act of a charlatan with too much time on her hands; the methuselah was content to let them be and scoff inside at how base they proved to be.
“Ah,” the audhumbla said, “it seems the music has begun.”
“Indeed it has. I wonder what band has been called to play tonight.”
In the blink of an eye, the musicians had switched from quiet background music to an upbeat tune. Thus far the pieces played had been nothing more than white noise to drown out the murmur of the crowd, but this melody invigorated the young ladies and gentlemen present to take to the dance floor.
These sorts of dance songs were thrown in at regular intervals throughout the night, and it was up to the participants to choose whether they wished to dance. But of course, a young man hardly wished to give up the opportunity to take the hand of a woman so lovely.
“What do you say, Count Ubiorum? Will you please have this... Hrm.”
As the audhumbla reached out to invite the dazzling methuselah to join him, he noticed a little dot crawling on the white of her dress. The offender was a simple ladybug, incomparably beneath him, but the audacity it displayed by desecrating a maiden’s body soured his mood. He smoothly reached to flick it away, when a set of slender fingers gently came to stop his own muscled hand.
“Count Ubiorum?”
“An insect’s life is just as precious as our own. The poor thing’s only crime was to wander here unaware; don’t you think it would be sad to crush it for so little?”
“Oh, well, of course.”
“And now that I see it more closely, it’s rather cute. Don’t you agree?” Fair and delicate, Agrippina’s hand offered the ladybug a pathway; the tiny critter quietly crawled on, made its way to the apex of her fingers, and flew away. With a giggle, she added, “It seems we’ve managed to do the world a little good tonight.”
“No, Count Ubiorum, the good done is all yours. I’m sure that ladybug will remember this debt and return to you in some form or another to repay it.”
“My, a reference to the old fairy tale, I take it? How wonderfully nostalgic.”
The innocent smile of a maiden too kind to diminish the weight of an insect’s life cleansed the warrior’s heart, mending scars it had endured being buffeted by the harsh sands of the battlefield. Utterly taken by her apparent sweetness, the audhumbla once again requested a dance, and she graciously accepted.
It was for the best that he didn’t know the truth.
The insignificant beetle he’d just let escape was, in fact, the count’s new toy—one she’d brazenly pestered the Emperor to “loan” her. They were arcane life-forms expressly bred for covert reconnaissance.
These ladybugs were familiars that acted in swarms, and despite their inability to carry complex formulae suited for combat or assassination, they came with one unique renovation. Each individual unit was no different from a natural ladybug, save for its ability to share mystic codes with its master through physical touch; this delivery method leaked zero mana, allowing it to operate in antimagic fields and duck under search spells. More tangibly, their mission was to take the place of eavesdropping magic, instead recording all the sounds they took in and delivering the data to their master at regular intervals.
In a stroke of misfortune, this particular unit had been found by Agrippina’s escort when it came back to report.
Thankfully, the ingenuity of this design was that discovery posed no problems. Aristocrats who encountered a bug were more than likely to avert their eyes or, at most, blow it away with a fan. The only people who’d bother smooshing one were men who felt socially obligated to do so; no one wanted to ruin their handcrafted silk gloves over a mere insect.
They were the perfect spies for the occasion. Minor details—like how ladybugs were known to hide away from the winter weather, making it perfectly natural to see one indoors—proved that their inventor had been a talented intellectual who’d risen to power via skill and not on his family name.
Agrippina put the unfading fruits of her childhood dance lessons to use, whisking the warrior away to a dreamy land of fancy. She had the men looking on weak at the knees, and the women by their sides puffing in frustration; by the end of her stellar performance, she gracefully bowed to the audience.
The next piece started right away. Wanting to relive the euphoria, the young man tried to invite his partner to continue—alas, another man had come to ruin his day. The intruder did not bother reading the room, but it didn’t matter, as he was too eminent for anyone to rebuke him for a breach of etiquette. The audhumbla had no choice but to stand down.
“What a coincidence to see you, Agrippina. To think you’d be at tonight’s ball.”
“My, Marquis Donnersmarck!”
Clad in the finest threads and entering the scene with a comically cheerful smile was one Marquis Donnersmarck. He was wearing this winter’s new hotness: ethnic garb of the desert dwellers that resided along the Eastern Passage. Woven in silk and dandified for imperial tastes, the fusion of foreign and domestic fashion fit him well.
Shrinking at the appearance of a social superior, the audhumbla merely asked, “Are you two close?”
Unfortunately so, Agrippina wished to reply. But of course, one wouldn’t know it from how merrily she celebrated the occasion of meeting a friend as good as Marquis Donnersmarck.

[Tips] Antithaumaturgic barriers impede the use of magecraft within their active range. Their permanent fixture in the imperial palace is the pride of the School of Polar Night. Their work counters nearly all magic, hindering outside attempts at assassination, spying, and wanton violence.
However, many nobles regularly carry mystic items on their person; as a result, most implementations simply prevent formulae from affecting the environment beyond their containers. This is also an artifact of how many arcane tools are used to repair the palace and run the Empire.

I had many traits that were critical for my build, but Child Prodigy was far and away the most important.
To speak broadly, skills and equipment that came with experience modifiers were fairly commonplace in modern video games. The foundation of this design philosophy lay in the framework of fighting enemies of constantly rising levels by perennially staying one step ahead: it was the muscle-headed idea that challenges could be bulldozed through with raw numerical power. Saving time on the grinding aspect of an RPG allowed the player to let their level do the talking, and by my estimate, it was a strategy that most people had tried at some point or another.
However, tabletop games were different: abilities that bumped up experience gain or shrank the cost of leveling were next to nonexistent. When level-boosting skills did show up, they primarily made random stat gains trend toward higher values or added a flat bonus to support growth. There was an unwritten rule at play that dictated that the entire party was to develop at the same pace.
This went without saying, but unlike video games, the mechanics of a TRPG were carried out by warm-blooded—though you might not want to believe it with how coldhearted some of them were—GMs and players. The inherent cooperation required begat a desire for fair play.
Exceptions did exist—important PCs could be propped up on stilts for lore-related reasons—but ultimately, the growth of each character was tuned to be roughly equal with that of their peers. Otherwise, the balance of the scenario was at risk of upheaval, each encounter being fodder for the strongest member of the party to solve on their lonesome. It was precisely to avoid this issue that we drafted our avatars together, played through the story as a group, and generally lacked the option to augment our experience gain.
Of course, that begged the question: What was the deal with my Child Prodigy trait? Personally, I believed it was a bit of flavor to round out the setting. If there were two characters of the same level but far apart in age, a player might ask why an old man only had the same amount of experience as a child—was he just that incompetent? Its existence seemed like an excuse, deliberately inserted to dodge such accusations.
And that was probably why Child Prodigy did exactly what it said on the tin: it only lasted until I came of age at fifteen.
Still, the trait had served me well. Practically speaking, I didn’t have any real limits to my growth, so I would have to be an absolute noob not to take something that padded my lifetime experience gains. If I’d skipped it, I would never have reached Scale IX in my early teens; at this point, I’d be stuck with the modest skill set afforded by two-thirds of my current build.
All this time, I’d been living with this dread...of the day these tall, tall stilts came off. I’d gotten used to this reinforced income, and was sure my ordinary paydays would disappoint me going forward. There were plenty of tales printed in short booklets that talked about how impossible satisfaction seemed after a life-changing level of stimulation...
Oh, dammit. My mind was drifting off in that direction again. Once I was done with this issue, I’d need to find a way to rein in my pubescent body.
Anyway, as a self-proclaimed munchkin, I hadn’t been resting on my laurels without considering how to circumvent the Child Prodigy time limit. While I admit that it had slipped my mind amidst the busyness—let me comment that the lack of a friendly reminder to notify me the end was coming was highly inconsiderate—I’d been scouring my blessing for a good replacement ever since I was a kid.
Thankfully, I had a strong budget to work with. Although serving Lady Agrippina had forced me into a lot of purchases to keep up, the constant, extreme stress of the job paid its costs back with interest.
Ghostwriting for my master had led me to purchase High Palatial Speech at an III: Apprentice level—which, by the way, was worth as much as five tiers of other highly desirable skills—alongside Elegant Penmanship and Speed Writing to enable good work, fast. I also needed to play my part as a retainer properly, so I dipped my toes into the skills I’d taken to play foxes-and-geese for the first time in nearly a decade. Bringing up Stealth and Perception Block to Scale V, I also invested in the Silent Clothing trait to make sure I didn’t produce any undue noise.
Factoring in the miscellaneous knowledge I needed to get by in high society, I’d almost bottomed out my savings. However, the work that followed was as difficult as it was delicate, and my sleepless nights of slogging through it had just barely eked out an overall margin of profit. To tell the truth, the psychological fatigue was so great that this small amount of interest wasn’t enough to pay off the massive debt in the exchange...but I’ll leave that aside for now.
Yet even with enough experience to make a snap purchase, it was hard to decide on what to invest in.
The outset of the issue lay with how Savant—the direct successor to Child Prodigy—was a specialized trait that was incompatible with my goals. Savant’s defining gimmick was that, unlike its predecessor, it only reduced the costs of acquisition for skills and traits within a given field. When dealing in a specific field of study, the discount was steep enough to attain Scale IX mastery at relatively affordable prices. On top of that, while it required me to commit to a single area of expertise, doing so didn’t lock me into that alone. I could theoretically simultaneously become a Swordplay Savant and Magecraft Savant, which was quite the powerful combo.
Had this been where it ended, it would have been a perfectly acceptable replacement despite its high cost to entry; I would have been happy to turn off my brain, pay up front, and ride out a broken build. But note that this was only true if it had actually ended there.
The Savant trait came with one major drawback: once the area of specialization was chosen, all other abilities were subject to a “large increase in cost.” This was a stark refutation of my desire to remain flexible, and a flaw that I couldn’t ignore.
They say that the truly brilliant are oftentimes catastrophic failures in other aspects of life. Despite inventing the theory of general relativity, Einstein had been quite the philanderer in his personal life; Neumann may have invented the digital computer, but he’d been a strange fellow to put it lightly; while the electronic infrastructure built on the back of Tesla’s findings was impressive, the man himself had lived like he’d been receiving cryptic transmissions from outer space.
All this to say that the Savants of the world were, by and large, very “unique” characters outside their fields of interest, and that the skill reflected that. Taking this into account, I evaluated the trait as still being strong, but as unfit to sculpt a finished arcane swordsman who solved all his problems with DEX. While I could’ve sucked it up and gone with Magecraft Savant if my end goal were to become a College professor, my desire to adventure made its benefits far less efficient.
...What was that? Now I felt like I was getting signals from beyond, begging me not to go down that route.
Uh... It’s probably my imagination. With how solidly developed my identity already was, I doubted one new trait would throw my personality out of order; it wasn’t as though my physical growth spurt was being mirrored in my mind. It was a bit too late for me to start living with pigeons and spending every waking moment trying to memorize the phone book front-to-back.
Moving on, the next contender was a trait called Brilliant Mind. This was a replica of Child Prodigy, but strictly worse. Although it bumped experience gains across the board, the bonuses weren’t even worth comparing to Savant’s cost reduction.
A prodigy at ten was talented at fifteen, and by twenty they were just average; living through each step in the adage was a painful experience. I knew learning was a process that grew more difficult with age, but the world’s willingness to conform to the old saying showed just how merciless it was.
Also of note was the interpretation that a Brilliant Mind intent to stay a generalist would never match the feats of a dedicated Savant. The message was that those who found one pursuit to devote their lives to could go a step beyond...but as someone whose career was entrenched in violence, the thought of facing an unbeatable Savant in battle was terrifying.
I knew the GM in charge would never take the time to consider balancing their game—I’d learned that painful lesson early, when I’d been thrown into an unwinnable fight with an overpowered mage to save Elisa. Had Lady Agrippina not strolled along to save us, not an atom of either of us siblings would have remained.
At any rate, my searching had failed to produce any satisfying answers. Every option came with pros and cons, and the system didn’t allow me to mindlessly take everything to shore up the weaknesses introduced by one trait with another.
For example, Forgotten Talent came with bonuses that rivaled that of Child Prodigy, but the wording implied that it came with a serious blow to the unrecorded stat of luck. Much like how I’d looked through necromantic skills in my youth and suspected that they might come with an unwritten inability to live peacefully as a functioning member of society, my blessing refused to enumerate the hazy side effects any ability might come with. I figured this was the game designers’ divine proclamation that I was to think for myself without relying entirely on my blessing.
Other than that, I’d found Brightest Star, which bolstered experience gain in my twenties and significantly hampered it past that point—the poetic root, of course, implying that I was to burn out quickly. Late Bloomer was quite the opposite, only kicking in past thirty, when my mensch body would be out of peak condition.
Gee, the playtesters and QA team sure have done a good job.
I was beginning to think the heroes that had run amok in the Age of Gods might have been the result of living under a system that predated the revisions that fixed these errata. The thought that converting rocks to bread, infinitely duplicating fish, and moving mountains with pure muscle were the result of rules exploits was highly convincing.
In which case, I wondered what edition of the world I was playing on. While the challenge of breaking a polished, up-to-date system wide open spoke to my power-gaming soul, there was something special about letting loose in a ruleset full of holes.
...You know, just sitting here while thinking about the possibilities wasn’t going to get me anywhere. It wasn’t as if I was garnering any attention, so it wouldn’t hurt to look through the rule book for a bit. Besides, immersing myself in a sea of data would be an easy way to pass the time.
Oh, how about this? My eye quickly wandered to Oathsworn: it was a trial wherein I made a pledge to some cause, and was rewarded with experience for seeing it through. It was similar to a Celtic geas, which gave divine protection so long as the oath was kept, but conferred even greater punishment if it was ever broken; in this case, the trait boosted income for relevant activities while paying out at the end of a time limit if the pact was seen through.
This could be it.
What if I swore to uphold the image of an adventurer—to maintain the dignity of a wayfarer who would one day be written into the canon of saga? As conventional as it was, the heroes of epics were gallant, and their paths filled with tribulations. Even if I lost heart and gave up—or worse, died—my failure would mean I wouldn’t have much need for future experience.
Ah, but wait. I knew myself, and I knew that at some point, I would be overcome with the urge to stoop low in the name of efficacy. Creeping up on a sleeping foe and riding off into the sunrise was standard fare for an adventurer; groveling for mercy while looking for an opening was our common sense; I had a criminal record of hoodwinking GMs into killing off their own final bosses in dialogue scenes. There was a real chance I’d accidentally break the contract in the heat of the moment.
It seemed the safest option was to avoid major commitments by investing in a Brilliant Mind, and pivoting into Late Bloomer when the time came to keep my momentum going. I mean, now that I was thinking about it, swearing an oath was just begging to die from a malicious interpretation. I felt like the heroes of Celtic lore were categorically worse for wear because of how their own geasa were used against them.
However, that left my twenties—the peak of my physical form—a little lacking in my eyes... Wait, what’s this? “Limelit?”
Spotting the unfamiliar title at the bottom of my menu, I opened it to find something rather intriguing. Although Limelit was listed alongside other experience-point-modifying traits, it didn’t do anything to bolster rates or discount prices. Instead, it converted the opinions of those around me into experience, regardless of whether their feelings were of trust and praise or of terror and fear.
In simpler terms, I would gain experience that scaled with my fame.
Soon enough, I was going to become an adventurer—someone constantly evaluated by others. The opinions of my companions went without saying, but the contractors who requested my help, contacts at the Adventurer’s Association, and the residents of the lands I worked in would all come to know me. If I managed to pull off an adventure worthy of the books and had it sung by minstrels throughout the land...
This is great! It didn’t come with any drawbacks, and since its bonuses hinged on my putting in effort to sell my name, it was cheap; I could pick up both Limelit and Brilliant Mind for less than any variant of Savant. All in all, the combination of the two seemed like the perfect fit for my situation.
I wasn’t a fan of standing out for the wrong reasons, but I loved being recognized for a job well done. Yes, I won’t hide it: I had ambitions of pulling off a feat of greatness in this lifetime that would be worthy of immortalization in the form of a saga.
All right, that settles that. The traits with trade-offs were just too niche for my liking, and I doubted I’d find anything better than this without giving up some reliability.
Poring over rule books really was a fantastic time. Not only did it bring new discoveries, but it came with wonderful moments where my memory sprang to life to say, “Wait, wouldn’t this synergize insanely well with this other thing?”
Man, what a productive session.
Content with myself, I turned my head up to the ceiling in an attempt to stretch my neck...and locked eyes with someone.
Two amethyst eyes were looking down at me. Her burning orange hair and affectless features were so well put together that they ironically lacked any impression at all. Good-looking yet utterly devoid of emotion, the olive-tanned girl used the many, many legs lining her massive trunk to dexterously cling to the ceiling and stare at me.
Perhaps the most well-known of the noodly kiths would be the lamia indigenous to the inland sea to the south, but she was no lamia. Covered by sensitive extensions of her coat, her lower half was that of a centipede, and one that vastly outsized its natural counterpart at that. Half-mensch and half-bug, she hailed from a demihuman race known as the sepa.

