Volume 1 Chapter 13 Camping
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Talking with Granny Ferris hadn’t actually solved the issue of the parasite. If anything, the list of problems had only grown once she suggested the squatter in my head was a Reincarnated Person³ who might even become a Sage. I tried to leave the square, but I found myself stopping unconsciously, caught in a loop of my own thoughts.
(Am I really that similar to this parasite?) That’s what Granny had said. She called me a mirror of that old man-someone she described as spineless, lacking conviction, and completely unreliable.
Regardless, I had to do something about the sparring matches with my sister-in-law. If the defiled gaze of that old man was merely using my eyes to admire her beautiful face, that would be one thing, but I couldn’t stand the fact that he was actually enjoying it. She was my sister-in-law-even if it was only for now.
”Dammit… maybe I should just close my eyes during the matches.”
But then I thought of the thrill-the heart-pounding heat of holding her hands and seeing her up close. That explosive sense of elation when our eyes met was something I didn’t want to lose. Closing my eyes would be…
”No, I can’t do that. That’s just not an option.”
”What’s not an option?”
I turned around to find a sun-tanned Monica standing there. She was a childhood friend I’d played with constantly back in the day. She had lived a turbulent life for someone so young: married at thirteen, mother of twins at fourteen, and a widow at fifteen.
”O-oh. You seem to be doing well,” I stammered.
”Of course I am. I’ve got two mouths to feed. I can’t exactly stay depressed just because my husband kicked the bucket, or we wouldn’t survive.” She laughed without a care, though I noticed she was missing one of her front teeth. “This? Giving birth to twins is no joke, Larry. It wasn’t just my tooth that fell out; my hair came out in clumps and my skin was a wreck. My late husband called me an ‘old hag’ every single day. And at my age, too!”
Noticing my gaze, she pointed at the gap in her grin and laughed off her own hardships.
”You haven’t changed a bit,” I said.
”What’s that supposed to mean? More importantly, look at you-you’ve finally grown up.” Seeing her up close for the first time in ages, I realized my height had finally caught up to hers. Monica had become an adult in every sense of the word. Her body had rounded out, and her breasts, which used to be almost non-existent, had swelled to the point where the buttons on her undershirt looked like they were under siege.
”Where are you looking? Someone’s certainly gotten a bit lecherous. Come to think of it, your coming-of-age ceremony is the day after tomorrow, right? On the third?” I was surprised she noticed where my eyes were wandering, but I was more impressed she remembered my birthday. Her own was two months ago-the same day as that cat robot from the parasite’s memories. (Great, more weird mental sync-ups.)
”Do you have a second?” Nico suddenly appeared from behind Monica.
”Don’t scare me like that!” I yelped.
”Larry, if training is over, you need to head to the Kawarage field. They’re harvesting turnips and they need the extra hands,” Nico said. She started to say something else, likely a sharp retort, but she swallowed it and pushed me toward the task instead.
”But I’m exhausted…”
”We’re short-handed, and you know it.”
”Then what about you? The Headman’s tower looks like it has nothing to do.”
”My situation is different,” Nico replied firmly. “Besides, I’m heading to the Dvorak house now to buy a gift for Lord Johann.”
Apparently, she was going to buy sugar from Tim’s family as a thank-you to the neighboring Village Head of the neighboring village for helping with the Monthly Market⁴. I wondered if they even had any left.
”Well, I’m going to grab some medicine for my kids and head home,” Monica added. She leaned in close to my ear, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Hey, Larry… are you going to marry Nico?”
”Why would I do that?!” I barked back in my normal voice. Nico shot me a suspicious, narrow-eyed look.
”Well, the way you two bicker… you look just like a married couple,” Monica teased.
Is that really how we look? Maybe I was being too self-conscious because of what Tommy-san from my uncle’s side had said. I had to be careful. Between the parasite and the marriage rumors, I was starting to develop a permanent headache.
The turnips are pulled out one by one and brought home, where the leaves are cut off. The round, white, purple-tinted roots are dried for a few days and stored in a shed. During that time, the people, cows, pigs, sheep, and Carpaccio all end up eating the turnip leaves. The humans also preserve the leaves in salt to tide them over until the end of the year. That work continued even after the sun went down, relying on the moonlight. I fell asleep without even having time to think about the parasite or Nico.
