Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World - Volume 4 - Chapter 4

Early Spring of the Thirteenth Year

Bonds with PCs

Some games include systems of rapport that extend beyond PC-NPC relations to quantify intra-PC connections, and may even include unavoidable events that cause unforeseen changes to those ties. Like may turn to love; friendship may turn to hatred; at times, two may forget one another entirely. These systems are often fraught, but the accomplishment of navigating the challenge successfully is like no other.

With the harsh winter of the capital behind us, the gentle onset of spring made its presence known with the first instance of uncovered greenery in months—much to the joy of my horses. There was only so much they could do in the winter. Even normal horses felt stressed after being cooped up inside all season, so I could hardly imagine how stuffy it must have been for two warhorses bred to run at all hours of the day.

“Giddyup!”

I kicked Castor’s sides and he stretched out his neck with a huff, galloping forward with long strides. Although he accelerated slowly, he could maintain top speed for a long while once he got there; I had to lift up my rear and clamp onto the saddle with my thighs just to keep balance.

Tightly wound muscles ebbed and flowed underneath his onyx mane, and a torrent of sweat poured out to make his excitement plain. From the other side of the reins, I could feel his intense desire to sustain this speed for as long as I could let him.

While I felt sorry for the poor steeds marched into war zones at the whim of their riders and those burdened with great loads, it was clear that the running in and of itself was of great pleasure to them. And at times, they were happy to carry the weight of one extra mensch on top.

How wonderful it must be to just run to your heart’s content without any goal in sight.

I bounced my hips with every step to steady my upper body and let Castor have his way. As I rode, another set of clattering hooves approached from behind: I peered over my shoulder to find Mika and Polydeukes catching up.

“Ahhh! Fast—too fast! Agh! W-W-W-Wait, wait, no, hold on! Polydeukes!”

My old chum was desperately clinging to the younger of the Dioscuri. He may have been shrieking like a little girl, but his taller height, broader shoulders, and wavier hair were the results of his male shift.

Now a few months past the start of winter, this made for the second time I’d seen his masculine form. As I’d suspected, those blessed with good looks remained handsome regardless of gender—proof of the unflinching unfairness of life. Still, seeing him all panicked reduced his charms to mere childish cuteness.

“Mika! Don’t cling to him like that! It’ll just make you bounce harder!”

I shouted through a Voice Transfer so he’d hear me over the hoofbeats, and I heard him scream in the distance that he would if he could. I’d thought him used to jockeying by now, but judging by the tears welling up as he clung to Polydeukes for dear life, he wasn’t ready for a full-on sprint.

“I-I’m s-scared!” Mika squealed. “This is—oh, this is too fast! I’m scared! Save me! Save meee!”

“Don’t be a wuss! I’ll catch you with a Hand if you fall, so sit up! Riding like that is harder and more dangerous!”

“No, no, no way! S-Stop, please! Come on, I’m pulling the reins! Polydeukes, please!”

“Quit pulling back and let him dictate the pace! If you sour his mood, he might throw you off!”

“Whaaat?!”

Seeing his brother let loose had made Polydeukes give chase, and evidently, it was still too early to bring Mika along for the race when he’d only just gotten comfortable with long rides.

“You’re awful... You’re terrible, Erich... Why didn’t you slow down?”

By the time we finally stopped at the edge of the forest, my friend had been reduced to a pancake who could only glare at me from atop the saddle. All that extra resistance had kept Polydeukes ten lengths behind, and he made his discontentment known with a snort.

“I told you not to push yourself,” I sighed. “Not even I can stop Castor once he gets that excited. Horses are tough to keep in line.”

With the snow gone, I’d planned on letting them let off some steam. Mika and I were due to visit our usual foraging grounds for a quest, so I’d wanted them to at least get one good sprint in each.

I had told Mika he could take it easy and catch up later, but he had been the one to refuse me. “Hey now, who do you take me for, old pal?” he’d said with a smug grin. “I’m pretty sure I know my way around these two by now.”

Of course, I’d warned him that a full-speed gallop was worlds apart from what he’d seen thus far—especially when he was on his own and couldn’t just cling to me—but alas.

“Ugh...”

“Come on,” I said, “that’s enough moping about. You were the one that said I didn’t have to hold back when you’re a boy, remember?”

For all his big talk of being able to keep up with more roughhousing, Mika was quick to tire out. I jeered at him to get down like I would to one of my brothers, and he shot me a sidelong set of puppy-dog eyes. As of late, he’d really begun to make use of his good looks, the clever rascal.

I gave in and lent him a hand: I pulled him off the saddle and carried him sideways into the forest. This did wonders to mend his terrible mood, and he ended up being even more motivated than usual for our herb gathering.