tprg5.6

Just as intellect is not something that can be fabricated, not even the most earnest attempt will allow the undignified to don the veil of true class.

Delicate fingers lifted the spoon from an orderly row of silverware with confidence and silently submerged the tip in an amber soup. Hardly any ripples wrinkled out as the spoon sank deeper, navigating past an array of stewed ingredients to scoop up a few drops of liquid that were unspeakably flavorful. The little globule was then gracefully carried up, disappearing behind lips without so much as a slurp.

This was the work of a noble, through and through. I would know: I had the great misfortune of attending high-profile social gatherings with not-uncommon frequency—as a servant, of course—and was used to seeing these exact mannerisms.

At least, I would have been, had it not been at the hand of my lovable baby sister.

“Dear Brother? Whatever might be the matter?”

“Oh, nothing. Don’t worry, Elisa.”

Elisa must have noticed me looking as I worked through my daily chores, because she turned around and flashed me an elegant smile. Autumn had begun, and the official imperial succession was close; the season also marked my fourteenth year, and Elisa would follow suit at nine in another few months.

My oh-so-very-adorable sister’s refinement trended ever closer toward the boundary of true class. Not too long ago, she had been hard-pressed to sip her soup, and achieving a willowy stride had been a struggle.

Yet now, the plainclothes—though markedly more eye-catching than the festival threads back home—Lady Leizniz had gifted her felt perfectly tailored for the young lady she’d become. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought that her first bath had been in scented oils and her baby clothes woven from silk.

Two seasons later, I still wasn’t used to the new her. It wasn’t as if she’d changed completely: her tastes remained the same, and obviously she retained all her memories.

“Is that so? You’re so silly, Dear Brother.”

Oh, of course. She’d grown.

Until now, Elisa had been a bit underdeveloped for her age. Eight-year-olds were naturally expected to be childlike, but even then, she had been too immature; her years of stunted development meant that, for a while, her accelerated growth had only been catching her back up to where she should have been.

But now look at her: ever since coming to the capital, she’d grown up nearly beyond recognition.

Elisa spoke a refined palatial dialect reserved for the upper crust, her every mannerism betraying an education just as privileged. Maybe I should have expected this: we’d been away from the canton for over a year, and she’d spent every day since learning directly from a noble. Truthfully, the children around her age whom I saw around the College unfailingly displayed class and intellect beyond their years; being official students, they were certainly blue-blooded, and clearly their education had been the key to their dignity, much like my sister’s.

Still...it wasn’t so long ago that I’d left Konigstuhl behind at the age of twelve—from the time when my baby sister could hardly form sentences and clung to me like a duckling. The rate at which she was leaving those days behind ran too fast for my comfort.

Or was that my ego speaking? Was it my own selfish wish that Elisa would forever remain a cute little baby...who had to rely on me?

No matter how it begins, people are creatures of growth; as her brother, it was my job to accept that. Elisa was Elisa. She was the adorable little girl I’d pampered until now, to be sure, but she was also the grown woman that she wanted to become.

It turned out that I was far more self-centered than I’d realized. Looking back, the fear that had enveloped me when Elisa clung to me in tears hadn’t been unease at the thought of how she would change; it had been the anxious emotions of a man who’d based part of his identity on being the dependable older brother.

Elisa may have been a changeling, but more importantly, she was her. My place wasn’t to fear her; it was to accept her, growth and all. The dreadful tricks my mind had played on me were mine to sort out.

Besides, there were plenty of things that hadn’t changed in the slightest. No matter how refined her movements, her fork always reached for her favorite dishes first; her knife always cut the things she didn’t like into tiny pieces; and her spoon always scooped up too much of her favorite pudding, leaving less dessert to be savored later. Even as she approached mastery in palatial speech, she never referred to me as “Brother Dearest”; hints of “Mr. Brother” lived on in the flipped order.

You know, maybe I was just experiencing the loneliness of a parent whose child was experimenting with independence. As they grew up, children tried their best to make themselves seem tougher: they refused to walk beside their parents, turned down after-school snacks while pretending they didn’t like sweets, and quit waiting by the television to watch anime at six o’clock.

In a similar fashion, Elisa must have realized the need to grow up—she must have wanted it. With her mind governed by her fey half, my changeling sister was fated to mature in ways alien to mensch. The dramatic changes had frightened me, but only because I was a mere mensch myself.

So it was time: I would accept her and celebrate.

Sure, the clingy baby Elisa stumbling over words was cute, but the adult Elisa would definitely be just as adorable. Knowing her, she would grow up to be a stunning beauty at the center of high society. Taking after our mother, she’d blossom into a pristine lily, gracing the world with willowy elegance...

Wait. A beautiful, successful, magus?!

Elisa lacked the catastrophic character flaws of our rotten master and that irredeemable pervert; there was nothing to impede her popularity. At this rate, all sorts of disgusting insects would crawl around to pick at the petals...

“...Dear Brother? Are you certain that everything is all right?”

“Oh, Elisa. Don’t worry. I was just trying to recall which glove I’m supposed to throw in someone’s face for a duel.”

“A duel?! U-Um, if I’m not mistaken, I believe you’re meant to throw it at their feet...”

The face of a stupid punk trying to mess with my sister was no better than the floor anyway: both were getting stomped on sooner or later. Elisa still seemed concerned, though, so I told her that she didn’t have to worry about a thing and went back to my chores.

Eventually, Elisa finished up her meal—which doubled as etiquette training—and I figured it was time for us to clean up and head back to the low quarter.

But in that same instant, the long-sealed crypt that was the madam’s laboratory opened. I heard the cataclysmic creak of a gate bolted several times over and rusted shut by centuries of neglect as it swung. Obviously, the well-oiled hinges of a door unopened for a mere few months—I would have waited on Lady Agrippina if she’d called, but terrifyingly enough, she never had—did not actually make any sound.

Yet when the door silently fulfilled its purpose, it unveiled a terrible demon hidden within.

The fiend was beautiful. Her dark-blue and light-jade eyes drooped cordially into an elegant smile, and she wore lavish clothes that I hadn’t so much as seen before. Woven from material impossible to come by in the Empire, the satin’s wet gloss was unlike anything she generally preferred to wear; furthermore, the jet-black robe was a great departure from her usual partiality for subdued primaries.

This was no ordinary robe. Mystic formulae were woven in at every angle to protect and support the wearer while threatening terrible harm to any attacker—it could only be described as enchanted armor. She could choose to stand absolutely still and it would still be dubious whether I could kill her with a blade in hand.

As an extra surprise, she was holding a staff. While I’d seen her pull one out a few months ago when she visited Lady Leizniz, that had been a fashion item that prioritized its lavish form over its middling function.

Methuselah almost never needed staves. Their organic capacity to turn mana into physical phenomena was outstanding enough to outstrip most catalysts entirely. Someone as rational as Lady Agrippina would never go out of her way to employ a tool in service of making herself weaker, so the fact that she was wielding this one proved it was worthy of her power.

Frankly, I could tell as much by the ominous glow of the gem that crowned it. As much as I wished I could wipe the memory away, I’d seen this hue of jade before: it was the same disconcerting green that had overflowed from the madam’s eye upon removing her monocle to read the Compendium of Forgotten Divine Rites... That thing was definitely bad news.

Wait, hold on. Let me get this straight. Are you telling me this monster of a magus is in a position where she needs help forming one of her spells?!

A dangerous person had appeared looking dangerously motivated, equipped with dangerous gear, capped off with a blatantly dangerous grin. I unconsciously groped for a sword in panic. For all her training, the sheer surprise had thrown Elisa’s manners out the window, causing her to drop the napkin she’d been wiping her mouth with and stare at our master in blank amazement.

“My, my. It’s been so long. I’m glad to see you two in good health.”

Who the hell are you?! I only just managed to stop myself from shouting and leveling the Craving Blade—which I had not called for but appeared in my hand anyway—at her.

No, really. What in the world happened? As far as I remembered, Lady Agrippina was verifiably not the type to smile with genteel grace, and this noble aura around her was utterly foreign to me. If this was the madam ready for battle, then nothing could possibly scare me more.

She stepped forward, ignoring our befuddlement with such grace that it was as if she hadn’t registered us at all. Then, out of nowhere, she said, “Prepare to depart. And you’ll be coming along too this time, Elisa.”

After months of silence, the madam immediately wanted to go outside? Not only that, but this was a woman who could teleport this way and that whenever she pleased, and she was ready to walk on her own two legs; if our presence as her retainer and disciple was needed to save face, then we were headed somewhere gravely serious.

“R-Right now?” I asked.

“Of course. Dress yourselves in your finest threads, because we will be going to the imperial palace. Lady Leizniz has gifted you something suitable, I’m sure. Ah, and bring the carriage out as well.”

The need to dress up to visit the palace was beyond obvious. However, the fact that she demanded the carriage be prepared for such a short distance meant this was no business trip: she was to participate in some kind of solemn ceremony.

Imperial style prized efficiency, but it considered ritual to have its own utilitarian value. At times, carriage rides covered comically short distances in order to keep up airs. If we were about to ride in through the front gate... My trembling was cut short by the sudden ejection of a wooden box from a tear in empty space.

“What the?!”

I took a step back—a ten-meter step back—and slid to catch myself. Lady Agrippina smiled and told me it was a gift to celebrate my fourteenth birthday.

Huh? Why? Now? But you didn’t give me anything when I turned thirteen...

Still smiling, she wordlessly pressured me to open it. I reached out as gingerly as I could, taking the box in hand as though it were a nuclear land mine needing to be defused. Cracking it open, I was surprised to find it filled with nothing but books and leaflets of paper.

“Huh?!”

But upon closer inspection, it really was a nuclear bomb.

The tome I’d picked up was titled Intersections of the Prosaic World and Forms Corporeal and Thaumaturgical. The edges were singed, hinting at a failed attempt at censoring the text. If nothing else, I was sure the central topic delved into themes Rhinians forbade. The more I dug, the more chilling material I found: some touched on unblockable magicks, others focused on strengthening barriers and attacks, and the box even contained essays stamped with the words “SALE PROHIBITED.”

This was the mystic equivalent of a vat of poison. Possession alone would see me cuffed, but after forcing it into my hands, my villainous master gave a simple thumbs-up without letting her ladylike facade crumble for a second.

“By my estimate, you’ll be needing those in the near future. Make sure you look through them when we return.”

“What?!”

“On top of your duties as a servant, you’ll likely find yourself occupying the seat of my personal retainer, so do try your best.”

“Hold on!”

“Anyhow, I shall leave the preparations to you. Be ready to leave in two hours at the latest.”

I couldn’t do anything as the madam lazily waved her hand and returned to her room. I would have at least liked to flip her the bird, but Lady Agrippina hadn’t changed since we’d first met her in Konigstuhl: appearing like an unforeseen cyclone, she vanished just as quickly, whisking us siblings away into her trouble.

No, seriously. What the hell happened?

[Tips] Personal spats are criminal in the Empire, but official duels registered in the books are perfectly legal. Sometimes, shame can only be dispelled at the edge of a sharpened blade—a belief well understood by the monarchical system.

The white imperial palace in the heart of the capital was home to twenty-five meeting halls, each named after a flower. Of them, the Rose Rot was the most splendiferous, famous even abroad for its resplendence; the austere Lily Weiss was well-known as the most dignified location in the palace.

But one room was spoken of only in hushed whispers tinged with dread. Opened only when the College professoriat convened with His Majesty, here stood the Water Lily Schwarz. Rows and rows of seats rippled out from the podium at the center of the room, colloquially referred to by those less carefully spoken as the executioner’s platform.

