TRPG Player Aims For The Strongest Build In Another World ~Mr. Henderson Preach the Gospel~

In the sturdy command post, where sunlight barely reached, there lay an impressive map on a command desk—a map whose presence made me doubt whether I should even be allowed to see it.

The maps were remarkably detailed. Unified by scale and complete with contour lines for height representation, these modern maps were far removed from the kind one would associate with medieval fantasy. While ancient maps are often more accurate than we imagine, these surpassed expectations by leaps and bounds. One could even believe they were made by a national geographic institute such was their level of detail.

Before this significant strategic information—ranging from a vast western regional map to tactical maps of fortresses and their surroundings, along with trade-focused maps of notable towns and manors—stood Lord Bohenhausen, along with his subordinate knights and retinues.

It was indeed peculiar that I, an outsider adventurer, was present among them.

Reverting briefly to earlier events; upon finishing Margit’s treatment and stepping outside, I was immediately called by one of Lord Bohenhausen’s servants. Despite being an adventurer, I was treated politely, without even being asked to sit in a lower position—a treatment that left me flustered but which I thought was likely for future discussions. I followed them, somewhat perplexed, arriving here.

I had anticipated being led to a parlor, so the sight of this command room came as quite a surprise. After all, this kind of chamber, where critical information is collected, is not easily accessible even to members of the same lineage.

I couldn’t help but feel uneasy, wondering if I was about to be eliminated, as Lord Bohenhausen presented two letters. Both were familiar to me, as I had delivered them alongside captives.

One was addressed to Lord Wolbutars Gizebureicht, the chief of Mottenheim, informing him of our dire situation, the aftermath following an urgent dispatch, and attesting to my identity as the letter’s bearer.

The second letter, composed in sophisticated court language that nearly confused my vision, was sealed with a wax crest I recognized, having been from not Du-Staal but Von Ubiorum, sent by Lady Agrippina.

Having worked for her in the past, I had learned the court language of this country—it had been quite an expensive endeavor, but useful now. The letter, although more readable than what I’d received from Lord Faige at thirteen, had significant parts redacted, likely to prevent me from reading what I wasn’t supposed to, but what remained was rather alarming.

If possible, assistance should be extended to the nearby city of Northtown.

Northtown is the largest city overseeing the region where Mottenheim is located, governed by Baron Northtown—a lower-grade noble, though I don’t recall his exact name. In modern terms, it is akin to a city administering towns and districts, wielding significant scale and authority.

With a population slightly over five thousand, it’s one of the larger towns in the west, built on flatlands near the Velke tributary of the Mauzer River, acting as a transit point on the empire’s frontier. Though I’d visited it once for a guard escort job, the city walls, barely four meters high and rather modest in scale compared to its size, left an indelible impression.

The castle was equally disproportionate to the city’s size, typical of new cities established after the western provinces were nominally incorporated into the empire, prioritizing administrative convenience over defense. Given the empire’s strategy of layered urban defense to wear down and confront weakened enemies, this design makes sense.

That said, the sentiment of common folk being crushed to absorb enemy impact is often disregarded. As a simulation gamer who’s used nuclear weapons within my own territories, I remain ironically mute. But from a civilian’s perspective, this is cruel—depending solely on low city walls during wartime is disheartening.

The letter requesting assistance to the city was phrased tentatively, leaving Bohenhausen and his men puzzled at my summon.

Naturally, they had to bring me in. Just receiving the letter from Gizebureicht would be odd enough, but the note from the emperor’s favored—a favored one at court despite courtiers seeing her as merely the emperor’s pet—magician would stir quite a commotion. It’s fortunate this area’s knights know her name. Life here means ignorance of central affairs isn’t a hindrance, but it’s a relief that “Who’s this?” hasn’t been asked yet.

A deep sigh bubbled up, but since I decided to use them, I couldn’t complain if they used me.

I was aware. On that night, while conspiring in close consultation we exchanged a few letters.

“Pray, keep this matter in strictest secrecy.”

“…This is not a problem, but my Lord, you…”

“Begging your indulgence for this disrespectful address. I humbly request, on behalf of you and your retainers, that you swear upon your family’s name not to disclose this.”

The surrounding murmurs at the audacity of a humble adventurer’s request were silenced by Bohenhausen’s stern rebuke. The lord remained silent, his gaze penetrating as if attempting to pierce my mind through the surface of my eyes.

“I agree. Upon my family’s honor and my lord’s dignity, I swear.”

“Thank you, Lord Bohenhausen. Then, may I present…”

I reached inside my chest armor, ostensibly pulling out a string from my coat and yanking it from my neck—while secretly using “Spatial Transition” to transfer a small pouch buried deep within the courtyard of my dwelling’s garden, marked with precise coordinates to prevent discovery.

Opening this pouch, I presented its contents to the Lord.

“This!”

It was a ring. A thick gold ring etched with an intricate family crest, a purely decorative seal unsuitable for sealing letters, symbolizing a “granted reward.”

Of course, the crest inscribed within was that of Count Ubiorum, its inner side engraved with provenance and ownership: “Granted to Eric of Königsstuhl Manor for his meritorious conduct.”

Such rings function as attestations of commendation issued by nobles to loyal retainers, also proving their allegiance to specific noble houses.

This was the third in a series of secret weapons I had been keeping.

“I once served Count Ubiorum in the capital thanks to a fortuitous meeting.”

“So, you are the Count’s…!”

“I’m not a spy, but I still receive subtle orders from him.”

It wasn’t a lie. True, I had only exchanged seasonal greetings up until now, but being placed in a position where I couldn’t refuse an order was a fact.

And now, I was precisely acting on that order.

