NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 12
After ordering armor at Smith Master’s workshop, I quietly returned home and began preparations for the harvest in the barn.
I had to sharpen the farming tools like sickles and hoes. I carefully removed the preservative oil, polished them thoroughly, and carefully sharpened the blades with a whetstone. With this preparation, cutting the rye and caraway would be much easier.
As the tools became sharper, their blades gleaming with a fearsome light, memories of ordering the armor came back to me.
Despite much deliberation since then, my concrete goal remains unclear. My faith feels incomplete, and I haven’t acquired the prerequisites for magic. And it’s unwise to optimistically assume I’ll meet the requirements by the time I go solo.
Considering my current options, the adventurer jobs that fit would be either a swordsman or a scout. Fortunately, in this world these roles can coexist relatively easily.
Typically, TRPG scouts are small and agile characters like Margit, with light armor and lower offense. However, I’ve earned enough proficiency that I can effectively balance both scout and swordsman skills without the usual constraints.
With light armor, I could pursue either path. Taking all factors into account, my second provisional goal became to hone my skills as a swordsman while keeping open the possibility of becoming either a magic swordsman or a cleric swordsman.
That’s why I invested the time making wooden practice targets and ordered the armor. How could a frontliner without defense stats cut a convincing figure? Trying to start an adventurer party wearing casual clothes and brandishing a stick wouldn’t attract any members.
This seemed the most practical and flexible approach, so my first step toward the future was acquiring armor. Knowing how to wield swords and spears is never a disadvantage, and having self-defense skills will always be useful wherever I go.
If I’m fortunate enough to learn magic or decide on my faith, I could transition to a magic swordsman or cleric warrior. If neither happens, I could still deepen my swordsmanship. Thankfully, my battlefield sword style isn’t weapon-specific and offers sufficient versatility.
…Ultimately, my direction hasn’t changed much from before – a wait-and-see approach, but that’s understandable.
Who wouldn’t dream of becoming a magic swordsman, dramatically casting spells while slashing through enemies and excelling in all aspects beyond combat? Rare would be the man who doesn’t.
Looking at the beautifully polished blades, I lightly smiled, seeing my vision of the future. If only I could become a man worthy of such a finely honed sword.
With the tools ready, it was time to care for our family’s draft horse, Holter, who would be very busy during the harvest season just like us.
As I headed to the stable from the barn, a presence detected by my Perception skill signaled someone following me.
Everything following behind is cute, especially when it’s one’s younger sister.
“Ani-sama! Ani-sama!”
Precisely.
“Ah, Eliza. What is it?”
My five-years-younger sister clung to my belt. She’s the adorable younger sister Eliza who, having been frail, was finally allowed to go outside at the age of six. She’s somewhat younger than her age due to her past illnesses but, being the sibling closest in age to me, she’s very attached to me and often sticks closer to me than to our mother at home.
I understand the reason. I have clear memories.
Though small and lovely like our mother, she used to frequently catch colds until last year.
Never underestimate a cold. In this world, without antibiotics and with expensive healers, even weak children can easily die from it. It’s not uncommon for infants to pass away unable to even stand, and frail children often don’t survive the year. Even adults can succumb if the illness worsens.
However, our family had extra income from my side job, allowing us to purchase expensive medicine from the apothecary when father went to town or sold to traveling merchants. I particularly remember the considerable profit from repairing a broken cartwheel from scratch.
With that money, father could afford to buy medicine in town for Eliza.
And each time I coaxed the bitter medicine down a reluctant Eliza, saying, “This medicine was prepared by your hardworking brother, so please endure and drink it,” she seems to consider me quite reliable.
Which is why we end up like this mother-duck-and-duckling pair.
In reality, I’m not that great a person, but I hide my true feelings and create a kind smile to avoid shattering her illusions. I kneel and gently pat her head.
“Mother’s been so busy working.”
Seeing the pouting face explains her cuteness, making my eyes droop.
“Ah, it’s because Heinz-nii’s wedding is coming up soon. Everyone’s been quite busy.”
Our eldest brother will turn fifteen this autumn, the same age I was when I reached twelve, making him eligible for marriage. The new couple’s detached cottage—though “cottage” may be too humble a word—is already completed. Along with two other couples, they’re planning to hold their weddings during the autumn harvest festival.
In this manor, and indeed throughout the Threefold Empire of Rain, the wedding season is autumn. The God of Fertility oversees not just the harvest cycle but also marriage, as human reproduction parallels crop production. Consequently, weddings take place when the deity’s influence is strongest.
The ceremony becomes a major event in our small village. Consolidating resources by combining the weddings with the harvest festival celebrations proves more cost-effective for the manor. Most importantly, receiving gifts from the deputy makes for a grander celebration, balancing out the marriage tax from my previous life.
With these big events approaching, our household is in its final busy stretch.
First, formal wear. The most challenging task, the bride’s dress, is handled by the other side, but we still need to prepare appropriate formal attire. Reusing older garments risks lowering our “status” within the manor, so families go all out for the eldest son’s wedding.
For younger sons, recycling old clothes often suffices.
Additionally, we need appropriate attire for the wedding attendees. Though less elaborate than the groom’s fine ceremonial outfit, new or decorated clothing remains essential. As children, we’re somewhat isolated from manor politics, but it’s noticeable in subtleties like seating arrangements at church services or greeting orders for the deputy.
“Wedding?”
“Yes, a wedding. It’s a joyous occasion.”
Though unrelated to young Eliza being given away or me eventually leaving home…
“There’ll be a feast. Do you remember seeing the beautiful brides during the harvest festival?”
