Volume 1 Chapter 9 Heal
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Suddenly, I was shaken awake.
It seemed Larry had slipped into a dissociative state, and I had inherited the driver’s seat. My five senses reconnected, and I merged into his form as if pouring myself into a mold.
Lord, this body is a wreck. I can feel the cold sweat drying on my skin, a sharp, throbbing ache in my soles, and a leaden weight in my limbs. Lactic acid: Max. Sleep deprivation: Critical. Yet, beneath it all, my core was burning with a strange heat.
Since I was completely disoriented, I started scrolling through his short-term memory files.
Marching and cobbling? This must have been the “drilling” Uncle Klaus mentioned. I remembered hearing that the Self-Defense Forces and the police back home started with group marches to build stamina and break down the individual. It seemed the logic was universal, even in another world. And they had put him through that for a solid half-day?
As for the sandals, they had been forced to DIY something resembling a Roman caliga. The instruction was to “use these on the battlefield,” but they were already in shreds.
(I see… so that brat Getz and the kid Martin got dropped in a heartbeat.) Bours was the real deal. That’s the kind of confidence that only comes from high-level experience. He definitely carries the aura of a veteran from the Royal Army.
What really stuck in my craw, though, was this “Shinto”¹ thing.
The way Martin—or “Mar”—had been moving had the distinct scent of a martial art. If Captain Bours called that “Shinto,” then was it some kind of combat school here? In Larry’s head, “Shinto” is just some fringe “New Age” religion similar to the Elven spirit-worship. Its ceremonies for weddings and funerals were supposedly bare-bones. He doesn’t know a thing about it having a combat wing. But since both Captain Bours and Larry agree that Celt is a “Shinto man,” I have to assume Larry is just out of the loop. He is only thirteen, after all—basically a middle-schooler. Just a little chick.
There’s another tidbit in Larry’s “Shinto” files: these PR guys called Oshi². I can’t tell if they’re missionaries or traveling salesmen.
They apparently roll into the village in groups of three or four twice a year. The villagers treat it like a godsend; everyone gathers around them regardless of what they actually believe. They announce their arrival with flutes and drums in the square, and once a crowd forms, they start dishing out the “news”—current events, trends, gossip about the Royals and the High Nobility, war updates, and diplomatic drama. They’re basically a high-speed news feed disguised as entertainers. They sound like fantasy bards, but actual bards in this world are exclusive to the aristocracy. Commoners only see them at the Lord’s birthday festivals. A backwater dump like this would never see a real bard.
But the Oshi? They sell things. Mostly seeds. And the ones who bought in and struck gold were Tim’s family, the Dvoraks.
A year ago, the Dvoraks were the only ones who bought “sugar beet” seeds. Before that, people just grew beets as a sweet salad green. But the seeds from the Oshi produced monsters—roots that grew as thick as a man’s thigh. If you crushed them, you got a syrup packed with sugar. It was a massive pain to grow and extract, but when they took the finished product to the city of Obernbach, a single small bag fetched enough coin to pay for their son’s entire Rite of Passage ceremony at the riverside district.
Now, every house in the village is scrambling to buy seeds for next year, hoping to follow the Dvoraks to the bank. The latest hype is “potato seeds.” Usually, you plant the tuber, but these are actual seeds. Maybe they’re a different strain from the potatoes on Earth? It is an isekai, after all.
But this “cheat-tier” agricultural boom feels… wrong. Is someone else out here playing the “Better Living Through Science” card? (Is there some guy out there building a harem and being an ‘Isekai Peerless Hero’?) Martial arts, a new religion—with the name Shinto, no less—and a coordinated seed distribution network via the Oshi… there is absolutely no way this happened naturally.
Extracting sugar from beets didn’t happen on Earth until the late 18th century. I’m certain of it. It makes me remind something…
’Why did Europe decide to isolate sugar from beets, Sagara?’
Ogasawara-san asked me that in World History B, and I choked. Even decades later, I remember it—mostly because the answer wasn’t in the damn textbook. I found out later that there were underground notes circulating from his private lectures. It was part of a major lesson called “Sugar in Tea: The 3:00 PM Snack.” There were other legendary titles too, like “He Who Rules the Cavalry Rules the World” and “Religion is the Color of Gold.” But I was a science-track student and took Geography A for my exams, so I never sat in on his class.