Who could blame them? It was no exaggeration to call this the home turf to the most brilliant minds in the whole nation. Even the most influential figures found themselves mercilessly berated by the magia here if they dared misspeak: the annals of history recorded occasions in which prestigious bureaucrats had come here to plead for the magia’s help, only to literally die of indignation when the crowd ruthlessly poked at every hole. It was, in many ways, hell.

The harvest period was a delicate time, as most of the nobility were home to collect their taxes, and those gathered for the professorship examinations were bracing for pandemonium. Of course, this event preceded the winter social season every year, but this time, the occasion had been accompanied by a notice from the Emperor...and one who was to take the throne as autumn came to a close. Whatever he had to say, it was certainly no frivolity.

While the pedagogical class of the College had its fair share of diehard academics who cared little for politics, it had just as many who waded deep into the system to procure the funds needed for the never-ending hole of expenses that was research. Yet whether an honorary noble or one with the rights to an estate, they were all sensitive to the goings-on of high society.

The hearts of the most notable minds in magecraft pounded at the trouble brewing in the air, ready to evaluate the presentations of those who wished to join their ranks.

That said, this performance was in truth no more than a final confirmation. All the professors in attendance had already been given copies of the applicants’ dissertations and thus knew what was going to be said.

This was but a matter of course. Unlike a musical recital, the results of thaumaturgical trials were difficult to convey to others. They required careful scrutiny to validate, as even experiments accompanied by a practical illustration could be dubious: was it sheer coincidence that the caster managed to do what they claimed, or was it true magic, based in unshakable theory? One look was never enough to tell.

The professors had already completed their analyses, waiting with bated breath to utter their thinly veiled mockery: “I’m not precisely an expert in this field, but...” and, “I apologize if I missed this in your earlier explanation...” were the fluff to conceal their critical sneak attacks.

So, as ever, they snapped the souls of a handful of bright hopefuls...when a methuselah took the stage. Her dazzling silver hair was bound in a chignon, and her heterochromic eyes gleamed with provocation. The professoriat welcomed Researcher Agrippina du Stahl to take the podium.

Her preference for reds and blues was nowhere to be seen in her black satin robe lined with intricate geometric patterns. More unusual still, she had appeared holding a staff meant to bolster her casting power. Few were the times a methuselah felt the need to reinforce their natural arcane capacity: only when they delved into spells too grand or when the social situation called for it.

However, the sickening and sinister green of that which she’d chosen was proof enough that it was unfit to be ferried about in public. She wasn’t scheduled for a practical illustration, but perhaps preparing her full combat dress was her own way of displaying the intensity of her will.

“If I may be excused, I should like to begin my presentation.”

Clear and crisp, the methuselah’s voice was devoid of hesitation. Yet the members of the audience oozed with anticipation nonetheless, wondering which inaccuracy they ought to pick at first. Unintelligent work could simply be struck down, but inventive ideas presented with wording that was just a touch shy of perfection tickled the sadistic hearts that made up the crowd; they, too, had risen to their post enduring a barrage of insults from those who had come before.

But of all the professors, one found herself quivering in anxiety as opposed to excitement. She was the girl’s master: Lady Magdalena von Leizniz.

When she had first read her pupil’s dissertation for peer review, she’d spat out her tea and wondered if her student had somehow ruined her health. The essay was simply too full of holes for a girl verifiably capable of passing this examination. How could the dean relax when she’d explicitly told her that she must not fail?

Naturally, Lady Leizniz had attempted time and time again to contact her apprentice before today, asking if the girl truly believed this would be enough. Yet every letter had come back with a reply not to worry, and even when she’d employed a second official summons, she’d been declined with the perfectly reasonable excuse of needing time to complete the essay she’d assigned.

Tormented to her core, the wraith could feel the stomach she’d long since lost churn. At this rate, everything would come crashing down.

After all, she would never approve of an essay like this.

Alas, it was too late. Once started, the presentation could not be stopped. The wraith clutched at her heart and gut as the methuselah’s resonant voice began to fill the hall.

Speaking with the smart clarity of an actor onstage, she went through her thesis...and someone in the audience cocked their head. Another person flipped through their copy of the work with a curious “Oh?” and another still rifled through their notes with a puzzled “Hm?”

The speech was straying from the written material.

But make no mistake: this was not the trite, unplanned tangent of a woman who’d forgotten her script from a lack of preparation. She was stitching up the holes in her argument in real time, filling each with elaborate explanations of magical theory. Furthermore, she was injecting new material—no, she was embroidering the patches in such a way that recontextualized the whole of what she’d written. Though she stuck close to the words on the page, her speech was implying a completely different conclusion, causing the hall to stir.

No normal person could have understood. Even if one could decipher the processes outlined in a magus’s writing, true comprehension in the art of magecraft was prerequisite to seeing the crux of any sufficiently deep essay.

Yet the audience was made up of the scholastic monsters that ran the College. They had not fluked their way into a position where they could teach others...but unbelievably, the woman before them spoke as if she were honoring them with her instruction. Without her elucidations, with only the text, the reader could only draw so many conclusions; its meaning changed with every word.

They knew—they were made to know—that this was not A Treatise on Efficient Mana Transmissions Through Non-Euclidean Planes. This was a work that borrowed that title...to delve into an art forbidden by the Trialist Empire; one that had been abandoned as an unattainable impossibility; a peak of mystic pursuits that could put magecraft on negative timescales.

This was an essay about the fundamental principles of time reversal magic.

The methuselah ignored the unbridled murmurs of the crowd, concluding her presentation completely unharmed. In the end, she had perfectly tailored her speech and essay to balance on a knife’s edge, giving the impression that the technology was feasible, but that its implementation remained precarious to navigate. Not bothering to offer the floor to those with questions, she moved on to close out.

Her every word was venom.

“I humbly thank you all for spending your precious time considering these lowly ideas of mine. While I am most aware that the thesis of an inexperienced soul must ring presumptuous in your learned minds, I shall endeavor to not let the finer secrets of this craft that I have just so begun to grasp escape me in my continued research.”

Devoid of intent, her smile would have rivaled those of the most beautiful marble statues; with context, it was the sneer of an irredeemable fiend. Death had failed to stop Lady Leizniz’s complexion from worsening, and the color of her face had grown paler and paler at exponential rates since the presentation had begun—she most certainly understood the true message of that grin.

“Allow me to offer thanks to my master, Professor Magdalena von Leizniz, for her full cooperation and support. And to Professor Martin Werner von Erstreich, for his powerful backing over the course of this project.”

I’ve been had! The talented wraith was on the verge of forgetting the public eye and throwing her head down.

The College’s stance on forbidden arts was that they could be unearthed in times of need and wielded by those fit to use them. Considering how the professoriat was a collection of inhuman beings deeply entrenched in such pursuits, the taboo nature of Agrippina’s discovery was not an issue.

No, the problem lay with how she’d devised a means to accomplish something heretofore written off as impossible. This one breakthrough was a singularity—a basis upon which countless long-abandoned dreams of sorcery could be explored. This was an irreversible paradigm shift, sure to change the world’s understanding of spells and cantrips forever.

It was a finding that all the schools of thought, and all the scholars in them, coveted deeply. Now one cadre had begun to uncover its secrets—or perhaps this was an insinuation that they knew even more than they let on—and had gotten an imperial grand duke involved. Not only that, but it was the grand duke who was slated to become Emperor; the methuselah had hinted at the idea that His Majesty knew this breakthrough was coming.

Who was to say what kind of anarchy would result from a single faction laying claim to one of the highest heights of magecraft? Terrible omens of the cooled cadre wars reigniting flashed through Lady Leizniz’s mind.

Of course, this wasn’t a predestined future. If she and the other deans of the College navigated the tumultuous political climate with great attention, it was possible that the whole affair could be settled peacefully behind closed doors; in fact, the discovery might even become fuel to propel her flock further ahead of those around them.

However, if she made the slightest error in judgment, that fuel would turn into an explosive ready to massacre everyone in range.

Unfortunately, the systematic regime of Rhine meant undoing the process of ennoblement this late was infeasible. They were locked into their planned arrangement, where a supermassive bomb could use the Emperor and her professorship to do as she pleased in the name of count palatine. Too late to reverse, the Empire would be forced to push forward on its current course. The papers granting House Ubiorum and the position of count thaumapalatine upon successful ascension to professorship had already been signed.

Had the monarchy been absolute, perhaps the tale would be different. Alas, imperial citizens prized their national assembly and would not forgive wanton vetoes. Otherwise, the Trialist Empire of Rhine would cease to be itself; the cogs in the machine continued to turn, upholding the righteousness of the imperial regime. Despite its cataclysmic creaking, the system moved along, ferrying the Emperor and dean both toward equal parts ruin and distinction.

“Well, ahem. I hereby commence the vote of approval on the ascension of Agrippina du Stahl. Will those in agreement please rise.”

The professor serving as this year’s master of ceremonies managed to keep a steady voice as he pushed the show forward. As with all his peers, he was beside himself with intrigue and the frustration that he hadn’t come up with the idea himself, but his self-worth as a noble managed to keep him from breaking conduct by shouting.

Slowly but surely, the audience crawled back to reality...and stood up.

They all knew that this was a catastrophe. They knew that mismanaging this affair could end the Empire as they knew it. Yet to fail to acknowledge this discovery left them no ground to stand on as magia who had won their positions with genius. Deny her, and the pride that anchored them at the top of the social ladder would crumble.

And so, Professor Agrippina du Stahl was sworn in with the first unanimous vote in many years.

Envisioning the torrent of hardship that would follow, her master and the Emperor were paler in undeath than any corpse. Ready to claim her position as count thaumapalatine, the newly christened Agrippina von Ubiorum turned to them with the sweetest of smiles.

I shan’t go down alone.

[Tips] Though the crown holds immense power in the Trialist Empire, the Emperor cannot confer, remove, or revoke a noble title on his own—a trivial, obvious check to prevent corruption at the hands of a single bad monarch. Simply put, His Majesty is not to go back on his word.

While those in attendance could listen to the end if they so chose, they were also permitted to leave early if they were no longer needed. The official announcement of Agrippina’s new title and deed was His Majesty’s to make, and the actual person in question did not have to stay.

Today was not the day she would kneel at the Emperor’s feet and endure pompous rites of pens and swords. Ceremony was best partaken of in befitting settings—that is to say, there was a process to vanity. Water Lily Schwarz was home only to the trial of academia, and the relevant facts alone were fit for the hall.

As such, Agrippina took her leave, neither staying with her fellow professors nor returning to the drawing room for those who’d presented. She was free to go.

“...My sincerest congratulations on your rise to professorship.”

“Um... Congratulations?”

Hurrying home, the master was trailed by her servant and apprentice, who followed to offer their well-wishes—though with markedly unenthused tones of voice. The boy had pieced together the meaning behind his birthday present and why he’d be promoted to being a noble retainer; his words oozed bloodlust. On the other hand, the girl had followed her into the presentation hall and seen her moment of glory with her own two eyes; she wasn’t quite sure what had happened, and her celebration was tinged with befuddlement.

“Mm. As much as I loathe the thought of promotion, thank you both.”

However, the master remained nonchalant, and her sour mood was plainly visible on her face. This had been a terrible fate that only barely edged out the alternative of killing her own master and fleeing the country; being jealously “applauded” by the walking corpses that lined the waiting room had done nothing to uplift her mood either.

Frankly, Agrippina was at her wit’s end. She was going to go home, artificially weaken her resistance to alcohol, and get absolutely soused—any less, and she couldn’t go on.

“I take it this is why you warned we might be getting busier?”

“Quite. Today’s announcements are all but unofficial, but in due time I will be summoned for my induction of professorship and a formal ennoblement. Following the Emperor’s inauguration, I suspect I shall be pulled around to various swearing-in ceremonies and the like. You shall be in charge of preparing and managing my assets; I’ll be a count or so by my estimate, so have that in mind.”

I’m just a servant! I’m not even a damn noble! The blond runt would have actually shouted had they not been in the imperial palace; in fact, he would have gone so far as to grab his master by the collar.

Of course, most of the heavy lifting would be completed by state bureaucrats. This process was one that would tolerate exactly zero failure; the brightest minds in the imperial cabinet would be put in charge, and would provide detailed instructions that would make sure everything would work out. Still, this was not the sort of thing one would ordinarily leave to their servant—it wasn’t something that ought to be left to a servant either.

Alas, pity the boy: Erich could get it done. He had enough skill to see the task through if he set his mind to it. His servile palatial speech was serviceable enough to accompany Agrippina even in front of the Emperor, and his divine levels of dexterity afforded him the ability to pen calligraphy beautiful enough to act as his master’s proxy. The accounting for a noble estate was a quick matter with parallel calculations, and a smattering of Unseen Hands and Farsight spells would swiftly take care of any investigative work.

Best of all, he could be entrusted with vital documents without the risk of dying along the way, and Agrippina had a tight grip on the root of his loyalty. Counterintuitively enough, finding someone more fit for the task would be much harder.

“Fret not, I shan’t throw all of my responsibilities to you. In any case where personal action is required or where your abilities would fall short, I shall take matters into my own hands. And as bothersome as it is, I’ll hire help—overseen by you, of course. Your title will be that of my seniormost retainer, and your salary will be updated to match.”

“...Very well, Madam Count.”

The boy replied in picture-perfect palatial speech. Pleased by her vassal’s ideal response—his spite was hardly enough to bother her—the baron heiress turned imperial count decided to put the unwelcome business of career advancement behind her and triumphantly returned to her atelier.

[Tips] For those who join the ranks of the aristocracy without notable preexisting fortune, the crown supplies a stipend to help them prepare to take their position.

Even unigenerational nobles require mansions, formalwear, and hired help to fit in with their peers in the upper crust. As such, the government awards a celebratory gift upon assumption of the title. The tradition was founded to honor those who win distinction in the face of poverty and hardship, and as such, the funds come directly from the imperial treasury.

Fall was a hectic season for everyone, but I was sure none would complain if I claimed to be among the busiest in the whole Empire.

The past few months had been grueling.

I will be the first to admit that the bureaucrats of the Trialist Empire had done a wonderful job. Professors were sworn in once every few years, and they were well versed in the process of propping up accomplished persons in patrician style whether they had a noble leg to stand on or not.