* * *
The next day, training began with the usual ritual of sandal-making, but everything after that was pure agony. We had to carry the full gear for our overnight camp, and the weight was staggering. We divided up the heavy pots, bowls, blankets, and tools. Since Instructor Bours had mentioned ale, I’d brought some in a wooden tube, but with the spear, the leather armor, and the pack, it took all my strength just to stand upright.
Then came the running. Yesterday, I’d been relieved when the ‘spear-wall’ order came because it meant we could stop moving, but with this much gear, the relief didn’t last. Once you dropped to one knee in the front rank, getting back up was a monumental effort. If you even thought about using the butt-end of the spear as a cane to help you stand, Bours’s lash would come flying toward you. As for the rear rank, maintaining a half-crouch with forty pounds on your back was a special kind of torture.
”Your shouts are too weak! If the monsters think you’re easy prey, they’ll swarm you! Keep your voices up!” Bours bellowed. He was carrying the same amount of gear as us, yet he didn’t seem to be sweating at all. He’d even brought a sack of apples from his own orchard. When we finally reached the checkpoint, he distributed them to us and even shared a few with the local officials.
”This is… so good,” Martin-san said, his voice cracking as he bit into the fruit. These apples looked just like the ones I used to steal with Monica, but the sweetness and tartness soaked into my exhausted body, making them taste like a five-star meal. Bours was arrogant and terrifyingly strong, but when he showed this kind of consideration, my desire to complain just withered away.
On the way back, we took a break where the Rock Salt Road met the Rhodes River. “From here, we head upstream,” Bours announced. “We’ll be camping at the abandoned Sano Village.”
”Wait a minute,” Edmond-san interjected. “Wasn’t that place wiped out by the plague?”
I remembered the stories. It had been a pioneer settlement, but during the outbreak four years ago, the authorities had enforced a total lockdown. This very spot had been their supply point. People would leave food here before noon, and the next day, they’d find a wooden board listing the next set of needs. After three months, the supplies stopped being collected. Half a year later, when people finally ventured inside, they found that everyone-and all the livestock-had died. The bodies had been picked clean by beasts, leaving nothing but bleached bones. Fearing the disease might return, the entire village was put to the torch. Now, only hunters or dwarves looking for Magic steel ores ever went near it.
Bours said there was no need to worry about the plague because those hunters and dwarves had been visiting for years.
”What about monsters? What about Red-eyed Wolves?” Getz-san asked grumpily.
”Goblins are more of an issue than Red-eyed Wolves,” Celt-san said. According to him, four-legged monsters are like boars and other beasts; they won’t come near if you have a fire going. Specifically, Red-eyed Wolves are said to sense heat with the red eye on their forehead; as long as the bonfire stayed lit, they’d stay away. Goblins are the ones who actually approach. However, they are cowardly and won’t attack unless they have gathered in numbers.
Instructor Bours nodded as he listened to that explanation.
”Come to think of it, your older brother has been hunting orcs since he was a kid, hasn’t he? Did he ever stay overnight in the forest?” In response to Edmond-san’s question, I lied and said I didn’t know because I had never gone with him. I said this because the people from Mauer Village were looking at me as if they were looking at a monster.
”My brother said he was imitating Instructor Bours when he went orc hunting.” In times like these, it’s best to change the subject.
”I didn’t think I was being imitated. I only went hunting in the winter, and even then, they were day trips.”
”So you didn’t stay overnight in the forest?”
”No, in the beginning, I was following a hunter, so I’d stay in the forest for about a week. When I said I’d never stayed overnight, I meant when I was alone.”
This man is also beyond the norm. Then, based on his experience, he declared that goblins wouldn’t attack with this many people around. Since it was coming from someone who used to enter the forest alone, it was likely true, though it also sounded like he was saying he had experience being attacked by a pack.
”Now, the break is over.”
After a lecture on how to handle a spear in dense brush, we followed a narrow beast path to the ruins. It wasn’t much to look at-just a field of overgrown weeds with a single, rickety shack standing in the middle. “This is the hunters’ base,” Bours said. “We’re staying here. Martin and Roberto-you’re on guard. Clear the weeds around the shack so we have a clear line of sight. The rest of you, head to the river for water and wood. If anything moves, scream.”