“White clothing?”
“That’s right, brides in white.”
Mysteriously, wedding dresses or rather women’s formal attire here reflect a mix of styles from Baroque to Art Deco. Perhaps this world has seen gradual immigration like someone in my situation. The more I learn about the papermaking techniques and the coexistence of 14th to 19th-century fashions, the more this chimera quality becomes apparent.
“…Then, maybe Eliza will wear it too.”
“Eliza will?”
“Un.”
Of course, young girls dream of dresses. Even in our modest manor, everyone dresses up for this special time. Flouncy frills and lace must tickle every girl’s heart.
“But Eliza doesn’t have a partner, does she?”
“Then Ani-sama.”
“Hmm?”
“I’ll marry Ani-sama like Erich-nii.”
Such adorable things she says. Without siblings as the youngest in my previous life, I never knew this joy of being an older brother… It’s addictive. I understand why many brothers experience sis-con phases.
“Haha, would Eliza be my bride?”
“Un.”
Lifting her up, despite her not fully understanding, and seating her on my increasingly broad shoulders. Even in late summer, it’s still warm, so it’s best not to stay in the sun too long.
“Alright then, I’ll have to procure a nice outfit for you.”
“Un.”
Her tiny nod is endearing. I’ve seen the male family members rushing to finish their needlework and our mother must be putting effort into Eliza’s ceremonial gown. After all, we can sell the used garment in town for some money.
Her beautiful ceremonial outfit will undoubtedly rival the bride’s.
While observing my overly enthusiastic brotherly self somewhat detachedly, I decide to accept this as one of life’s pleasures… Indeed, it brings happiness…
…
Before we knew it, late autumn arrived. Despite farming for nearly a decade and putting much effort into various farmer-related skills, the routine must have taken root as the skill proficiency increase has nearly halted. This marks a natural stopping point for further investments.
The joy of the harvest festival, celebrating with relief after paying the annual tribute, is indescribable. How does it compare to receiving a promotion after completing a major project from my previous life, whose memories are gradually fading?
Nevertheless, today we arrived at this day. In this world, with the gods responding to genuine devotion, I must offer thanks to the deities for allowing me to reach this day. Unlike my previous life where I was just an observer, I must offer sincere prayers here.
Today, under a beautiful sky, we celebrate with the God of Fertility.
The manor’s meeting place, a square near the face of the household, serves as the festival grounds.
Numerous tables line the area, steaming with a variety of dishes prepared by the manor’s womenfolk. Thanks to the gods’ blessings, the food remains warm, and the well-chilled drinks stay cool – truly fortunate. Surely the God of Fertility enjoys the gratitude and generously dispenses miracles.
Excitement runs through both men and women within the manor, anticipating the brides’ appearances, the feast, merchants’ stalls, and more…
Simply put, this is also a place for meetings.
Musicians gather and play their instruments, making everyone in the manor dance. In an era lacking entertainment, music and dance are the best enjoyments.
And as the dancing raises spirits, when night falls…
You get the idea.
Due to incomplete crop development and tall wheat, encounters during festivals often lead to couples. Sometimes this results in formal relationships, sometimes discreet ones among those not inheriting households. A folk song about meeting in the rye fields originates from here.
Thus, many young people look forward to this aspect.
Ah yes, our family’s second and third sons have abandoned their preparation duties.
I work with half-anger to arrange the massive amount of warm food delivered for preparation, knowing other faces should be helping too. However, as children nearing adulthood prefer play over labor, we serious few end up doing the brunt of the work, proving human nature remains unchanged regardless of the world.
Wiping sweat while carrying numerous hot dishes, I look around the square, golden from the drying grasses. Everyone works hard, yet their faces glow with happiness. Accepting hardship for joy makes the effort worthwhile.
Nostalgia wells up within me. During university, we worked part-time to maintain our TRPG club, which had expensive dues due to its small size. Struggling to roll those dice brought unparalleled joy. That hard work made those expensive rulebooks more meaningful to thoroughly study.
Certainly, this led to difficulties adapting to chaotic roll-based systems, which I must accept as my karmic retribution.
I strongly wish to gather around a table with everyone and roll the dice again. Ah, cursed GM or not, experiencing the joy of rolling natural twenties or six-of-a-kind combinations made those moments worthwhile…
A loud cheer erupts nearby. Looking over, I see a group of small children—excuse me, Margit’s clan pulling a large wagon.
There lies an enormous boar, nearly two meters long, stretched out on a wagon pulled by a few hunters.
Ah, this must be the feast they were preparing. I wonder how those small-bodied hunters managed to take down such a beast. I’ve heard that even headshots from 5.56mm rifles sometimes won’t kill these large boars. They probably didn’t use poison for such a celebration…
“Hey, did you hear? The deputy is giving us fireworks as a gift!”
“Really? So they’ve hired a magician. Amazing!”
While observing what appeared to be pea-sized spiders compared to the giant boar, I hear snippets of conversation from young men preparing the other tables. I might be getting over-sensitive with all my Perception and Hearing skill use.
Fireworks, how splendid. Both night and daytime fireworks create a wonderful atmosphere.
Most of all, it reminds me of the old man. Thinking of the ring hanging from his neck, I’m excited to see when it will become a key item.
Immersed in the festival’s atmosphere approaching, I gaze at the high autumn sky, my heart swelling with anticipation for the festival…
—
[Note: The festival often includes divine blessings, especially for events celebrating particular deities, some even descending in avatar form to partake in the joy.]
[Cute younger sister illustration setting]