“That should do it.”

“This list always looks like it’s coming from a brewery,” said Mika. “Are we really helping someone with arcane research?”

We clapped the dirt off our hands and double-checked our knapsacks to finish off our task. Foraging for herbs here was routine at this point, and we knew all the most fertile spots and how long it took for new buds to pop up. Despite all the other students we ran into here, the abundance of resources let us avoid any troublesome quarrels.

Mika and I washed our hands to make sure the residual herb dust wouldn’t harm our skin and found a big tree to sit down by. The warming weather meant we’d worked up a mild sweat, so the shade and cool breeze felt wonderful.

Exercise was a wonderful thing: I couldn’t dwell on my problems so long as my body was moving.

“Ooh, a pie for lunch?” Mika asked. “Feeling luxurious, are we?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. My housekeeper made it for me when I told her I’d be going for a trip at noon.”

“Wait... Don’t you live in the low quarter?”

“Don’t sweat the small stuff,” I said, slicing into the Ashen Fraulein’s pie. I’d brought it along in a wickerwork basket stuffed into Castor’s saddlebag, but two layers of Unseen Hands had been enough to keep it looking pristine.

I scooped up the slice with my everyday knife and carefully brought it up to eye level to find it had been stuffed with meat. The silkie was partial to making dishes from the islands in the far north, so this was probably an intestinal pie.

“Thanks,” Mika said, taking the piece. “Looks like we’re in for a solid meal.”

“Right? I kept it warm with magic, so the crust should still be nice and crisp.”

He eyed the food for a while before taking a large bite out of it, and his eyes instantly shot open. I worriedly asked if it didn’t suit his tastes, but he instead explained that he’d eaten this sort of thing back in his hometown. Come to think of it, the polar archipelago was a hotbed of rotating lords and kings, so many people native to the region sought refuge in the northern reaches of the Empire.

“Mmph, yum!” he beamed. “It barely has any stink to it. If you ever eat one of these made by an amateur, the stench that leaks out as soon as you cut it open makes it completely inedible.”

“This sure is good,” I agreed. “There’s no covering up the smell of innards, but this gamey flavor actually makes it better. I bet she spent a long time preparing the meat.”

“That reminds me—my mom used to try all sorts of things, like burying rosemary in the filling instead of just rubbing it on, or waking up in the middle of the night just to replace the saltwater bath the meat stewed in... Good times.”

Mika chewed on the pie and the emotions it uncorked as we reminisced, and the hefty lunch was safe in our stomachs before we knew it. Pressing the leftover crumbs against our fingers and pecking at them was hideously bad manners, but forgive us: we were two growing teenagers who needed all the food we could get.

“Phew,” Mika sighed. “Allow me to repay you the wonderful meal with a morsel of intriguing news.”

I was in the middle of greedily licking the oil from my hands when he suddenly shifted the conversation with flourish. I eyed him curiously, and he pulled out a crumpled slip from his inner pocket. The shoddy plant-based paper paradoxically bore the overblown words Imperial Order: His Imperial Majesty’s Berylinian Parade.

“A Berylinian Parade?” I read aloud.

“Every few years,” Mika explained, “the military holds this parade as the winter season of high society ends to see off the nobles returning home and give everyone an excuse to de-stress. They start from the northern castle of Weiss Morgana and march around the capital’s four biggest roads to get back to Blutschloss in the west. Seeing a bunch of knights and nobles strutting through town all dressed up for half a day is a real spectacle.”

The chalk fortress in the north was the judicial center of Rhine. It officially went by a different name; Weiss Morgana was, to my knowledge, a nickname coined by locals that had stuck. The Empire’s official name was likely more stiff and respectable.

The gentle redbrick structure to the west was the headquarters for military affairs, and they also were unfond of their nickname. In fact, we College affiliates were the odd ones out for referring to our nest so playfully as Krahenschanze; those who referred to the blue castle of culture to the east as Schwulst Palaste—literally “showy palace”—were sure to do so with animosity in their hearts. Not even the people of Berylin were that pretentious.

I found it all very clever that the army was to march from the house of law to the house of arms: it spoke to the Rhinian axiom that might meant nothing without order, and that order without might was an unattainable daydream. I had no doubt that the planners behind the march arranged this path to appeal to those canny enough to spot the metaphorical gesture.

“All three of the imperial houses are coming this year, so it should be a grand old time. There’ll be a bunch of street stalls too. How about it? Wanna go together?”

“So it’s kinda like a festival,” I said. “Sounds fun.”