The point is, sugar refining is a “Modern Era” tech. It belongs to the age of muskets, cannons, and standing armies in uniforms—an age where the medieval plate armor Iffens-niisan wore would be a death trap. We’re talking a gap of six hundred to eight hundred years.
I know I shouldn’t measure another world by Earth’s yardstick, but technological progress requires a foundation. A jump of several centuries doesn’t just happen. Some genius reincarnated person—a real Ishigami Sen-whatever type—must have taught them.
That person took a salad leaf, genetically modified it for sugar, and used a network of missionaries to push it nationwide. If there’s money to be made, the religion will follow.
(Man, this is the kind of stuff that would’ve triggered my ‘Chuunibyou’ phase back in middle school.)
I can see the headlines now: “Exposé: The Dark Side of the New Religion! Young Female Disciples Turned into Sex Slaves for the Prophet!” It sounds like some trashy Showa-era adult video title. I’m almost jealous.
Wait—focus. This kind of delusion spirals out of control way too fast.
Let’s look at the facts: the odds of another reincarnated person being in this world just skyrocketed. And that? That’s actually a little exciting.
But the problem is this body. My control seems to be a temporary glitch, and Larry is just a kid. I have zero freedom to go hunting for some mysterious “Hero” somewhere out there. Plus, I’m about to be shipped off to a meat-grinder of a war. My second life might be a very short one.
My mood is starting to tank.
(What do I do in times like this? Oh, right. Switch gears. Enjoy the ‘now.’)
And “now” is sitting right in front of me.
Specifically, the magnificent “peek-a-boo” cleavage spilling out from the weave of that black tunic. It’s the local celebrity, Emma-chan. I really want to reach out and give that a little poke. Right now, she’s busy washing Getz’s feet in a basin.
If you’re going to enjoy life, go with the erotic. It’s the best way to turn your brain off.
I take another look at Emma-chan. Beyond the top-tier “side-boob,” she’s got these toned, athletic legs that the pareo can’t quite hide. She’s got a cute face, but there’s a shadow of sorrow there. No wonder the Mauer Village idiots who stayed at the pharmacy are losing their minds over her.
Standing behind her is Ferris-san, who is also an absolute smoke-show. She’s an Elf—a fantasy staple right here in the flesh. According to Larry’s memory, she’s over two hundred years old, but her skin has the glow of a woman in her early thirties. For a forty-year-old bachelor, that’s right in the middle of the strike zone.
(Listen, young isn’t always better.) For a middle-manager, talking to a girl in her early twenties is a legal minefield. Small talk is a death sentence. But here? I’m a “pure and innocent” thirteen-year-old boy. I’m prime “shota-con” bait.
In that case… Emma-chan is the only logical choice, right?
”Could you lift your foot, please?”
Emma-chan’s accent is unique. Maybe she’s from some far-off land? When Getz lifted his foot, she slid the basin aside, laid a towel on the dirt, and gently guided his foot down with her hands. She began to pat the water away with a soft, careful touch. If a polite girl like this were my subordinate back home, I might have actually enjoyed going to the office.
”You look pathetic,” Ferris-san said.
She pulled back the hood of her deep purple robe, looking exasperatedly at Getz, the local punk. “It’s only been one day. What happened to all that big talk from last night?”
The Mauer Village guys had been practically brawling over who got healed first, but their stamina was clearly bottomed out. They were slumped over on the benches, looking like deflated balloons.
”My turn, then.”
Emma-chan finished drying the feet and stepped aside. The “Fantasy Standard” Elf tucked her skirt up to a dangerously high point, exposing supple, porcelain-white legs as she sat down cross-legged on the ground.
”Alright, give me a foot.”
(Elves are supposed to be this high-and-mighty race, but the image is definitely crumbling here.)
The granny pulled Getz’s right foot onto her bare knee and held her hand over it.
”Ah… hngh…!”
”Suck it up. It stings at first, but it’ll get better fast.”
There was a clear disconnect between the granny’s definition of “fast” and Getz’s. It took several minutes of him grimacing in agony before the pain finally drained from his face. (This guy might actually have some guts.)
”Next. Left foot.”
It took about five minutes per leg. From where I’m sitting, I can’t see the details, but it looks like the swelling and the bloody blisters are just… vanishing.
(This really is a world of magic.)
