Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World - Volume 6 - Chapter 5

0.1 Hendersons

Henderson Scale 0.1

A derailing event that has no impact on the overarching story.

For example, a tangent might run too long, forcing the epilogue to be fleshed out over dinner, or on the walk home.

The shrinking dot on the horizon meant many things to the zentaur watching it.

Frankly, her first impression of the boy had been terrible. Not only had she been absolutely manhandled in their bout, but he’d lectured her just like the village elders had back home: they’d nagged her enough about honor this and valor that for a lifetime.

A warrior born on the northern isles was free to unleash endless savagery in battle, and the art of plunder was even considered beautiful; yet when peace arrived, the burden of responsibility was heavy. They didn’t quite take pride in protecting the defenseless people of the land as imperial knights did, but the unspoken law that the mighty display dignity was a weighty one.

Dietrich—then Derek—had spat in the face of those values; she could see as much now.

Truth be told, she had let nothing restrain her for the greater part of her life. Anyone who got on her nerves could expect a punch or kick; she’d gotten into scuffles with her direct superiors with startling regularity. To realize that her misbehavior had stemmed from frustrations with how far away she was from her goals was downright embarrassing. Just thinking about it threatened to dye her entire head red, up to the gray tip of her ear.

Yet there was no denying the inflated, insatiable ego that had brought her wandering into the Empire. She’d managed to drift along, bending the world to her will with brute force, until her luck finally ran out.

Actually, on second thought, her defeat at Erich’s hands had been good fortune too. Had it been anyone else, she might be long buried.

Instead of death, what awaited was a lesson in philosophy and a foe so unwavering that she hadn’t been able to score a hit on him no matter how many times they sparred. A rival so perfect could hardly be found anywhere else.

Erich of Konigstuhl had been strong—stronger than any other.

He may have been small, but his blade was sharper than the biting gale of winter; his movements more formless than shadows in moonlight; his footwork less predictable than the course of falling leaves. No matter how feverishly she swung her axe, Dietrich hadn’t managed to so much as split a hair on his head; the immeasurable chasm between them had driven her to despair more times than she could count.

Dietrich had been handily defeated at her full strength before, but only by the most elite warriors of her tribe. Never had she imagined that someone so powerful would be merrily snoozing away at a random campsite, and more unimaginable still, that he would see potential buried within her and take her under his wing.

At first, Dietrich had been angry at her loss. Unbefitting for a warrior as it was, she’d considered murdering him in his sleep; but surprisingly enough, traveling with him hadn’t been bad at all.

Erich made good meals, and despite being the one footing the bill, he hadn’t ever hoarded the lion’s share of food for himself. In fact, despite his occasional grumbling, he’d always prepared enough for her to get her fill. The man was too kind for his own good, and Dietrich had taken note.

As she slowly warmed up to him, so too did she surely begin to listen to his sermons. Although his tone remained insolent for someone younger than her, the contents of his scoldings always elaborated on what she had done wrong.

Better still, they even offered an alternative: what she could have done right. For years, she’d been lashing out, trying to outrun the uncomfortable fog clinging fast to her heart. Yet bit by bit, she’d felt it begin to dissipate.

Dietrich’s dream had resided at her hero’s heels. She’d always been chasing him. But unable to keep up, she’d lost sight of why he’d inspired her in the first place: her unconscious had filled in the gaps with the easy answer of “because he’s the best.”

Now that her head was clear, it seemed silly: none of the heroes of her people had been the best at everything, anyway.

So tunneled in on becoming number one, she’d run down a path that brought her no closer to her dreams—only toward regret. If only she had looked at herself, she wouldn’t have been cast out of her homeland.

Oh, the zentaur thought to herself. But then I wouldn’t have met him at all. Maybe it wasn’t all bad.

For all that had happened on the way, the journey had been fun. The days she’d spent working together with someone who respected and cared about her had been fulfilling. When she helped with something—even something small—he’d thank her; when she accomplished something, he’d praise her.

Sometimes, he would share ideas that Dietrich didn’t understand. Yet the more she thought about them, the more she realized that those ideas were, in fact, cool. She’d gone her whole life thinking that weaklings weren’t worth the time of day; but when she listened and carried herself with poise, wouldn’t you know it, she realized that it felt good to earn their respect. She’d learned that lesson helping the poor merchants struggling with their delinquent guards. The twinkling eyes that the boy looked up at her with had revived a long-forgotten emotion within her: the one that had spurred her to want to be the greatest in the first place.

On top of that, she liked how he’d done everything he could to come up with a decent solution to a tough problem. Until now, Dietrich would have hastily thrown the whole canton into the bin to pick the path of greatest profit. But realistically, she would have inevitably realized that the coins in her purse had been bought with the deaths of hundreds, and that thought was sure to have weighed on her.

The world was full of land mines waiting to be set off. Had she sacrificed the innocent layfolk to collect the bounty on the bandits who shared their hometown, every starving village and ruined town would make her wonder, Is this what happened to those people too?

