Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World - Volume 9.1 - Chapter 5.1

“Yes, fast asleep,” Margit replied. “The first time he’s been this far under in a week.”

“I see. It is difficult to sleep when you are alone.”

In addition to the skull and skeletal saint upon her alabaster skin, she had a new tattoo below her stomach of a sword surrounded by fangs. Despite the sweat enveloping her, she also tended to Goldilocks as he snoozed. As Beatrix was about to fix his tousled her, she felt a slap strike her prosthetic.

“So you still won’t let me fix his hair,” Beatrix said.

“Indeed. That’s a pleasure for me alone.”

Margit undid Erich’s hair, careful not to get it caught between her body and the bed. It had been tied up tightly in preparation for their festivities, but now it was running free. It was Margit’s special right to brush the hair that now reached past Erich’s waist.

“But how did things end up like this, he asks,” Beatrix said. “It seems like he’s the only one who doesn’t know.”

The former assassin gave a smirk as she pulled a blanket across her master, fully aware that he was built of strong enough stuff to never catch a cold anyway. Now that he’d been wiped clean of sweat, it would be easier to sleep with a blanket, given that he couldn’t be forced into clothes at this phase.

“Even though he’s pushed into such a corner that he cannot sleep without a ‘shield’ at his side, he’s still convinced himself everything is fine. His obstinacy is quite something,” Margit said.

Margit’s thoughts turned to her certitude that she would take the true origins of their arrangement to the grave.

Over the years, Erich hadn’t simply dove into battles that put his life on the line. No, he positively drowned himself in his work for days on end. And in return, threats on his life came from every angle—wars of spycraft, social squabbles, literal deathmatches. It didn’t take a genius to realize that while the Fellowship changed gears to focus its efforts on espionage and counterinsurgency, Erich’s chosen foes had given as good as they’d got.

The gauntlet he’d been put through—the times he’d only held on to life thanks to Kaya’s bleeding-edge curatives, and when the whole world seemed to rest on his shoulders—had fundamentally broken this man.

His brain had responded to constant danger by locking into a heightened state. He’d become a better adventurer by leaps and bounds, but under that unyielding strain, he’d developed mental scars of a sort no one could avoid. As his Fellows learned of their boss’s withering mental state, they murmured among themselves, “He’s like a naked blade.”

Although Erich himself might have tried to act as if everything were normal, he had suffered incredible damage without even knowing it. The paranoia came first. Any job that came his way invited monstrous scrutiny. He asked for endless checks on clients, to the point that it troubled even Schnee. Whereas a village head from a canton in trouble might have received an instant “I’m on my way” from Erich in the past, now they would send panicked follow-up requests which were all put on the backburner.

His appetite suffered next. Having almost died from being secretly slipped poison, he would almost exclusively eat food he caught and prepared himself. If he did eat food prepared by someone else, then he would subject it to a battery of spells to make sure it was safe as he slowly got through it bite by painstaking bite. The sight of his fearful frame as he ate was painful for those close to him to look at.

Sleep became a shallow thing. When he was out on the road, he would wake himself up with the sound of his own body tossing and turning. Always on edge, dark circles formed under his eyes. Although he never took out his frustrations on anyone else, his strategies became ever more brutal, ever more callous. Watching him change, Margit grew increasingly concerned.

Although Erich had improved as a swordsman and as an adventurer, sooner or later he would reach his limits as a human being. Despite knowing this, Margit could do little on her own. Erich might sleep soundly if she cared for him and held him, but it was completely impractical for her to always be there, alert and by his side. Arachne could get by on naps alone, but she was only one person. There were adventuring jobs that only she could do, so it was impossible for her to be by his side at all times. Even his lovemaking grew so desperate that she couldn’t exactly remember everything that happened during.

And so she came upon a plan. It wasn’t one she liked. If Erich knew her true intentions, then he would almost definitely be furious. All the same, Margit wished to protect Erich’s humanity. She didn’t want him to lose sight of that overwhelming desire to become an adventurer; she didn’t want him to forget the joy of adventuring he had with all of his Fellows.

