Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World - Volume 2 - Chapter 2

Spring of the Twelfth Year (II)

Rulebook

A book that contains all of the information of a tabletop’s world, akin to the disc a video game is on. It contains both basic rules and character information to set the scene before the adventure begins.

There also may or may not be a handful of pages that the players shouldn’t see...

It had taken an entire day to iron out all of the details.

After our discussion, Lady Agrippina shoved me back into bed, since I was still seriously beat-up in spite of all her healing magic. She puffed a cloud of smoke at me and I was out like a light.

Apparently, I’d broken bones in five places, had cuts in countless more, and had more bruised skin than not. The fact that I could already move after a quick nap proved that my new liege was an incredible mage—er, magus.

When I awoke for the second time, my parents, the village chief, the bishop, and even the local scribe were packed in the building, causing a huge fuss. What about the contract? Can he work as a child? How do we deal with Elisa? Questions and concerns abounded and it took the whole day for everyone to sign their name and seal the documents with their blood.

I was finally free, but the adults continued to flesh out the minutiae at the chief’s house. I couldn’t help but feel like their talks were missing a key person of interest—namely me—but adults never like to let children in on difficult discussions. If I’d been in my father’s shoes, I wouldn’t have let my son see me debate like that either.

Still, it all turned out so messy... I’d known that the day would come for me to leave Konigstuhl behind, but I never thought my departure would be so soon. What was more, I didn’t think I’d be bringing my little sister with me to the capital that stood at the heart of the Trialist Empire.

This was too much, even for a PC’s character bio. My situation was a few times wilder than surviving an airship crash or something to that effect. I swear my dice are rigged!

“I see things have taken an unexpected turn.”

I whipped around in surprise to see my grim childhood friend. It was rare for Margit to look so serious, and rarer still for her to forgo her usual surprise attack. Seeing her this way shattered my heart.

“I’ve been waiting for you rather anxiously. The rumors have already spread throughout the canton.” She slowly and silently made her way toward me on her little spider legs, and a dull shine reflected off her amber eyes. “Do you have a moment to spare?”

Margit’s question was akin to an order. I nodded awkwardly, took her outstretched hand, and began to walk beside her. By no means could I refuse her here; at any rate, her tone left me with no will to try. The bone-chilling voice she’d used made me think this was how male spiders felt when their female counterparts stared them down.

We strolled along at a strange pace where I couldn’t tell who was pulling whom. We made our way to a large hill on the edge of the canton in total silence. There was nothing of interest here—not so much as a blooming flower. At most, I could mention that we had a clear view of both of our houses and the forest we used to play in as children.

When I took a seat on the ground, Margit did not choose to sit on the crossed legs that had effectively become her assigned seat; instead, she folded her legs a little ways in front of me. She looked as cute as a cat tucked into a box, but this was no time for rose-tinted glasses.

If I dared to say something stupid, the long fangs that stuck out past her lips would rend my neck asunder—or at least, that was the aura she gave off. Her empty stare urged me to come clean or face the wrath of her dagger, so I let the toxic plumes of truth freely billow from my mouth.

I told her about Elisa, about changelings, and about my future. Margit didn’t so much as nod, let alone make any comments. She simply listened until the very end of my tale and then heaved the heaviest sigh I’d ever heard. Her expelled breath was so weighty that it threatened to soak into my soul and leave debris sitting at the bottom of my heart.

“Things truly have gotten out of hand,” she said, her voice a swirl of emotions. There were many things she wanted to say, but with so much to touch on, these simple words were all that she could muster.

I wasn’t to blame, but the unknowable gravity of her statement made me want to apologize.

“An indentured servant...to a mage in the capital, no less. This is far, far more convoluted than I could have ever imagined. Who would have thought that my surprise at Elisa’s kidnapping would be overwritten so quickly?”

I watched her cover her right eye with her hand and look up at the sky as if to push through an aching migraine. I didn’t have any words for her—how could I, when I felt the same way?

Intellectually, I knew for a fact that Elisa was a changeling. Yet I still didn’t truly believe it; there was no reality to the thought that she might be robbed of a happy life as some sort of “specimen.”

Somewhere, deep inside, I still believed that this was all a joke. The situation was so unbelievable that it had to be my brain playing tricks on me, and I’d wake up in my own bed after one more blink.

Then everything would be back to normal. Elisa would be a little mensch girl with a poor constitution, and I would have no need to venture to the capital. I would grow up in Konigstuhl and one day leave on my adventure, only coming back years later to celebrate a full-grown Elisa’s wedding. This was the sort of wonderful dream that... Oh, it’s a dream. I’m clinging to a fantasy.

