Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World - Volume 1 - Chapter 11

Winter of the Twelfth Year

Campaign

A long-form story that takes place over the course of several sessions.

These usually revolve around large-scale issues that cannot be resolved in one session alone, and involve powerful enemies or complicated mysteries.

The sound of a bowstring signals an extinguished life. In exchange for a hefty draw weight, the composite shortbow—made from yew and strengthened with animal tendons—packed great power. The minimal draw distance and respectable force made it a perfect fit for hunting.

“Splendid,” Margit said. The small arachne was no match for me in endurance, but her agility far eclipsed that of any mensch; she and her kind were so well suited to the weapon that they practically came out the womb holding one.

I looked up from my hiding spot to see my old friend clinging to the trunk of a tree, praising my use of her personal weapon. Seeing her nonchalantly scale timber with just her legs hit me with the fact that she really was different from a normal human, as late as the revelation was.

“You’ve gotten the hang of this nicely,” she continued. “Landing a mark from this distance is reason enough to be proud of your skills.”

Margit leapt to the ground from above my head without a sound and scurried off to lift up my catch at a frightening speed. The arrow had flown some twenty meters to pierce through a rabbit buried in the foliage. These brown hares were large critters whose rat-like faces made them markedly uglier than Earth’s domestic bunnies.

This one was hefty, and looked to be around seventy centimeters long. Its coat provided year-round camouflage in this region with little snowfall, but the brown now dripped with red. My arrow had gone straight through its eye. I’d been aiming for the head, but this was a cleaner shot than I’d expected.

I chalked it up to the Shortbow Marksmanship skill I’d raised to IV: Craftsman. My long dexterity grind combined with Enchanting Artistry had led to a situation where all of my dex rolls were hilariously successful. A trait that can do it all really is the way to go.

“It looks nice and meaty,” I said.

“How fortunate,” Margit remarked. “It seems we’re due for a lavish dinner.”

The two of us were alone in the woods just outside the canton—the same one that we used to play in as children. I’d been taking archery lessons with Margit (as I’d suspected, having a tutor gave more experience, faster) while earning some small coin for when I left home.

“Shall we gut the hare before moving on?” she asked.

“Yeah, let’s,” I replied.

Though we began preparing the rabbit to eat, there was actually a bounty on these creatures. Twenty-five assarii per hare was quite the pocket change for a child. They were pests that nibbled on saplings to get through the colder months, and that included the artificially planted trees that supported the logging industry. Impeding reforestation efforts delayed the cycle of rebirth that our civilization relied on, and meant we’d run low on timber and firewood.

Furthermore, these rabbits were acutely sensitive and fleet of foot, making them difficult to catch. Unable to lay traps in a forest frequented by lumberjacks, the authorities were at quite the standstill. Since larger beasts were quickly culled in these preserved woods, the hare population had been left to grow, and so the powers that be in Heidelberg offered monetary reward to huntsmen as an incentive to proactively thin out their numbers.

I’d followed along on Margit’s hunting trips eyeing this bounty. Everything was for my future budget. To announce that I was leaving was one thing, but actually leaving was a whole separate beast. The process of walking into a leasing office and moving out a month later in Japan was stupidly easy in comparison.

On the day following the festival, I’d told my parents I wanted to be an adventurer. Perhaps in part due to the strangely passionate covering fire my eldest brother had laid down for me, my folks accepted my plans without incident. Although, to be honest, I think I would’ve been fine on my own.

However, that day was also when I found out that my mother and father had been asking around to secure a stable future for me as an adult. They’d been in talks with a few families that were interested in taking me in as a bridegroom, and sent expensive letters to distant relatives to see if they would adopt me as an heir. Apparently, they’d even asked the village chief to prepare a letter of recommendation for me, had I chosen to apply as an aide to the magistrate.

