What is the weight one holds in their hands? Is it the weight of steel, or wood, or a sword? Or perhaps it is someone’s life, the future of a family, or even oneself?
To be deeply lost in thought when confronted with a difficult proposition has long since become my habit.
Primarily, I am the type who wrestles with the impossible challenges thrown by the GM—not physically, of course, but using the power of logic—and either forces them into submission through cunning or quietly assassinates them from behind. Finding the most efficient way to navigate the conundrum right in front of me, or searching for that cunning move that leaves the GM bewildered and staring at the rulebook with an “Eh…,” has been my greatest joy, so much so that it might be called a habit by now.
Is fighting a good or an evil act? This is a philosophy humans have endlessly pondered ever since the dawn of time, yet no definitive answer has come, even after an entire winter’s reflection.
Of course, how could it? For thousands of years, far wiser individuals than myself have piled tens of thousands of books and scattered hundreds of millions of wise sayings without revealing a final answer. How, then, could I possibly solve it alone?
It truly was an incredibly difficult question.
Take, for instance, the hypothetical situation where I kill a person. Without much contemplation, murder is often deemed evil.
But what if the person I killed was a legendary bandit, leading dozens of underlings and killing countless merchants and travelers?
Or, it needn’t even be such a grand villain. It could be a fugitive who accidentally killed someone, a petty thief, a random passerby, or even someone known for giving charity and holding a compassionate heart. Each time, with the sole act of killing, the consequences differ. Additionally, considering the backgrounds of those I’ve killed, or what would have happened had I not killed them, it becomes clear that even the seemingly straightforward ethic of “do not kill” could, under certain circumstances, lead to evil. This truly has no end.
Indeed, this is a profoundly difficult matter. Whether it be about fighting or killing, why must humans be born with such insoluble conflicts in our heads? Who was it that said, “Hell lies within the thin bones of each individual?”
The one who can solve this problem must surely be a true god. Perhaps only a god so transcendent that it can rise above paradoxes deemed “omnipotent” by the likes of humans—able to lift a stone that cannot be lifted while maintaining the premise that it cannot—can resolve this. Yes, a divine being operating in a higher dimension than the “inside” of this world could…
I was suddenly overcome with a strange sensation, something that wasn’t quite Margit’s gaze, nor any kind of comforting feeling.
An unplaceable sense, like being stared into by something incomprehensible. Or the unsettling roll of dice when you dread the outcome…
The indescribable dread vanished as quickly as it came, and the disturbance in my mind passed just as momentarily. Still, I marveled at my own capability.
Having surpassed the stage of “skill” and reached the level of “mastery” in battlefield swordsmanship, combined with my nearly unmatched dexterity, which only lacks the final level of “divine blessing,” enables even absent-minded thoughts to be complemented by the dance of a cup balanced upon my blade.
“Hmm… ”
Exhaling the warm morning air, I bounced the “sending wolf” from my sword, flicking the wooden cup I had been balancing upon its tip through the air before catching it. Sipping the water still half-filled within, I refreshed my throat.
Could I truly do it? Yes, balancing a cup on the edge of a blade just as I had read about in some long-forgotten comic, something I had once dismissed with a laugh.
Contemplating morality while cutting down people is difficult, but merely cutting things is much easier. Moreover, if you can cut things skillfully, you can also choose not to cut them.
This is because, to explain the mechanics of how a sword cuts without going into too much technical detail, one must correctly apply the edge to cut through objects. Conversely, deliberately avoiding this technique allows one to use a blade to bludgeon without cutting.
Ah, the revelation of one hidden secret of my blade has finally come…
A thin but persistent carpet of snow has finally gone, and with the warm spring air comes the blessings of the God of Fertility. Around this time, every estate celebrates the end of winter and the arrival of the busy agricultural season, with caravans flowing like rivers on the roads. It’s the cheerful spring festival season, second only to autumn in its liveliness.
Ah, has it already been nearly a year since Eliza and I left the elegant Königsstuhl Manor? How swiftly time flies.
Nevertheless, with the arrival of a new season, I had made a decision: I’ve resolved to face things head-on.
Eliza once asked me, “Why do you willingly do such frightening things?” She pondered deeply all winter about the meaning of wielding weapons.
But after much contemplation over the winter, I realized something important. Could the people who attacked me actually comprehend the words I spoke? Furthermore, without my swordsmanship, I wouldn’t have even survived long enough to indulge in such luxurious philosophical musings. I’d have returned to dust long ago.
This era offers no concepts like social security or basic human rights, or even a solid sense of ethics—”It’s fine as long as no one sees.” Even with the acknowledged existence of deities, this atmosphere of arbitrariness and violence persists, making it difficult to eradicate.
Which leads to the truth behind the maxim, “The only thing that can counter an armed villain is an armed hero.” Though from a 21st-century perspective, this is a harsh reality. Nevertheless, this principle serves as the foundation for the existence of parties of adventurers in TRPGs.
Eliza is innocent. She has no knowledge of the malice in the world. Why should she? We, as her family, have shielded her from all forms of malice. At only nine years old, she shouldn’t be burdened with understanding the significance of armies or violence. So of course, she asked me the question based on the kind of world where humans are worth saving. It was natural for her to inquire from the framework of such a world.
Hence, as her elder—since I’m an adult now—I must stand prepared for her, operating from the framework of a world where humanity isn’t so easily saved. Until she grows up and learns the darker facets of human diversity and the meaning of protection…
Until then, I have resolved to become a gentle shield for her, and as part of this decision, I have invested the accumulated proficiency from my adventures in raising my battlefield swordsmanship and dexterity by one level each.