Yes, indeed, their preparations had been made clear without delay. My employer must have been on the professorship fast track, because the day after presenting her dissertation, a bevy of forms and documents arrived at our doorstep. It was then that I’d realized just how exhaustive their preparations were: they’d handpicked a handful of manors in the capital that she was to choose from; she was offered several selections of luxurious textiles, and they’d assemble a fashionable new dress from her favorite; modern style was for women to wear tiaras, so they’d referred her to an artisan who accepted last-minute orders... The list went on, but the point was that the bureaucrats involved had spared no detail in their goal of ennobling the madam.

Now, what do you think Lady Agrippina had to say when I brought all these matters to her?

Why, of course: she’d passed it straight back to me with a punchable smile and an order to “do as you see fit.”

Bluntly put, I think a normal person would have died. Rather, I was convinced that scum of the earth had only put me in this position because she knew I wouldn’t, and that I could actually manage the work. She may have been rotten to her core, popping open bottles of wine while her whipping boy ran around working himself to death, but she wasn’t stupid enough to indulge in idiocy if it would come back to bite her. Had I been a typical servant my age, unfit for tasks beyond menial labor, she would have taken on the work herself, leaking complaints like a broken faucet the whole while.

Though it was too late now, I regretted getting absorbed enough in my own progress to forget to conceal my actual prowess. I may have been nearing fifty years of total experience, but I was a fragile little mensch on the outside. I’d been forced to take traits like Short Sleeper and Efficient Rest just to keep up—this was not the kind of job to force on a kid!

Although the arrangements marched along at the expense of my time, sanity, and future health, they were proceeding without any issue on the surface. Count Agrippina von Ubiorum, count thaumapalatine, was now ready to be born anew.

My unembellished thoughts on the matter were that I never wanted to do this again. Unfortunately, I doubted this would be the end.

“Come forth, Agrippina du Stahl.”

No, this was merely the beginning.

Despite my sincere desire to collapse into bed, I found myself standing in the most hallowed space of all the imperial palace: the throne room. I would have expected nothing less from the pinnacle of imperial architecture. The snow-white marble floors; stone walls of unlike color, supported by majestic pillars; and the stained-glass depiction of the Emperor of Creation’s coronation on the ceiling came together to produce an atmosphere that weighed on all who entered its presence.

I’d visited the throne room displayed at the Hermitage on a vacation a lifetime ago, but not even that could hold a candle to what I was seeing now. The skylight had been carefully placed to bathe the throne in an enchanting glow that heightened the Emperor’s divinity. From there, the ceiling slanted down, the glow of arcane lamps growing dimmer at the flanks where His Majesty’s bulwark dutifully lined up. Power pervaded the room’s very construction.

Of course, a hall so impressive could only be decorated with artifacts of matching quality. Spoils of war meant to showcase the Emperor’s might were placed on display next to the walls. Crowns and scepters of fallen kingdoms shared space with famous swords and personal accessories no doubt representing historical tales of great import. For those countries which still stood today, the Empire displayed countless banners and helmets taken in battle from infamous generals.

The throne, meanwhile, spoke for itself. With its back prodding at the heavens, the seat was far too large for any normal person; yet its exaggerated features fused to magnify the greatness of he who sat atop it.

Perhaps the most emblematic flourish was the portrait hanging just behind, massive to the point where I couldn’t fathom how it had been painted at all. The semicircle of stone that housed the throne was a few steps higher than the floor, and from it rose a wall housing a heavily glorified depiction of Richard the Creator—the first emperor had despised posing for paintings and sculptures, so most of his likenesses had been made well after his death—flanked on each side by portraits of his immediate successors, the Cornerstone and Marshal Emperors.

While we didn’t quite match the zeal of the Tokugawa shogunate, the mythos of Rhine had cemented Richard’s position in a loose divine canon. Apocryphal accounts claimed he had ended his life with the words, “I have lived as mere man and shall die as him; any more and Eden forged by mortal hands will forever be out of reach,” but in reality, imperial citizens venerated him more fervently than many of the gods.

Interestingly, the gods Themselves seemed to take kindly to the man who had honored Their name. The insolence of worshiping a mortal on Their level was cause enough for divine retribution; the evident lack of heavenly punishment was an implicit acceptance. Nowadays, the first three emperors were openly hailed as heroes of a higher class.

Portraits of the six most recent monarchs filled what space remained. The message, as far as I could tell, was that even those who had given up the throne remained ever entwined in the Empire’s fate, guiding and scrutinizing their successor through their presences.

Having been called, Lady Agrippina marched forth down a carpet too wide and too long to imagine its construction; the brilliant crimson hadn’t faded in the slightest from the time of Richard to now, as the madam strode across it. She had taken the imperial bequeathal of silk magus robes and added her own mystic embroidery, using a splendiferous scarlet dye to tweak it to her liking. Dauntless in her every movement, she made the noble onlookers on the sidelines swallow their breaths with each step.

I’d been careful to touch up her hair down to the roots, and the angelic shimmer of her silver locks outstripped even her mystarille tiara and the large diamond it housed. Enhanced further with makeup, her beauty would have caused the loveliest of songstresses to bury their faces in shame.

Enduring this many gazes while being spoken to by His Imperial Majesty would cause most to shrink and falter; even those who were raised with strict aristocratic educations in courtly conduct would freely admit some level of anxiety during their official ennoblement—this could very well be the most important moment of their entire lives. Yet Lady Agrippina knew no nervousness. Neither the gazes nor the opinions they conveyed proved any more hurdle than a roadside pebble, all too easily kicked aside.

At long last, she completed her journey, kneeling reverently in the Emperor’s presence. But no longer was the Dragon Rider the one summoning her: His Majesty Martin I had partaken in his own ceremony to officially inherit this very throne mere hours prior.

“I ask in the name of the Emperor of this Trialist Empire of Rhine: Who are you?”

“The product of blood flowing in lands to the west, daughter to the Forets name, nobly led by House Stahl—I answer, I am Agrippina.”

The madam’s answer came clearly and without hesitation. Even accounting for the acoustic engineering and voice-boosting spells set up in the chamber, her tone was remarkably full; no one here would believe they were dealing with a pessimistic misanthrope.

“I ask, not to your heritage nor to your history, but only to the personage of Agrippina who stands before me: Will you give yourself to the imperial bulwark? Will you protect the Empire, defend her peoples, and combat any and every injustice that may arise?”

“I answer, not on my heritage nor my history, but only as the self I am: I swear to fix an adamant loyalty upon my soul, and shall offer the whole of my being to Your Majesty, your Empire, and your subjects. Your reign, in harmony with the gods who witness us, shall be built upon the foundation in which I know myself to be but a brick.”

As ritualistic as this back-and-forth seemed, the terrifying thing was that it wasn’t scripted. Each exchange was meant to be personal, meaning the oaths themselves had to be thought up by the speaker. I’d known that literary talent was a prerequisite for entering high society, but seeing the poetic song and dance improvised before my eyes gave me a lot to chew on.

Most notably, the words Lady Agrippina had chosen certainly didn’t suit her, but they did suit the scene. It was impossible to believe she’d thrown this together herself in the past few days, particularly with how much work she had on her own plate.

“My life, my fealty, my blood,” she spoke. “I shall give it all for the Empire cradled by the Maiden Rhine. I shall give it all to support your every step, to be the cobbled stone with which you pave your path. Will you take me as a brick in your Empire?”

“On my name as Emperor of the Trialist Empire of Rhine, as Martin Werner von Erstreich, I welcome you, Agrippina du Stahl, as one of my own. And as my first decree to you, I hereby imbue you with the deed to the Ubiorum county and the rights therein, and appoint you as count thaumapalatine.”

Martin I took a moment to survey the crowd, and— Wait a second. Have I seen this guy before? Where was it?

“If there are any who deem my judgment lacking, who believe this not to be in the Empire’s greatest interests, speak now.”

I cocked my head and tried to remember, but nothing came up; I’d probably just caught a passing glance of him somewhere before. Maybe I could’ve recalled exactly when if I’d invested a bit more into Memory and picked up a trait or skill that had to do with recognizing faces.

Just to note, the Emperor’s invitation for objections here was a formality, and anyone that took him up on his offer would be in for a lot of trouble. This wasn’t some romcom where the guy busts in on the wedding in the third act and makes off with the bride, so spoiling the carefully constructed mood was not going to be taken lightly. It was simply a matter of necessary protocol: His Majesty asked, and his subjects stayed quiet with deferential expressions.

That said, even from my place in the servants’ section by the wall, I could make out a handful of people who made no effort to conceal their frustrations.

Lady Agrippina had told me that she was sure to be given an estate embroiled in trouble, filled to the brim with power-hungry cretins that it would be her job to trample. I suspected those who’d been scheming to win the Ubiorum name would start moving to reclaim their mark by any means possible.

What a pain. I’d already come across a handful of dubious characters among the recommendations the Emperor’s cabinet had given us for keepers of the madam’s new mansion. While I’d already reported anyone suspicious to Lady Agrippina so she could keep tabs on them, it looked like a peaceful start was more than I could ask for.

“The ceremony is complete. With this, I welcome Count Agrippina von Ubiorum to our ranks. Eternal glory to the Empire.”

“Glory to the Empire! Glory to the Emperor! Glory to Rhine!”

The crowd joined Lady Agrippina in chorus—this was the only part of the ritual that was set in stone. Unfortunately, I’d already seen several others go up before my master; the coordinated chant grew less impressive with every iteration.

All that remained was for the Emperor to hand Lady Agrippina the necessary regalia to rule—the Ubiorum seal and ring and the like—and her turn would be over. The next person to be ennobled would go up and repeat the process, until eventually the pool would be exhausted and the ceremony would move on to conferring knighthoods. Considering how the coronation had begun at sunrise and taken half the day, I supposed this was a relatively painless process. I’d heard that the knights were to be honored in batches, so we would probably be done by the time the sun set.

Once Lady Agrippina left the stage, I would need to make my own exit to help her change attire. That meant we’d be waltzing into what was effectively enemy territory: her own Berylinian manor. After preparing a new set of clothes, I’d have to get the carriage ready to go back to the palace and accompany her to the celebratory banquet being held tonight.

This was rough. I was already running on less than two hours of sleep because I’d stayed up to make sure everything was in order for today. From what I could tell, the inauguration feast would run into the dead of night; I was almost certainly not going to get a chance to catch up on my sleep.

Two all-nighters in a row... The pay raise could screw itself; what I wanted most of all was a twelve-hour break to hit the sack. On Earth, I’d laughed off crunch time as a managerial mistake, but I couldn’t do anything about this.

To tell the truth, I wished the madam would hire some help. I wanted a proper noble retainer who had the authority not to be made light of in noble dealings—preferably on account of their own blue blood—and five or six attendants with thorough educations. Add another twenty servants to take care of miscellaneous chores, and I could get by working a cool three hours a day.

Alas, that was too much to hope for. Foes outnumbered friends by an obvious margin, and blindly taking on new hires would more likely than not cause more trouble down the line. For now, pushing ourselves to handle everything was the only choice available.

Soon—and by soon, I suspect she meant in half a year or so—Lady Agrippina would be able to recall a handful of trusted assistants from her home abroad, and she’d pull some strings with her few contacts here to muster up a dependable workforce. However, we were still far from ready to claim we had an actual supply of labor, especially factoring in the need to vet those we welcomed.

But you know, that did raise some questions.

The odds were good that this villainous master of mine had known things would shape out this way by the time she’d begun writing her essay. I could think of no other explanation for how bold and well rehearsed her preparations seemed.

In which case, she should have been perfectly capable of assembling a team of helpers in advance. She had space-bending magic: she could’ve teleported back home to pick up help if she so chose. Besides, she was perennially one favor to Lady Leizniz away from having a whole army of trustworthy workers. The irredeemable wraith was a career politician who’d trained countless apprentices from childhood, meaning any graduate loyal to her would be perfect for our cause.

The only explanation I could think of was that this was still within Lady Agrippina’s calculations. Was she trying to invite her enemies to send in spies by looking as defenseless as possible?

This theory seemed to put everything into place. She was selling the story of a brilliant researcher thrust into a post beyond her depth, wide open on all fronts as she frantically combatted the hustle and bustle of politics. The false sense of security her “incompetence” produced would be the perfect bait to lure in those who would oppose her. Nothing was easier to parry than a telegraphed attack: she wished to sidestep the first blow and plant a perfect uppercut right in her rivals’ jaws. An unexpected counterattack was sure to confuse and disorient; from there, it would be our turn to pick them apart as we pleased.

For those who’d already been ensnared in the trap, Lady Agrippina’s confidence today must have seemed like nothing more than a brave front. Gods, was she crafty. Actively painting herself as vulnerable in order to empower her schemes was something else.

But the real issue here wasn’t about her. Sure, she got to get away with pretending, but I was the poor pawn she got to freely use in her machinations on account of my inability to betray her; my destitution was anything but an act.

I was a normal person, for crying out loud, and a mortal at that. Not only did I have to give up chunks of my day eating, sleeping, and shitting if I wanted to stay alive, but I was a delicate mensch. Couldn’t she cut me some slack?

Unfortunately, the Sleepless and Unhungering traits were locked off no matter how many experience points I earned. I could push my boundaries by picking up things that offered extra hardiness, but there were walls that were insurmountable in my mensch frame.

I’d need to dip my toes into body modification magic and restructure my organs if I wanted features like those. Okay, maybe there were a few supernatural abilities that I simply had yet to find, but their undiscovered nature pointed to my not having the requisite experience to unlock them anyway.

Who would’ve thought I’d be craving an immortal physique because of overwork? What kind of dystopia was I living in? My mind drifted to a futuristic Tokyo where money was the only barrier to the mechanical equivalent to a methuselah’s body as I faded from the crowd and followed my master out of the hall.

[Tips] Most events held in the imperial palace are short and simple in respect of the participants’ time, but limiting the splendor of coronation in the name of modesty is considered a bridge too far. As such, great stocks of food and wine are circulated throughout the capital, celebrations are held in nearby cantons, and writs of tax exemption are carried off to regions farther from Berylin. The Emperor may bear the brunt of the cost, but his inauguration is expensive for all those in his bulwark.

