For a spider person, the forest is not just a homeland but as familiar as their own room.
While many species have adapted to the cultural sphere filled with human dwellings, the trapdoor spider and the giant tarantula are less accustomed to urban areas compared to the more agile and adaptable flycatcher spider, which originally inhabited grasslands and forests and led a nomadic life without building nests.
Even if they have begun to live above ground due to civilization, that does not mean their instincts, habits, and inherent characteristics have vanished.
Especially the sharp sensory skills of a hunter who has honed their abilities as a tracker are unmatched compared to those of their counterparts who have led a more mundane life.
Margit was respected in the Sword Friends Association with titles like “Big Sister” or “Boss,” and her name became widespread in Marsheim as “Silent” or “Guardian Blade” for good reason.
It is not merely because of her golden-haired status as a “mistress.” Just like in Siegfried’s case, someone with a proud nose and aspirations as an adventurer wouldn’t idolize her unconditionally just because of that.
Moreover, someone with golden hair would not be the sort to let their proud name shield them simply because they have shared emotions. Even if by some twist of fate she was not by his side and instead accompanied by a woman who would not stand in the fray, there is no doubt that he would be treated differently.
There are several individuals in the Sword Friends Association who are capable of functioning as scouts.
Mathieu, a werewolf, has fallen somewhat in the hierarchy of swordsmanship but shows unparalleled sharpness in scouting capabilities. His keen sense of smell is typical of werewolves, and he has also learned the method of moving without drawing attention to his large body.
Additionally, Linus, who is a pig demon and possesses similar swordsmanship skills to Mathieu — and would certainly outmatch common adventurers — is also not lacking in scouting prowess.
The pig demon, a subrace that literally has pig-like characteristics, possesses a physique that could easily be mistaken for a disease if seen in a human. However, despite their bulging appearance, they possess incredibly strong deep muscles and core muscles, surprising agility, and considerable strength in direct confrontations.
Nonetheless, their true value lies in their superior sense of smell, which is not as well-known as that of the dog demons. Just as pigs can distinctly find the specific mushrooms they prefer, pig demons can skillfully detect their desired scents.
While dog demons excel in selecting and searching for targeted smells, pig demons are proficient at distinguishing the scents they physiologically need.
Moreover, as a subrace of humanity, pig demons are particularly sensitive to the odor of death.
The putrid smell of decaying corpses from other species, the lingering scent of blood, and the unshakeable metallic smell. Few can rival them when it comes to detecting odors that could jeopardize their lives while carelessly approaching food.
Linus finds a mysterious scent, while Mathieu pursues its source. This cooperation, though not publicly known, is skilled enough to be utilized even among the royal hunting soldiers.
However, Margit demonstrates a scouting capability that does not allow for follow-up.
Thus, she is affectionately called “Big Sister” by adventurers who have a high sense of self-pride and an unquenchable thirst for improvement.
On this particular day, Margit felt particularly good.
Her spirits were high, and her body was imbued with a pleasant warmth as she moved smoothly with a rhythmic grace. The speed at which she darted through the trees increased, and she was able to leap over routes that would normally require her to stick a “marker thread” to ensure safety by passing through other trees.
She had not consumed any strength-enhancing potions. Those raise physical abilities but are only meant to be drunk when truly necessary. The temporary burst of energy is often critiqued by young grass as a “prepayment for one’s lifespan.”
So, what was the cause of her current state? While she had rested well and felt a sense of fulfillment from being relied upon, that alone should not dramatically boost her physical condition.
“…Wait, am I tipsy?”
Upon arriving at her destination sooner than anticipated, the spider person became aware of the source of her discomfort. This euphoric feeling and fatigue, which seemed unfamiliar or unrecognizable, reminded her of the initial sensation of sipping watered-down wine.
Of course, she had not touched anything alcoholic. She had merely drunk plain water from a leather pouch and had not eaten any snacks containing alcohol either.
Then why?
For a brief moment, she pondered if perhaps something had slipped into her mouth but quickly dismissed the thought. She was cautious about what she consumed, especially with an expert in drugs sitting nearby; it was unlikely that anything dubious would be mixed in.
So, she decided to set aside the mystery for now and get to work.
Margit had arrived at the location where the children were reportedly attacked. She assumed that if an attack had indeed occurred, some trace of it would be left behind.
Using hearsay from a local elder, she deduced the general area, activating both her lenses and her singular eye to scrutinize the situation closely.
“…Found it.”