However, it was soon time to return to reality. This was no dream—at the very least, not the kind that one wanted to see at night. Elisa was to leave for the capital as a magus’s apprentice, and I was to join her as a servant to pay for her tuition.

“It’s not like I’m going to be a servant forever,” I said, more to myself than her. “I don’t intend to spend my entire life attending to some magus.”

“But it isn’t the sort of job where you’ll be free to leave after a year, is it? Considering how much money you need to earn, one would normally expect you to spend a lifetime paying it back.”

My self-consolation was cleanly cut down by my companion’s logic. She was right: the minimum to apprentice under a magus was fifteen drachmae. Average people like us could hardly begin to imagine that sort of wealth. And if I could barely imagine the price of one year’s tuition, then the total cost until graduation was beyond even the land of dreams.

The money was being loaned. My pay as a servant would go straight to our debts for Elisa’s tuition and overhead. I wasn’t holding out until my sister graduated, but until I earned back every penny that we owed the college. The fishy magus had said it herself: she couldn’t change the regulations, so I would have to work to pay my dues.

That begged the question—how much was a servant paid? Well, accounting for room and board, I wouldn’t even be earning pennies in the beginning. I finally had a means of earning a wage, but paying for my own living expenses meant my income would be subatomic in scale.

The pile of gold coins I owed was sure to stack up to a mountain. That unflinching mound of debt would indeed never disappear with a normal salary.

On the other hand, fairies were practically sentient phenomena, and had far greater aptitude for magic than any mensch. Still, I’d been told that an average student had to study for a minimum of five years before attaining a research position. Unless Elisa turned out to be a grade-skipping genius, it was best to calculate at least five years of expenditures.

The tuition alone totaled seventy-five drachmae. A commoner would need to redo their lives not once, not twice, but tens of times to have that kind of spending money. But that was a laughably sloppy estimate. No matter what I did, that alone wouldn’t cut it.

Having once been in college myself, I knew that students leaked money like nobody’s business. Humans lost money just taking in and pushing out food, and it was plain as day that higher learning only exacerbated the problem.

I didn’t know if the college had an official uniform, but Elisa would certainly need a mage’s robe. Even if she didn’t, she was still a growing child and would require new threads as she matured.

Clothing was much, much more expensive in this era than the denizens of modernity would suspect. Even an inferior product fetched dozens of silver coins. Woven cotton cost a hideous amount in labor, and the act of sewing together the cloth into something wearable added up to a price that no one would expect to be anywhere in the vicinity of cheap.

Thus, we common folk perennially patched up our old wear. Particularly impoverished families went as far as to sell their winter clothes for summer ones when the weather got warmer, and vice versa when autumn came to a close.

Elisa was going to be surrounded by the sons and daughters of nobles or wealthy commoners. I’d feel awful if I couldn’t provide her with respectable attire. She was sure to get bullied if she looked too ragged. Appearance was more than enough reason for one person to push around another, and that was especially true for irregular beings like changelings.

My guts began to churn just thinking about it. Holding back on Elisa’s wardrobe was definitely a no.

And with this being a school and all, there were sure to be textbooks of some kind. Like clothing, parchment in this era was mind-bogglingly expensive. The giant stacks of rulebooks and supplements that I’d once owned couldn’t even compare.

A normal book easily went for two to three drachmae. Extravagant works bound with decorated leather of perfect make commonly went for tens of drachmae. Rare volumes adorned with precious gemstones were traded in the order of territories. What would I do if they were required per subject? The thought alone made me dizzy.

On top of that, Elisa needed to live. Our parents would likely handle the citizens tax for us, but the cost of living for the two of us would by no means be inexpensive. I knew masters were meant to care for their disciples, but my impression of the walking mass of irresponsibility that was Lady Agrippina made me think I ought to curb my expectations. I could envision the methuselah perplexed by our mensch values and saying, “What? You need to eat every day?”

“Ten years?” Margit asked. “Twenty? Erich, how long do you intend to be gone?”

“I hope to be done in five years or so,” I replied, after a long, miserable stretch of dead air.

In the time that I was slated to spend working, I would come of age. From there, I’d be able to legally work a second job and my supplementary income would go straight to our debts.

The amount we would owe would normally take a lifetime to repay, but fortunately, I was anything but normal. By pushing the future Buddha’s blessing to its limits, I knew I would be able to weasel out a new revenue stream or two.

For Elisa, I would never be stingy. If I could buy my dear sister’s life with experience points, then I absolutely would.

Still, I’d attended public university in my last life and never experienced the pain of student loans. Suddenly finding myself in a situation like the scholarship recipients at private universities at the tender age of twelve was quite the curveball.

Well, there was no use in whining. My life hung on my noble master. All that was left to see was how talented my little sister was.