Far from a farming community, Berylin was devoid of festivities unless the government went out of its way to set something up. On Foundation Day and the Emperor’s birthday and the like, the common people were treated to wine, bread, and access to select castles and estates—the upcoming parade would be no different.

Furthermore, it gave us lay people something to gawk at, gave the attention-seeking gentry a chance to show off, and even served to shock and awe any foreign diplomats visiting the city. One could plainly see how stringent the Empire was: if it was going to use its precious funds, it was going to get more than one or two uses out of every dime.

And you know what? If the state was going to offer me its hospitality, I was more than happy to oblige.

“Hey, Mika,” I said. “There’s one thing I want to ask about first.”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Would you mind if I brought along my sister?”

This would make a great change of pace for Elisa with all the studying she was doing lately, and it was the perfect excuse to introduce her to my new friend. To be blunt, my sister was unsociable—or at least, super shy. Mika’s past trauma made him similarly put off by the idea of expanding his social circle: when people talked to him, he usually sidestepped them and avoided making deeper ties.

I’d wanted the two to meet for some time now. Not only were they both students—I blatantly ignored their differing schools and cadres—but I also simply wanted to show off my wonderful friend to my family.

“Your sister, huh? She ended up here with a lot of strings attached, if I recall.”

“Yep. Plus, she’s really shy, so I don’t even think she’s made an acquaintance since moving to the capital. I want to help her make some connections early on. I mean, she’s not an official student yet, but...”

“But she’ll need it in the future, right?” Mika leaned back against the bark and slowly slid down to the ground. His cloudy expression betrayed his lingering apprehension at getting to know more people.

The College was a serious place of study, wholly different from the playground of moratorium I knew university to be. Whether their goal was to peer into the depths of magic or win a position as a bureaucrat, every student was earnest in their efforts to better themselves and succeed. I knew as much from my time with Mika: not once had he ever uttered a half-baked complaint about attendance rules or report deadlines.

But my experience did tell me one thing: Elisa was going to need friends. At times she would need the help of others to sort through research papers or to perform multi-man experiments, and making companions out of her fellow classmates would probably become a necessity. Call me cold and calculating, but I stood by the idea that there wasn’t anything wrong with trying to smooth out my sister’s thorny path.

As far as Mika went... Well, I didn’t intend to overstep my bounds. I wasn’t some out-of-touch teacher, and I wasn’t going to force him to step out of his comfort zone if he didn’t want to. Still, I couldn’t deny the small hope that this could be his opportunity to overcome his past traumas.

From all the time we spent together, I was sure that Mika wasn’t antisocial. In fact, I’d go so far as to say he was inherently sociable and was at his happiest when spending time with others. While he probably favored making a few treasured connections to casting his net wide, it didn’t seem like he was against the idea of having more friends.

He had simply been hurt by the invisible walls in his hometown and the insensitivity of his classmates—again, I couldn’t blame them, since they were also just kids—and naturally cooped himself up in his own bubble. I had an inkling that deep down, he wanted to try talking to new people. That said, I had no plans of abusing my position to butt in and “fix” his internal struggles. I hadn’t understood this in my youth, but after crossing the threshold of adulthood once, I knew well: picking off another’s scab never ends well.

Only the injured can feel how a wound is healing. To know whether a dried clot of blood is filled with pus or simply needs more time to heal is a delicate issue, and oftentimes confuses even the very person it affects. To tear off that seal can only end one way—it would be less surprising than a match lighting ablaze when thrown into a fire.

If I tried to reopen his old wounds, it could worsen his pain or leave a throbbing scar that would linger with him forever. I didn’t want to be the sort of “friend” who would force him into something he wasn’t ready for.

Still, if nothing else, I wanted to help steer him onto a path where he would one day forget about his trauma entirely, until the dried scab fell off on its own accord. Mika truly thought of me as a friend; I hoped that perhaps meeting my own flesh and blood would be a bit easier for him. If all went well, that could become the stone for him to take another step forward on, and then another, until his injured heart was fully healed.

My suggestion did not receive a ready reply. Mika silently stared up at the heavens, his irises swaying alongside the branches dancing in the wind. Lost in thought, his eyes were following their movements on autopilot.

I didn’t rush him; instead, I placed the bag of strawberries we’d picked for dessert on his stomach. Mika’s hand rummaged around robotically and plucked a fat, red fruit, carrying the snack to his lips, just as red. He reached for a second, then a third, and in place of a fourth, he at last spoke.

“...Yeah.” Swiping away a dribbling bead of strawberry juice with his thumb, Mika sat up and swiveled around to face me. “I’ve actually been curious, since you always talk about her. I’d be more than happy to finally meet the famed cutest girl in the world.”