Even the most subtle irregularities, which would normally go unnoticed, could be detected by her sharp vision. After all, both dirt and trees remember even events from days past.
Faded footprints of children were visible, along with signs of someone having fallen and a slightly discolored patch of ground that was likely a trace of blood. Although Margit, with her almost human sense of smell, couldn’t distinguish, the two scouts following behind would surely uncover the truth.
Moreover, sometimes plants and trees could be more eloquent than living humans.
The wayward arrow that had entered the bushes was easily detected by a hunter’s instincts. According to her golden-haired companion, it seemed as though there would be no need to roll the dice to find it.
By examining the cross-section of the branch that the arrow had broken upon impact, she could deduce approximately which direction and from what distance the arrow had traveled. By marking the shooting point and searching without leaving footprints — thanks to her lightweight, easily distributed weight — she was able to locate the archer’s traces.
Multiple careless footprints were left behind. While there were signs someone had tried to erase them, it was not perfect, suggesting that it was unlikely a professional hunter or bandit had made them.
The skill with arrows also hinted that they were just amateurs imitating those with second-hand knowledge.
Margit stood at the shooting point and, noting that it was only about thirty steps away from where she last saw the children’s footprints, further confirmed her accuracy in predicting the location.
The assailants were bipedal, small and lightweight, most likely dwarves or goblins. Despite the trio having shot simultaneously and still having missed, their skill was evidently low.
“…No, more like they aimed and missed, perhaps.”
It was not surprising that they missed utilizing poor-quality arrows, but she didn’t understand why they didn’t pursue the child who fell. If the goal was to kill, it was a perfect opportunity.
First of all, there was no reason to expend arrows on children who merely came to gather food from the forest. Arrows are arrows, regardless of how ragged they may appear. There is no justification for throwing away something so valuable.
If they wanted to quietly eliminate them with arrows, why let them go? If they failed, they could just shoot again or follow and kill them easily.
Perhaps there was something lurking around that they didn’t want to approach, or did they merely want to “intimidate”?
The truth remained hidden in the bushes. However, as if to aid her understanding, they had carelessly left behind the metaphorical “shining stone” that was easy to comprehend.
Though quiet, there were still two large presences that were rather intrusive. While catching their breath, she turned to the two scouts from the Sword Friends Association, smiling elegantly as she pointed at the ground.
Such an urging smile carried the weight of “get to work,” and despite their significantly larger sizes, they immediately bowed their heads with humility…….
The defensive party certainly has an advantage over the attacking party, though this holds true.
However, this applies only when it comes to a straightforward killing contest; at least mentally, the defenders have it quite tough too.
It all comes down to the fact that the opponent holds the “right to decide when to attack.”
The villagers, having been able to work the land without constraint for the first time in a long while, returned home in good spirits and lit the hearth to prepare for their evening meals. After gathering around for dinner with family, they would each enjoy an hour of leisure or engage in side jobs before settling down to rest for the upcoming labor.
However, for us, this is when the most arduous times begin.
The defenders, regardless of their numbers, are equipped with protective means and are waiting, resulting in less fatigue and a positional advantage occupied by tactics.
If properly managed, sure, one could pin down thousands of soldiers, like Kusunoki Masashige in the Lower Akasaka Castle… though using that example might be a bit troubling, given that ultimately he fell.
Well… it’s alright, I suppose; I can’t easily recall a siege victorious side, but facing 300,000 with just 500 – or in reality, perhaps only about 10,000 – and managing to kill double that amount is impressive for sure.
As for the defense’s advantage aside, the attackers are bound to suffer more losses compared to the defenders; however, they are granted the right to choose when to strike.
The defending side does have victory conditions: repelling the enemy, but unless extraordinarily favorable conditions arise, they cannot launch a counterattack. They must maintain a state of readiness while constantly on edge, waiting for the enemy to approach.
This is mentally taxing. When the time of unrelenting vigilance stretches too long, humans can easily “break.”
“It’s going to be a long night.”
I nibbled on the soup and bread we had for dinner, watching the setting sun from the window.
Truth be told, I hadn’t expected the enemy to come crashing in today, but now that we’ve accepted the job, we must keep watch through the night until the situation is resolved. We must stand guard for the villagers’ safety and peace, never knowing when the enemy might arrive.
What a significant and challenging job this is.
The deadline is when our scouts uncover the “size of the enemy” and either clear them out or deter them. Or until the patrol’s hands are freed.
Well then, this is indeed a tough test of endurance.
