In this world, where the biological strength of the Human Race ranks rather low, there is one point in which they surpass the few other species.
The ability to take most of the technology in this world and either repurpose it for their own use or naturally find it convenient without modification.
“Hyaah!”
With a cry of effort, I kicked Castor’s flank with the spurs, and the stallion, whose legs showed no sign of weakening despite his age, vigorously pushed off the ground and galloped forward. The momentum was so strong that an inexperienced rider would surely be thrown off by the sheer speed.
“Um, can’t you… do something about the swaying!?”
“I’m already trying my best!!”
The stirrups were short, and I crouched forward in a style known as “monkey riding,” which reduced the strain on the horse while also allowing the rider to use their hips as a sort of suspension system to cushion the impact for Margit who sat on my back.
Still, an unskilled rider would ruin their hips and buttocks from the shocks in less than an hour. I could only do so much despite my best efforts, and I heard the exasperated sound of my childhood friend, a sound I hardly ever heard.
She missed. My childhood friend who boasts such remarkable skill missed. All because of this unfamiliar saddle.
You see, the Human Race possesses two arms and two legs, and our size falls comfortably between the large and small species. Due to this, the technology made by the other races is often adaptable to our use with just slight modifications, and if the technology is made for hands or feet, it’s often versatile enough for even different species to use.
Furthermore, thanks to a major advantage that the Human Race shares with the Long-lived Species—a species that has developed inventions to pull the human race forward into civilization through knowledge—we both have similar builds. Their innovations have typically been created for themselves with no thought for other species, as they usually think, “It’s too troublesome otherwise.”
But here’s the surprise: the frail and short-lived Human Race can end up using it naturally too.
In contrast, my dear neighbor, or rather my childhood friend Margit, has the lower body of a spider. Naturally, riding like a two-legged creature is impossible for her. The Arachne species is naturally unsuited for using other creatures as means of transport.
Of course, Margit had no need for such skills, and thus her ability to shoot from horseback was nonexistent as well. Even her remarkable skill couldn’t overcome such significant penalties.
“How many… times is this…?”
“Uh…?”
“Are we cursed… or something!?”
“No way! I haven’t done anything bad that would deserve a curse!!”
Though she grumbled rudely, I refuted her while she reloaded—an Eastern-style crossbow I gifted her—with a bolt. Could it really be considered a curse? As I thought, maybe it was bad luck.
In any case, our current state is straightforward. We are under attack by wild bandits.
Our location is the western region of the Empire, barely touching the western edge when looking at the continent as a whole, approximately ten days’ travel by horse from the magnificent Königsstuhl Manor. It’s too far to be called a border, and is actually closer to the state capital than our hometown.
For whatever reason, why on earth are we involved with horse thieves here?
The five riders chasing us on horseback aren’t particularly well-outfitted men. Initially, there were six, but Margit has already taken one down.
At a glance, they aren’t decent folk but rather common mercenaries who occasionally turn to thievery when they feel like it. This world isn’t filled solely with professional criminals. Such glaringly obvious troublemakers are often swiftly spotted by patrols and eliminated.
They must’ve noticed us while we were feeding Castor and Polydeuces at an inn along the way. Upon reflection, two young children had horses too magnificent to fit their age, making us easy prey with a profitable return.
They kept their distance at first, waiting for the area to become less trafficked before striking. The process is extremely simple. After that, stealing horses can be easily sold without any documents, and bodies can be hidden in the ground without a trace of who or where. In this life, where it takes much longer to declare someone missing compared to the previous world, these crimes, if not seen as such, are extremely easy to cover up.
That said, we aren’t children who will tremble at their threat, and of course, we fought back immediately.
Currently, I’ve been focusing on evading attackers and have entrusted Margit with the offensive while carefully controlling Poludeuces with a long rein to ensure his safety, all while dodging the ropes and flails they throw. Judging from their skill, they’ve been careful not to harm the horses even as they miss us.