We spent an hour gathering driftwood. In front of the shack, we hauled stones to build a hearth. Bours was strict; if the hearth didn’t meet military regulations for width and depth, he made us tear it down and start over. While we worked, he headed to the water and managed to take down a few trout with his bow.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, we lit the fire and started a soup of beans and dried meat. Suddenly, there was a rustle in the woods. Along the riverbank, something was moving. There was no wind, so the sound of snapping twigs was unmistakable over the babbling stream.
”Grab your spears,” Bours commanded in a low, dangerous voice. We scrambled into a two-line rank. The front row knelt, the back row crouched, spears leveled at the dark treeline. My palms were slick with sweat, and my own heartbeat was thumping so loud it was annoying.
Two humanoid silhouettes emerged. Goblins? Orcs?
When they finally emerged from the forest, they weren’t monsters, but two bearded dwarves. One was Daniel Gruper-san, the blacksmith from across the street, and the other was his third son, Theo Gruper-san, who was supposed to be apprenticing in the city of Obernbach.
”At ease, boys.”
”Geez, don’t scare us like that!” Martin-san exhaled, speaking for all of us.
”Ho! Are we interrupting a war? Did we scare you?” Daniel-san asked with a friendly grin. He was about my height, with a thick mane of white hair. “That soup smells heavenly. You mind if we grab a bowl?”
Theo-san, who had inherited his father’s bronze curly hair and easy-going nature, held up two wild rabbits he’d bagged. Getz-san skillfully butchered and grilled them over the open flame.
”Too many monsters out there,” Daniel-san said between bites. “We couldn’t even get a proper survey done before we had to turn back. It’s crawling with them.”
Every year, just before the first snow, Daniel-san and his crew head into the mountains to prospect for Magic Steel Ore-stones that look like tiny grains of sand. When processed, this ore reacts to Mana, emitting light and heat to become Luminous Magic Iron. It’s an essential component for mana-cookers and magic lamps, and word is, it fetches a pretty penny on the market.
”I see. If the monsters are that thick, I’ll have to call in a few hunters I know,” Bours said. “We can’t have them wandering into the village.”
I sat beside Daniel-san and Bours-san, smoking trout while they talked. Smoked trout is great because you can eat it right off the rack or save it for later. By the time dinner was ready, the sun had vanished completely, leaving us in total darkness. We started a second bonfire next to the hearth, its flickering light reaching out to the swaying shadows of the distant forest. We huddled around the flames and began to eat.
The ale I’d lugged all the way here was a hit-so much so that it was gone in a heartbeat. Since I was the one who brought it, I ended up stuck drinking plain water.
”Daniel-san,” I asked, “have you ever actually been to war?”
”Never a proper war,” Daniel replied. “But I was called up for labor drafts plenty of times. You know the Royal Army garrison across the bridge in Obernbach? Back in the day, there were a string of small forts beyond that. They’d have us hauling bread and jerky out to them.”
”Beyond the garrison… that’s the allied Kingdom of Pannonia, isn’t it?”
”Aye, that’s the one. But Pannonia invaded us ages ago. They even occupied Obernbach for a while.”
”I’ve heard of that,” Celt said. “That was when Heinrich I, the first King, broke their lines.”
”You know your history, Celt-san,” Daniel laughed. “That’s right. That was back when Ferris was still serving in the Royal Army.”
He said it so casually that the folks from Mauer Village didn’t think twice, but our guys all had a collective facial twitch. Martin-san from Mauer had actually proposed to Granny Ferris, completely unaware that she was well over two hundred years old. We’d all made a silent pact to keep that particular secret buried.
”So,” Celt asked, pivoting to change the subject, “did people actually die doing that logistics work?”
”Nah. There was plenty of trade and back-and-forth with Pannonia back then. They had their own internal mess to deal with, so they weren’t in any shape to start a real fight. Most of the time, the guys at the forts just looked bored out of their minds.”
Daniel-san droned on with his old stories for a while longer until he finally let out a massive yawn and headed into the hut.
”Alright,” Instructor Bours announced, his voice regaining its authority. “Let’s set the watch rotation.”