“Five years, is it? How optimistic of you.”

“I plan on doing everything I can to make it out in that time.”

“Even then, in five years I’ll be nineteen, you know? Everyone will laugh at me for being unwed,” she said with a pout.

The most common ages to marry in Rhine were from fifteen to seventeen, or eighteen if you really pushed it. Anyone single past that point would be avoided as either an unwanted bride or a widow who failed to remarry.

I didn’t bother to confirm the exact implications of her statement—that would be far too tactless. I was well aware of the direction our relationship had been headed. Had we been born to a certain instance of Tokyo, our connection would have had a big old heart on it.

“I’ll do my best,” I said after a long pause.

“And you’ll return before we’re too old to adventure?”

“I’ll try.”

“Will you now?”

Without a sound, her lower half began to skitter and she scurried onto my lap. Her hazel eyes shot straight through me with a perilous orange glimmer.

“Do you swear it? Do you swear that you will finish your tenure as a servant to take me on an adventure?”

Margit spoke harshly. Her usual tone gently caressed my brain, but her current voice drove a wedge into my heart. This was more than a question—it was a pointed blade that was dissecting the foundation of my will.

“I do,” I said. “I swear. We’ve been preparing for so long; I won’t let it go to waste. I’ll become an adventurer and make sure Elisa graduates safe and sound; I’m going to do both.”

Her razored interrogation only made my response all the more sincere. The scalpel had no need to make its incision, for I had dragged my answer out of the depths of my heart.

I had made my decision long ago: if I could be anything, then I would chase what I truly desired. Adventuring wasn’t a future I’d chosen on a whim; I’d started on this path because everyone believed I could do it. At the same time, I wanted to be a good brother; I hoped to keep my head high as Elisa continued to look up to me.

This was my heartfelt manifesto. After spending twelve years as Erich from Konigstuhl canton, these words were my resolution given form. I had an obligation to hold my determination close to my heart to give meaning to the twelve years my family and friends had raised and loved me—to maintain the authenticity of the seven years I spent as me.

To that end, I was willing to dedicate all of the experience I’d saved up. I would dump it all into housework skills if I had to. I could still hold my own as a swordsman at my current level, after all.

This was sure to be a detour. However, I refused to lie to myself. I was going to do as I willed, like the heroes of the games I had once lost myself in.

I’d always felt fantastic at the end of a good session. Seeing stories take concrete form and the characters we’d created reach some sort of conclusion was electrifying. Even when they ended up doomed to a horrible fate, it had always been fun because my friends and I were the ones weaving the story together in that messy old clubroom.

However, the greatest joy was when all of our characters accomplished their goals upon reaching the grand finale. We’d spent countless hours deliberating away the precious years of our youth to chase that glory time and time again.

My situation now was the same. It was my own life, but nothing else had changed. Thus, I was going to chase after my will to become the me that I wanted to be. Isn’t that what the future Buddha had sent me to do?

“Do what thou wilt,” was it? The tagline of a familiar evil god had become the sweetest heavenly decree I could ever hear. With no divine mandate to strive for, I’d been permitted to pursue my dreams. What a freeing gospel.

That’s right. I’m going to become an adventurer...and Elisa’s hero. I packed my conviction into my gaze and quietly stared into Margit’s hazel gems.

God knows how long we locked eyes. The gentle red of evening began to shift into a dim purple. As day and night blended into twilight, the stars found their place beside the gibbous moon.

The waning lunar body had a poetic epithet in my homeland of yore: the Fukemachi-zuki. I’d shared its name once upon a time—we were both to await the faraway future where we would return to being whole as the mouth of night readied to swallow the last of our old selves. Oh, how I hope to shine as fully as you.

“Really? Well...that’s just like you.” Margit spoke naturally in the common dialect. Her gaze never left mine, but her hardened expression suddenly remembered what it was like to have color when she smiled. “Fine, I’ll believe in you. There aren’t any other girls as kind as me out there, you know?”

“I know,” I answered. “Thank you, Margit.”

I was convinced that she would continue waiting for the start of our adventure. After all, she’d never lied to me before—not a single time, and not even as a joke.

So although I trusted her promise, I had to be sure not to let it coddle me. Men are creatures prone to egotistical delusions that suit them, like “She’ll always love me, and me alone.”

“When I set out on my adventure, my first stop will be to come and get you,” I swore.

All I could offer for her faith was my solemn oath. Some consider vows without form to be hollow, but an earnest promise takes shape in the hearts of those who believe it. No matter what anyone else believed, I held this truth firm.