I felt an ominous presence. Switching the reins to my right hand, I unsheathed the “Sending Wolf” with my left, using <Invisible Hand> to make it less conspicuous. With the blade in hand, I slashed one of the ropes meant to ensnare us.
Simultaneously, the sound of the crossbow firing rang out, but the enemy count remained unchanged.
“Sorry for interrupting!”
“Don’t give it a second thought!”
Because of my blade, Margit’s aim while clinging to my back was thrown off. Our coordination still needs improvement; we need more precise timing.
“However… ”
The mechanical sound of reloading. Despite needing about ten seconds for a full reload, my childhood friend manages it faster than an eyeblink. It’s not just her dexterity—it’s the accuracy with which she quickly maneuvers her hands, an expertise that she honed for rapid fire with both short bows and crossbows.
“I’ve become accustomed…!”
Her bowstring twanged, and the hand of a man spinning above his head while preparing to throw a lasso was blown off. The bolt, powerful enough to pierce through sturdy steel, was something the delicate wrist couldn’t endure.
“Bravo!”
“A pity! I aimed for the shoulder!!”
Still, hitting is better than missing. The pursuers seemed to finally realize something, and hesitation began to show in their pursuit.
But it’s already too late. Every shot became more accurate than the last, each more terrifying, with nowhere to escape on this open field. What they thought would be an easy grab turned into their downfall.
One must carefully determine the true nature of their prey. From afar, it’s hard to tell whether something is a peaceful large dog or a hungry wolf curled up in rest.
Though for them, there would be no chance to learn from this lesson ever again….
【Tips】Modifiers affect the difficulty of actions. Depending on the task, one might gain either a positive or negative modifier, and certain environments can adjust these as well. There is a difference between lying prone and firing an arrow versus handling a crossbow atop a galloping horse, for instance.
Back at the inn’s bunk, we sat facing each other. Not in any romantic way though. Between us sat the communal wallet.
“Hinoh, funoh, mittsu…”
With a cute voice and small fingers, little coins were being sorted and counted. The inn room, double occupancy with no meals, cost ten As, extravagant evening meal shared between two thirty As, tomorrow’s breakfast twenty As, and the boxed meal twenty-five As. Five As for borrowing the washbasin and hot water, and an additional three As for having the sheets changed to freshly washed ones, with another ten As for miscellaneous expenses.
Including two horses’ stables, water, and feed costing forty As, today’s lodging expenses totaled one Libra and thirty As. A single silver coin and thirty copper coins—an extravagant amount that added up to a considerable expense, even if we were somewhat indulging.
A rough estimate tells us that it would cost about seventy-five Libra if we calculate that it took two months to reach Marheim.
Ah, now I understand why most people don’t leave their manors and choose to camp instead for long trips. Losing a significant portion of one’s annual income on a lengthy journey is no laughing matter.
That said, our group wasn’t on the verge of bankruptcy, surrounding a thin wallet while fretfully counting coins. It’s common for newly formed parties to struggle financially, sharing purchased travel rations among everyone just to survive. Asking how many more days we could stay at the inn often became a thrilling experience.
Some deliberately played up the poverty act by equipping themselves with weapons and consumables to the limit, rolling around while saying, “There’s no money, no money!” when in fact they weren’t truly destitute. Back then, our leader was a cleric, and we named ourselves a begging band, starting every conversation with, “We haven’t eaten in three days!”
Now that I think about it, we probably went a bit overboard with that approach.
Moving on, several gold coins lay proudly displayed before us. None of the coins were cheap knockoffs either. They were each worth a full Drachma, or more, being of fine quality.
“In total, five Drachmas, forty-five Libra, and thirty-two As. Well well, quite the sum of pocket money, isn’t it?”
My childhood friend picked up a gold coin with a somewhat perplexed tone and let it fly lightly with her fingers. It made a clear sound as it spun, depicting the lovely face of a maiden. Indeed, it was a coin from Emperor Cornelius II, or as some call the “Doting Father Emperor.”
All these relatively pure funds were earned from purging the seedy crowd of bandits.