Agrippina was used to wearing masks, and it took her little time to slip out of du Stahl and into von Ubiorum.

“A pleasure to meet you, von Ubiorum. My name is Lovro Hermer Theodore von Janka. Though my estate is far removed from your own, I am a strong supporter of the School of Daybreak.”

“My, Count Janka? The famed herbalist? I happened to read your treatises during my days as a researcher, and had thought then that it was such a shame that you had retired from academic pursuits. But to think that fortune would afford me the honor of speaking to you in person!”

Count Agrippina von Ubiorum was an accomplished scholar, a fervent advocate of the new Emperor, and an innocent lady who prioritized academia over politics. That was the image Agrippina found most convenient, so that was the image she projected onto a social circle where nobody knew her true nature. She wore her mask without shame, and she wore it well.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were aware of my work. How embarrassing—I penned those papers when I was but an unlearned sapling. Looking back now, those were hardly worthy of publication.”

“Oh, please! Bubbling with emotion, your work is as poetic as the finest literature. Your writing carried its ideas to the heart far better than any callous report. Would you please not demean yourself so?”

The dryad—unlike treants, they were humanfolk who were wholly independent of their birth trees—had evidently taken well to the nearly childlike level of praise, as his skin reddened slightly from its original mapleish tone. Although he looked like a young mensch on the outside, Agrippina’s incisive gaze did not miss his mystic signature, which placed him somewhere in the neighborhood of his second century. Despite leaving his title of magus behind, the man was a continued patron of the School of Daybreak. In all likelihood, Lady Leizniz had nudged him her way; the methuselah and wraith now shared an interlinked fate, and this was the master offering her full support.

Agrippina had already conversed with over twenty contacts likely sent by the dean by this point. Some had clearly only introduced themselves out of obligation, but others had been keen to look after a junior pupil; whatever their initial motivations, she was sure she’d won most of them over to her side.

One particularly notable authority who had at first made no effort to hide his displeasure had ended their conversation by taking her hand and introducing her to the leader of his own cadre, after which he went on to invite her to his daughter’s upcoming birthday celebration. Clearly, she’d earned more favor than her position by the Emperor’s side could provide alone. These episodes stacked up with every new person she met, and the former baroness-to-be confirmed that the skills she’d learned under her father had not rusted in the slightest.

After concluding with the dryad, Agrippina flagged a waiter and took a break with a glass of wine. As she sipped to wet her mouth, she noticed someone approaching from behind; she turned to see a most suspicious man.

“Von Ubiorum, I take it? Wit am—”

“Oh, Marquis Gundahar Joseph Nicolaus von Donnersmarck. I had planned to greet you myself, you know?”

The handsome fellow’s soft, courteous smile fit him well, but anyone who knew his true nature would struggle to see it as anything more than a villain’s facade. The grinning methuselah ignored Agrippina’s overt faux pas—cutting off a peer’s introduction was decidedly unmannerly—and bowed, saying, “It is as you say.”

Agrippina believed this banquet was an examination: it was a complicated test wherein she was to separate friend from foe and come up with plans to make use of each.

However, those who could be marked as enemies before the papers were handed out called for special provisions. Here was the leading candidate in the battle of succession for House Ubiorum, sure to be less than hospitable to the thief who’d swiped the territory out from underneath him.

With such clear grounds for antagonism, Agrippina had made sure to do her homework before arriving. She’d scanned through the almanac of imperial aristocrats, gathered historical documents that touched on him, and even asked Lady Leizniz for information that might only circulate in noble spheres.

After all that, Agrippina had decided that her strategy of appearing as a helpless rabbit wouldn’t suffice in front of her greatest opponent. This man was as unscrupulous as they came; making a show of how open to attack she was would do nothing to further her interests.

Instead, she took the stance of a novice who knew the scent of political games but not how to play them. Her actions betrayed a certain level of research, plainly announcing, You’re an enemy, aren’t you? Acting like a failed schemer made for a more tantalizing mark than someone purely naive—that was common sense in this line of work...or at least, so she’d thought.

“You honor me, Miss Agrippina Voisin du Stahl—oh, how rude of me. I should refer to you as von Ubiorum. Forgive me for the offense.”

Had Agrippina been any less experienced—or any more human—perhaps the mask would have cracked. The mention of a name that no one in the entire Empire should have known had surprised her.

Even the poorest pauper knew that the gentry liked to bequeath long lists of names to their own, and Agrippina was no exception. Fully expanded, her name contained over twenty individual names, but the only ones that held any meaning were that which her parents had first chosen and her family name. As such, she never bothered to make mention of any of the others, including in official settings: even her contract of ennoblement had identified her only as Agrippina du Stahl.

But Marquis Donnersmarck had uttered her baptismal name—one established by word of God in the land of Seine. Even in her motherland, she could think of few who might know it.

“No offense taken, Marquis Donnersmarck. It will take me some time yet to get used to my new name.”

“Ah, Wit can sympathize. In my youth, it had sometimes taken me two mentions to realize Wit was being called—a great embarrassment, I know. Then perhaps, von Ubiorum, you might allow me the privilege of referring to you as Agrippina? It may be more comfortable for you, and with our neighboring territories, Wit hope to enjoy an intimate relationship with you.”

Although Agrippina continued the conversation with a genteel giggle, she shrewdly gathered that his willingness to refer to an unwed lady by her name and subsequently take her hand pointed to a rather playful nature.

He was a rarity amongst their kind. Carnal pleasures proved generally superfluous when psychosorcery could suffice. Like Agrippina, most methuselah toyed with magic in their youths and then grew desensitized to the petty stimulation flesh could provide. The most convincing explanation was that this Donnersmarck character derived his pleasure not from physical means, but from the reactions of his partners.

Ah, Agrippina mused. She, too, used others for amusement; yet this man’s proactive approach to drawing out entertainment from those around him was markedly different from her fondness for stories. Irreconcilably so, she thought.

They were simply polar opposites, fated not to share the same earth under the heavens. Eventually, she was sure, some spark or another between them would evolve into full-blown malice. As she tiptoed around her inevitable archenemy’s flirtations, one thought dominated her mind.

Now then, how shall I kill him?

[Tips] First-name-basis relationships between nobles are incredibly rare beyond genuine intimate ties. Generally, most opt to refer to their peers by family name or rank.

Tprg5.5

The Trialist Empire of Rhine was home to many noble houses, and among the names that made up His Majesty’s trusted bulwark was one Count Ubiorum.
In the days preceding imperial hegemony, militaristic clans had littered the warring states, and the original Ubiorum had been a man blessed with a keen eye and decisiveness of action. Even before Richard’s exploits had earned him the epithet of Little Conqueror, the shrewd general had come to the future Emperor’s court to offer his sword...with the heads of his irresolute king and royal retainers as proof of his fealty.
Those accustomed to modern sensibilities would decry such an atrocity for its blatant treachery, but the era had been one of war where symbiotic reciprocity was paramount; Count Ubiorum’s actions had been a matter of course. Rather, the perceptions in those days would have placed the blame on the victim, for the fallen king had squandered his opportunity to make use of his talented vassals and paid a fitting price.
Having assessed that the future of the region would revolve around Richard, Ubiorum committed the whole of his efforts to the Emperor of Creation’s cause, assisting greatly in the foundation of the Empire. His remarkable contributions earned him the title of “count,” just shy of the authority given to the electorate, and he was given control of both the Ubiorum—that is, his original lands—and Duren administrative states.
The first Count Ubiorum had remained in service as His Majesty’s sword, earning great valor for his accomplishments, but that was history long since buried. The last of his legitimate successors had fallen several generations ago, and the vast expanses of land overseen by the county had been reclaimed by the Emperor—most of those living within its borders had all but forgotten the name.
All things must pass; that which flows must certainly ebb; the fairest among us shall no doubt fade. Transience was an inevitable companion of the warrior class, but this conclusion was a particularly woeful tale.
House Ubiorum was a lineage of mensch, prone to frequent changing of the guard. The dizzying pace of twenty-five-year generations had reduced the glorious family of warriors to asinine parasites entrenched in backroom politics.
The second-to-last count had been especially egregious; not a trace of his honorable forefather remained. Wasting most of his hours drowning in debauchery and toying with the arts, his involvement in stately matters was only worth mentioning when he was exploiting his indirect link to the Emperor’s maternal family to lap up greedy under-the-table deals. But eventually, the fool’s avarice produced a plan to become Emperor.
His inept plan was discovered on the spot. However, heinous tricks were his sole calling in life: he’d propped up a scapegoat, and combined with the lack of concrete evidence, he managed to avoid total ruin. He marched to the palace, bent both knees, and ground his forehead against the pavement by His Majesty’s feet; the performance was enough to escape demotion or change of rank...but not enough to survive.
In exchange for sweeping the incident under the rug, the Emperor handed the knave a means to atone for stirring up trouble in his Empire: a glass of wine enchanted with a hex of instant death. Unable to resist the monarch’s will, Count Ubiorum accepted the poisoned cup and met his end. His retreat from the public eye on account of a “stress-induced illness” quelled His Majesty’s rage, and his eldest son inherited the title.
Alas, high society was cold to a house stumbling over itself—especially so when whispers of treason could be caught on the winds.
The final Count Ubiorum made every effort to restore his family glory, but chose the worst possible means to do so: instead of waiting for years of honest work to clear his name, he dipped his toes into the realm of shadows in a plot to turn things around at once. Was it his fault, or did the blame lay with his father, who’d taught him nothing of politics but poison, daggers, and blackmail?
Whatever the case, the undeniable reality was that he died under dubious circumstances, his body discovered too late for history to know the truth. Imperial nobles were the cautious sort, and no amount of rummaging through diaries would suffice to uncover what had truly come to pass.
The death of Count Ubiorum sent shock waves through the region. Of course it did: not only did his land contain some of the most important trade routes—both on land and by river—in the whole nation, but it was home to abundant textile, leatherworking, and metallurgic industries the likes of which were hard to match across the Empire. Tax revenue in the region was one of the highest in the country, clocking well within the top fifty noble estates even in its historically worst years. No bad name was too terrible to bear if it meant laying claim to the fertile bosom of the Maiden Rhine; to call her bounty tremendous was a disservice to the region’s gifts.
There was no world in which those affiliated with the county could resist its temptations; a vicious battle for inheritance began, with every legitimate heir quickly being removed from the picture in one way or another.
The lack of direct descendants didn’t mean that all ties of blood had been severed. Alas, those who survived to throw their hat into the ring were invariably lowly knights unfit to rule a county; nigh unrelated relatives whose ancestors had left the Ubiorum family gods knew how many generations prior; or clans with questionable accounts of how they may or may not have adopted a child so-and-so years ago.