Margit responded in kind with a giggle so soft that I would have missed it from any other distance. She suddenly raised her head and slipped her hands around the back of my neck. Back in a familiar position, the adorable arachne’s cute little nose came up to touch mine.

The indomitable spirit in her eyes melted into a droopy smile. Although her sleek canines perilously poked from the sides of her mouth, her lips were enchanting all the same. Individually, her features were akin to a young girl’s, but they combined to form a bewitching air of a proper lady. Our gazes never faltered as our noses touched and eyelashes intertwined. I could hardly breathe.

“Then I’ll make it so you can’t forget me.” The sweet shivers Margit had conditioned into my body made an appearance once again. Her sweet, unchanging voice always tickled the back of my brain. “Close your eyes...”

Wait, is she doing what I think she’s doing? Seriously? Is this happening? I never had an episode this sugary in my last life. Am I allowed to brag about this? I’m a man’s man now, right? I’m celebrating tonight!

My train of thought zipped around in hysteria until the breath I’d been feeling on my lips suddenly took a turn to my left. By the time my brain caught up, I could feel the warmth of Margit’s skin on my cheek and her breath tickled my ear.

Huh? Wait a second what’s going—“Owwww?!”

A jolt of sheer pain attacked my ear without rhyme or reason. I jumped in surprise, but her grip on my neck was too tight to shake off. Any attempt to investigate the source of my ails was blocked by Margit’s head. In fact, she still had my earlobe secured in her mouth, so there was nothing I could do.

Huh? What is this?! What’s happening to me?!

After a few dozen seconds of bewilderment and agony, Margit finally unhanded my ear. I curiously raised my hand to it to find it slick with saliva and blood. But I also clearly felt an indent at my fingertips. Is this a hole? After touching it a bit longer, it was clear that she’d opened a hole straight through my earlobe.

“Thank you for the meal,” she said, licking my blood off her lips. The last vestiges of daylight glimmered off her inhuman fangs. It seemed she’d deftly used those to stab through the flesh of my ear.

“Wha—but? Why?! Why’d you bite me?!”

“I already told you. I’m going to make sure you never forget our promise.” As Margit spoke, she peeled off the hand protecting my ear and inserted something into the still throbbing hole. I caught a glance of it; it was a pink seashell that had been turned into an earring.

The girly piercing didn’t seem to be anything special. It was the kind that children bought for fun at festivals for the price of a silver piece or so. I doubted she’d had it long. I suspected she had bought it at a stall while I’d been stuck inside today—but on second thought, she’d been waiting right by the chief’s house the entire time, so I was probably wrong.

“Don’t take it off, okay? This is the proof of our vow. Think of me whenever you look at it.”

Now hold on, the story behind this earring is all fine and dandy, but how could you... Um... Margit’s smile instantaneously blew away all of my anger. Strangely, seeing her satisfied made me think, Oh well, at least she didn’t tear my ear open.

Man, being pretty is so unfair...

While I was busy pondering the absurdity of the world, Margit placed something else in my hand. I looked down to see a lengthy needle. It was large, sturdy—geared toward leathercraft more than needlework. Still damp, it smelled of the strong spirits that we used to disinfect things.

“Now, would you please return the favor?” she said, sticking out her right ear.

“Huh?” What? You don’t mean... Am I piercing your ear too? Hold on, that’s way too deviant for me. What kind of weird fetish is this?

“What are you waiting for?” she asked. “I made sure that you won’t forget about me. Don’t you want to make sure I won’t forget about you too?”

For whatever reason, her sideways glance as she held up her hair cracked my will to resist in no time flat. The fact that she was so seductive despite tempting me to do something so insane had to be chalked up to more than her demihuman status.

“Get ready, because it’s probably going to hurt like crazy. It did for me.”

“That’s fine. Won’t you show me what pain is like?”

Jeez, all these suggestive overtones are going to give me a heart attack!

I beat down the blaring alarm of my beating heart and pressed the needle against her ear. One push was all it took to prick straight through her soft earlobe and send scarlet droplets dancing through the air. Illuminated by both setting sun and rising moon, the beauty before me was indescribable.

“Hngh...”

Margit let out one last provocative moan as I pulled the needle out. She ran her fingers across the mark it left with a mix of regret and tender sentiment. Without even stopping her dripping blood, she handed me the other half of the pair of accessories.

I was to take my turn with this as well, I presumed. We’d witnessed a similar rite last fall, but this really was a bit kinkier than I was comfortable with. But Margit seemed happy, so...I suppose it was fine. Lit in a fleeting vermilion, her bloody smile was sure to stick with me for as long as I lived.

[Tips] For men, a left earring represents courage and pride; for women, a right earring represents kindness and maturity. To take one earring each from a set is symbolic of an unbreakable bond.