Mika’s dashing features were warped into a markedly clumsy smile, half-excited and half-afraid; but to me, what shone through the brightest was his unwavering courage.

[Tips] Parades see knights, officials, and their servants marching through the city in a display of military might. Those who march take pride in their beautiful garb and the cheers of the people; those who watch rest easy at night knowing the great might of those who protect them.

In the words of Lady Agrippina, these were vain castles in the capital of vanity; yet, at times, that gilded veneer was what swayed men’s hearts.

“Wow,” I said. “Look at that, Elisa.”

“Pretty! Pretty, Dear Brother!”

I’d loaded Elisa up on my shoulders to make sure she wouldn’t get lost amidst her excitement. I knew the crown had mandated festive decorations, but the sights of the town were really something to behold.

The mystic streetlights that stood at every corner each served as the pole to a flag embroidered with the national emblem of a three-headed drake (representing the three imperial houses). Houses on major streets were covered in all sorts of fantastical banners, making a mere walk candy for the eyes.

Soldiers had obviously cleared out the route to be marched, but just an alley away from the projected path, one could find all manner of street stalls being run by the city’s populous merchant class. I couldn’t even count the number of shops selling food and water, not to mention the foreign textiles, clothes, lifestyle goods, knickknacks, and even weapons on display.

“Ice candies!” Elisa exclaimed. “Dear Brother, there’s ice candies!”

“There really are,” I agreed. “Let’s get some later, okay?”

All her enthusiasm had caused Elisa’s speech to devolve a bit, and she began to kick her legs as soon as she spotted her favorite frozen treat. There there, calm down, I prayed. I’ll buy you some later. I don’t know what I’ll do if you get this fancy outfit dirty, so calm down, please.

Elisa’s clothing had been, alas, handpicked by Lady Leizniz before leaving the College. Her gothic evening wear utilized enough silk and velvet for one to buy a house with the raw materials, and was arranged in a way that made me question whether the design had arrived a few decades too early for my baby sister to wear. The deep maroon trimmed with black and scarlet puffed up her shoulders and fit snugly near the waist to make for an unnecessarily mature contour for a girl her age.

On the lower half, she had a shorter skirt that only went down to her knees, which the wraith had gone so far as to puff up with a metal wireframe. Her thin black tights had intricate embroidery all across them; this wasn’t very standard for gothic styles, but probably arose from Lady Leizniz’s penchant for making her unique tastes known.

That woman was so bizarrely fixated on forcing long gloves and patterned tights onto little girls. The moment wherein she’d called for a seamstress crying, “I must see the shape of her knees!” would sit in a special part of my heart for as long as I lived—the part labeled emotional trauma, of course.

Despite wearing what amounted to a Player 2 alternate color of Alice’s dress in Wonderland, my sister once again earned her spot as the cutest girl ever by pulling it off. Lady Leizniz had given it to her, since it was a day to celebrate—for whomever did she mean, I wondered—and it had thankfully done away with the minor tantrum she’d been throwing before we left.

Elisa was a sweet little girl, but...man, was it hard to make her happy once her mood soured.

Me, you ask? I was keeping it simple. I’d told Lady Leizniz I might need to move around, so she let me off with a silk shirt, skinny pants, and a double-button vest—just barely enough to look classy. The all-black base and embroidered silver thread made me feel like I was playing right into her tastes, but...I was just glad to not look like the mangaesque princess knight again.

Even so, we blended right into the crowd. Nobody wanted to miss out on one of the few festivities the capital offered, and everyone around us had wrung out their meager wallets to doll up for the event.

I found this impressive on more than just an aesthetic level. Fashion was expensive, and especially so for something that did little to improve one’s daily life, so it usually ended up at the bottom of anyone’s priority list.

Our hometown was a pretty regular place where nobody truly struggled to get by, but chasing trends had been a completely foreign idea. People were happy to put in some clever effort to look nicer—herbal makeup had been pretty popular—but spending money for the privilege of fretting over dirt and grime was something we’d all put off until absolutely necessary.

Fancy clothes only came out at weddings and coming-of-age ceremonies; even then, they were sewn up right before the event and younger brothers were expected to reuse the eldest’s threads. That was how expensive clothing was in this day and age.

But you wouldn’t know it looking at this. While no one wore anything that overstepped the bounds of their social caste, it was a marvel to see everyone clad in colorfully dyed fabrics. Some were clearly giving it their all: a commoner needed to pinch a lot of pennies to afford the silk veils I saw on some women passing by.

Truly a befitting scene for a festival in the capital of vanity.