It was Bours’s way or the highway. He paired me with Celt-san; our shift was the graveyard watch, from the small hours of the morning until dawn. Once the instructions were settled, we sat back and snacked on the finished smoked trout.
”Hey, Instructor,” Martin asked abruptly. “Are there… you know, women on the battlefield?”
”Women? On the front lines?” Bours grunted. “Well, they aren’t exactly unheard of.”
”Is it true what they say? Is it about one gold coin a night?”
”Ah, you’re talking about the pros. You won’t find them on the actual battlefield-too much risk of getting caught in the crossfire. They stick to the base towns where the supplies are moved. For the cheap ones, you’re looking at three silver coins. The high-end ones? One gold.”
”Only three silver?”
”Yeah-the ‘laundry women,’” Bours explained. “By day, they earn a living scrubbing the soldiers’ filth; by night, they sell themselves to the men. They’re cheap, sure, but they’re usually up there in years. You don’t get to pick, either. You pay at the desk, then head to the designated hut. If you pull a loser, you just have to close your eyes and bear it.”
”Man, that’s rough,” Martin muttered, though his eyes said the price was still tempting.
Edmond-san, always the instigator, leaned in and asked Martin exactly how old he was willing to go.
”Look, I like ’em mature,” Martin defended, “but thirty is my limit.”
Edmond’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, while Bours-san, knowing the truth about Ferris, just looked like he’d swallowed a lemon.
”You mentioned earlier that there are women on the battlefield, though,” I said.
”Right. The combat mages in the medical corps are almost all women. And then there’s the Golem Battalion-nothing but females. That battalion is the General Staff’s pride and joy.”
”Are they actually strong?”
”Strong? If they show up at a siege, that castle is falling. Guaranteed. Their commander is known as the Witch of the Black Forest-Hexa des Schwarzwalds.”
”A named hero… I wonder what she’s like.”
”Word is she looks like a young girl, but she’s an Elf. They say she puts her recruits through the ‘Ten-Kill Baptism’.”
Bours explained the ‘Ten-Kill Baptism’ to us. It wasn’t just the Golems; most units knew the drill. When a green recruit tries to kill for the first time, they almost always hesitate. That split second of doubt is usually when they get themselves killed. To break them, the army takes prisoners who have no value-the ones no one will pay a ransom for-and makes the new recruits execute them. They say once you’ve killed ten, the hesitation dies.
”So they just… execute prisoners?” I felt a chill run down my spine. The thought of headed to a place like that soon made me shudder.
”Not all of them,” Bours said. “Prisoners are usually valuable. You ransom them or sell them into slavery. The ones who face the ‘Baptism’ are the ones who’ve lost limbs or been blinded. The enemy doesn’t want them back, and they won’t sell as slaves. They just eat up rations. In the old days, they’d just leave them to rot on the field.”
”There is one exception,” Bours added. “The Amazones. Even if they’re dead, you never touch their bodies, and you never execute their prisoners. You wait for them to come and collect their own.”
”The Amazones?”
”Yeah. We don’t see them here because mercenaries are banned in this kingdom, but they’re a race of all-female warriors who travel the world selling their swords.”
”A race? Like Elves or Dwarves?”
”In a way. But these women don’t give birth to babies. They lay eggs.”
”Eggs? Like Goblins or Orcs?” Martin asked.
”No, they look human. But they can’t use a lick of magic.”
”No magic? Then how are they so dangerous?”
”They’re pure cavalry. No infantry. And their horses are massive war-beasts-two sizes bigger than anything we have and twice as mean. When an Amazone charge hits your line, your own horses will bolt out of pure terror. They use longbows, too. They can put an arrow through your neck while riding at a full gallop, firing forward, sideways, or even backward.”
”They sound invincible,” I muttered.
”I’ve seen battles where we were seconds from victory, only for them to hit our rear and flip the whole thing. We’ve had to add specialized combat engineers to our ranks just to plant stakes to stop their charges.”
”Don’t they have any weakness?”
”Their armor. They wear skin-tight chainmail that stops blades and spears, but arrows can get through. The plates covering their vitals are thin enough for a heavy longbow to pierce.”
”Do you think… do you think we’ll run into them in the war against Kiridal?” Roberto asked, his voice trembling.
The whole group had gone dead silent.
