I haven’t been part of any sports club or anything, but if I had participated in club activities in my previous life, would something like this have happened?
“There, please, feel free to use it.”
“Oh my. Thank you very much; you’re quite kind.”
As I approached the end of the line to receive the refreshments handed out by the ladies—though at the Sword Friends Association, we strictly adhere to the order, so no one would let me cut—out of nowhere, a damp towel was handed to me from the side.
When I looked, there stood the second daughter of the village headman. She smiled demurely, and with that adorable expression, I couldn’t help but feel a touch of endearing awkwardness.
I attempted some kind of fan service, though I wonder if she was satisfied. If so, it was fortunate.
The towel I received was refreshingly cold, likely wrung out with well water, and it felt delightful against my overheated body from exercise. After wiping my face and neck, I thought to myself: might as well wipe my entire upper body, and I reached for the hem of my shirt.
“Kyaa…!?”
Upon pulling my head through my shirt, I heard a small, thin scream. What is it? I thought, and there she was, covering her face with both hands. Still, I could see her eyes through her fingers, which made me think that covering her face this way was rather pointless.
No, rather, I wondered why she hid her face and finally realized—was she embarrassed by the sight of a man naked?
“Oh, this is my rudeness. Please forgive me; growing up in the countryside has made me less considerate. My apologies.”
“Oh no, it’s not that! It’s just… I was surprised, that’s all!!”
Her porcelain skin was now flushed a vivid crimson, making her hesitant apology even less convincing.
Well, I can’t blame her. She must be the kind of girl tasked with strengthening the bonds of our manor. Likely, she’s kept at a distance from the rather ‘rough’ men of our manor. So, even a woman from the countryside who might be used to seeing men stripped down would find some blush-worthy modesty.
At any rate, though I’m already uncomfortable slipping back into my sweat-soaked clothes, continuing to expose myself isn’t courteous either, so I thought to put it back on. But just as I did, she suddenly grabbed my sleeve tightly.
“Really… please don’t worry! If you’d allow me… I’ll wash it for you…”
Her voice nearly inaudible, she proposed this while still covering her face, gripping my shirt with her forearms. Though her grip was firm enough to resist with even a little force, looking at her wrists—two sizes thinner than mine, trembling with exertion—I couldn’t help but feel as if I’d done something wrong despite doing nothing at all.
“But having you wash such a sweat-drenched shirt wouldn’t be fair at all. It reeks, you know.”
“Not at all! It doesn’t smell bad! No, it smells… really good!”
“Good smell?” I tilted my head as she finally seemed to realize what she had said, her already red face turned crimson as she crouched down in embarrassment. It seemed her comment on a member of the opposite sex’s scent had overwhelmed her capacity for shame.
“What… what have I said… so improper…”
Oh my? Hold on, really, please hold on. I’m starting to feel like I’ve done something wrong here! The stares are piercing, and I can feel killing intent flying around as if to say, “How dare you make her cry!?”
Is it me? Am I really the one to blame here? Amidst this incomprehension, I tried to gather my thoughts and reconsider my approach. This is similar to what happens at a handshake event where a fan’s mind locks up in the presence of their idol, saying things they didn’t intend.
“Please calm down. I certainly don’t mind. There’s nothing improper about being considerate. There’s no man who wouldn’t feel happy by such attentiveness.”
Above all, she needs to calm down. I took her hand gently, speaking softly and as calmly as possible.
“Who among us could think you are improper? Just as there is no man who wouldn’t be delighted by your care, there’s no one anywhere who would mock your concern.”
“…Is it really… true?”
“Yes, of course. So, dear lady, please don’t torment yourself.”
Upon saying this consolingly, she finally lifted her face. And what do you know, her eyes—a color combination impossible for humans—looked up at me with an innocent gaze that made me want to feel protective.
“Come, please stand up. You don’t want to dirty your knees. And…”
Beautiful people are crafty; with just a upward glance, they can tip the scales of negotiation. Only a person with a cool head, someone uninterested in the opposite sex, or someone uninterested in the species altogether would be able to resist this.
“Let us not end this long-awaited greeting on a sad note. Lady Filene.”
“Yes, it’s been too long, Master Erich. I’m relieved to see you well. Daily, I’ve been praying to the gods of warfare for your success in battle.”
Upon her standing and calling my name, she said something adorable and grasped both my hands with all four of hers. Whether consciously or unconsciously, educated or instinctive, she surely knows how to cater to a man’s ego.