Sarcasm aside, the gorgeous scene was likely only possible because of all the aristocrats living in Berylin. Tastes of the upper class ebbed and flowed, and it followed that poorer nobles shopped secondhand for things out of fashion; as the cycle repeated and certain styles became unwearable for a self-respecting member of high society, they naturally fell to stores patronized by common people.

These tailors then broke down old clothes into their fancy raw parts, rearranging them into something usable by wealthy lay folk; from there the cycle continued among the populace until eventually, a nobleman’s trash turned into a commoner’s treasure. This, too, was probably an attempt at intimidating foreign diplomats. They sure have thought of everything.

I waded through the bustling sea of pretty costumes toward our meeting spot. As a lover of flair, Mika had thrown all pretense of convenience to the wayside and suggested for us to meet up at a plaza a ways from the College—the festive air had gotten to him too.

Originally built as a buffer against the spread of potential fire, the clearing was ordinarily only used to wash small objects, but today it was swarming with people. Usually only home to a lonely fountain—another fire-prevention measure—and a few benches, the place was packed with street stalls and citizens sizing up wares as they waited for the marching to begin.

We were fated to drown in people no matter where we went, it seemed. People from nearby cities and cantons must have made the trip over for a spot this secluded to be this packed; impressive, considering how little marketing there had been for the event.

I thought it might be difficult to pick Mika out from all the other people in the crowd...but I was wrong. Resting on the edge of the fountain, my friend was very much standing out.

Glossier than the wings of a wet raven, he’d clearly bathed or rubbed in some oils, because a shining halo of light gleamed off his hair, to say nothing of how his snowy northern skin beamed under the sun. His build was sturdier as a boy, and he nicely filled out a deep navy robe—the classiest color a lowborn kid could get away with wearing.

Carrying his well-worn wand under his arm was the cherry on top. His troubled expression was sure to draw the eyes of ladies passing by—or rather, it had.

Three young women surrounded Mika, eagerly chatting away to vie for his attention. Judging from their mannerisms and overt attempts at dressing up with clothes of middling make, they were all commoners; still, they were middle class with access to proper education, so I surmised that they were part of the merchant class that made up the majority of Berylin’s population. Not only that, but they were clearly the daughters or apprentices of large companies that frequently dealt with the upper crust.

“Him, Dear Brother?” Elisa had caught my gaze and pointed at Mika.

“That’s right. See, isn’t he handsome?”

“Mmm...mm?”

Much to my surprise, Elisa’s response was more confused than affirmative. I figured she was probably still too young to understand what it was like to find someone attractive.

Anyway, seeing my buddy flounder through the ladies’ flirting was novel and entertaining, but I couldn’t just sit and watch forever.

“Mika!” I said, raising my hand.

“Oh, old pal!”

Mika happily waved back to show his gratitude at being saved, but when I briskly made my way over, he shut up, looking at the girl on my shoulders with a confused set of blinks.

“Ladies,” I said, “I beg your pardon, but would you pray withdraw for the day? As you can see, we have made plans to see the sights of the parade as a party of three, and today marks an important opportunity to acquaint my sister and friend.”

I deliberately employed the most refined palatial speech I could to hint that I had ties to aristocracy, and the women retreated in disappointment. Truth be told, two of them had eyed Mika and I as a set and attempted to continue the conversation, but the third thankfully tugged at their sleeves.

As they all turned away, I read the woman’s lips: “Those clothes come from a famous noble brand. We shouldn’t push our luck.”

Apparently, she’d connected some dots based on my clothes. As cramped and humiliating as my outfit was, I had to admit that Lady Leizniz’s favor had been helpful, just this once.

“You really saved me there, Erich,” Mika said. “But boy, I never thought you’d bring a real fairy with you.”

Being stared at by a stranger scared Elisa, and she squeezed her legs tight with fear. I knew it was tough for her to overcome her shyness, but I really wished she wouldn’t choke me out for it; I tapped on her thighs to tell her to loosen up, and while she softened her grip, she still wasn’t fully relaxed.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Mika asked. “That was awfully rude of me to call out to a proper lady without a family member’s permission. Will you do me the pleasure of introducing me to this wonderful sister of yours, Erich?”

“Of course,” I said. “Come on, Elisa. Let’s get down, okay?”

“Mmkay... Oh! I mean, yes, Dear Brother.”

I let Elisa down and had her stand straight up. I waited for her to fix her dress and posture, just like she did in her lessons, and gave her a little push to have her step toward Mika.

“O friend from the north, it is an honor unmatched to acquaint thee with mine own flesh and blood. Here stands Elisa of Konigstuhl canton, eldest daughter to Johannes.”