Despite reducing all of their hard work to dust, my parents didn’t so much as sigh when I told them what I hoped to do. They allowed me to pursue my own future in spite of the fact that my chosen occupation was something as roguish as adventuring.

To be told that I could chase my dreams out of love and not disinterest filled me with such joy...and filled my heart with an unbearable pain. I would never forget the tears that I failed to hold back on that day.

Still, my parents weren’t fools; unlike the clowns that blindly support deadbeat wannabe musicians, they gave me a set of tasks to complete. Adventuring was a constant test of vigor, so I was told I needed to save up enough money to safely set off on my journey. If I couldn’t do that much, I wouldn’t survive out there no matter how desperately I struggled.

I had a long list of expenses to account for. Travel fare to my first major city was too obvious to mention, and my order of armor alone would not be enough to equip myself. I would only be able to set off as a proud adventurer if I managed to gather everything I needed by the time I came of age.

I was nothing but thankful for my parents’ demands. They’d prepared an attainable goal and went out of their way to refuse my wood whittling earnings. All that was left for me was to do everything in my power to meet their expectations. Thus, I found myself spending the winter’s free time stocking up on experience, money, and dinner supplies.

“You’ve improved magnificently,” Margit remarked.

“Have I?”

I put the dismembered hare into my bag as she removed unwanted fat from its pelt. The pelt sold for another fifteen assarii, making it an important source of income. The ten copper pieces that it cost to rent a run-down motel room felt oddly cheap and expensive at the same time.

“The speed at which you take aim and your concealment of intent aside,” Margit said slowly, “there’s nothing more for me to say about the accuracy of your shots.”

The arachne shrugged her shoulders, as if to show there was little need for her to offer advice. She slipped the rabbit skin into her knapsack after a light cleaning; it became a hassle if there was still excess oil clinging to it later on.

“But my range is limited,” I said. “Any further than this is a bit much for me...”

“One shouldn’t aim to fire much further than this, you know?”

Despite her statement, Margit could land headshots on deer from twice my effective range, so what kind of freak of nature did that make her?

“Sneak in close and end the matter in a single strike—that’s the key,” she went on to say. “This bow hits hard, but a large beast will still take several shots to fell.”

Underestimating animal hides was no small mistake. Even a small flaw in an arrow’s angle of entry could be enough to turn a solid hit into a grazing blow. Furthermore, territorial creatures like boars during mating season were equipped for their turf wars with a hard layer of fat that acted as armor. I could see why there had been stories of hunters dying to wild boars even back in a world where hunting rifles were commonplace. The courage required of this world’s huntsmen to face one with a bow and dagger was nothing to scoff at.

“Well then,” I said, “I’ll strive to stay in the good graces of my wonderful teacher.”

“My, how admirable,” Margit replied. “Then shall we search for our next mark?”

As soon as we finished disposing of the gory byproducts of my kill, we strolled through the woods in search of more prey. I alone manned Margit’s bow for the sake of my training, but my eyes couldn’t hold a candle to an arachne’s, so she was in charge of stalking the forest critters.

I’d tossed a few points toward Animal Knowledge and Animal Tracking, but I quickly realized that Margit was at least in the realm of VI: Expert. Unable to justify the ridiculous costs of catching up to her, I abandoned the idea entirely.

I’d known from my first attempt at setting the course of my journey that it would be a mistake to take on everything by myself. Reminiscing about the half-baked builds my impulsive greed had birthed was painful enough—I had no desire to experience that sort of thing in the first person.

As a result, I elected to commit the bare minimum amount of experience to scouting skills: enough to detect other people. Large and careless, they were far easier to spot than wild animals, and as an adventurer I would probably be tasked with clearing out a bandit camp in the mountains at some point or another.

Margit hadn’t let her racial talents go to her head, and years of diligent practice left her startlingly proficient at tracking. Thanks to her skills, we’d managed to catch three hares in the time from morning to evening. I’d missed one shot when Margit had licked the back of my neck, but I think overall we pulled in a respectable haul. Of course, that wasn’t to say I’d ever believe her playful excuse that she was testing my ability to remain focused under any circumstance.