My sister-in-law said she couldn’t do it, but I wonder if I can “steal” this Heal technique just by watching. I can see Ferris-san holding her hand out, a mist of mana enveloping Getz’s foot. (Yeah, no. There’s no way I can gather that much mana into one spot. I can just feel it.)
”There. Done. How do you feel?”
”I… I think I’m okay. Sir—I mean, Instructor.”
Getz answered while testing his weight on his feet. Ten minutes per person, then.
”Glad to hear it. So, you ready to go hard again tonight?”
”Gah!”
Getz’s face, which had gone slack with relief, snapped back to a look of horror the moment she mentioned “additional fees.”
”Wait, you’re kidding…”
The pathetic moan came from Mar, who was next in line after finishing his foot-wash. Getz looked like he’d already accepted his bankruptcy.
”Oh, stop being such a tightwad. Though, I suppose I don’t mind a man who knows how to pinch a penny.”
”Is that so…?”
Mar looks happy about that, but he’s definitely reading the room wrong.
”Alright, Mar, sit. Foot out.”
The granny pulled his foot onto her knee. Mana began to swirl again. From this distance, I can’t see clearly, but it looks like a tiny, luminous vortex spinning right over the wound.
”Is this your first time seeing a Heal, Larry?”
I must have leaned in a bit too eagerly, because the granny caught me looking.
”I heard I had a wound fixed when I was four or five, but I don’t really remember it,” I replied, doing my best to keep my voice high and “cute” so I didn’t sound like a middle-aged creep.
”Is that right?”
”Whoa… was the lovely Ferris-san just as beautiful back then too?” Mar chimed in, his voice dripping with brown-noser energy.
(Does this kid not realize he’s playing with fire?) I held back a snort and just gave a tiny, innocent nod to avoid getting caught in the fallout.
”They call it ‘jewel-skin,’ right? I could look at your skin all day and never get bored,” Mar continued, spouting lines that made my skin crawl. He was leaning forward, shamelessly trying to get a look down her robe. Getz, already finished, just looked away in pure disgust.
I sat back down next to Roberto, who was practically nodding off. “So,” I whispered, “how was it last night?”
”Huh? Oh… last night… ehehe…“
”Weren’t you sleeping?”
At the question, the man reacted with exaggerated energy, the corners of his eyes crinkling instantly. “Nah, the Village Head picked up the tab!”
”Don’t tell me—it was with that girl?”
”You bet. Mar-san went for the older woman and chose Ferris-san, but I’m telling you, it’s all about Emma-chan. The three of us took turns with her.”
Wait, what? I was already reeling from the fact that a prostitute over two hundred years old was still in active service, but… took turns? When I pressed for details, it turned out there were two other girls available. They’d initially tried to settle the pairings by drawing lots, but after Getz threw a tantrum when he lost, the three of them ended up rotating through all three rooms in sequence.
”Guess Emma-chan really is the most popular,” Roberto said, flashing a thumbs-up.
”Seriously. She was as tight as a virgin. I even went for a second round. Thanks to that, I’m absolutely trashed for today’s drills.”
(Good god. Passing three girls around in a single night and then going back for more? The stamina of youth is terrifying. But the real issue here is age. No matter how you look at him, Roberto isn’t old enough to have finished high school. Just how much ‘experience’ is this kid racking up? Back home, this would be a one-way ticket to a prison cell3. My first time wasn’t until I was twenty—twenty! Honestly, these punks should’ve just keeled over and died by the roadside yesterday.)
Worse yet, I was forced to endure a play-by-play. I heard about how her breasts were firmer than the others, and how her tongue-work was exquisite despite her looks. It was agonizing for an inexperienced middle-aged guy like me to sit through. Meanwhile, the two guys from Strock Village were ignoring us, talking about how they just wanted to get home and drown themselves in ale.
”Alright, next.”
”That was my first time getting a Heal—it’s incredible!” Mar-san finished his treatment and began gushing over the granny.
”I appreciate the sentiment,” she replied.
”So, I’ve got one thing to ask you.”
The lecherous, slack-jawed expression he’d worn while peeking up the granny’s skirt vanished, replaced by a sudden, sharp seriousness. In a way, his ability to switch gears was impressive.
”O-oh? What is it?” The granny recoiled slightly, seemingly intimidated.
”Tell me… is Ferris-san single?”
”I… well, as you can see, yes.”
At that, he dropped low, sinking to one knee to bring his eyes level with hers. He stared her down with total conviction. “In that case, would you take me as your husband? I’m the second son of a tenant farmer, so I don’t have any property to my name, but my heart and my body are strong. I swear I’ll make you happy.”