My introduction was bombastic enough to stay in line with our usual games of wordplay, but it wasn’t technically out of place. No one actually announced themselves in this old-timey way anymore, but I decided to follow tradition to herald the coming of my beloved baby sister, and Mika was ready to match.

“O friend from the south, no word of thanks can express my gratitudes at meeting thy kin on this blessed day. Allow me to name myself: I am Mika, a mage who hath ridden the northern gales to this land. My allegiance lies with the Hannawald cadre within the School of First Light. O lovely maiden, wouldst thou do me the highest honor of a formal introduction?”

Mika put his left hand across his chest, opened his right palm at belt level, and stepped back with his right foot—the typical greeting magia offered to those that outranked them. Most switched right and left here, but the magia deliberately broke norms in order to announce their background at first impression.

There were alternative theories for why this came about. Some said that by showing a wandless right hand, one showed respect and lack of hostility. Others said that placing the left hand—associated with herbs and medicine—near the heart was a sign of reverence. With how fluidly the rules of etiquette changed, I didn’t know the truth, but it was probably similar to how someone had first decided that napkins were to be picked up from the right side.

“I...” Elisa paused for a moment. “I am Elisa of Konigstuhl, direct disciple to Lady Agrippina du Stahl, Leizniz cadre, School of Daybreak. Mr. Mika, I am delighted to make your acquaintance, and it is a great pleasure to meet you.”

A massive wave of applause swept through my heart. After a minor hiccup at the start, Elisa managed to get through her entire greeting perfectly. If I could’ve gotten away with it, I would have summoned a whole gang of Unseen Hands to give her the praise she deserved.

Good job, Elisa! I’m so proud of you! She didn’t even say “um” a single time! Our little princess is a genius!

“Thank you kindly for the graceful introduction,” Mika said. “I hope ours is a wonderful relationship, Miss Elisa.”

This was far from necessary between commoners, but my friend lifted his robe and bent his knee. I instantly summoned a Hand to keep his garments from getting dirty, and he flashed me a thin smile. While we weren’t always totally in sync, I suspected he’d knelt down knowing I’d cover for him.

Elisa caught on quickly and extended her right hand. Mika took it into his own and placed a kiss atop her glove—a formality that represented respect from man to woman and intimacy the other way around.

I was no Lady Leizniz, but seeing my adorable sister and my handsome friend like this was picturesque. If their overwhelming beauty was enough to wow me, then it was all the more imperative that I never let that one-of-a-kind eccentric lay eyes on them together.

No, wait a second. There was a chance that the blinding wholesomeness of their presence could cleanse the wraith’s soul and send her to heaven...but I supposed the risks involved were too steep. I would just have to do my best to keep my sworn pal away from the viper’s fangs.

“That was quite the shock,” Mika said. “Erich has talked my ear off about how charming you are, but when I first laid eyes on you, I truly thought he’d gone off and brought an alf.”

“My dear brother said that?”

“That he did. Whenever we go shopping, he’s always on about what you might like or what might suit you. I’m always a second priority even when I’m right there!”

Mika shook his head with a joking chuckle...and Elisa giggled too!

“But my dear brother speaks about you often as well, Mr. Mika. When he helps me with my homework, he’ll teach me with methods he says he learned from you.”

By using me as a conversational bridge, the two of them managed to overcome the first hurdle of apprehension and began opening up to each other. Mika readily asked Elisa to forgo any honorifics, and my sister followed suit soon after.

I won’t deny that it was incredibly awkward to be the topic over which they bonded, but, well...I supposed it was fine so long as they were having fun.

[Tips] When meeting someone for the first time, it is best practice to wait to be introduced by a mutually known third party.

Fanfare of fife and drum announced the official start of the parade...but that only meant they had begun marching from the northern castle. That area was reserved for VIPs, meaning we couldn’t even get close.

Parties of well-to-do patrons each enjoyed the privacy of an open-air booth so that high-ranking officials could bring their spouses and young children to enjoy the show on an uncluttered street. Invitations were only sent to those of a certain pedigree, so I wouldn’t have been able to relax enough to enjoy it even if I could’ve sneaked in.

That was why, when Lady Leizniz had invited us to join her, I’d put it in her ear that all the traffic there might make my shy baby sister cry. Hearing that, she had begrudgingly—and oh, do I mean begrudgingly—sent us along, biting her lip. I want to reiterate that we had made it out on a hair’s breadth, and one wrong move could have seen us stuck in a box with all the woman’s other favorites; the thought alone struck terror in my heart.