“But he’s lost much of the tumult in his heart,” Beatrix said. “When I first tended to him, he wouldn’t fall into a deep sleep even when I held him.”

“I think things have calmed down, but I also think that he’s grown used to it.”

Erich had subconsciously separated Margit from the other women in his life. She was his other half, and so if he knew that she was there watching over him, then he could finally rest his weary bones. It was a trust stronger than the kind between mother and child. However, with only one “bed” where he could rest, he couldn’t get the sleep he needed with any consistency. The sheets needed washing, the covers needed changing. If Margit shouldered the burden any longer, then she would break first.

Margit thought to increase the number of “beds” and “shields” in the bedroom. She had swallowed her pride and balanced the joy of being the only one Erich loved against that same man’s own humanity.

When she had asked Beatrix, “Would you die for Erich?” the former assassin had nodded her head without much thought.

Beatrix felt some responsibility. Through taking them on, he’d taken on a double helping of dark affairs. It troubled her. She bore some responsibility to assuage some of the pain in Erich’s soul. However, it wasn’t just obligation that had led Beatrix into the bedroom. The Fellowship of the Blade had become a place where they could finally relax after so many years.

Erich trusted them and had welcomed them in as his allies, relying upon them and giving them important jobs. The knowledge that you had someone’s back and they had yours on the battlefield was incredibly satisfying. Nothing was more reassuring than the relief she felt out there. It was like nothing she had felt before.

To top it all off, he had made a promise. If it were achievable without any regret, then their quest for retribution would go on.

Erich had accepted the One Cup Clan and their values together. It was nothing more than pure emotion that had moved Beatrix to realize that she would die for this man—even without her need for revenge to justify it.

They’d brought in the rest of the One Cup Clan to wear down his walls and draw him closer to a place where he could finally relax. They would take turns in small numbers, in their sympathy for the scout’s plan—well, some were in it largely for their own perks—and joined him in the bedroom. It was a difficult strategy to rewrite his base instincts to make him realize that he could trust and sleep soundly around these women.

It took ten bouts in the boudoir before Beatrix finally heard Erich’s gentle breathing. Coincidentally, this had been when Erich had finally learned the level of care it would take to not overdo it with his new partners. Beatrix could still remember the joy she felt when Erich stayed asleep even when Primanne, who had come to see if everything was all right, opened the door. Her heart had shook with the fact that they could support him too now.

Thanks to these women sanding away the thorns of his prickly heart, Erich had taken on two unsavory epithets. They felt sorry for that, but all the same they still felt joy for him.

But that was why...

“But today was quite something,” Beatrix said. “To be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling that utter, body-numbing pleasure in my stomach. Hell, I think Erich has memorized my weakest spots; it feels even better each time. I recall an interrogation session with a mage with a perverse streak and a fondness for sensation-magnifying potions... It still just doesn’t measure up to what we’ve got...”

“Yes, and Erich never leaves us ‘defeated’ either.”

As the years went by, Erich’s lust had not ebbed in the least. Yes, he was a wolf in the bedroom, but he was at least a gentlemanly one—the sort of beast who seemed to gain pleasure from seeing his partner in the height of her own pleasure. He preferred play that sought to maintain that climax, and so he pointedly refused that final push that would send them over the edge until the last possible moment.

The One Cup Clan were not unfamiliar with honeypot ploys in their past line of work, and so they’d taken up their task with optimism in their hearts, but it didn’t take long in the bedroom for them to realize how badly they’d bitten off more than they could chew. If they didn’t go into it with the same fervor as they brought to the battlefield, they wouldn’t be able to sate and comfort Erich. They would reach their ends with the sublimation of their own pleasures before his.

Indeed, the proof was in the fact that Erich himself had noticed that maybe he was overdoing it and dialed back his approach. In all honesty, he had noticed far too late that they were struggling in the throes of their bliss. Goldilocks wasn’t blameless in his ignorance.

“I think it’s worth putting in all the effort in the bedroom if we’re rewarded with his peaceful face. He’s got a sort of cherubic quality.”

“Agreed...”