(What? Whaaaaaat?! I know he’s from the neighboring village and doesn’t know her well, but this is beyond a curveball. No matter how young she looks, she’s an Elf over two hundred years old. Even if you’re being generous, she looks like she’s in her late twenties—and in an era where girls start marrying at thirteen, she’s effectively a statistical outlier.)
The granny stood there, frozen. Emma-chan dropped the basin she was holding. Celt and Ed, who had been gossiping until a second ago, were rendered speechless. The autumn wind sent a few withered leaves rolling across the ground with a dry clatter-clatter.
”W-well, I’ll… give it some thought.”
(Wait, she’s actually considering it? She’s beaming. Mar-san, meanwhile, looked like he’d just won the lottery.)
”Go on, then! Get out of here, you’re embarrassing me!” She waved her hand as if shooing away a puppy, but she couldn’t even look him in the face. (Is she… blushing? It’s not like she’s some innocent maiden.) I looked to my side and caught the eyes of two other guys who clearly had a lot to say about this. That conversation was established without a single word.
”Next! Hurry it up!”
The line moved, and it was Roberto’s turn to have his feet washed.
”Please place your feet in the basin.”
As she leaned in, her cleavage was right there. She used the pads of her fingers to gently stroke the dirt from Roberto’s feet. (To think that those slender fingers were, just last night, wrapped around a man’s—ugh. Tony the coachman had mentioned that the local rite of passage was either a maidservant or a visit to Ferris-san’s place. If I actually had a choice, I’d pick this girl in a heartbeat. She was adorable; her black hair was pulled up into a bun, but the loose strands bouncing against the nape of her neck were incredibly provocative. If she was this enticing from the neck up, the rest of her was probably… no, definitely… erotic.)
Suddenly, images of Herta and Egil’s naked bodies flashed in my mind, intercepting my fantasies. Those were Larry’s memories, not mine. Icuras… While I struggled to communicate with the memory spirit, Ed poked me in the ribs.
”Hey, I heard from my sister that you pushed Hans down.”
He knew about yesterday? Wait—sister? The two from the neighboring village, finished with their treatment and bored, wandered over and looked at us in shock.
”Wait, you have a sister?”
(Getz, that’s the part you’re hung up on? Come to think of it, I recalled seeing two girls when the trouble went down at the Kessler house.)
”What, you looking for a bride? Too bad, she’s already spoken for.”
”Oh, really? Was it Mary-chan? Congrats. Who’s the lucky guy?”
Celt was offering his blessings, but the girls I remembered were one large and one small, both with a bit of a gaudy vibe. Mary… right, she was the smaller one, a year older than me. It had been two years since she came to celebrate my second sister’s wedding, so I hadn’t recognized her. We’d taken classes together at the church before the plague; she’d always been a bit of a wallflower. I’d heard she landed a job as a librarian or something in an office over in Obernbach. I was actually curious about who she ended up with.
”Yeah, the Kessler house.”
(No way. With Al? No, the height difference is insane, and Al is only seventeen despite his size.)
”Surprising, isn’t it?” Ed said. According to him, Al’s father’s illness was worsening, and Al wanted to show he’d become a man by taking a bride before his father passed. He’d come by to pay his respects just the other day.
”Guess there are still some decent guys left in this village,” Getz said, sounding condescending as usual.
”Don’t you know? I heard ‘Giant Al’ is a name people even know over in Obernbach.”
”Gah, for real? Does that mean Mad Dog Hans’ partner is retiring? Well, that’s good news. This village might finally get some peace and quiet.”
”I wouldn’t count on it,” Ed said, slapping my shoulder familiarly. “Not when we’ve got the guy who knocked Mad Dog Hans on his ass right here.”
(Damn it. Just when I thought the subject had changed.)
”Is that so?” Mar-san said with a smug grin, despite being from the other village. “If the brother-in-law of Giant Al is related to Mad Dog Hans’ brother, I guess we can act like big shots to the soldiers from the other villages.”
Mar-san’s positivity was almost enviable.
”Speaking of which, I heard Al-san was appointed to the Council of Elders,” Celt chimed in, pivoting the topic.
”What? He’s two years younger than me!” Ed clearly hadn’t heard.
”Al-san stood in as a proxy during last night’s emergency council meeting,” I added, choosing my words carefully.
