It has been seven days since work began, and things are progressing more smoothly than expected.
“Alright, get ready! Be careful now!”
“Lower your hips! Don’t wrap your fingers around the rope – it can snap easily!”
“Foreman! The surrounding area is clear for safety!”
Bravely counting numbers aloud, the manor’s craftsmen and younger workers pull on the ropes. Slowly, the sideways “tower” suspended by the ropes begins to rise.
The four-legged tower is only fitted into the foundation at the rear two points, and as it’s pulled up by the ropes, it stands upright – quite an impressive sight indeed. The watchtower, securely covered on all sides by protective panels, is one of five planned; after this operation, the same procedure is expected to be repeated by the residents of the manor.
The towers, like defensive walls or wooden palisades, are secretly constructed in the plaza before being swiftly deployed across the manor’s various locations.
This is a strategy to prevent enemies from realizing the extent of our defenses and launching a hasty attack before we are fully prepared. Each time a structure is completed and erected, our goal is to avoid giving the impression that we’re panicking.
We don’t want anyone to panic until there’s truly no other choice.
“Slowly! Take it easy!”
“Men in the back! Ease up on the force just a bit! Just a little! Just a little!!”
“Alright! Gently now! Very gently! The foundation position hasn’t shifted, correct?”
Following the correct rope setup, the tower slowly rises, its pillars aligning with the stone foundations that have been shallowly dug into the ground. The master craftsman, a dwarf father who had overseen the construction of the defensive walls, checks the precise measurements and signals by raising his arm triumphantly as the workers erupt in cheers of approval.
It seems everything went smoothly.
“So, how’s it look, boss? Are you satisfied?”
“Yeah, it’s a fine tower. It’ll keep out the wind and rain, and it’ll be hard to hit with arrows.”
“And if there’s ever peace, it’ll make for a nice spot for lovers!”
With a hearty laugh, the young dwarf worker clasps his belly in amusement. The heir, who had supervised the work beside me after finishing with the defensive walls, nods. While their light frames make dwarves excellent builders and roofers, their relatively fragile skeletons mean they’re not well-suited for heavy labor.
“Alright, so four more of these, and I figure that’ll wrap things up?”
“The tower significantly strengthens our defenses. It’ll extend our sightlines, and holding the high ground enhances arrow range as well.”
It’s hard to believe, but until now, Mottenheim only had two towers. One near the road served as a lookout, while the other stood in the plaza to hold a warning bell. Even if the area had been peaceful, it was clear the defenses were far too sparse.
By contrast, the Königsstuhl Manor had seven towers, including the entrances and key points. While we certainly couldn’t man all of them at once, we used scarecrows and bonfires during seasons when bandit activity increased, creating an intimidating front.
This strategy of using deception to deter attackers came up repeatedly before securing Mottenheim’s defenses.
It’s crucial to show anyone that we are fully prepared to fight if necessary. People, after all, don’t want to fight if they know they’ll suffer losses.
“Perhaps they might be a bit excessive to maintain, but I’ll recommend to the landlord that we retain them as a deterrent.”
“That’s a good idea. Adequate defenses that discourage attackers at the sight of them are ultimately the most cost-effective. Human life is invaluable, you know.”
Just to be able to walk, it takes five years; to become a capable worker takes another five at the minimum; and to train someone into a capable fighter or laborer takes a further five. Without at least fifteen years of time and food, the operational cost would be astronomical.
The heir scratches the back of his head. A small wooden tag dangles from his left wrist. This tag identifies the “oil incendiary landmines” that I installed the previous evening. Imbued with my blood, the tags deactivate the mines for anyone carrying them, preventing accidental detonation.
Carving the magical seals into wooden boxes was no easy task, but convincing the landlord was far more difficult.
While we didn’t demonstrate the real thing due to the danger, the notion of setting up landmines around the manor that could incinerate even the undead would not be easily approved by any reasonable leader. They would have to weigh the risks, the potential for accidents, and the cleanup afterward.
If any villagers accidentally triggered a mine, it would undo all the preparation we’ve done so far and jeopardize the perceived safety we’ve worked so hard to establish. Even if we assure everyone that experts have devised safe methods, those without technical knowledge will remain uncertain and uneasy.