“Siegfried, who sleeps first?”
“Huh? Oh, right.”
At the table in the makeshift command center of the meeting hall, brightly lit with emergency candles, Siegfried enthusiastically gulped down his soup and pulled coins from his pocket.
Someone must always stay awake to lead the front lines. At the very least, one of us must stay alert and be ready for emergencies.
“Is it alright to do it as usual?”
“Yeah.”
During such times, unless something out of the ordinary occurs, we typically decide the order using the flip of a coin. The well-worn large copper coin displayed the balding monk’s somber face. As I gazed at the face of the memorable High Priest Rampel, it evoked memories of a nun who hadn’t shown her face in several years.
Ah, if only she, a devout follower of the God of Night Shadow who safeguarded the peaceful sleep of believers, were here. It would have been so much easier.
I missed Lady Cecilia, who, jokingly, once asked me, “How about going on an adventure together?” with a seriously contemplative expression.
The God of Night Shadow grants delicate protective vigilance to the devoted, safeguarding their sleep as an aspect of deep compassion. While the numbers are limited, if “malevolent beings” intruded upon a designated area, the power of that “miracle” would dispel all lethargy upon waking.
Where are you now, Lady Cecilia, the one who playfully indicated just a little, placing your finger to your lips to teach me of miracles? Do you still offer your faith beneath this moon?
Had she been here, the lengthy and grueling night wouldn’t have felt so taxing, thanks to the continuous sounds of the checkers.
As I reminisced, the sharp sound of a coin being flicked broke through my thoughts. I closed my eyes, preventing the activation of <Lightning Reflect>, waiting for Siegfried to catch the coin and slam it onto the table.
“Head.”
“Oh, then I’ll take tails.”
When I opened my eyes and looked at the rejected hand, the coin had revealed the round moon, the divine body of the God of Night Shadow. The other side, meaning my loss.
“Then go ahead and rest first.”
“Yeah. Don’t worry about it, just wake me properly.”
“I understand.”
Even though he was likely tired himself, after emphasizing the point, Siegfried removed everything except his hauberk and prepared to rest. Although it was unavoidable that he wouldn’t sleep well, he wanted to remain dressed for surprise attacks.
He wasn’t wearing his new armor out of pure joy; sure, it was true that he had spent the first day wearing it even without work, attracting the smiling gazes of the other members.
Yeah, I get it, Siegfried. On the day my armor was completed, I too wandered around while still wearing it for a while.
“By the way, didn’t Kaya scold you for using that too much?”
“Shut up… I know.”
At the side of the member sleeping in preparation for the shift, I couldn’t help but admonish him upon seeing the earthenware bottle gripped in his hand.
It was the sleep medication made by Lady Kaya. Just taking a sip would quickly send someone into a deep sleep devoid of dreams, remaining soundly asleep until awakened. It was ideal for those moments when one needed a quick rest. However, it also had side effects and withdrawal symptoms, so it was better not to use it unless in dire emergencies.
“That said, we’ve been moving non-stop since morning. We need to ensure our quality of sleep is up for tomorrow, or it’s going to be tough. Once we get a proper four-shift system going, I’ll stop.”
“I think relying on drugs just because it’s easier is not ideal…”
If someone were to tell me “then you should quit smoking,” I wouldn’t have a retort. Although I work in secret, using addictive substances to recover magical power and enhance focus, along with my unique characteristics making me a short sleeper, I find it difficult to let go of the cigarettes that also help keep me awake.
With a bittersweet feeling, I watched Siegfried carefully take a mouthful of the sleep medication and then envelop himself in his bedding before stepping outside with a cigar in mouth. Since no one was watching, I thought to use magic to light it when…
“Never let your guard down.”
“…Yeah, sorry, I give up.”
A cold sensation touched the back of my neck. I raised my hands and turned around, and there hung my adorable childhood friend upside down from the eaves of the meeting hall.
Today, she was approaching with an unexpected style. Instead of jumping on me, her cold fingers, resembling a dagger, were poised against my nape. If she had thrust it in, it would have shattered my brainstem, putting me to death without a sound.
As I spread my hands in invitation, she politely held her skirt down with her left hand and leaped toward me using only her legs. As I caught her gently, her face buried in my chest for a deep intake of breath, her cold inhalation sent shivers down my spine, while the gentle warmth exhaled by her body made me tremble.
After a moment, she looked up at me with the best smile, and she seemed to me like a massive beast baring its teeth with pride for her achievements………….