A finger of Beatrix’s prosthetic traced Erich’s cheek, and he drew into her, his mouth still hanging slightly open as he slept. As she tucked her hand around his head, he nuzzled his face into her hands. Like a kitten at rest, the peaceful sight left Beatrix’s with a warm, fuzzy feeling. In the past, any fingers upon his head would have sent Erich into a hyperventilating fit, and he would have woken up ahead of any further contact.

The beatific expression on his face was as sweet as dew for those who knew him when he was at his most difficult.

“But the rest of you are shameful,” Beatrix said. “Can’t at least one of you manage to see this through and guide him to sleep?”

“S-Sisker, you were the *tik* lask one, so you had some leeway,” Primanne said.

“Yes, don’t try to hide vah,” Main said. “Main saw tum’s eyes rolled back and tongue lolling out in pleasure.”

“All strength in waist...gone...” Shahrnaz muttered. “No good... Lepsia still fainting.”

Fate had played quite a trick to lead the six of them to share the bed with him together today. Perhaps the Philanderer had misjudged his skills in his state of shock. The four members of the One Cup Clan who were still conscious could answer Beatrix’s call, but they couldn’t move. Despite cloths being thrown their ways, none could muster the strength to wipe themselves down.

For Margit, who had once taken on all of this herself, this distribution of Erich’s lust had brought the experience down to quite the pleasant intensity.

However, there was one more reason why Margit had called in their aid.

“By the way, Beatrix,” she said, “there is something I need to tell you.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“I don’t think I will be able to join these late-night sessions for a while.”

“Why not? You didn’t get scratched or something, did you?”

Despite the years, Margit still hadn’t lost her pure maiden’s heart that preferred not to call a spade a spade. She flushed slightly and pointed to her stomach with a sigh. Her period was late.

“Hmm?” Beatrix said. “I thought arachne laid eggs, no?”

“When carrying the child of a mensch, sometimes the egg continues to grow inside,” Margit said. “It makes the birth a little trickier. I can’t say for certain, but the odds are good.”

Although arachne copulated like other humanfolk, the way that their children were born was different. Their womb itself became an egg, which would then be laid. The fetus would grow inside the egg until it was ready to hatch. However, this only applied to full-blooded arachne children. In the case of a mensch father, the child usually took the mother’s race, but in some rare cases it came out a mensch.

It was rare, and so Margit only really knew about it in passing. She had never thought it would happen to her. That was probably why it took her longer to notice the changes happening in her body.

“Things have been a bit easier recently, so I suppose I lost track,” Margit said. “But I was thinking I would like to have my own children around now.”

“That’s great. I’m pleased for you,” Beatrix said. “This was half the reason you drafted us, wasn’t it?”

Margit could only give a mischievous smile in response.

She had indeed devised the whole group partnership in part so she and Erich could raise a child without much worry. If Margit was the only one comforting the weary adventurer, then she would never have found the leeway to even think about a child. If her future children in this scenario had been arachne—jumping spider arachne tended to brood over their eggs—then she wouldn’t have been able to care for them while also securing Erich’s peaceful rest.

That said nothing of the utter fear she felt thinking of Erich during his more violent, short-tempered days. With a child, Erich would have gotten more ruthless than ever. He would have crushed any trace of evil that he could, all for the safety of his child’s future. A mountain of corpses and unnecessary grudges would have awaited them.

Having weighed the possibility of such a future, Margit had decided that Erich’s mental composure absolutely had to come first. She had held on fast to her maiden’s heart with its ideals of love, but she’d decided that she needed to make a compromise. That was where the One Cup Clan had come in.

The vision of herself holding the child of her dear partner was just too beautiful to cast aside.

“This will probably mean that your burden will increase,” Margit said to the others. “He will no doubt be ecstatic about the news, so please do your best to rein him in.”

“You’re quite right... I can see him picking a fight with the meanest clan in town just to clean things up a little. That would be poor form.”

Beatrix clapped a hand to her forehead as she imagined a future as troublesome as Margit had. This was his first child. Erich would be on cloud nine getting baby clothes, wondering what the best name would be, and, naturally, making sure his child would be able to grow up in a safe environment.