Thankfully, we instead found ourselves on a relatively uncramped corner west of the northern road. We were still in the gentrified part of town, where poorly put-together vermin were liable to be shooed away, but we were all dressed to the nines today.

Speaking of which, Mika’s new robe was apparently a hand-me-down from his master. The professor had figured his old clothes would fit Mika when he was a boy, and my friend had personally retailored it a bit to not sag.

I could understand how his master felt; it was only natural to want to send one’s protégé wearing something better than usual on a day of celebration. The thought of attending the festivities hadn’t crossed Lady Agrippina’s mind, let alone dressing up for the event; Mika’s teacher was a shining example of normalcy to compare her against.

In all fairness, the madam’s shallow understanding of holidays was less of a personal problem and more one that affected any flint-hearted methuselah, so I couldn’t pin it on her specifically. Frankly, she was probably one of the better ones for having given Elisa a silver piece when we told her we’d be heading out.

“Look, here they come.”

I’d hoisted Elisa back onto my shoulders to give her a better angle, and two rows of soldiers finally came into view. They were the vanguard whose job was to announce the prestigious folks that would follow: commoners couldn’t identify people by armor and banner alone, and even noble children in the middle of their schooling would have a hard time without someone introducing everybody. That would reduce the whole affair to a showcase of fancy armor, which wouldn’t be all that fun for anyone.

As an aside, heraldry was an art that could be even more complicated than magic, so I’d elected to forgo it despite how useful it seemed. When attaining a III: Apprentice level cost as much as seven tiers of Hybrid Sword Arts, there was clearly something wrong.

Not that I could call foul, I supposed. The noble houses that made up His Majesty’s loyal shield numbered in the hundreds, and there were all sorts of different branches for each. Mixing in the countless knight lineages and fallen houses made for an awe-inducing final total. There was more to memorize than in a long-running trading card game, so it was fair enough for the experience costs of mastery to skyrocket.

“Here comes the first of the Five Generals! Second only to the moon-eating wolves of House Graufrock, the Grauberg clan is led today by its rightful heir and successor, Sir Adalbert at the helm! Following them is...”

By my estimate, the one leading the parade was from some knighthood or other. He had a mystical contraption coiled around his neck to amplify his voice, and I could hear him clearly announce the titles and prestige of all who marched by through the hum of the crowd. They must have gathered up a lot of people to find someone with his voice and looks.

“They’re coming out the gate strong,” Mika said.

“Yep. A branch family of one of the imperials. Do you get it, Elisa?”

“Yes, Dear Brother. The name came up in Master’s lectures.”

Elisa went on to name the other Five Generals, houses that sat at the top of imperial military affairs, but all I could think about was the operatic struggles that had no doubt gone down behind the scenes to decide on this order in the parade. I was convinced that blood and gold had been spilt on the dimly lit stage of backdoor politics over which clan was to follow which other, or even who was to march at the head of each.

How refreshing it was to be in the spectator’s seat, free from such strife. Truly, to stay a commoner was life’s greatest blessing.

A few minutes after the vanguard had passed, a troop of warriors clad in enchanted armor—some magical, some divine—could be seen slowly making their way toward us on a flock of impressive warhorses. Their leader was a young werewolf who’d removed his helmet and held it in his armpit.

His lush mane of gray fur had been carefully groomed such that the shortened patch took the shape of an immaculate crescent moon. As a fighter myself, seeing him clad in such magnificent plate armor drove a spike of pure envy into my heart.

And he wasn’t alone! More just like him followed one after another, and my high spirits finally reached their tipping point: I lost myself to the festive atmosphere, hooting and hollering like any other child. Mika tapped into the same boyish amazement, and though the unfamiliar feelings gave him pause, he joined me soon after.

On the other hand, Elisa couldn’t quite wrap her mind around what made armor so cool to us, and instead pelted me with an endless barrage of questions—you know, the sort that curious young children often ask. Things like, “What are those pointy spikes on their boots?” or, “Why are their spears so long?”

“Hark, good citizens of the capital! Next we have holy knights hailing from the Unified Pantheon of Berylin, here at the personal request of His Imperial Majesty! At the helm we see a devout follower of the God of Trials, Father Diedrich! As a member of the Great Boniface Sect, he leads...”

The infinite line of marching soldiers continued with holy knights, which included some radicals who professed their faith with swings of their swords. While religious entities usually didn’t involve themselves directly with imperial politics, they could be counted on at times to declare holy wars against heretical enemies of the state.

Their inclusion was probably aimed at diplomats who hailed from lands where rivaling religions had taken hold, or missionaries that had been granted special permission to enter the country. While the Rhinian pantheon was generally rather quiet, it could completely uproot the divinity of any who opposed it; our gods of war and battle weren’t known as the Barbarian Gods abroad for nothing.

