I must not run away—that was the unusually lustful voice of a youth reverberating in my head, a voice not my own.
“Phew…”
This feeling wasn’t a side effect of the tobacco. I had packed a potent blend for its sedative properties and inhaled more deeply than usual, sending the medicine straight to my brain, yet I knew it was merely the memory of my former life stirring up trouble.
In reality, fleeing with all your might from the kind of scenario where you think, “Ugh, I don’t want to get involved,” is exactly the kind of move that leads to dire consequences in a TRPG. And now, as I find myself in the field of adventure, the principles of TRPGs often apply to reality as well.
At best, if you flee, the GM may just fold their screen, leaving the scenario unresolved. But often, running away can have worse consequences—it might lead to criminal entanglements or you end up receiving a story with a horribly sour ending, devoid of reward and filled with regret.
Such predicaments are not uncommon in this line of work. There are times when involvement is a given; running away causes more harm than good, and it’s better to face the storm head-on. I’ve experienced such situations in this life, too. Among the few individuals in my limited circle of friends, Lady Seth stands out as someone who undoubtedly considers me a friend.
When I look back, her situation was also one that an ordinary person would have stayed far away from. Most people don’t rejoice when a girl falls from the sky—it’s a niche interest after all.
Yet, I joyfully got involved, went through some terrible ordeals, and gained a lifelong friend in the process.
Yeah, it was quite a rough patch. I was chased by the renowned imperial guards and the so-called superhuman sentinels, got struck by an arrow to the shoulder, crawled through the sewers, and lived in perpetual fear of infectious diseases. At its worst, the arm that had been by my side for thirteen years decided it wanted to run away for a while.
If I were an average person, I’d probably have died dozens of times over from those experiences. But somehow, I’ve persevered admirably.
As a reward, Eliza received strong backing, and my life improved considerably, making that adventure worthwhile in the end. While someone might say this is a result-oriented perspective, life only reveals results to those who take the dice in their hands and shake them.
Now, as I reflect on the current situation, it feels eerily similar.
From Mottenheim’s perspective, our retreat spared them utter devastation—though it’s not arrogant to say that even a typical group of adventurers would have been insufficient to hold them back. One could say the situation turned out for the better. However, had we been involved from the start, we might have found alternative approaches.
That said, alternative approaches would have been uncertain at best.
Part of the reason lies in my underestimation of the seriousness of the situation.
Would you believe it? Word came that one of our companions, participating in a one-shot session at another table due to scheduling issues, had triggered a monumental event, perhaps hinting at the beginning of a massive campaign. And it wasn’t as if Siegfried had fallen in love with a De Adain princess, which would have placed the Empire’s enmity at his heels. Thankfully, my fellow warrior has an excellent sense for avoiding trouble and managed to avert any critical developments.
Siegfried excelled by rendering an unnamed individual unconscious, but still—I can’t help but wonder why I didn’t notice the gravity of things earlier.
You see, I’ve been thoroughly enjoying my life as an average adventurer, where even murky side gutters appear as pristine streams. I’ve steered clear of political intrigues and limited myself to tame bandit-clearing missions, avoiding any entanglement in unpleasant affairs.
This aversion stems from the excessive immunity developed from battling assassins under Lady Agrippina—how could anyone remain sane when dealing with political intrigues every single week of an entire year?
In any case, while aware of significant movement happening in Enderede, as reported by Lady Agrippina, I simply lacked the context to connect it to the grand scheme.
If I had connections among the nobility in that region, they might have tipped me off, but as things stood, I hadn’t expected involvement on my part initially.
I really have a pounding headache. As I let the trail of tobacco smoke dissipate far away, it helped calm my thoughts.
“Could the jobs Count Ubiorum mentioned in his letter possibly be related to this matter?”
“Yes, well, sort of. Initially, I planned to dispatch you under the pretense of my messenger to the fort construction site whenever the timing was right.”
“Transporting goods?”
“Exactly. We’ve arranged one magic furnace from the Magic Academy, and a team of magi from my house will be leading the research contingent accompanying it. Thus, we need someone who can negotiate with these magi, don’t we?”