”Doubtful,” Bours replied. “Their home base is on the southeastern coast of the Southern Continent. The Turkic Empire holds the northern coast now, and since Turkic and Kiridal hate each other’s guts, Turkic won’t let them through.”
”What’s that supposed to mean?” Getz snapped.
Celt-san answered for him. “If Turkic doesn’t cooperate, the Amazones can’t reach Kiridal. It’s that simple. Those two nations are at each other’s throats.”
”I get that, but why? Turkic is so far down the Dona River you can’t even reach it, right?”
”Religion,” Celt said, scratching his head. “They have different gods, and they’ve been fighting over it forever.”
”Religion? My family is Church of Anna and Mar’s is Shinto, and we aren’t trying to kill each other,” Getz grumbled.
Theo finally spoke up. “My clan moved here from southern Kiridal specifically because this kingdom is one of the few places with real religious freedom. In Kiridal, if a follower of the Universal Church and a New Religionist go to court, the New Religionist is guilty before the trial even starts.”
”That’s messed up.”
”In other lands, having the wrong god gets you executed. Kiridal is Universal Church, and Turkic is Scripture Church. They don’t compromise.”
Everyone let out a sigh of relief. If the holy war kept the Amazones away, that was one less nightmare to worry about.
”So… about those Amazones,” Martin said, the tension finally snapping. “Do they… you know… with human men?”
”Yeah,” Bours smirked. “My old CO said he’d had a few. Apparently, they’re the ones who do the hunting. They don’t wait to be asked.”
Martin’s eyes were wide. “Are they… built the same as us?”
”This was back when the Kingdom of Bennetts was having a succession crisis,” Bours said. “My boss was sent in to support the King’s faction, and they’d hired a band of Amazones. He said the vice-captain approached him the very first evening.”
”Oooooh!” the men cheered.
”He said their bodies are human enough-firm, like you’d expect a soldier. But since they lay eggs, they don’t have to worry about pushing a baby out. He said she was as tight as a virgin.”
”Whoaaa!”
(As a virgin myself, I didn’t quite get the hype.)
”One more thing, he said. Their cli*oris is much bigger than a human woman’s-about the size of a n**ple. Because of that, they’re incredibly sensitive. He said if you get them going, they won’t let you go even after you’ve finished.”
”Hoooooo!”
(I didn’t really understand this, either.)
After that, Martin asked why our kingdom had banned mercenaries in the first place. Bours explained that, but nobody seemed satisfied. Finally, he told us about the Amazone homeland and that there was one other race that laid eggs…
If you cross over to the Southern Continent⁵, you’ll find yourself in the vast territory of the Turkic Empire. A week’s journey up the Daisen-the Great Immortal River that carves its path from the northeast to the southeast-leads to the Dwarven Kingdom, perched atop a sprawling plateau. Beyond the eastern deserts, along the coastal plains, lies the land of the Amazonesses, a warrior race who frequently journey to the Central Continent to work as mercenaries.
Far to the east of the Southern Continent, beyond a month’s voyage across a desolate, islandless ocean, lies a sprawling archipelago. This is the ancestral heartland of the Amazonesses. While their primary industry involves shipping spices, tea, and silk from the eastern and southern regions of the Central Continent to the west, they are just as often hired as a private navy-or feared as pirates.
”My old captain once told me that the Amazonesses he bedded all had dragon tattoos,” Bours-san remarked. “When he asked about them, they claimed to be the descendants of dragons and wore the ink as a protective charm. Personally, I think piracy and shipping are their true callings; they’re likely only mercenaries on the side.”
Another week’s sail east of the archipelago brings you to the Land of the Fire Ring⁶, ruled by the Androgynos race. Very little is known about them for certain, but the records of the old Duchy-predating the current Kingdom-claim they are hermaphrodites who hatch from eggs, much like the Amazonesses. Most intriguingly, they are said to wield a form of magic entirely alien to our own.
”It’s not just the old Duchy records, either,” Bours-san continued. “The trade logs of the Kingdom of Burg show that they used to sell a special type of parchment from the Horn Mountains to the Land of the Fire Ring. Of course, those records are four hundred years old.”
”How did they even get here from so far away?” one of the men asked. “They’re nowhere near the sea.”