The other highlight of the day had been when Margit silently scaled a tree and captured a pheasant with her bare hands. After witnessing that, I’d felt a surge of confidence, considering that I managed to avoid her surprise attacks fairly often.

“Now then, it’s getting late,” Margit said.

The sun careened to the horizon, and the light shining through the foliage grew dim. Though the preserve was not densely packed, the trees were all tall enough that the winter sunlight dwindled at speed, leaving little time to enjoy the scarlet glow of the last evening hours.

“Let’s set up camp,” I said. The arrival of night necessitated shelter, and this too was part of my training. We were unlike the heroes of console RPGs who ran around without sleep or rest for days on end in clothes that actively mocked the elements; a certain amount of preparation was called for.

Besides, camping—that staple of tabletop fantasies—set my heart aflutter. Who hasn’t blown a few hours rolling dice to depict a scene like this in way more detail than necessary?

Fond memories aside, crossing borders was basically part of an adventurer’s job description. Sleeping outdoors was common depending on one’s travel plans, and I’d heard it was perfectly ordinary to have to set up camp alone if one didn’t have the good fortune to hitch a ride with a caravan. Therefore, I was learning the ropes with someone more experienced than me in a secure forest.

“May I ask you to prepare the bedding?” Margit said. “I will handle the fire.”

“Thanks,” I responded. “I’m already having trouble seeing in this light, to tell you the truth.”

“It seems we let ourselves get carried away,” she noted. “Let’s be more careful tomorrow.”

I grabbed rope and tarp from my bag and made a simple roof between some trees as a defense against an unexpected shower. Meanwhile, Margit collected a handful of dry branches and used a tinderbox to start a bonfire. Her racial darkvision left her with little need to light a fire unless she was cooking, but my Cat Eyes weren’t quite as effective in this wood under the new moon, so the light was necessary.

The midnight forest was too dark a place for any mensch, regardless of what talent they possessed. As a huntsman’s daughter, Margit had camped outdoors since she was a little girl: sometimes to learn from her parents, sometimes to teach her little sister, and sometimes alone. She’d earned the privilege of going out on solo hunts recently with her fifteenth birthday in sight, and at worst, I risked death without her guidance.

To a member of one of the frailest human races, the shift from daytime to an unfathomable darkness and cold was a monstrous challenge. Although I had the hang of it by now, my first camping experience had been a disaster. Margit had overestimated a mensch’s ability to see in the dark, and we’d only begun our preparations after night had fallen.

The canopy had blocked what little moonlight remained and my Cat Eyes had been rendered useless, turning the simple act of firemaking into a whole ordeal. I’d cut myself while preparing a fire starter and smashed my finger with the flintstone; it had been a bad time all around. I don’t know what I would’ve done without Margit.

She’d apologized to me afterwards, but I’d learned the danger of delaying nighttime preparations firsthand in a safe environment, so I didn’t mind. After all, humans were prone to taking the success of commonplace tasks for granted. Honestly, I should have been the one apologizing: arachne could sleep perfectly well in the canopy, and Margit had to compromise for my sake.

We huddled around the pleasing crackle of the fire and prepared a simple meal. With no cooking equipment, the only two steps of our recipe were to thoroughly rub salt and herbs into the rabbit meat and sear it. But don’t be fooled—this seemingly boring dish had its own rustic charm and tasted amazing.

“By the by, have you heard?” Margit suddenly began speaking as she turned the roast to avoid burning it. “A black type of pepper that’s said to be quite delectable is popular in the city right now.”

“Black pepper, huh?” So they have it in urban areas... The slow advancement of animal husbandry meant a spice that could suppress gamey smells would naturally be popular. I had grown accustomed to the odor, but if someone were to come directly from my old world to share a meal with us, they’d probably be knocked off their feet from the stench alone.