Lady Agrippina also let out a stream of purple smoke, entwined with my tobacco smoke, as she mused. Then, amidst the dimly lit room, her fingers snapped as though recalling something forgotten.
In her hand rested a bottle with a slightly worn label. Its dark-hued glass, which obstructed light, indicated an exclusive vintage wine designated for the nobility.
Held in her other hand were two sparkling wineglasses. Without touching the bottle, its cork popped, and the bottle was extended to me as an invitation to pour. The nobility do not pour their own wine; their pride demands enduring thirst rather than drinking sans ceremony unless absolutely necessary. Of course, there are exceptions—Lady Agrippina herself has been known to use magic to pour when the situation requires it. But today, it seemed she preferred to have someone physically present for the task—me, who had once been an extension of her own arms and legs.
Knowing the implicit request, I silently took the bottle and respectfully poured for her.
She received the second full glass with acknowledgment, nodding contentedly before tasting it. The nobility often take the first sip to signal trust and lack of malice.
The command within her gesture accompanied by the sip seemed to alleviate the throbbing pain in my head somewhat.
This was indeed excellent wine. Its robust, astringent flavor masked a rich aroma reminiscent of flourishing grape fields at the peak of harvest, infused with herbal undertones. A far cry from the sugary wines preferred by imperial tastes, this western creation emphasizes balance with food—a drink beloved in the homeland of Lady Agrippina, I imagine.
Its alcohol content was high, the taste deep, and its aftertaste more profound than refreshing. Paired with fine meat, it would surely taste even better. I was missing some salt-cured meat now.
“… What is the magic furnace for?”
The wine seemed to soothe my thoughts, allowing my brain to start functioning properly again.
Lady Agrippina has a vested interest in this region, aiming to secure her advantages. From the previous explanation, it’s clear that the defeat of the local landlords is inevitable.
Sun Tzu and the First Emperor Richard both wrote about it in their own ways: War is all about preparation, and once you’ve prepared fully, the outcome tends toward a foregone conclusion. With such preparation from the Empire, aided by the late emperor’s campaigns and the formidable support of the Grouflock ducal house, the Marquis of Marsheim presumably has the necessary competence. If not, the entire Empire would be shaken by the consequences, and such a mistake would be unacceptable.
Victory—or a comprehensive victory, perhaps?
In this context, Lady Agrippina is seeking the benefits that follow from the manner of victory. Given that she’s explicitly mentioned the furnace, it’s tied to certain advantages.
If she has shown me a sliver of her strategy, then there’s a purpose behind it. After all, the essence of her power is ruthlessly pragmatic—a steely blue, tinged with a deadly streak of black that doesn’t hesitate to maim before killing. She wouldn’t show me a card casually, given that I’ve been nothing more than a loyal pawn in her service. It’s certain knowledge that she never plays her cards without reason.
“There’s a brand-new type of magical array capable of independent operation without a mage. It uses reflected wavelengths to detect symmetry and find positions relative to the waves emitted.”
“… What?”
In shock, I almost dropped my pipe. What did she just say? That’s practically a magical radar. If we measure progress from a mid-medieval scale, she has just jumped seven hundred years into the future—so what exactly does this mean?
“Simultaneously, we aim to observe human activity across the border while testing this out. The detection range is too narrow if we don’t elevate the transmitter, so the border fortifications offer a convenient opportunity for installation… publicly speaking.”
Without giving me a moment to question this technological advancement, Lady Agrippina lobbed another bombshell at me.
“In reality, we’re conducting a proof-of-concept experiment for a closed-loop magic furnace. The detection mechanism is an intriguing hybrid—a concept conceived by the Sunset School and completed by the Dawn school, while this closed-loop magic furnace stems from the brainstorming of the Aerial Warship Techniques Committee convened by the Count of the Imperial Capital.”
“Wait, Agrippina von Ubiorum, Count of the Imperial Capital’s Magic Academy…?”
“That’s correct.”
The smile that emerged upon her response was truly magnificent—so dazzling that it might as well serve as the example in a dictionary for “guile.”
“Does this mean you’re also part of this grand plan?”