“But a child, hmm,” Beatrix went on. “I’m almost too old to be able to have one of my own. I would like one...”

“That would be quite the struggle for everyone else. Mensch have long gestation and weaning periods. If two of us are absent, the others will definitely be in trouble.”

“Hey, Sisker?” Primanne said. “Please consider *tik* things for a bik... We’re doing our besk, buk...”

“I am not having confidence to take on alone... Although wishing I could,” Shahrnaz said.

Losing their two heaviest hitters at the same time struck fear into their hearts. It was true that Beatrix was older than the rest, but her own magical reinforcements had extended her fertility. They wanted her to show a little restraint and at least wait until Margit was back in action.

Beatrix had cast contraceptive spells today, but her eyes were different as she looked at Margit tenderly stroking her stomach. They begged their leader to at least think about scheduling.

“Main is a bit more concerned about all these half-siblings and ve’s different mothers,” Main said.

“That’s nothing to worry about,” Margit said. “They can be the children of the Fellowship, just like Siegfried’s.”

If they all continued to have children with Erich, it would be quite the unique family from the kids’ perspective. The ever-coolheaded Main was somewhat concerned.

Siegfried’s twins—almost five now—were raised around the whole Fellowship. However, Siegfried didn’t have any other lovers—just Kaya. His situation was completely different from Erich’s. Not only that, whether Margit gave birth to a girl or a boy, how would the child act in the face of the half dozen women who acted like their father’s wife? If they didn’t treat this future child with some care, they could grow up with quite the twisted childhood. Any spawn they ended up producing would need a happy, stable home life that wouldn’t alienate them from society.

“Ahh, yes, Sieg,” Beatrix said. “If I recall he was so busy with his work as second-in-command that when his son could finally talk he ended up calling Etan ‘vater.’ You could see Sieg’s legs turn to jelly, seeing all that! Could you manage if something similar happened to you, Margit? If I or someone else were called ‘mutter’ in your place?”

“I am remembering...” Shahrnaz said. “Very poor man.”

“Main thinks Main wouldn’t be able to recover. Main feels sick just thinking about it...”

If they wished to remain Marsheim’s top adventurers, that would naturally mean leaving the city. Less time would be spent with their children. And just like what happened to Siegfried, the symbolic moment of all their efforts—their child calling their name—would be lost.

When this happened to Siegfried, he had fallen into a terrible depression. It had taken Erich’s encouragement and five bottles of decent wine for him to recover. The wound still ran deep. He had acted completely out of character and commissioned a miniature portrait that he could take when he was out on the road so he could remember their faces at any time.

Despite it all, Margit kept an easy smile on her face.

“It’s mine and Erich’s child,” she said. “No matter how many mothers they may have, they will receive all the love sent their way and grow into a true monster. That would satisfy me well enough.”

The One Cup Clan, who had seen real hell countless times, could not help but blanch in the face of Margit’s terrifying aura. What terrifying things she thought up! Margit was the sort to teach her child every last thing there was to teach.

Margit would only use their bevy of mothers and siblings as fuel to raise her child into an utter beast. It might result in some headaches on Erich’s part, but that was an acceptable loss considering the future of her first child.

Even after the huntress had laid her claws upon the prey she truly desired, she still was not satisfied. She wanted to create something she couldn’t consume.

Yes, there was no chance their child would remain in the shackles of normalcy. With sword training from his father, hunting lessons from his mother, the love from all the adventurers under their beloved leader, and the unique environment of the Fellowship of the Blade, it would make for an upbringing of a kind the world would likely never see again.

Even here there were six skilled warriors, each professionals in their own crafts. They would give their own love and their own lessons too.

As the women imagined the unknown child in Margit’s womb and the terrifying creature it might become, they all shivered with a chill that didn’t come from their naked bodies...

[Tips] When mensch men breed with other races, the child usually takes after the mother. However, there are rare cases where a mensch child will be born. In this case, the mother’s body undergoes a few changes to compensate. Perhaps due to this, folk rumors abound that the child will be incredibly gifted.