Even if magicians or mages well-versed in mechanics confirm the safety of the fail-safes we’ve devised, these measures wouldn’t convince the average person that the mines represent anything but unpredictable hazards.
Ultimately, we demonstrated a controlled explosive experiment using a milder prototype and proposed marking the mine locations with red-clothed stakes to gain approval. It was a formidable challenge.
Even with these efforts, the villagers’ reaction wasn’t positive. Hanging tags was considered bothersome, and they feared what might happen if someone forgot and stepped on a mine.
Without the excitement of completing and installing the towers to bolster morale, there was a real risk that public dissent could turn into outright opposition.
I understand their concerns, so I don’t feel resentment. If someone told me they’d installed anti-personnel landmines around my house but assured me I’d be safe as long as I downloaded an app, I doubt I’d feel at ease either. What if I accidentally forgot, or the battery died? That would be terrifying.
Nevertheless, thanks to the lingering tension and sense of crisis, we managed to proceed. I personally installed the landmines at night, utilizing the “Invisible Hand” skill. Twenty-five mines have been set so far, though it’s not enough. Lady Kaya plans to produce more as soon as her workload permits, and we’ve focused them on anticipated entry routes where the walls are weakest.
Lady Kaya, despite looking unwell, is putting her best effort into her work, and we expect ten more mines to be installed tonight. By the day after tomorrow, seven more will be ready, and the day after that, another five, increasing our overall effectiveness significantly.
With the erection of the towers, the defenses are gradually coming together. If the enemy doesn’t move soon, perhaps we can consider digging false trenches as an added deterrent…
Just as I was contemplating this, the alarm bell sounded from the manor’s northern side.
Three bell rings followed by silence, then continuous ringing—an alert signal.
“All units, prepare for defense! Militia and able-bodied men, evacuate the villagers! Simultaneously prepare for a siege! Hurry!!”
Without hesitation, I shouted orders and ran forward.
When I decided to lead the Sword Friends Association as an adventurer, I committed to sharing my proficiency gained from the “Vessel of Radiance” to both protect and empower them.
I’ve honed my skills in commanding small groups and obtained the advanced “Commander’s Voice” ability, which allows my voice to carry far and boost morale.
There are commanders who inspire troops with their voice alone on the battlefield. The leader of our self-defense force, Lord Lambert of the Königsstuhl Manor, is one such commander. His low, booming voice instills a strange sense of security—“With him, we will never falter.”
Perhaps such traits are developed through experience. Knowing how useful they can be, I did not hesitate to acquire even advanced skills with the help of the “Miraculous Skill.”
Surprisingly, even my unimpressive voice can project far and unconsciously instill a sense of necessity to follow, greatly enhancing our efficiency on-site. This is undoubtedly due to the synergy of other voice-affecting traits like “Piercing Voice” which I already possess, but it wouldn’t have gone so smoothly without some bold investments.
Once the bell rang, members of the Sword Friends Association ran northward, leaving minimal surveillance while others rushed out from their nightly rest from the gathering hall.
The response was good; they were ready for battle at an appropriate speed. Still, an attack at such an early hour was unexpected. Just when the towers were finished and we were set to repel attackers more effectively…
Perhaps they’re clever to strike when we’re vulnerable, or maybe they just panicked. Either way, I’m grateful this isn’t happening at night when undead can more easily ambush us in the darkness. They don’t rely on their senses—instead, they perceive the scent of souls, making night-time combat especially challenging for species with limited night vision.
Suddenly, as I approached the scene, the alarm bell stopped ringing.
What’s happening? Could one of our guards have been felled by arrows? Rushing over at full speed, I found an amusing, and somewhat embarrassing, scene unfolding.
At the northern edge of the manor, near the boundary walls, my partner Margit stood alongside Siegfried, who was supervising the watch. Before them sat five children on their knees, with one of them being held by the scruff of his neck by Siegfried.
“Hmph, Erik, sorry to keep you running.”
“Yeah… what did these troublemakers do?”