If I had been a young man without experience, I would have been completely smitten, perhaps even contemplating living here forever.
“Well, perhaps the gods have guided us this time. Since no one has been protecting you, you’ve managed to avoid danger.”
“Why!”
The girl who just now cried out in surprise smiled as if a flower had bloomed. Then, realizing she was still holding my hand, she blushed crimson and took a step back.
She’s quite the busy one.
“Oh, by the way, would you like some water?”
“Yes, thank you.”
And how long must I keep up with this fan service?…?
【Tips】 The blood of the arthropoid races that inherits the essence of insects comes in a wide variety of colors depending on their physical makeup, but for the moth and butterfly people, just like the spider folk, it remains a color close to the red of humans, allowing them the ability to “blush.”
After all that exchange that felt like two middle-schoolers who have never touched the opposite sex—well, it’s probably accurate given the context—training was too tiring to continue all day, so it was dismissed.
I escorted the reluctant Lady Filene back to the village headman’s house, and politely declined her somewhat desperate invitation to come up for tea using work as an excuse.
It’s not that I disliked her fervent, starry-eyed admiration. Being liked by someone is not unpleasant, but it felt inappropriate to take advantage of her affections.
After all, I am no grand knight worthy of a maiden’s dreams.
Even so, the level of fan service should be enough. Even my childhood friend couldn’t say I’m too cold with this approach. If someone comments on it next time, I can smugly counter with a chuckle.
Well, now I should change clothes where I’m staying in the assembly hall, then head over to the square that has turned into a carpentry yard to see the many defensive structures in place there.
“Hey, blondie!”
“Good work!”
The young dwarven carpenter, the eldest son of the master carpenters who’ve built most of the buildings in this manor and the heir apparent, was the mastermind behind this. With my rough sketches, he perfected the blueprints and kept the lazy apprentices working by slapping their behinds at the hint of battle nearby.
The heir radiates dwarf-like enthusiasm from his small frame, proudly tapping on a completed barrier as he announces that they’d just finished the final touches only moments ago.
I had anticipated that it would take three or four days to form some shape, but completing such a massive undertaking in four days was truly impressive.
“Good work, master builder.”
“Cut it out, who’s the master? I’m no match for Dad yet. It’s just that everyone’s unfamiliar with this type, and since I’ve been less used, I could handle it better.”
Though he modestly deflects, he leans on his masterpiece proudly all the same, but truly, the job is well done.
The mobile defensive barriers resemble folded ping pong tables. Thick double-layered boards are held together by three support legs, each equipped with wheels for easy movement.
The method of using them involves pushing them into areas between buildings to seal any gaps, effectively turning the square into a defensive stronghold. Of course, to prevent them from just rolling around, each leg has equipment to secure nails into the ground. By pounding iron stakes into the ground much like tent pegs, a sturdy and immovable barrier can be set up in no time.
There’s more. The upper part of the barriers is fortified with barbed wire spiraling around, making it harder to climb over. The strategically placed open spaces serve as gunports to drive enemies back with horizontal arrows or spears. Reinforced with metal at critical points, once secured to the ground, even an ogre wielding a war maul would struggle to destroy this easily. To dismantle it, one would need to blow it up with cannons, use powerful magic, or deploy a siege ram meant for city gates.
Ideally, I’d want to enchant it to make it even more durable, but since I’m not skilled enough to inscribe magic circuits onto objects, that’s not happening. The catalyst-making and technology I currently use was all under Lady Agrippina’s supervision, and my improvisational abilities lack flexibility.
If I had the skill, I’d love to adorn it with “arrow deflecting” and “repulsion barriers” like the walls of the Imperial Capital, but wishing for what I don’t have is pointless. Even if I used all the proficiency points I currently possess, I wouldn’t come close to that level anyway.
Indeed, there’s a vast gap between sorcerers and mages. There’s so much I can’t do, just relying on instinct.
Pushing the wall lightly as if to mask my frustration, the weight is considerable but manageable. It would require more than one person, but with a group, it should be easy to transport to the field.
“Yeah? Would you like to try setting it up tomorrow? Once the villagers know these walls can protect them from arrows in emergencies, everyone will feel a lot more secure.”
“That’s right. Let’s practice a few times so we can set up defenses promptly whenever necessary.”
“And don’t forget to check out the cheval de frise. It’s also turned out quite well?”