”And that emergency council was where they picked us to represent the village, right?”
”Borsh-san came by last night to explain everything,” Celt said with grim sincerity. “The battlefield is terrifying, but the poll tax exemption is a lifesaver. It’s ten gold coins, after all. This is the first year we won’t have to go into debt.”
”Tell me about it,” Ed grumbled. “When I told my old man I wasn’t going, he told me I’d have to pay the tax myself.” He picked up a pebble and chucked it toward the Village Head’s tower. “So I dragged myself here, only to get beaten since sunrise and spend half the day marching while screaming those embarrassing chants. I’m over it.”
”Alright, next.”
As I listened to the complaining, the granny’s voice cut through. I left the group and took my seat in front of Emma-chan. Having sat there for a while, my body had started to chill, but my battered feet were still swollen and throbbing with heat. When I dipped them into the fresh well water she’d drawn, the relief was instant.
My feet were a mess of peeled skin and oozing blood. Emma-chan used the pads of her fingers to gently scrub them underwater, rinsing away the grit and grime. Her bangs, cut straight across her brow, swayed with the rhythm of her hands. Through the gaps in her hair, I caught a glimpse of her forehead. There, carved in red, blue, and black, was a slave brand4.
The shape and size vary depending on the mage who grafts them, but the patterns contain encoded records—birth date, birthplace, lineage, the day they were enslaved, and their owner. Someone with the right eyes could read her entire life on her skin.
(Based on the way she carried herself, she might have once been a lady of a high-ranking family. Now, she was a slave selling her body to men she didn’t know. There was no use prying into her past… and yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It bothered me. In any world, the quality of service usually drops the further you get into the sticks, but how did an Elf running a backwater inn get her hands on a prize like this?)
She finished her inspection and pulled the basin away. She laid down a towel, placed my clean feet on top, and dried them with gentle, pressing motions.
”All finished,” she said softly. She stood up abruptly, basin in hand.
”Thanks,” I replied.
For a split second, our eyes met. Then, without a word, she turned and walked back toward the well. The intensity in Emma-chan’s gaze—the sheer pressure behind it—was a little frightening. She must have gone through hell to end up here. The weight of the life she’d lived was on a different scale entirely.
To my left, Roberto was getting his Heal. He was groaning loudly. When Larry casts a Fireball, it looks like a white mist gathering and spinning like a CG render of a planet forming, condensing until it takes on color. But with the granny’s Heal, the gathered mist swirled like a whirlpool, being sucked directly into the wound.
I have a vague handle on how to make a Fireball; I think I could gather the mana myself. But the mana gathered for the granny’s Heal was something else entirely. It felt fundamentally different. It wasn’t something I could just copy.
”Alright, that’s that. Larry, get over here.”
She used the same tone she’d used when giving me sweets as a kid. Or so the memory said. I moved as instructed and sat before her. She pulled my right foot up onto her left leg. My skin brushed against her bare, mature, erotic thigh.
(You aren’t Larry, are you?)
A voice rang out inside my head. (A hallucination? Great, I’ve finally lost it.)
(What are you talking about? I’m asking who the hell you are.)
—
Summary:
The protagonist wakes up as his ‘salaryman’ persona takes control of Larry’s exhausted body. He analyzes the world’s suspicious technological advancements, such as high-yield sugar beets and ‘Shinto’ martial arts, concluding another reincarnator must be involved. The group receiving magical healing from Ferris-san while the recruits reminisce about their night at the pharmacy.
While receiving healing treatment after exhausting drills, the soldiers engage in crude banter about their night at the inn. Maru-san unexpectedly proposes marriage to the elven innkeeper Ferris-san, who surprisingly does not reject him. The chapter concludes with a shocking revelation as Ferris-san uses telepathy to confront the protagonist about his true identity
—
Trivia:
- The Oshi are essentially a medieval news and seed-distribution network.
- Sugar beets are an 18th-century Earth innovation, creating a massive tech gap.
- Ferris-san is over 200 years old but maintains a youthful appearance.
- The Dvorak family became wealthy by monopolizing beet seeds a year ago.
- Martin’s ‘Shinto’ movements suggest martial arts training that Larry’s modern self recognizes.
- Sugar beet refining was a late 18th-century development on Earth.
- The Oshi act as a news network for commoners who lack access to bards.