“They were told not to play here, but they did it anyway.” Siegfried scratches the side of his head with his free hand. Among the children seated there, half were close to tears, while the other half looked deeply dissatisfied, some even defiant. The teenage boy suspended in Siegfried’s grip in particular seemed to bristle with frustration. He likely believed he had the right to challenge authority, exuding the aura of a rebellious gang leader. The evidence nearby, a basket, hinted that he and the others had planned to venture into the nearby forest.
I, having been a well-behaved child in both this life and my past, found myself confused by this behavior. However, I learned that many children feel compelled to disobey adults, often out of a desire to test boundaries. Indeed, my older brother acted similarly until our parents gave him a stern lecture—and even then, others I knew suffered severe injuries from recklessness every year.
Even a child warned personally by Margit’s formidable mother that “wolves inhabit the forest” managed to wander into it and get lost. Thinking about that, perhaps merely saying “the forest is dangerous” wasn’t enough to deter them. They likely set out to prove their courage or, more innocently, to gather berries.
Either way, they set off without permission. Perhaps some were pressured by the group’s bravado, while others simply followed out of concern for their friends.
Still, since they were caught before leaving the manor and sounding the alarm, all’s well that ends well. They can explain themselves further in the village tribunal.
Now, someone agile needs to go back and clarify it was a false alarm.
By nature, children are reckless creatures and can even seem death-seeking. Even parents sometimes struggle to control them.
According to the lord’s explanation—while apologizing profusely with alcohol in hand as a sign of regret—the children had ventured into the woods out of bravado and a desire to collect free raspberries. Some of them even hoped to become heroes by proving their worth in the forest.
Throughout his explanation, the lord appeared deeply embarrassed. After all, from his perspective, this was a failure to properly manage the manor he leads.
Still, I understood. In fact, some members of the Sword Friends Association, who are essentially adult versions of those overeager boys, couldn’t help but smile wistfully as they remembered their own youthful misdeeds.
Fortunately, no one was injured, so we applied the standard phrase, “Kids will be kids,” which, though it might feel dismissive when coming from the offenders, is exceedingly convenient for those offering forgiveness. If the local adults impose appropriate discipline, that’s all we ask.
Indeed, the children were soundly scolded and tied up under the towers with their trousers around their ankles as punishment. This will likely ensure some well-deserved reflection, which should keep them quiet for some time.
Bare binding, while not physically harmful, is a severe but ultimately memorable punishment that they will someday recall as a mischievous childhood incident.
Anyhow, we’ve confirmed the villagers can mobilize effectively in emergencies, so let’s call it a day.
While everyone excitedly anticipated drinking the offered alcohol later, dinner preparations began.
But once again, the alarm bell rang.
At first, it echoed in three-point intervals for alertness, but soon transformed into frantic pounding.
Ah, damn it! The three-point rhythm indicated abnormal activity requiring investigation, but frantic ringing means an urgent situation—either an enemy attack or a fire.
Dropping my bowl and grabbing the Sending Wolf from the table, I rushed outside after hastily donning just my chest armor.
The villagers, sluggish from the afternoon meal, responded slower than ideal. I bellowed as loudly as possible to compensate.
“Enemy attack! Enemy attack! Prepare the defenses! Hurry!”
Ah, this is all too frustrating. If this happened in those fables, only the lone boy would be eaten. But here, it’s not so simple.
I truly wish for some relief. In a way, the enemy’s timing was fortuitous…
Tips: The manner of ringing alarm bells differs by region, but in the western part of the Empire, a single bell with pauses indicates a notice or assembly, three-point ringing signifies caution, and frantic pounding denotes an urgent event like an enemy attack or fire.
As I’ve been indulging in side stories, here’s an update.
Soon, the defense of the manor will begin—a familiar scenario for many adventurers.
It’s been an event most of us have encountered many times—rolling dice with confidence, thinking it would be an easy day at the office.
And then, they die.
Jokes aside, if you’re interested, the first two volumes of Henderson’s Gospel are still available with initial edition bonuses via Overlap Books. If you’re considering getting the third volume, perhaps grabbing the earlier volumes in print would be worthwhile.
Please let me know if you have any questions.