“I’m but one of many sparks. Despite how labor-intensive and costly this whole endeavor is, it wouldn’t have been sparked by the mere pursuit of domestic stability, even for the most politically-minded Bloodless Emperor. You see, that person harbors a twisted sense of efficiency; he won’t feel satisfied until he uses one stone to eliminate an entire flock of birds.”
Laughing, she exhaled another plume of smoke. It seemed the scale of this endeavor was far beyond expectations.
As it turns out, Lady Agrippina’s so-called closed-loop magic furnace manipulates a physical space in which magical laws defy normal physics, theoretically creating an impossible perpetual motion machine of the first kind.
Though I wasn’t privy to the specific physics and magic involved, I understood that within a hermetically sealed furnace, the initial magical energies perpetuated endlessly, generating additional magic. Theoretically, the furnace could endlessly extract the equivalent magic of several mages unless physically disrupted.
The creation of this technology involved a dangerous cabal under the management of a powerful overseer, working on something so hazardous that it required a test site where failure wouldn’t be catastrophic. They even warned of the potential risk of uncontrolled chain reactions that could trigger atomic collapse within a several-kilometer radius. What kind of reckless experimentation is this?!
Just as my headache was subsiding, it worsened again. But the issue isn’t merely that—it’s what she mentioned next. The plan, she stated, was yet to occur. The so-called magic furnace hadn’t reached the frontier of the Marquisate yet.
Based on my guess, the fortress construction might not have fully commenced either. It’s possible that local landlords, fearing the implications of the fortifications, have been destabilizing the region to divert the empire’s attention, preventing the necessary gathering of resources.
Even if we wait, the empire will still win. While the Marquis of Marsheim pretends to wage a half-hearted war, the Empire is preparing its larger forces in the background. Eventually, a grand army will march forward, encircling the landlords, forcing them into futile battles before bestowing a glorious end upon them. Thus, all traces of western affairs would be wiped clean.
However, Lady Agrippina sees this as too slow. Hence her revelation of the furnace to me and the additional information she provided.
So… the landlords must have launched this security chaos with insufficient preparation. Their methods indicate limited resources, most evidently through the use of necromancers. A force that doesn’t rely on traditional logistics but can draw on local resources, spreading their presence far and wide.
Ordinarily, necromancy is frowned upon everywhere, and rulers rarely release undead in their own territories. Especially if they plan to govern an area post-victory, maintaining population levels becomes crucial. Given this, their deployment here must indicate extreme desperation, with only a minimal cavalry force used covertly while the rest gather and prepare elsewhere.
An army is like a massive living organism that can’t simply leap into action. Proper preparation is required to meet its immense appetites. Even modern military forces with instant response and transport capabilities can’t launch a full assault in a day or two.
Transitions from peacetime to war require considerable time to align the command structures, recruit and train soldiers, and establish logistics. This usually takes months to accomplish.
This seems to indicate that timing was forced. If so, I now understand what Lady Agrippina expects of me and what I should do—follow through on her stated declaration.
It’s about killing that inefficient necromancer responsible for all this. There’s no point in being half-hearted, they say. A clean end, then, would suffice.
Above all, this individual probably also wants nothing more than to kill me.
“So, Count Ubiorum?”
“Whatever is it, golden one?”
“Since you’ve gone through such lengths to set this up, you must want this person dead too, don’t you?”
No need to mince words anymore. She knows everything, so why bother with prolonged discourse?
“Hmm… How unbecoming. I was hoping you would be more flustered.”
“You’re the one who gave me such experiences, my teacher.”
How long has it been since I saw my teacher perplexed? After considering the situation for a brief moment, she seemed to recall something and her smirk turned wry as she adjusted the tobacco pipe between her lips. Though far from the “gyafun” I swore I would make her say someday, it does somewhat settle my frustration.
Happy Golden Week with this update! With the preparations for Volume 4 and its bonus features, I have many challenges ahead.
And finally, 200 episodes! It’s been two long years already.
By the way, last month on April 25th, we marked a year since the book publication started. Have I grown at all since then? It might seem like an odd milestone, but I hope to continue receiving your support moving forward.