”Who knows?” Bours-san shrugged. “There are no records after that. Maybe they closed their borders, or maybe they just went extinct. Either way, the trade routes are dead.”
”But wait,” another man chimed in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “If they’re hermaphrodites… where exactly is the ‘port of entry’?”
”Behind the rod, obviously,” a voice shot back.
”Damn. Talk about a tight squeeze.”
Everyone loves a bit of locker-room talk. “I don’t know how much of it is true,” Bours-san added, his face an unreadable mask, “but they say a man’s ‘equipment’ there is so massive it’s called a ‘third leg.’ Apparently, if they get a sudden erection, they pass out from the anemia.”
The campfire roared as the men broke into boisterous laughter, the night deepening around them as the stories grew taller. In the gray chill before dawn, Celt-san shook me awake for my watch. I stood up with a shiver and headed toward the bushes to relieve myself. “I wonder if the Androgynos get morning wood,” I muttered. “Why the hell are you asking that?” Celt-san grumbled, standing beside me and doing the same. “I was just thinking… if they did, wouldn’t they just pass out and never wake up?” “It’s too early for this, kid. Stop talking like Mar-san and just keep your eyes on the woods.”
I guess “virgin jokes” don’t really land with the guys who have actually been around the block.
—
Summary:
Larry oversees the group’s punishing village defense training, culminating in a weighted march to a settlement left in ruins by plague. The grim setting hangs over them as they make camp, bracing for a possible monster attack—only to be caught off guard by the unexpected arrival of a local dwarf blacksmith and his son. Beneath the surface of the exercise, Larry wrestles with a more personal strain: growing social anxiety fueled by rumors of marriage and the lingering weight of his childhood friend Monica’s tragic past.
As night falls, the group gathers around a campfire, smoking trout and trading stories from past service while contemplating the looming war. Bours paints a vivid, unvarnished picture of military life, describing specialized units like the Golem Battalion and the feared Amazone mercenaries, known for their brutal tactics and unsettling biology. The conversation swings between grim realities—execution rituals and battlefield survival—and moments of crude humor, with curiosity and unease blending into uneasy laughter.
Later, as the camp settles, talk drifts to the distant Southern Continent and its enigmatic peoples, including the Amazoness and Androgynos races. Bours-san shares a mix of folklore and off-color speculation, sparking another round of rowdy amusement. By dawn, however, the tone shifts. Standing watch in the cold light, the protagonist’s attempts at humor fall flat, brushed aside by Celt-san, as the weight of their journey and the uncertainty ahead quietly reassert themselves.
—
Trivia:
- Monica was a mother of twins by 14 and a widow by 15.
- Red-eyed Wolves sense heat via their crimson forehead eye.
- Sano Village was burned to the ground four years ago to stop a plague lockdown.
- Dwarves frequent the area looking for ‘Magic steel ores’.
- Larry’s coming-of-age is on the ‘third’.
- Ferris is over 200 years old and served in the army during the founding King’s era.
- Amazones are strictly cavalry with no infantry and ride unusually large, aggressive horses.
- The ‘Ten-Kill Baptism’ is a psychological conditioning method used to desensitize new recruits.
- Mercenaries are legally banned within the current kingdom.
- The Turkic Empire’s control of the northern coast acts as a geopolitical buffer against the Amazones reaching Kiridal.
- The Androgynos use magic different from the protagonists’ Kingdom.
- Dwarves live on a high plateau a week upriver.
- Amazonesses are rumored to be descendants of dragons.
- Trade with the Land of the Fire Ring ceased 400 years ago.
- The term ‘rod’ is slang for male genitalia
—
Character Insight:
Larry feels increasingly like an NPC in his own life, shadowed by his talented brothers and now the dominant parasite. Monica represents the harsh, grounded reality of village life compared to the lofty ‘Sage’ discussions.
The narrator is a ‘virgin’ (Doutei) which colors his perspective on the veteran’s sexual stories. Bours shows his depth as a veteran by balancing crude humor with bleak military realities.
The protagonist is seen as a ‘virgin’ or inexperienced by the more veteran travelers, shown by the dismissal of his ‘DT’ (virgin) joke.