“Coincidentally seven times… does that number mean anything particular to you?”
“Uh… what number?”
I averted my eyes from Margit’s unusually intense stare, pretending not to know even though I clearly did.
The number “seven” refers to the number of times we’ve gotten mixed up in trouble so far.
We’ve been attacked four times by bandits and thieves. We captured a wanted man in a tavern once because of his poor disguise. Another time, someone mistaken our horses for stolen ones. One last instance, my sword was mocked, sparking a brawl.
“After merely ten days, isn’t this frequency abnormal?”
She sighed deeply, glaring at me with a look that said, “You understand, don’t you?”
“Still… it’s turned into a means of earning travel funds…”
“Such a pace isn’t sustainable, you know. ”
I believe the earnings have been quite substantial. All captives are alive, and the last two incidents included those infamous enough to yield a side income. Thus, our total earnings have been rather commendable.
We decided beforehand that our earnings would be equally shared. All profits are split evenly, half going into the common fund for living expenses, the remainder equally distributed as personal income. Thus, in reality, we’ve earned far more.
“Isn’t this absurd? Even in the frontier region, it’s abnormal to encounter this many bandits.”
“Part of it might have to do with the things we carry that stand out…”
“But even so, such frequent events suggest we are blessed by the Trial Gods, which frankly is inconvenient.”
Absolutely right, I could bow on the ground if cultural customs allowed. But no, I’m not intentionally causing these incidents; I didn’t pray for seven calamities like some demented Masochist to the moon goddess.
So why does this happen…
“Anyway, we’ve had our fair share of mishaps for now, and we’ve more than enough travel funds saved up.”
“Hmm… yeah, that’s true.”
“Therefore, I’ve given this some thought.”
Lifting a finger, she gave me an instructive look. She suggested we tag along with a trade caravan heading west, even if it slightly slowed down our journey.
Initially, we planned to take the shortest route independent of any group, to which she agreed.
However, she seems tired of the daily combat.
Whether it’s our fault or due to unseen meddling remains unclear, but when her determined amber eyes meet mine, I could only nod.
“Alright, let’s go search for a caravan together tomorrow.”
“Sounds good…”
Fortunately, due to the season, there are many caravans heading west. Merchants leaving major cities aim to procure high-demand goods in warmer climates. If we offer a small fee, we should be able to join them safely for our journey.
Still… it seems the dream of our two-person trip is out of reach. Though safer routes are irreplaceable, something feels lacking…
“Please don’t make such a face.”
As if reading my disappointment, Margit came closer and wrapped her hands around my cheeks. Next thing I know, she pinched lightly, stretching my face into a smile.
“I’m feeling the same way, you know?”
Oh, when she says things like that, I have no choice but to give in. Honestly, I seem built to lose against her.
“Please bear with it. This daily routine is getting tedious.”
“Alright, understood, Sister.”
“Very good. I do like obedient people.”
Her mischievous smile left me no choice but to relent as I fell backward into the bed trying to escape her grasp. But she, like a jumping spider, leapt with agility and landed on my stomach.
We need to choose a caravan to join tomorrow; I must rise early…
【Tips】 A trade caravan consists of merchants traveling in groups, either organized by a single commercial entity or a collection of small merchants following a prominent figure. Their makeup varies significantly.
For Erych, a peaceful journey was once again unattainable, it would seem. Looks like he kept rolling bad dice as usual.
Fear not, this does not signal the start of a multi-episode arc to their destination.
Simply put, I just wanted a cozy inn scene.
On a separate note, the second volume of my humble work will be released on August 25th. Can you believe it’s already the week after next?
Pre-orders have begun, so I kindly ask for your support.
Moreover, last week, I unfortunately aged another year. Thanks to your support, I continue to thrive. I’ve been gifted with plenty of alcohol from my wish list, and even the rulebook of my favorite TRPG, leaving me deeply moved.
I’ll continue striving to present works worthy of your support, and I hope you’ll continue to follow my journey.
Thank you.