“A classmate of mine was bragging that she’d eaten a dish with some recently,” Margit elaborated. “It’s shipped in from overseas, she said.”

“So it’s an import,” I mused. “I bet it’s expensive.”

“One libra per peppercorn, in fact.”

The cost of the seafaring good astounded me, but I suppose I should have expected as much from something that spent months on end swaying back and forth under a ship’s deck. If the goods came from a newly discovered continent or something, then I could only commend them on a job well done.

“Don’t you think it would be fun to sail the seas as a merchant?” Margit asked.

“I’m sure it would,” I agreed. “I’d love to try food from a foreign land.”

“And my heart dances when I imagine the beautiful fabrics and jewels abroad!” she swooned. “Oh, isn’t there anyone who’d decorate me with such a beautiful gift?”

“I know it’s a cliche, but is this the part where I say you look gorgeous enough without it?”

“All that will do in this situation is make you sound cheap,” she said, snickering.

Our idle conversation continued until we finally feasted on the roasted meat dripping with grease. Animals ate as much as possible to survive the winter, so game in this season was always fatty and delicious.

After finishing our meal, Margit prepared a cup of finely ground red tea for each of us. I watched her from the side as I prepared our bedding—though all that entailed was a leather groundsheet stuffed with cotton and an oversized blanket. My only other task was to pile up as much firewood as possible to prolong our source of heat.

“Have you finished?” Margit asked.

“Yep, all done.” Hurried by my spidery companion, I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, took a seat on the leather sheet, and rested my head against a tree.

“Very well. Excuse me,” Margit said, climbing into my lap like it was the obvious thing to do. I let her under the blanket and effectively became the pole holding up a human blanket tent. With a satisfied sigh, she murmured, “So warm...”

Camping was usually synonymous with taking turns as watchguards, but the forest was home to few dangerous beasts, and the only human visitors were hunters. Two kids sleeping had nothing to worry about.

Of course, my level five Presence Detection would trigger a response so long as I remained vigilant as I dozed off. Margit had similar abilities, and arachne didn’t need much sleep to begin with.

I took a cup from her and we began to talk the night away. The conversations we shared were our little amusement before bed. The topics were trivial, like how it’d be fun to work as a merchant, or that we wanted to see the sea someday, or that we could venture beyond just the ocean.

At some point, our chitchat morphed into a game of wordplay. It was a game we’d played long ago, when I was first learning the proper pronunciation for palatial vocabulary. All it entailed was chaining together words into improvised poems and singing them to each other. It was a trifling pastime that cared not for rhyme nor seasonal theme.

I quietly sang: “O grove—hide us—away. As if—to hold—these sleeping souls.”

A short pause gave way to her reply: “Two lamps—so warm—encircle me. Defend me—from the night—protect me—from the cold.”

Without any complicated rules, we were free to sing the words that came to mind. Maybe the two lamps she mentioned were my arms. I wonder how she feels about being wrapped in my warmth...

Er, well, it’s a bit late to be asking that. The fact that she was helping me prepare for my future without any compensation at all should have been enough of a hint for me. I could only think of one reason she’d go so far as to unveil the hidden techniques of her livelihood.

I sang as Margit pinched my shirt: “O flame—break forth—upon me. Let not—the winter—discover us.”

She sang: “I rest—upon—a shadow unseen. Behind me—beside me—yet out of sight.”

Surely enough, Margit was a gentle flame that burned softly within me, leaving no shadow behind. The cold touch of her arachne skin felt like a warm coal compared to the winter air. Enveloped in the fragrance of red tea, we drifted off with the words of tender songs lingering in our ears.

[Tips] Some mages in the Trialist Empire make their living as Thalassurges. Their ability to produce fresh water significantly improves the survival rate on long voyages, and seafarers are far safer in Rhine than in medieval Earth.