—
Lore And Worldbuilding Context:
The mention of ‘that cat robot’ refers to Doraemon, confirming the parasite’s Japanese origins and 20th/21st-century cultural background.
The use of ‘Black Forest Witch’ and ‘Schwarzwalds’ suggests a Germanic-inspired region or naming convention within the world-building.
The author uses Bours as a vehicle for both world-building and comic relief to lighten the tone before moving into darker side-story themes.
—
Glossary:
Notes:
• Ferris – An ageless elf pharmacy owner, appearing in her 30s yet over 200 years old, is a veteran healer with deep magic and Elf‑style expertise. Known as Granny, she claims to have known Larry’s grandfather.
• Monica – Sun‑tanned, tomboyish Larry’s childhood friend, now a 15‑year‑old widow and mother of twins, raises her children while caring for infant niece Maria; her loss shows how even non‑combat villagers, like supply militia, share the war’s indiscriminate danger.
• Larry – Thirteen-year-old third son of the Strock headman, with reddish-white skin, bronze eyes, and curly bronze hair, he harbors a parasitic 40-year-old salaryman consciousness—his internal “Obsessive Fan”—that grants faint Showa memories and minor fire magic. A pragmatic, protective backup heir, he grapples with existential dread, conscription, and unspoken crushes on his sister-in-law, all while performing menial chores despite his noble status. Having just discovered his significant magical potential, he navigates family duty, technological analysis, and the unsettling coexistence of two souls within one body.
• Max – Uncle Klaus’s second son and Larry’s cousin.
• Ed – A local village youth and acquaintance of Larry’s.
• Nico – An elderly manservant with silver hair and faded livery, dignified and trusted by the headman, revered by staff; a stern young maid from the Village Head’s house, outspoken and protective of Teressa and Yutia, wielding authority over children; also Teressa’s lady’s maid who scolds Larry and keeps order, blunt and rule‑bound; a younger sister‑in‑law‑type figure cold toward Larry yet diligent, formerly head servant now helping neighbors.
• Johann – The Village Head of Strock and Larry’s father. A stern and pragmatic leader who enforces harsh military realities without sugarcoating them.
• 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.
• Tommy – A coachman and servant to Uncle Klaus. He is the same age as Hans and has worked with horses since he was seven.
• Bours – Tall, scarred, in a faded uniform, he is a former Royal Army captain now village defense instructor. Stern, he trains youth with veteran archer precision, blending tactical Heal magic, orc‑hunting skill, and wilderness survival to forge disciplined defenders.
• Martin – Mar, a young recruit from a neighboring village, wears Shinto‑inspired armor and practices a Shinto‑linked combat style. He proposes to Felice, flirts with Ferris‑san, is a Mauer villager intrigued by battlefield sexuality, proposed to the elf Granny Ferris, and is Larry’s training acquaintance.
• Edmond – Late‑arriving recruit from the Eisner farm, he lacks discipline and receives a brutal lesson from Bours on punctuality. He is a militiaman, Mary’s brother, known for teasing Martin, and complains about manual labor during training.
• Getz – Rugged Mauer Village recruit with short, unkempt hair, a scar across his left cheek, and a worn leather jacket over a faded uniform. He keeps distance from peers, respects Bours’ authority, and bears a complex mix of defiance and reluctant loyalty. A frustrated spearman who finds politics and religion tangled, he scouts and spreads village gossip.
• Celt – A tenant farmer under Larry’s family, dressed in simple work clothes, is level‑headed and cautious, avoids conflict and notes Bours’s overwhelming strength. He is also a skilled sandal‑maker, observant and knowledgeable, often discussing military and historical matters with others.
• Mauer – A stout man from the Rosen family with thin, downy white hair. He wears a beige dalmatica.
• Roberto – A weary recruit, his face still echoing last night’s turmoil, sits beside Larry as a fellow trainee and spearman. He is a nervous villager, anxious about the looming war, his posture and trembling hands betraying his dread.
• Daniel – A white-haired dwarf blacksmith with thick mane who lives across from Granny Ferris. The village blacksmith, a Dwarf who advocates for physical grip in mana flow.
• Theo – A Dwarf. Daniel’s third son, an apprentice in Obernbach, sports bronze curly hair and a neatly trimmed beard, embodying his family’s legacy while learning a trade in the city.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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