Upon inspecting the cheval de frise, I found a similarly thoughtful structure designed with its usage cycle in mind. The horizontal beam between the three support legs features removable spikes that can be angled horizontally when used, preventing horse charges while allowing storage in a more manageable state when not needed. With similar fixing devices at the base, it’s a convenient solution.
“Bringing these to the battlefield wouldn’t necessarily require such intricate designs, but we need to consider afterward here too. Once used, it would be wasteful to discard the wood.”
“You’re right. Though heavy for the front lines, it’s suitable for moving around within the manor.”
Good, good. They haven’t succumbed to despair; the spirit to plan for after the battle is essential. In the battlefield where blades clash and blood flies, it’s the will to live that decides life and death.
The lifespan of a group overcome by despair is short. Once they give up, their spirit wanes, and their thoughts turn to how they can die without suffering, rather than how they can prevail. At best, they wonder if they’d be accepted if they surrendered; they stop seeking victory altogether.
In every siege, this insidious disease has led to failure without exception.
As long as our group hasn’t succumbed to this, we still have a chance at victory.
Since everyone here has worked hard to create excellent tools, let’s also stay strong. In gratitude for their good work, I thought about treating the craftsmen with some alcohol and headed toward the outskirts of the manor with my wallet in hand. A caravan had set up camp there, and even in times like these, they continued their trade.
As I was pondering this, I unexpectedly ran into a few members of the Sword Friends Association—not just members, but also some townsfolk militia members.
“Oh, master, what a coincidence!”
“Heh, heh, yeah, quite the coincidence…”
Members and militia alike gave somewhat forced, unnatural smiles. Considering our matching destinations and the obvious attempts to hide what they were up to, I couldn’t help but give them a sidelong glance.
Should I advise them to pace themselves? It’s a conundrum—do I commend their stamina if they can relax after such rigorous training, or should I caution them against overdoing it? While it’s not ideal to wear out from overtraining, it would be equally unseemly to let excessive “fun” affect work performance, leading to a situation where I’d feel compelled to shout at them for their impropriety.
Still, indulging in a bit of pleasure isn’t necessarily bad for mental health—it steadies the mind. Some life experiences are crucial for fostering a strong will to survive. Conversely, there are those who develop a fierce determination to live after experiencing something regrettable.
“Take it easy, alright? Rest is important, but we’re still busy.”
Before I moved ahead to leave them behind, I received an unexpected invitation from the militia man. Turning back, they again wore strained smiles.
Are they trying to mask their discomfort? There’s also a hint of darker emotions, perhaps hoping my encounter with hired courtesans would tarnish the pristine image of the manor’s treasure they admire?
Ah, no, among these men, there might be those hoping to reach the same level of intimacy with that treasure I achieved this morning.
Well, I don’t blame them. It wouldn’t feel good for the prized flower atop a high mountain to be snatched away by a wandering rogue, regardless of how unattainable that flower might truly be. Some might feel that way, though not all cling to such hopes. There’s no need to dwell on such minor slights.
I’ve almost grown accustomed to being looked upon with such sentiments.
It’s common in Marsheim too. Being called pretentious is one thing; I’ve even faced mockery that my skills lay not with the sword but with my “rear end,” but compared to those, this is quite tame.
Still, an idea came to me as I was being detained.
Perhaps now is the perfect time to follow through on the thought I had this morning?
Before I start contemplating complex matters, it might be better to create a turning point for them.
Besides, many timid souls hesitate to act alone but find courage in numbers. Based on my observations, he, for instance, shows undeniable courage in combat but hesitates in matters of everyday life.
With a smile, I implicitly declined the invitation and inquired of the Sword Friends where Yorgos had been—confusion returned as if to say, “Why ask now?”
【Tips】 Personal merchant caravans have the advantage of being able to alter schedules or extend stays at will, following the discretion of the caravan master.
However, company-sponsored caravans with predetermined routes and destinations lack this flexibility, leaving them vulnerable under such circumstances. Therefore, these caravans travel with strong and numerous escorts ready to crush dangers head on.
I’m contemplating different update times on weekdays—whether around 19:00 or later—and would appreciate feedback.
Volume 3 briefly reached the 4th highest position in Amazon’s light novel overall rankings, and I’m grateful for the substantial support.
Additionally, volume 1’s digital edition is currently discounted by about 30% across platforms. If interested, feel free to check it out.
For continuation to volume 4, your support would be greatly appreciated if you find the story intriguing.