Don’t worry; people grow even without dramatic events. Even I, who in my previous life had never experienced physical combat, understood that to stop someone who is attacking you, one can either retaliate or knock them down. If personal growth required life-threatening campaigns like those in an RPG, humanity would have gone extinct long ago.
So it will be alright. It will definitely be alright.
Wiping the sweat from my daily exercises this morning, I idly wondered if I had set up some unnecessary flag.
Suddenly, a wave of magical energy reached me. Directing my gaze, I saw a tear in the void—an all-too-familiar space transposition technique of Lady Agrippina. Out fluttered an origami butterfly.
Hmm, when within the vicinity of the capital, thought transmission should be possible with relay talismans, so why this letter so early in the morning?
“…This morning’s prayer session is canceled. Avoid going near the Magic Academy?”
A single sentence hastily scribbled in ink that was still wet to the touch, the handwriting barely legible beyond minimal decipherability, clearly written in a rush.
…Did I accidentally trigger an unnecessary flag?…
—
[Tips] Flags. Or perhaps better known as RPG tropes. These are situations where spoken words predictably lead to certain outcomes. On a battlefield, claiming you’ll return with a child leads to an arrow piercing your heart; muttering about heading home to marry invariably triggers your prayers for survival being ignored as dice rolls yield fives or sixes.
—
Baroness Agrippina du Stal, having lived for 150 years, had thus far experienced a largely smooth journey through life.
Born into immense wealth with numerous estates at her father’s disposal, and as a member of the naturally enduring Long-lived Species—blessed not only with an extraordinary amount of raw magical power but also an exceptional pair of “eyes,” she was what could only be described as someone uniquely favored by the divine. These gifts amplified her innate predisposition to excel, turning one benefit into two, two into three, and so on.
Rare among Long-lived Species is the practice of boasting about their longevity. While they might discuss their experience as a matter of reference, these beings never explicitly claim, “I have lived for so many years.” This reticence arises from the fact that even though their bodies do not age, they eventually reveal their limits with surprising clarity. Thus, those who excel do so from a young age, with their prowess remaining undiminished despite the supposed advantages of longevity. While experience can accumulate, in confrontations between Long-lived Species, it is the speed of thought that usually prevails.
However advanced their driving skills may be, a light car could never outpace a sports car. Those of true brilliance need no experience to outwit their way around difficulties.
Hence, after 150 years, Agrippina had little experience of failure and fewer close calls. If anything, the notable incident would be twenty years ago when Lord Raizenitz had become enraged with her, forcing her to choose between supervised fieldwork or an “all-out” duel.
She had succeeded, mostly through actions that had consequences only impacting herself. But today was different.
Agrippina was no longer alone. She now guided an emotionally unpredictable apprentice and harbored a problematic young disciple who might cause chaos at any moment. And through sheer impulsiveness, she had tossed aside many things. The time had come to pay for her enjoyment. The world itself seemed to cry out that she must not receive more than she has already paid.
“Ho, you have come well. Surely, there’s no need for such stiffness? I am but a humble professor unaffiliated with any faction,” she heard the voice.
Before her sat a presence that exuded immense power. A being of vampires who toyed with politics as a board game, while tending to the economy as if overseeing the very board itself. A former emperor turned professor, Martin Werner von Erlstrauch, the Duke. To meet him was altogether unexpected for her.
“What a wonderful coincidence, though why so tense? In this situation, you serve as my honored guest. As a scholar, your position elevates you to a worthy counterpart for discourse.”
“What exactly… is the purpose of this?”
“Do sit down, my dear.”
With a stiff reply uncharacteristic of her usual demeanor—“Aye sir,” she cautiously lowered herself onto a finely upholstered sofa. Crafted with mathematical precision for comfort and balance, under normal circumstances this seat would have provided the utmost delight. But now, it felt no different from a steel-studded torture chair.
Why, among all individuals in the magical academy who were practically untouchable, had she been summoned by him—not an ordinary person but the former emperor who had begged not to be involved in political struggles, citing the already chaotic academic factions?
The Duke Erlstrauch not only avidly approved scholarly papers but was also known for generously offering “tips” to his favorite researchers, all while maintaining a safe distance from factional feuds, focusing solely on the advancement of magic.
Why such a rare character appeared on a normal day like this? For the first time, Agrippina found herself on the receiving end of the irrational.
“Ah yes, let’s start with a light conversation. I’ve read a few of your papers recently and found them marvelously insightful. How they don’t get discussed in scholarly circles strikes me as nothing short of absurd.”
“Well, umm…”
Naturally so. She had merely fulfilled her minimal obligations, never seeking active engagement in formal debates or soliciting comments, intending to unveil her best work at the most opportune moment.
“Here it is…”
Having glanced at the duplicated papers provided, Agrippina braced herself for what promised to be a long, drawn-out ordeal. Knowing full well how non-deadline-bound beings can immerse themselves completely, ignoring all else, she accepted the fate awaiting her.
Regrettably, the pocket of a noblewoman born under a monarchial system did not contain the audacity to interrupt the narrative of a former emperor…
—
[Tips] Occasionally, professors unattached to any faction do exist. These may include those who thrive in solitude, those rejected due to decline, those whose personalities prevent company, and even those so extraordinary that their mere presence disrupts the power balance.
A prelude to a new campaign. Master and disciple, together facing tribulations.
—
Thank you for your feedback and kind words. Strangely, when given overt compliments, especially when tired, one is prone to reflexively typing responses. Humans are, indeed, vulgar creatures.