- Ferris-san is over 200 years old but maintains the appearance of a 30-year-old.
- Emma-chan has a visible slave mark and a foreign accent.
- Larry’s knowledge comes from ‘World History B’ and ‘Geography A’ classes in his previous life
—
Character Insight:
The protagonist’s internal monologue reveals a mix of jaded corporate cynicism and a lingering ‘chuunibyou’ excitement at the prospect of finding another reincarnated hero.
—
Lore And Worldbuilding Context:
The author uses agricultural development as a subtle way to flag the presence of ‘cheat’ knowledge in the world.
The author uses agricultural details (sugar beets vs. salad greens) to hint at a deeper conspiracy of ‘isekai cheats’ in the world’s history.
—
Glossary:
Notes:
• Larry – 13‑year‑old third son of the Strock headman, reddish‑white skin, bronze eyes, curly bronze hair, faint Showa memories and minor fire magic. Inside his body lives a 40‑year‑old bachelor salaryman, backup heir of the Village Head’s house, analyzing tech gaps, conscripted, parasitized, crushing on his sister‑in‑law, doing chores despite quasi‑noble status.
• Max – Uncle Klaus’s second son and Larry’s cousin.
• Klaus – Larry’s maternal uncle, head of the Thalbach family and a vassal to Viscount Bizan. He dislikes Larry and Hans. He is described as a thin, grumpy-looking man, wears a light grey cloak and a black hat with gold ornaments signifying his rank in a Viscount’s house.
• Martin – A young recruit from a neighboring village nicknamed Mar practices a Shinto‑linked combat style; he proposes to Felice and flirts with Ferris‑san.
• Bours – A former Captain of the Royal Army and current military instructor. Known as a legend of the Western Front.
• Getz – A delinquent‑type recruit from Mauer Village, with a rebellious streak that made him easy for Bours to subdue, displays a rugged look—short, unkempt hair, a scar across his left cheek, and a worn leather jacket over a faded uniform. He keeps his distance from peers, yet respects Bours’ authority, hinting at a complex bond of defiance and reluctant loyalty.
• Celt – A tenant farmer working under Larry’s family. Level-headed and cautious, he avoids unnecessary conflict and recognizes Bours’s overwhelming strength.
• Tim – A 14‑year‑old village youth, the eldest son of the Dvorak family, has just ‘graduated’ into adulthood. With short dark hair, a lean build and thoughtful eyes, he recently traveled to the riverside town of Obernbach accompanied by his father.
• Sagara – The protagonist’s previous persona, a science-track student from Japan who remembers modern Earth history and technology.
• Iffens – Larry’s older brother, the eldest son of the Fee family, fell in battle; his death leaves a heavy emotional shadow over the household and fuels Yutia’s fear. He is remembered as a solemn, battle‑scarred figure.
• Emma – Beautiful slave girl with large black eyes, cold sorrowful expression, black hair in a bun, and a three‑colored crest on her forehead. She serves Ferris‑san, stays with her, and was present during a healing session, making her a potential candidate for Larry’s rite of passage.
• Mauer – A stout man from the Rosen family with thin, downy white hair. He wears a beige dalmatica.
• Ferris – An Elf pharmacy owner over 200 years old who looks like she is in her 30s. She is a veteran healer. An Elven healer over two hundred years old. Claims to have known Larry’s grandfather.
• Roberto – A recruit who is exhausted and seemingly reminiscent of the previous night’s events.
• Ed – A local village youth and acquaintance of Larry’s.
• Tony – A carriage driver accompanying the group. Quiet and hardworking, often seen resting after long journeys.
• Herta – Head maid of the household, a striking, voluptuous woman respected by staff, closely tied to the family, and secretly involved in a tryst with Egil.
• Egil – A tall, dark-skinned head manservant with a shaved head, serving as the household’s chief attendant, commanding respect and maintaining close ties with the family and staff.
• Hans – Rugged, wild‑eyed delinquent known as the ‘Mad Dog’ of Strock Village, he is the second son of the Fee family, a chronic alcoholic with a record of assault and extortion. Larry’s older brother and primary heir to the Kessler estate, he now shirks his duties.
• Mary – Edmond’s younger sister and Albert’s fiancée.
• Bors – A former Captain of the Royal Army and a veteran of the Western Front. Serves as the training instructor for the militia. Currently a farmer in Strock Village with a younger wife, apple orchards, and vineyards.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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