If that wasn’t tumultuous enough, random hopefuls appeared claiming to be the illegitimate child of the late count’s grandfather, or the bastard kid of his father. Worst of all, some claimed that their bloodline traced back to the original rightful heir—the second Ubiorum had been the second son, on account of his elder brother’s early death—and that their family had been in hiding all this time, waiting for this moment.
In short, a wake of vultures had come flying in with their most far-fetched excuses to try and feed on the land’s ample wealth.
The Emperor was, of course, apprehensive. This was a precious region that the Founding Emperor had given to one of his most loyal retainers: it served as both a manufacturing powerhouse and a vital point in the nation’s commercial network. Not only could he not allow it to fall into the hands of an idiot, but one false step could empower a true villain to plunge the nation into domestic chaos.
Eventually, the list of potential inheritors swelled past one hundred, forcing His Majesty’s hand. Steeling himself for the backlash that would follow, he made his decree: House Ubiorum was tangentially related to the sitting Emperor, and as such, the crown would carefully watch over the estate until a suitable candidate arrived.
“But I’m the suitable candidate!” the vultures all cried at once, causing a massive stir. But the Emperor held strong, conspiring with his successor’s vassals and even employing less than reputable means to silence the mobs.
And so the Ubiorum county had sat ungoverned for tens of years, loosely maintained and sparsely scrutinized by the crown that supposedly owned it.
Not even an emperor could watch over all the imperial lands at once, especially with a personal estate to take care of. For generations, the crown had done no more than dispatch national officials to conduct inspections of the local magistrates and maintain law and order—not enough to put an end to wrongdoing by any means.
Even children dared to swipe cookies from the pantry when the watchful eyes of mother and father were away; the thoughts of money-grubbing souls in an unsupervised land were hardly going to be any more mature.
With every passing coronation, each newly appointed Emperor would put in the effort to keep the county from rotting entirely; to an outside observer, the region seemed healthy enough. Alas, a closer look showed that their attempts had still allowed a hotbed of minor spoilage to fester.
The Empire could not afford to claim the heads of every magistrate or government official who broke the rules: eventually, it would run out of people to oversee its territory. Besides, there was no guarantee that a replacement was any better than the criminal they were replacing—or that they weren’t a spy sent to tip the balance toward one of the inheritors still biding their time to take the Ubiorum name.
The issue was in much need of solving, but had thus been kicked down the road until now. In the scandal’s heyday, claims of legitimacy had popped up like bamboo shoots after a storm; now the majority of them had withered away, their lives and passions fizzling into the sands of time.
Yet there were a stubborn few who refused to quit: immortals mainly, scheming on a scale grander than their short-lived competition. Unlike their mortal peers, they had the option of waiting—and waiting was key. Little by little, after the initial fervor had died off, they picked at the issue, inching the position toward their chosen candidate.
Among them was one Marquis Donnersmarck. Despite leading a marquisate, he was technically a branch of an electorate house and lacked the privilege to vote himself, occupying a delicate position crafted by the circumstances of history.
The methuselah marquis had once taken in a beloved mistress from House Ubiorum—this was his pretext for inheritance. At the inception of his scheme, he’d tweaked the written record of his long-deceased mistress to say that she’d been his legal wife, and turned an unrelated child of his into “her” son.
Marquis Gundahar von Donnersmarck was perhaps the closest among all those vying for the position of count, and he was attending to his daily duties in his personal office when one of his sleuths returned with an unwelcome report.
“Oh? Has the situation changed?”
The marquis was a handsome man by every account. His face was slim and graceful, capped with two glimmering ashen eyes that overflowed with warmhearted goodwill. Long hair of matching color was slicked back with a glossy shine under the mystic lamps. Aptly trained muscles offset his slender build with good balance, and he was tall enough to make most desks look cramped, but his custom furniture allowed him to recross his lithe legs in the other direction.
At his feet was a shadow clad entirely in navy blue. The garb veiled their figure to hide any distinguishing characteristics, and they warbled their own voice to make it impossible to pin down even the most basic identifying traits.
“Yes, sir. The Emperor’s coronation is to be accompanied by a handful of pardons and awards made in the last Emperor’s honor. Promotions and noble conferments will commence at the ceremony, and the Ubiorum county was among the names listed for the occasion.”
The man’s benevolent smile never wavered, but for a brief moment, a precarious gleam flashed in his eyes.
Marquis Donnersmarck was well-known for his love of philanthropy: he maintained an orphanage on his own estate, and donated great sums of money toward charitable pursuits uplifting the poor. Even in the capital, there was an almshouse with his name on it to show his commitment to noble pursuits; his reputation was perfectly in line with his gentle appearance.
Yet in truth, he was the sort to proactively involve himself with countless battles over ownership of land and name—the Ubiorum county was merely another item on the list. He was a viper at heart, collecting vassals who prized their loyalty to him above even their obligations to the Emperor. Perhaps his sway was easiest to demonstrate by mentioning that the feudal lords collared by leashes in his hand numbered in the dozens.
The man was a rarity among his kind. Most methuselah were free spirits, content to let their power wane while they wandered off to indulge in their favorite pastimes. But while it was easy to be fooled, he was not driven by some insatiable, irregular lust for power: the art of machination, in and of itself, was his greatest joy.
Accumulating wealth and power was a tedious necessity to most methuselah, but primarily because their imaginations were most often captured by pursuits that could be wholly accomplished in the confines of their own minds. Gifted with the capacity for parallel thought at unimaginable speeds, the most important quality of any given hobby was its depth—how difficult it was to tire of. Naturally, scholarly pursuits of magecraft, science, mathematics, and astronomy were popular for how much thought they required. Second to them were artistic ventures like painting and music, which challenged the creative senses.
But to Marquis Donnersmarck, no craft could match the kaleidoscopic beauty of conspiracy. When people’s darkest ambitions flowed together, corrupting the occasional wellspring of loyalty or peace, they swirled into a senseless evil that threatened to engulf the realm of statecraft whole. Countless episodes ran along these lines, but not once did the core of a struggle repeat itself.
Thus he had found his infinite source of amusement: the dimly lit alleys of political schemes. Burdened with talent as he was, centuries of earnest effort had still not been enough to so much as lay a finger on the prized imperial throne. What other art could offer such unknowable depth?
At times, this dangerous game offered thrilling run-ins with eternal slumber; he nodded at his subordinate’s report with intrigue.
“Hm... And not a word to any of those involved.”
“I believe the crown’s stance is that the matter was settled in the negotiation fifty years ago. Not even the members of the privy council were allowed to object on the matter.”
“How forceful. A slight on the Emperor of Creation’s words, even: ‘Only with the consent of his assembly shall the Emperor’s decree know magnificence.’”
The marquis shifted in his chair, reallocating the majority of his processing power from various other plots to this one—but to tell the truth, he was already close to giving up.
To begin with, his claim was based on lies and forgery; his plan had been to pick off his rivals and acquire the county by virtue of being the last notable power remaining. This war of attrition wasn’t something he’d been brewing for eons, but rather an idea he’d scratchbuilt following the final Count Ubiorum’s death. He’d simply looked at the situation and figured he had a winning shot.
However, he had still put a nonzero amount of effort into securing his spot as the prime candidate. Losing that stung.
Alas, he had to concede that his position wasn’t particularly strong either. While still better than the rabble’s, his justifications would not be enough to impede the crown’s attempt to man a vital station that had gone abandoned for half a century. He’d lined the pockets of many a local knight, magistrate, and noble, helping along their corrupt businesses, but it was unrealistic to expect their support to stand up to the Emperor’s will.
Marquis Donnersmarck could have all his agents in the region sign a petition in blood, swearing to end their own lives in protest if some unknown person was to lord over them...but His Majesty would probably reply with an imperial letter telling them to do it. The Emperor wanted nothing more than for the pesky vermin to conveniently vanish, leaving open slots to be filled; in all likelihood, he was ready for just as many heads to fly when his newly chosen count took office anyway. If he wasn’t, then he wouldn’t have dared to pick away a decades-old scab and reopen this old wound.
“What a blunder. The only path forward is to see how others react, Wit suppose. To think the Empire was ready to employ such drastic measures...”
Even though he’d updated the rest of his vocabulary, the ancient methuselah could never quite let go of the first-person pronoun of his youth, closer to the tongues of old than modern Rhinian. Leaning onto an armrest and propping his chin up, Marquis Donnersmarck let out a disappointed sigh and began to fiddle with a strand of hair that had fallen onto his face. Still, it wasn’t anything to fret over. Over the course of his long life, he’d encountered too many miscalculations and aggravating turns of fate to count.
Here was a man who had seen the Empire rise: he could still recall his boyhood spent serving the first three kings Richard had taken in. This was but a trifle, a chipped fragment in the overarching game of strategy. Reaching too far for a fallen scrap would ensure he’d be too late to take his share of the pie on the table.
One day, he cared not when, but one day he would make his dream come true. Whatever the era, he would rise to the throne as king or emperor of a nation vital on the world stage—until then, wisdom dictated that he choose his battles.
“Now, what sort of character is this new Count Ubiorum?”
“I have looked into her.”
“Oh?”
The marquis glanced over with great interest, and his spy produced a thick packet of papers to hand him. The agent’s clan had served this man for generations; they were more than mere messenger pigeons, only serving to report the news. Precise calculation required information, and they were the cream of the crop, bringing him all the intelligence he needed to plot his next step.
“Hm, a foreign lady. A daring move, this is. And she has ties to the College, at that... How very like the new Emperor—or should Wit say, of Martin I? Agrippina du Stahl, was it?”
Thorough to an extreme, the dossier even included a sketch of the woman’s face. While the document provoked more questions than it answered, knowing her backstory and appearance was a large first step. One’s nature often came through in looks, and more importantly...
“How beautiful. She’s quite my type. Strong of will, sharp of mind, yet not inflated by the head on her shoulders—or so she seems.”
Seldom few methuselah ever found meaning in producing children, but Marquis Donnersmarck was one of them. Where others of his kind lacked the interest to employ their lower halves, he was the sire to a copious brood. Not only did he see value in marriage for political means, but he displayed a sensual vigor ordinarily unseen amongst his peers.
Gently setting down the likeness, he muttered, “How...fascinating. Continue your investigation.”
“Yes, sir.”
The shadowy warrior melted into the dark, disappearing at their master’s order. Untiring, their sole purpose was as an agent of his ambition. His villainy had come a long way from an Empireless era, and he hid his greed behind a refreshing smile as he outlined the mental image of his new scheme.
[Tips] Having a child or two is more than average among methuselah. In fact, there exist records of a thousand-year-old individual with only three children across an entire millennium. Naturally, the books show that most that have perished were too busy engaging in their hobbies to bear any children at all.