Though the villagers shared some blame for their lack of foresight, no amount of blame shifted would have erased the prickling feeling in her heart. She knew now that every feat worthy of praising oneself led to one less sleepless night; good deeds were the building blocks for a foundation of self-respect.

That said, Dietrich was secretly a bit miffed: she’d told Erich that she’d think about what she would do, but no matter how much she racked her brain, she couldn’t come up with anything better. Refusing the villagers’ money would’ve made her feel like she’d been taken advantage of, and coming down on them any harder would’ve led to more people being hurt. If she’d just ignored the problem entirely, then the lives of the victims already claimed would’ve gnawed at her.

Drawn out by the experience, memories of all the decisions she’d made thus far in her life came back to fill her head to the brim. Even though Erich had said that answers only ever came once everything was settled, that didn’t make it any less painful to think about the conundrums around her.

But Dietrich had a feeling she knew what he’d say: overcoming these challenges is part of being a true warrior.

Even that noble brat from the tournament hadn’t turned out all that bad once Erich whipped some sense into him. When she’d cried about her failures as a little girl, her hero had done the same for her; how had she forgotten that success sprouted from failure? It was almost laughable. Her stance with a bow and her grip with an axe were nothing like what her parents had raised her with: to this day, her form mimicked what her hero had taught her on the day she’d clung to him bawling.

That episode had also reminded her of something important: the rage she felt at seeing an honest competition sullied made her realize the righteousness inherent in her dreams. Recognizing that her anger came from seeing the sincere efforts of hundreds of warriors treated like fodder made it apparent at last how much pride mattered to her as a virtue to uphold.

When she’d first signed up, the thought of a first-place finish in a rural tournament hadn’t seemed too impressive. Yet her competition had been earnest. Though some had entered just for fun, the majority had been there to win glory with their skills—to carve their names into the world through sheer force of will.

Dietrich had wanted to be the best because she wanted to be recognized. It was the same for everyone else. There wasn’t a single human on the planet who could survive without craving at least a drop of attention; and if there was, she figured, then they weren’t much of a human at all.

Last, but not least, this final adventure of theirs had taught her that one person’s truth was another’s fancy. She’d agreed to help because she felt bad for Rudolf and Helena, but never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned a standoff against some of the Empire’s finest. While she knew the tale would match the best of those told around the table during her tribe’s many feasts, the whole ordeal was so unreal that nobody would believe her.

Honestly, it was unbelievable enough that Erich had gone along with it. Despite having realized partway through that something was wrong—and grumbling about it to boot—he was sentimental enough that he’d stayed quiet, so as not to dampen Dietrich’s excitement. Though, personally, she would’ve liked it better if he’d told her his suspicions before she’d gotten them into trouble.

Actually, come to think of it, Erich was a little too empathetic.

Taking an impartial look at herself, Dietrich realized that no normal person would’ve taken care of her to this degree. Her clothes couldn’t have been cheap, but he’d bought them without much hesitation; for all his complaining about her diet, he’d never told her to eat less. In fact, he’d explicitly begun serving more food so she could get a full helping.

Above all else, even when she’d blown all her newly earned money—the incident had hurt her just as much as it’d hurt him—he hadn’t thrown her out. He’d blown a fuse, of course, but that took balls to put up with at all: any other man would’ve forgone the lectures and just kicked her to the curb.

Not only had he shrugged it off with the casual outlook of, “Well, you better save up again,” but his invective had all been made with Dietrich’s well-being in mind—not his own. That he would hand the purse strings to someone else even after she’d learned her lesson got to her a little bit, but she decided to put up with it on account of her past failings.

“I guess that’s how he got to me.”

The zentaur’s new traveling buddy looked over, and she waved him off with a quiet laugh as she watched the dot on the horizon disappear.

All his kindness and care had made her really want him, and yet she’d been shot down. From how unfazed he’d looked, she figured that she really hadn’t been a consideration at all for him. That kinda peeved her, but she understood all the same.

After all, Dietrich was a warrior, just the same as Erich. If she was going to settle down, then she’d want someone who had a chance of felling her in battle too. In the end, she hadn’t managed to win a single time...but, well, that was only if she let this be the end.

Love and war weren’t so different: another chance would come so long as she stayed alive. The world was a lot smaller than it seemed. They earned their keep in the same way and lived on the same big slab of land. That alone was probably enough for them to meet again.

Maybe a one-sided crush wasn’t all that bad. Chasing the title of a man’s dearest woman was kind of like chasing the title of becoming the greatest warrior. If that insatiable ambition would lead her to greater heights, then she didn’t have any problem with taking the long way around.

All that was left for her to do was to pick herself up and head for the summit.

“All righty... Let’s get to Innenstadt and knock back a drink, yeah?”

Win or lose, booze was indispensable. Kicking off the ground with a skip, Dietrich dreamed of a glass raised high: to celebrate her valor in battle, and to cradle her broken heart.

[Tips] Once connections are penciled in on both parties’ character sheets, no half-hearted twist of fate will be able to rend them apart forever.