“Now then, pay heed! He who shall pass now sits atop the imperial throne, leads the venerable House Baden, and rules all the Empire with infallible authority! Here comes His Imperial Majesty, the keeper of peace in the eastern land of savages, and restorer of stolen imperial glories! Here comes August IV!”

A deafening wave of cheers washed over the crowd from front to back. Who could blame them? The crown jewel of today’s event—our one and only Emperor—had descended to greet us.

“Wow,” I gasped. “Hey, Mika, look! That’s incredible!”

“Whoa!” he shouted. “Real dragon knights! I’ve never seen them fly so low!”

Long hair swirled about and a few people lost their hats to the tailwind as they soared past, but not a single soul complained. Everyone on the scene simply raised their fists toward the whistling skies.

They were real dragon knights. The lesser drakes they rode were highly intelligent and receptive to people. We made use of their group hunting skills in battle, and they’d been considered the peak military steed for generations now. Their red carapaces showed that they came from a mountainous population comfortable with a furnace’s blaze: they intuitively employed magic to fly and breathe metal-melting flames. The most terrifying thing about their breath was that it used a biological oil as a catalyst, and it still shot forward when they were traveling close to the speed of sound.

If a fleet of them cut off a formation of enemy soldiers from the skies, all their tactics and stratagems would melt away faster than a candy drop. So great was their influence that military advisors of the past had once considered a nation’s might to be directly proportional to their arsenal of drakes; as someone under their protection, nothing could inspire more confidence.

Nowadays, of course, advances in polemurgy and siege weaponry made their influence less absolute, but they remained a key part of turning the tides of battle. A single dragon knight was said to do the work of a whole squad of cavalry, and the Empire had one, two, three... Three squads of six?!

As I lost myself in the drakes gliding leisurely above, a thundering footstep that shook me to my core brought my attention back to the ground. I looked to see dragon knights walking down the street.

The leader of the pack was a massive plateau drake. It had a bluish carapace and much larger wings than its mountain-dwelling cousins. While it couldn’t spit fire, it could summon razored gales that could score the face of a mountain. Witnessing it march on its hind legs and balance itself with the tips of its wings was equal parts terrifying and heartening.

And the man who sat atop that magnificent specimen was our Emperor: August IV, the Dragon Rider. Clad in shining white armor, he exuded too much raw virility for me to believe the man was over fifty. He stared ahead with a gaze devoid of even the faintest ounce of softness.

However, the charming old lady riding with him was quite the opposite in every way. His Majesty’s unyielding vigor made him look even taller than he already was, and the Empress Consort almost looked like a floresiensis by comparison. She gratified the citizenry in place of her stark husband, and the white-haired grande dame made sure to wave to both sides of onlookers evenly.

It took a long while for anyone to follow, but eventually a young man who shared many of the reigning monarch’s features appeared—probably the crown prince. I’d been too giddy about the flying drakes to pay attention to the herald.

“Weird...” Mika cocked his head as soon as the prince came into view.

“What’s up, old chum?”

“I don’t know. How do I put this? I’ve seen His Highness once, when I helped carry my master’s things into the palace. But he seems so...different. Like he’s less rugged, maybe? Or more at peace, or something...”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not really sure, myself. It’s just...he wore a grimmer expression when I last saw him. His brow was just as furrowed as his father’s.”

I looked over at His Highness at Mika’s request, but all I saw was him and his werewolf princess waving to the people with bright smiles—I couldn’t even begin to imagine the scene my friend was describing. He looked like a good, amicable man that didn’t have a single care in the world.

“Hrm...” Mika groaned. “I mean...I guess?”

Although he didn’t seem convinced even as he spoke, all his puzzlement quickly faded away as the next part of the parade approached.

The three of us stayed to watch the parade until it ended in the evening, and went out for supper together. The two of them had gotten nice and chummy over the course of the festival, and by the end of the day, Elisa was holding my hand in her right and Mika’s in her left. It had been a good day: Elisa had taken her first step into society, as small as it was, and I had a feeling Mika was a tiny bit closer to putting the past behind him.

Ah, if only my problems were any closer to resolution. 

A small thorn still pricked at my heart, but the joyful weariness of a day well spent helped soothe my soul as the day turned to night.

[Tips] The crown prince’s official duties only entail taking command when the emperor is unable to do so. However, in reality, there are examples of princes gradually being given more and more responsibilities until the reigning monarch simply abdicates to them; for someone who abhors the thought of coronation, the position is a terrible punishment.