Tprg5.4

Tips] The rank of count palatine is one of the most prestigious offices one can hold, and is reserved for cabinet ministers who report directly to the Emperor. Experts from every field are entrusted with the duty of advising the monarch on their realm of knowledge. Although modern Emperors employ an average of twenty, this number—and even the scope of their authority—has changed drastically over the course of imperial history.

Some few days had passed since my master had returned tinged with madness, reducing herself to a machine whose sole purpose was to write words on parchment.
Lady Agrippina had said she was busy: lecture was canceled, and I was to do whatever I wished so long as I didn’t bother her. At our master’s order, my sister and I dared not be in her presence, let alone speak in it.
Honestly, anyone willing to ask the madam about what had happened after seeing her like that would have to be just as insane as her. After pulling out prewritten work from suspicious pockets of space, she’d begun working with enough zeal to make her usual slothfulness seem like an act. To say that watching her forgo even the shortest break for sleep or tea in favor of writing was bloodcurdling did the ghastly nature of her endeavor a disservice.
That demon of scholarship made her message with actions, and it rang clear: she would kill anyone who dared obstruct her, including the gods Themselves. A fragile mortal soul like me didn’t stand a chance. Instead, we made our best effort every day to not bother her, going so far as to tremble in fear at the thought of our clothes rustling.
“Um... What about...here?”
“Well, Elisa, I don’t think it’s a bad move, but in situations like these—”
“Mika, wait. Wouldn’t you say you’re being a bit tactless? A player has given it her best attempt to make her move; the path of virtue is to answer not with words, but over the board.”
Sorry, I lied. We were taking it easy.
Having left our beloved Konigstuhl behind for reasons wholly outside our control, we siblings had come to learn a lesson about the truth of this world: sometimes you just can’t win, so you might as well look for the next best thing.
We weren’t going to roll the dice on poking that live demon core with a screwdriver. Following our master’s order to just not get in the way without subjecting ourselves to undue grief was the much better option. What could we have done after seeing her like that? The risk of derailing her train of thought and drawing her ire meant there wasn’t a single argument that could convince us to not live happily estranged from her.
Besides, my employer was the type of person who could fell an elder dragon on her lonesome, but she had looked utterly distressed. Sooner or later, I was certain that she was going to drag me into something absurd.
I figured I might as well make the most of this precious, fleeting moment of peace—so much so that I’d look back on these days in my darkest hour and refuse to die in the name of experiencing such happiness again. This was the best possible course for both my mind and heart.
“But Elisa just learned how all the pieces move. Don’t you think we should show her some of the standard tactics and positions first? Being beaten to a pulp by an experienced player without any idea of what’s happening is a pretty rough time, you know.”
“Yet traditional wisdom dictates that painless lessons are first to be forgotten. Tactics are best learned in the humility of crushing defeat. When I was young, the older pupils at my monastery trained me by first dismantling my play time and time again.”
“Uh, I think that speaks more to the people around—er, sorry. Never mind.”
So, while Lady Agrippina was busy reclassing herself into a human typewriter, I’d begun inviting my friends to my home in the low quarter more frequently. Look, I refused to be stuck spending my days next to a room radiating an aura of pure evil. How anyone could exude such intensity just by writing words was beyond me; I couldn’t so much as read a book in the parlor in peace. It would’ve been easier to believe that she was preparing a Great Work hex by herself to curse someone to death.
As such, I found myself savoring a moment worth its weight in gold: time spent playing a game with my sister and friends.
The familiar twelve-by-twelve grid of an ehrengarde board sat between us on the table, and our homemade pieces littered what little space we had left to paint a fun and busy scene. I’d sculpted all of them, and Mika had added a coat of metal and paint on each one; if you ignored everything but our masterpieces, it was almost as if we were in an aristocrat’s game room.
“Umm... Was my move really that bad?”
“No, no! It wasn’t bad, Elisa. It’s just that with this situation here—”
“Mika! The analysis can wait for the postmortem!”
“Like I said earlier, Celia, most people can’t memorize the exact state of the board across dozens of turns like you and Erich. It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit softer on her.”
Everyone chatted away like schoolgirls—though my old chum was currently a boy—as we engaged in a board game-esque variant of the traditional game which allowed four players to take part at once. Each player was allowed a mere ten pieces placed in the first three ranks of their side, save for the two files on the left and right ends, and the objective of the game was to keep the emperor safe in a free-for-all scramble.
Though it was most frequently played when several people had to share a single ehrengarde set, making it seem like a reduction of the main variation like hasami shogi was for shogi, or gomoku for go, it actually contained substantial depth. Having double the players meant there were twice as many moves being made, and the possible lines of resulting play were exponentially greater than that.
Battle royales forbade the use of a crown prince and limited major pieces to two per army. Four castles were placed in the center squares of the board, and any player who captured one was allowed to use it. While there was more to think about than in the base game, the chaotic nature of the battles meant it was more important to make flexible decisions than to be familiar with established stratagems.
Furthermore, the leading player was prone to being contained by a makeshift alliance that would inevitably crumble at somebody’s betrayal; the human element made it easier to help along inexperienced players like Elisa. After all, I just needed a little ingenuity to turn my sister’s mistake into a sublime tactic.
“Oh, man,” Mika groaned. “See? Erich’s at it again.”
Not wanting to let Elisa’s puzzled anxiety continue any longer—she’d let go of her piece, so it was officially my turn—I had my precious knight advance to push up the front lines. Elisa’s dragon knight maneuver had skipped past brute force into sacrificial territory, but this one move meant it was now controlling a great deal of space instead.
The current position made evaluating who had the edge in this gambit for the castles impossible. At most, it seemed like Mika was slightly worse off because he’d taken defensive pieces that made it difficult to contest the center.
“This is tough,” he said. “I really wanted at least one of the castles. Isn’t this a bit much, old pal?”
“You’re too soft, old chum. The battlefield is a callous place.”
“Talk about double standards. Tell me, General Callous: How much leeway are you planning on giving in this war?”
Enough to fill an attic or two if it means helping Elisa.
“H-How unexpected.” Not even Miss Celia—who, by the way, was in her chestnut-haired mensch form to stave off the midday sun—could keep up her usual blitz pace with the chaos of four players. She placed a hand on her chin and murmured, “Hmm, what am I to do?”
Eventually, a nun modeled after a modest priestess marched forward. Its ability to sacrifice itself in place of the piece in front of it emulated a sort of resurrection; she was probably setting up for a later attack. This piece was liable to put the user in a state of disadvantage without proper precautions, but today Miss Celia had abandoned her unga-bunga playstyle. Prepared to play for the long game, I supposed I should’ve known someone of her skill would find the most vexing spot to set up her nun.
Hrm, it’s hard to find a good move... If we failed to contain her advance, the dragon knight waiting in the wings would swoop out along with the empress—I was shocked that she stood by her favorite piece in this nonstandard game—and emperor to plow through the rest of the board.
“This is so hard,” Mika groaned. “I didn’t realize I was surrounded by tacticians. Ugh, gods...”
But in spite of his grumbling, Mika positioned himself in a way that would let him support Miss Celia’s forces from the side. From the looks of things, he planned on being a neutral third party, only committing to the fight after Elisa and I finished our scrap with Miss Celia so he could pick off whatever remained. He was skirting around battle in an attempt to ride the victor’s coattails... You coward!
“Um, umm... Then maybe I’ll do...this?”
Elisa pinched her adventurer and shoved it straight to the front lines after a few seconds of thought. Wait! Elisa, no! As much potential as that piece represented, it wasn’t very strong on its own. She’d clearly been gunning for the castles in the center, but her defenseless vanguard put me in an awkward spot; now it was my turn to sit and ponder.
“You know, this piece reminds me...”
What’s up, Mika? I know small talk in multiplayer games is a classic strategy to divert attention away from your schemes, but don’t you think you’re being a bit overt?
“Erich will be fourteen this fall. Come winter, I’ll be fourteen and Elisa will be...”
“I’ll be turning nine.”
“Right, nine. And Celia, you were born in spring?”
“Indeed. Many seem to believe my birthday is in the summer, but the truth is I was born in early spring. Why might that be?”
Pure and innocent, yet utterly unstoppable on her quest to live as she pleased, Miss Celia was certainly more reminiscent of the glaring sun of a hot summer day than any other young lady. Frankly, her passions were so fiery that her vampiric weakness to sunlight almost seemed like a mistake.
“We’ll be adults next year,” Mika went on. “Erich said he wants to be an adventurer, so the piece reminded me of that.”
“Yeah,” I said, “that’s what all this work has been for. This isn’t quite how I’d imagined it turning out, though...”
For now, I picked up one of my pieces and moved to support Elisa. Her adventurer was a sitting duck as is, so I defended it to at least threaten a trade if it was taken.
But looking back, I truly had come a long way. My eleven-year-old self earning pocket change and camping in the woods with Margit wouldn’t have believed me if I told him how his life would turn out.
“Are you gonna set up in the capital?” Mika asked.
“No way. This place is crawling with the sorts of monsters who take on noble requests—a beginner like me doesn’t belong here. I could try finding a party to take me in, but I’m sure they’d all shoo me away at the door.”
“Uh... I don’t know about that.”
While Berylin did have its own branch of the Adventurer’s Association, those who posted up here were invariably the cream of the crop, ready to take on big jobs from patrician patrons. Overrun by maxed-out PCs, my old tablemates would have laughed that this place was perennially one step shy of turning into the ruins seen in kaiju films.
I’d heard rumors of warriors as strong as any jager; mages who could be magia if they ever bothered to write an essay; virtuous lay priests blessed with incredibly powerful miracles; and scouts clever enough to unearth historical documents without leaving so much as a crease in the paper. Anyone who could make a living here was the kind of person a noble would want to hire for their exclusive use.
On the other hand, there were few to no quests aimed at novices. Dangerous beasts and monsters would never be found around the capital, and the apothecaries of the city weren’t charitable enough to pay someone else to pick herbs in a forest right next door. An entire office full of strong and dependable bodyguards existed for those who needed protection, and lost items or persons could be found by one of the many specialists in the Mages’ Corridor. While not everyone could afford the help of a magus, the capital had an abundance of people willing to work for a bit of change; if one misplaced something or had a pet run away, it was cheapest to find one of the do-it-all handymen that littered the city.
With all this in mind, beginner quests were a scarce resource in Berylin. This was basically a new area in an MMO’s expansion that bumped up the level cap for veteran players. Loitering around as the equivalent of a free-to-play noob would get me told to go home at best; no one was going to bother wasting their time helping me grind up to their level. Rather, this world lacked the convenient ability to get stronger by watching others fight from the sidelines; the requirement to put oneself on the line caused the entire premise to crumble. No one would know hardship if hugging the backs of those who came before could suffice.
All this to say I needed to go somewhere more rural to find work as an adventurer.
“Even if an experienced group is looking for new recruits, I’m sure they’ll still have a baseline for what they’re willing to accept. They won’t even let me carry their bags until I have a bit more to my name.”
“Personally, I think you’d be set if you showed them a flourish of your sword. Undue humility will come off as sarcasm, you know.”
“You’re too kind to me, old chum. I know I’m not weak, but I’m still inexperienced. I’ve already learned my lesson that I still have a ways to go. Remember the ichor maze? The world is full of geniuses who’d beat me in a fair fight.”
The undead adventurer from whom I’d inherited the Craving Blade had been incredibly strong. Even with Mika’s support, I’d barely managed to squeeze out a miraculous victory on the brink of death—and there were plenty more like him to come.
Besides, I was painfully aware of how many people could kill me off on a whim. While my employer and her vitality-glorifying boss topped the list, the crazy masked vampire I’d run into recently had driven home how prevalent people of their strength were. I wanted to start my journey somewhere more realistic.
“You wish to be an adventurer, Erich?” Miss Celia asked. “I’d been under the impression that you planned to continue serving a noble house as a knight or retainer.”
“Adventuring has always been my plan. Servitude and knighthood don’t quite suit me. More importantly, this has been my dream since I was a little boy.”
“Do you have someplace specific in mind to start?” Her follow-up question was accompanied by yet another sickening move. “If you find yourself in the south, my aunt may be able to put in a good word for you. When I last spoke with her, she mentioned that she invited adventurers to her estate now and again to turn their tales into plays.”
“I still haven’t decided on that front. I’d initially planned to start near my hometown, but my situation has changed a great deal.”
I was embarrassed to admit that my plans were still up in the air. The original arrangement Margit and I had come up with had been to set up in the nearby city of Innenstadt to skimp out on expenses. That way, we could go home to rest without paying rent if we needed to, and we’d be able to help out during the harvest. From there, we’d go to town to sell produce and trade for goods used as taxes; we wouldn’t want for work and could still help our families.
However, the more jobs I took from the College’s bulletin board, the less fulfilling that lifestyle began to sound. It was just so...safe—like we had some sort of insurance. I’d begun to feel like it wasn’t adventurous enough.
In more modern terms, it was akin to starting a band while still living at home and working part-time at the family store. Even if things didn’t pan out, the option to give up and inherit the family business was constantly in the background.
Of course, that was a very prudent and highly respectable decision, but it was wrong to do the same when committing to a line of work as fueled by romance as adventuring—or at least, the phantom voices of the characters living on in my heart whispered as much to me.
Margit would understand—probably. She didn’t seem opposed to the idea of a riskier venture; in fact, she’d tersely noted that it wouldn’t “feel as though much would change” when I’d first suggested basing our operations in Innenstadt.
Maybe the best place to start would be somewhere far away, in a land rife with conflict and brimming with odd jobs.
“Settling down in one place to make a name for myself might be nice, but wandering across borders to find prestigious work is appealing too—just like in the sagas.”
“You truly are infatuated with adventure, aren’t you?” Miss Celia’s giggle was as genteel as ever, but it clashed too heavily with her ruthless play to appreciate. “Then perhaps I might be the wayfaring priestess to help you along the way. Dedicating myself to faith without the support of a church piques my interest, and I’m sure you would supply me plenty of opportunities to help the needy.”
“Ha ha, then maybe I’ll join Erich too when I go on my tour of the land. The School of First Light has a tradition of sorts where I’m supposed to experience the greater world, so why not take part in your adventure while I’m at it? No saga can be complete without the friendly mage to open the hero’s path: whether you face a broken bridge or a towering cliff, I shall fashion thee a road of flowers upon which to walk.”
Boy, that sounds like fun. A well-to-do young lady like Miss Celia becoming a lay priestess was as dubious as someone of Mika’s promise having enough time to fit in a whole adventure on his scholastic trips; but if it ever did come true, we would certainly have a wonderful time.
Best of all, our party composition would rock.
I was a vanguard who could use magic; Margit was a scout who could come up to the front line as a dodge tank if push came to shove; Mika was a magus who excelled at both supporting and debuffing; and Miss Celia was a nun equipped with healing miracles whose blue blood and noble mannerisms would be a lifesaver in negotiations. Put together, our party would be a wonderful one.
Admittedly, I would’ve liked a beefy tank or a glass-cannon mage to round things out. I was the only primary damage dealer in our current setup, and I lacked both all-purpose firepower and the ability to take hits for my back line. Although I was confident about initiating, closing out fights was another story.
“M-Me too! I’m going too, Dear Brother! I’ll get so strong that Master will let me go—promise!”
Our merry fantasy of a future that would probably never come got Elisa excited as well. She leapt to her feet with a raised hand—I picked up the board with an Unseen Hand so the pieces wouldn’t fall over—and frantically grabbed our attention so we wouldn’t forget her.
“Sure,” I said, “you can come too, Elisa. Everyone will feel extra secure with two magia by our side.”
“Hey now,” Mika said. “Not counting your own magic, Erich? This party of ours is going to be the height of luxury.”
“Please. My spells are basically just party tricks.”
“You sure go to some brutal parties...”
We continued the fun chitchat about what might be to come until just before evening, when our battle royale ended in Elisa’s victory. At the very end, I’d been left with only an emperor to three of Elisa’s pieces—a close battle by any metric.
“Augh, I actually started to sweat from thinking so hard,” Mika said. “Gods, Erich, how overprotective can you get?”
“What are you on about? Frankly, I’m moved by the discovery that my sister had been a strategic genius all this time.”
“Well then, shall we begin the postmortem?”
“No, hold on, Miss Celia.” Analysis was well and good, but my old chum and baby sister had worked up decent sweats from the early summer heat. Not wanting them to risk a heat rash, I instead invited everyone to the baths.
“Hmm,” Miss Celia grumbled. “But this is such a wonderful chance to discuss the match...”
“That’s fair,” Mika said, “but we can always save that for next time. Right?”
“Yeah. Plus, the baths should be empty around this time, and we’ll get to be the first ones to enjoy the water. I’m sure it’ll feel great.”
“That sounds nice, Dear Brother. Master’s tub is lovely, but the larger baths feel wonderful every so often.”
Though Miss Celia remained a bit hung up on the postmortem, she recognized that she was alone and deferred to group opinion. Off the four of us went, perfectly split with two boys and two girls.

[Tips] Ehrengarde battle royales—simply dubbed off-games in some regions—are an unorthodox way of playing the popular board game. Four players participate, each with ten pieces; a player loses when their emperor is captured.
Other than these basic points, there are plenty of extra rules that change by region—the first player being decided by age or by dice, and the like—and the game is therefore infamous for causing fights between people whose hometowns are far apart.

Nothing could quite describe the joy brought by a cool glass of citrus water after a long, steamy bath.
“Ahh... That hits the spot.”
If only we could have a bit of ice clinking in the cup, I thought as I returned my emptied glass to the vendor. We didn’t have refrigerators, let alone ice makers; floating ice cubes in one’s drink was an unimaginable luxury. Magecraft offered a possible solution, but no one wanted to waste that much mana on something like this.
“It sure does.” After gulping down his drink, Mika wiped his mouth with his bare forearm and returned the cup, just like me.
We found ourselves in a public bathhouse that was a smidge more expensive than the average establishment, complete with cleaner and overall better facilities. The baths themselves were notably larger than the cheapest places in town, and the large steam bath got hot enough to suit my tastes; there was even an interior garden to relax or exercise in, so the satisfaction was well worth the price. We could never have dragged Miss Celia out to the crown’s free-to-enter locations, and had chosen a more suitable location with more respectable patrons.
Rhine lacked any culture of mixed bathing, so naturally the other two had gone over to the women’s bath. Truth be told, children under the age of ten were permitted to follow their guardians to either side; Elisa had wanted to come with us, but it wouldn’t do to leave Miss Celia all by herself, so I had my sister join her.
On our end, Mika and I were taking a quick break after our third round of bouncing between the steam and cold water baths. Having recently gotten over his public bathing fears, my old chum had begun to join me—except when feminine, obviously—and we found that our tastes in bathing matched up nicely.
That said, he did sometimes mutter about how it “could be hotter” even when I was feeling comfortable. The sauna had been hot enough for an average Berylin native to think twice about entering; how hot did the people of the north make their baths?
Hidden only by a towel around his waist, Mika’s shoulders were broader and his pecs manlier than when agender. Something about his mannerisms made his bare frame strangely captivating, even as a fellow guy. He stared off at some of the other customers wrestling out in the yard and ran his fingers through the strong curls of his raven hair with a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he seemed to be savoring the blissful feeling of his drink soaking into every corner of his body to quench his thirst.
The courtyard bench was built in the style of stairs, and the faint red of sunset trickled down on us through the leaves of the tree above. This moment was one we could only enjoy as two children free from the chain of midday work; we took in the clear summer day in all its glory.
“And?” Mika asked with a sideways glance. “Tell me the truth. How’s it going?”
“...You know, it really isn’t all that bad.”
My employer, still a waste of beauty, now also doubled as a typewriter in what I could only describe as a terrifying evolution, but I was convinced she was just paying her dues for all the trouble she’d caused. Bluntly put, it served her right, and I was here to laugh at her; I wouldn’t even mind slinging my sides into orbit.
Not that I had the nerve to say that to her, of course.
Schadenfreude aside, I’d spoken to Lady Agrippina before her descent into madness: I was to be freed from my position as servant as soon as Elisa officially enrolled as a College student. Now that Elisa had a patron to cover her expenses, I no longer had any need to toil to earn them.
Ours had been a logical partnership that arose out of necessity. Though the contract never specified my term, it wasn’t indefinite either, and had clearly laid out what the value of my work would be in relation to my sister’s tuition. With an alternate means of supplying that money, the excuse for my servitude crumbled away, and our agreement naturally came to an end.
However, Elisa would not be able to leave Lady Agrippina’s side until the risk of accidental catastrophe dropped to zero—that is, until the College deemed that she was perfectly in control of her powers. This barrier was set in stone, and proved a high hurdle at that. According to the madam, enrollment was an unrealistic stopping point: she would need to be an ordained researcher before she could win her freedom.
No matter how brilliant Elisa was, the Imperial College of Magic did not offer easy paths of promotion. This wasn’t a sword school of Edo Japan where a monetary initiation was enough to sell a samurai’s name; while not as bad as the path to professorship, the process of going from student to magus was strenuous. Plenty of people dropped out of the institution, unable to rise to the occasion, and I’d heard of fifty-year-olds who’d stuck it out and only just attained the title.
Assuming Elisa matched the youngest mensch to ever become a magus, she would still be fifteen. Lady Agrippina had told me to expect another seven years before she was independent.
But there was something that scared me.
The day I’d awoken from that night of sheer chaos, Elisa had begun bawling as soon as we were alone together. She’d clung to me in a fit of tears, but it had been so sudden that I hadn’t understood what was going on.
Carefully deciphering the words heaved in between sobs, I made out that she had seen the wounds fixed by the power of the Goddess—that she understood how much pain I had experienced. While we’d been with Mika and Miss Celia, she’d done her best to hold it in, and the joy of seeing me safe had managed to win out. But she’d seen a nightmare: one of a world in which I didn’t come home.
And so, she began to speak.
“I know that I can’t stop you from doing dangerous things. I know that no matter how much I beg and beg and beg, you’ll go anyway. So I’ll do my best too. I’ll learn more magic. I’ll become so strong that I can stand by your side and make sure nothing hurts you again. Then you won’t ever be in danger. Isn’t that right, Dear Brother?”
The wet eyes buried in my stomach peeked up, staring at me not with our father’s deep amber, but with a perilous golden glow that clung fast to my mind. Two dreadful moons had appeared on her lovable, cherubic face, and it filled me with an unspeakable uncertainty that brought me to the cusp of crying out.
I squeezed her tight. Was I trying to keep the trembling little girl in my arms the way she was? Or was I simply denying a terrible delusion of my own concoction? Unable to explain my ridiculous emotions, I just held Elisa as tightly as I could.
“I’ll get stronger,” she whispered. “So don’t leave me behind, Dear Brother.”
Her words resounded in my head like the bells of a cathedral, their echoes refusing to leave well after she fell asleep in my arms.
Elisa had steadily been growing up, but the next day, I felt as though she had matured overnight. Where until now her psyche had barely managed to catch up to her body, she suddenly seemed developed for her age. Her mannerisms were more refined, and her palatial speech was approaching the precision of a true aristocrat.
But most of all, her little “game” of making scented pouches leaked out enough mana that even I could tell with my untrained eyes: she had incomparably more power than me. Yes, she was a changeling, destined to dance with ambiguous magical concepts on a level more intimate than anything we mensch would ever know. Yes, I had known from the start that she would one day eclipse the bounds of her mensch frame with capacity for mana beyond the strongest among us... But by this much?
Although she was still far from the ludicrous heights of Ladies Agrippina or Leizniz, she had already surpassed my limits with ease. Thinking about what the future had in store made me nauseous enough to feel my legs melt into a sea of nothingness.
And so, I’d decided to stay. Elisa had told me I could go on ahead, but I’d made up my mind to remain as Lady Agrippina’s servant until she was officially enrolled.
Some said the heart was weakest when it appeared most unwavering. Emotional distress beyond a certain point could very well manifest in physical ways. I was merely fulfilling my wish as an older brother. I would stay until the day Lady Agrippina recognized her fundamental schooling and deemed her worthy of taking the first step toward becoming a magus—until I could be sure that she would be okay without me.
“And? How about on your end?”
“Me? Uhh...”
But I couldn’t bring myself to talk about all this. Instead, I turned the question back on Mika, who groaned in contemplation for a moment before placing his head on my shoulder.
“Tired?” I asked.
“...Yeah. Working every day while studying is every bit as hard as everyone makes it out to be. Sir Feige’s reward and the ehrengarde pieces helped out a lot, but it’s still tough.”
Despite having the support of his local magistrate, it sounded like my old chum was barely scraping by. His scholarship came with lodging in the low quarter, so he didn’t have to worry about rent or tuition, but every other expense was on him.
Neither food nor clothing were cheap, not to mention the catalysts he had to procure each and every time he had an experiment to run. I tried my best to lend a hand on that front, but synthesizing your own was orders of magnitude more work than simply buying them. But considering how much arcane ingredients cost, his only means of affording them was to work on job-bulletin tasks anyway.
The more time he spent earning coin, the less he had to keep up with his studies. That his efforts to get by only pushed away his final goal of becoming a magus was the sad reality of a self-supporting student. He’d have a workshop and stipend as soon as he became a researcher, but the road ahead was treacherous.
On average, a College student took five years to graduate. However, after correcting for outliers based on racial affinity for magecraft and taking the median instead, most ended up needing seven years, give or take.
In terms of climbing a famous mountain, Mika wasn’t even at the fifth station on the trail yet—the depths of scholarship that sorcery offered were readily apparent. Seeing my friend’s struggle, I could understand why some magia described their craft as the lofty pursuit of approaching divinity.
I’d invited him today hoping that this might be a nice change of pace, and thank the gods I had with how fatigued he looked. Our piece-making business had netted more profit than some of the odd jobs on the bulletin too—a bit more than the sewer rounds, even—so I was happy that I could lessen the load on his plate.
“I think it’s because my master noted my growth, but my homework has gotten really hard lately.”
“That bad?”
“Yeah. He said now that I have a good grasp of the theory, I need to pick up the pace and focus on practical skills. I’m on a completely different routine now... I mean, I knew our line of work took a ton of practice, but still.”
Born in the arctic north, my old chum’s skin was always tantalizingly fair, but today it seemed paler than usual. While he’d had a healthy flush after warming up in the sauna, it had dissipated during our extended break to reveal skin white enough to betray his dearth of mana.
“Make a thing, break it, and repeat. It’s draining, and not just in the magical sense either. It’s really getting to my head... There’s this sense of pointlessness to it all, you know?”
I asked him to elaborate, and discovered that his training boiled down to digging a hole so that he could fill it with dirt—he was just shy of participating in campsite activities, and certainly not of the fun variety.
The hole digging was a bit of a hyperbole, but he was tasked with crafting precise miniature buildings, only to have to witness them being blown away by similarly scaled-down disasters. I was willing to bet the mental strain was similar.
Alas, it came with the territory. Monotony was an oikodomurge’s lifelong companion: buildings could not stand without solid foundations, and no great feat of architecture could be made while neglecting the fundamentals. Mika’s master had doled out an exceptionally boring and exhausting task in order to mold him into a great magus, but judging from his awful complexion, the triple burden of mana depletion, work, and daily chores was seriously weighing on him.
“Day in and day out I build a thing and break it. It’s so depressing. When I mess up during construction, he tears the thing down right then and there—and if that wasn’t enough, he’ll tell me how many people would have died because of my mistake too...”
Mika let out a weary sigh. His eyes had been positively twinkling while playing ehrengarde, but now the light there had gone on holiday.
“I mean, I know he’s not doing it to be mean. People will live in the buildings I make and walk across the roads I pave, and I know he’s just trying to drill in the lesson that I can’t ever mess up.” Nestling into my shoulder, he sadly said, “But it hurts.”
Far from home and with few people to rely on, maybe he was unconsciously acting spoiled around me. Figuring that a little skinship amongst boys wouldn’t hurt, I put my hand on his head, and he happily nuzzled up against my palm. I ran my fingers through his hair and rubbed his forehead; when my palm slid onto his cheek, he let out a gratified sigh.
This was, well... He was just as aesthetically blessed now as when he was agender, and my heart was starting to pound. This was bad—as accepting as I was of these sorts of inclinations, I didn’t recall taking any such traits myself.
“You’re so nice,” Mika whispered.
Trying to divert the course of his emotional comment, I proposed an idea. If I let this atmosphere linger any longer, I risked lapsing into a gruesome social fatality.
“Then maybe my new hobby might come in handy. Want to come over to my place for dinner from now on?”
“Huh?”
Driven by desperation as it was, my proposal was a consequence of my continued growth. Completing the Miss Celia’s Family Troubles Campaign—why yes, I did make that up—had come with a massive reward of experience, and the litany of possible ways to spend it all had given me a lot to think about.
My first purchases ended up realizing my longtime dream of Divine Favor in Dexterity and Divine Hybrid Sword Arts. The pinnacle of mastery, Scale IX was said to only be achievable by those born blessed by the gods, requiring long years of dedication to bring that talent to fruition.
My reasoning for maxing out my Dexterity was its wide array of use cases, and that it was my best avenue to continue abusing Enchanting Artistry combos. Swordplay was heavily reliant on skill, and no other trait offered the same level of absurd synergy as this. Where an ordinary accuracy check would be based on both Agility and Dexterity, I could trim the fat to base my hit rate off two instances of my Scale IX Dexterity instead. And whenever I landed a hit, I could swap out my Strength bonuses too; I was effectively reaping the rewards of having three maxed-out stats instead of one.
Of course, I still needed enough Strength to swing my sword and enough Agility to keep up with my enemies, but the resulting damage output made it obvious that this was the most efficient way I could spend my experience. Fixed values were king; nothing could be more important than bumping up my damage floor. These freebies were my guardian angels that would protect me from any misfortune, barring a fumble. All hail fixed values!
My unyielding faith in Lord Mace had me clasping my hands in a peculiar act of prayer for a moment, but my commitment to consistency was perfectly normal. I was the personification of lucklessness, and as far as I could tell, it seemed like the world rolled dice based on my stats to determine how I fared; if that held true, fixed values were the path of righteousness.
With two long-dreamt-of goals completed, I was one step closer to my ideal form. However, I still had experience to spare; I bumped up my Mana Capacity by one from plain Good to VI: Superb in order to augment my staying power. Throwing out spells at every turn both offensively and defensively made me prone to running out of gas, meaning campaigns with plenty of hallway fights—like the adventurer’s ichor maze—posed a serious threat. Knowing that I’d go on extended trips and might even use magic in the city once I set off on my own, I figured shoring up this weakness was a good choice.
As an aside, I held off on touching Mana Output, since I didn’t plan on using big, expensive spells anytime soon. I’d have to dip into it eventually if I ever wanted to ferry around cargo or people with space-bending magic, but that was a problem for another time.
Even after that, I still had more to spare—a testament to how unbelievably strong that masked weirdo had been—so I racked my brain and finally settled on picking up a handful of camping skills.
I took cheap abilities like Campfire Cooking, Culinary Knowledge, and Portioned Seasoning at an III: Apprentice level. Despite being inexpensive enough that I could pay off the costs through my daily routine, activating all of them at once arguably produced better results than any one of them could with more investment.
This was a trick I’d used plenty of times in my beloved tabletop games, but it was pretty difficult to pull off. Systems that encouraged the player to find synergistic combinations of skills and traits oftentimes made it cheaper to level up a preacquired skill than to spec into a new one.
My blessing was no different, and looking at the cost of picking up a skill alone would suggest that more dedicated investment was the better choice. That said, there was inevitably a boundary at which greater gains were achieved by spending experience points to diversify one’s build, and that boundary was especially clear when higher levels cost more than their earlier counterparts. The gap between a player who kept this concept in mind and one who didn’t would be immediately noticeable in their characters’ strength; navigating the optimal path was what separated the novices from the veterans.
I calculated things out with that in mind to come up with the ideal build for making simple yet tasty dishes. So long as I could get my hands on a few ingredients, I was confident I could whip up meals on the road that outstripped even the ready-to-eat rations provided by the US Army.
And so my shopping spree ended with these wayfaring skills.
For those curious, my pubescent body almost convinced me to waste a great deal of precious experience on worthless skills, but I mobilized my rationality in time to counter it. Youth is such a terrifying thing.
...Though I was willing to reconsider down the line if my purse was feeling heavy.
To get back to the matter at hand, my recent acquisition of cooking skills had really gotten me hooked on the culinary arts. Even after “learning” a skill, I still had to go through the motions to get a hang of it; I’d been buying up cheap ingredients at the local market to experiment with all sorts of recipes.
As a result, the Ashen Fraulein was in a bit of a sour mood, and she took it out on my hair every single morning. Today, I’d awoken to find it tightly set in a chignon and had struggled to undo it—I was not going to walk around matching with the madam—but the daily new discoveries and trickling influx of experience points made cooking fun and rewarding.
One such discovery was that cooking for one was really inefficient; so why not make a bit more for my friend and help him with his chores?
“Are you sure?” Mika asked.
“Of course I’m sure. In fact, I was planning on inviting all of you after we got out of the bath. I can help you with your laundry and cleaning if you want too. I’ve been getting into that sort of thing lately.”
I puffed up my chest to seem as dependable as I could. My old chum stammered a bit, trying to find the right words, but he was failing his speech check hard. Eventually, he missed a mental saving throw and gave in with a quiet, “Please.”
“Leave it to me. Let’s stop by the market after we leave. Allow me to serve you a supper made with only the freshest of ingredients.”
“...I was this close to accidentally calling you ‘mom.’”
“Come on, at least make it ‘dad’ instead.”
“Mmm,” he mumbled. “But seeing you from behind makes it kind of hard to...”
“Huh? What?”
“No, forget I said anything. What are you planning on making, anyway?”
I won’t pretend I wasn’t curious about why he suddenly changed the topic, but I didn’t want to be the kind of friend who pushed harder after being told not to prod. We weren’t playing a board game built around picking apart lies or anything, so I joined him in talking about dinner.
But what would I make? It all depended on whatever was cheapest at the market, but the cost of spices really limited my options. I could finally empathize with my mother’s struggle; back in Konigstuhl, she would sing little verses about spending time and effort in lieu of money whenever she prepared our meals in the kitchen. I had a few extra herbs that I’d picked while I was out on a College mission, so hopefully that would be enough to make one solid dish.
Thrilled by the thought of a homemade meal, Mika perked up and we went for another two rounds each of the steam and cold water baths. After rinsing off our sweat, we headed out to find that we’d kept the ladies waiting for quite a while.
I offered to treat them to dinner as an apology, and Elisa happily jumped up for a hug. However, while Miss Celia initially smiled with excitement, her expression quickly dampened to the point where even an outside observer could flag her disappointment. Drooping at the shoulders, the priestess explained that she volunteered with the rest of her cloister at a soup kitchen in the evenings.
Come to think of it, she’d mentioned the other day that her aunt was leaving for Lipzi, and that she’d moved into the Great Chapel. Being just one among many nuns, it wouldn’t do to just skip out on her charitable service.
We saw Miss Celia off as she turned back to wave again and again, and all three of us shared the same thought: Let’s all have dinner together again soon.
Next time, I swore, I’ll make sure she’s free to join us.

[Tips] Although the capital does not have slums, the presence of low-income persons is unavoidable. Those who work laborious, physical jobs, and those whose income is sporadic and irregular often rely on soup kitchens run by various religious institutions around town. They primarily offer frugal meals of porridge and black bread broken up by the occasional donation of pickled foods; still, a free meal is something that most are incredibly thankful to have.