“I am following the Count’s wishes. Therefore, I can confidently say that aiding Northtown will bring no harm to Flachburg.”

“…Can you guarantee this?”

“Yes, the guarantee lies within the letter itself, complete with signature and wax seal.”

Even in important missives, nobles sometimes remain nameless, varying their handwriting or employing a scribe. This could be insurance against failure, or a precaution to avoid implicating them in a cutthroat situation.

Nobles also exercise caution in this respect as weak evidence can draw in powerful enemies. Even if the recipient is considered merely a lower imperial knight, possessing leverage might lead to unforeseen complications.

Conversely, a signature transforms a letter into a significant guarantee, akin to an unsigned check implying responsibility if things go awry.

Though somewhat embarrassing to declare, not even I can fully fathom Lady Agrippina’s intricate thought processes after our meeting, let alone how much information she garnered in the short time we spoke; traces clearly indicated she was manipulating spells through her breath as well, likely using far-seeing magic to gather information surpassing my own.

If not, there was no way we could know the exact current location of the necromancer everyone in the Sword Friends Association now wanted dead at all costs.

“Understood, I trust you.”

“Lord Bohenhausen!?”

“It’s too rash! At the very least, we should seek counsel from the Baron of the Frontier on whether we should advance.”

“No! That itself is dangerous. Suggesting a strike now could lead to investigations into what we knew beforehand!”

“Be silent.”

Managing his liege’s reasonable but ultimately imprudent counsel, Lord Bohenhausen returned the ring to me. Then, gesturing toward the maps, he swiftly ordered his subordinates by positioning a few pieces on it.

“If Northtown is the center of attack, it’s understandable our castle and surrounding manors might be targeted. And if severed here, land and river logistics to the western frontier will be completely halted.”

Pointing to the western map, seven key strongholds and urban areas—Itilingen, Lieenschtrasse, Mausermesse, and Alshaim among others—are highlighted. These would all be isolated if Northtown were fully besieged. Regular defense contingencies link them, but an enemy might easily rearrange the strategy map.

Additionally, if my recollections are correct, numerous areas are governed by wealthy landowners.

“While difficult to assess without local knowledge and political insight, it’s entirely feasible they’ve locked this land down. Given the surrounding topography, the scale of Northtown, difficult to seize despite its size, becomes quite comprehensible in planning an assault.”

“Lord Bohenhausen…”

“I trust the letters this man brought and trust the man himself. After all, he rescued a manor we had deemed hopeless.”

My persuasive effort seems to have worked. Negotiations often improve with documents and props enhancing success rates. Apart from my own skills and characteristics, Lady Agrippina’s influence was also significantly at play.

Moreover, Lord Bohenhausen himself appears remarkably intelligent, likely discerning something through the interrogations he hadn’t divulged. He must have deduced something coherent from the situation to believe these letters had validity.

Ah, quite challenging, but capturing prisoners proved beneficial. More than a petty income, it has eased future situations greatly.

“However, my lord, it could be a lure to draw out our forces. Adventurers selling out for money aren’t trustworthy.”

“Would they use Hyder as bait? He’s not just a knight of the northern garrison, once dominated by old landed power, but also a trusted retainer to the Duke of Izelin. Would they send him here with a severed tendon and with a companion? Especially considering his mount, which was Baron Peizen’s prized horse? Chances are, the knight currently detained in the manor is him. Normally, I’d have such valuable warriors in other capacities regardless of circumstances.”

Oh, so that horse I chose for its speed was more prestigious than I thought. It’s a well-aged mare, but perhaps I’ll keep her around and pair her with my mares for the next generation instead of selling her once matters are done—it might attract unnecessary anger otherwise.

“But…”

“Enough! Then, bring IT!”

At Lord Bohenhausen’s bark, the attendant bolted out like popcorn kernels popping. He looked young, probably three years younger than me, with evident fatigue and a cheek scar, likely a rookie from the recent defense lines.

To involve him here at such a complex juncture is rather unfortunate, but hardship early in life prepares one for future ease, though it’s tough under such difficult circumstances.

“I’ve brought it!”

Breathless, the young man returned holding a cage with a white pigeon.

The faint traces of magic indicated an enhanced homing pigeon rather than a familiar. While they might be shot down in a siege, sending now certainly has its utility.

“Are the adjustments complete?”

“Yes, it’s set to fly to Marsheim!”

“Good… but too simple. Bring two more. Confirmation of matters this important requires more than just a single pigeon lest a misfortune prevent its arrival.”

“Yes, yes!”

“Lord Bohenhausen! Sending three will deplete our reserves!”

“When, pray tell, should we send them if not now!”

His commanding tone and forceful presence left no room for argument. Whether my words were truthful or deceitful, they deemed it worth using their resources.

Additionally, the lord exhibited commendable leadership qualities, his voice resonating impressively within the confined room, making it difficult to oppose his commands.

“Furthermore, imagine this, Lords. Saving the beleaguered Northtown would earn us first-class merit. Bestowing of a title isn’t entirely out of the question, is it?”

“Sh-shall we receive a title…?”

Lord Bohenhausen’s fierce laughter electrified the room, excitement mounting over possible laurels and glory.

In this era, the concept of rewarding merit and punishing failure holds true within knightly codes. The administration is looser than modern military structures; independent actions for the sake of glory are common. Punishments come arbitrarily from noble whims, but rewards are often contingent on success regardless of the methods employed.

Ah… Lady Agrippina must have recognized this man’s character, likely factoring it in when approving the letter. Even as she reclined casually and read books revealing only one breast, her extensive intelligence gathering was commendable.

I still remember the dinner guests’ faces meticulously catered to, from wine preferences to food, completely accurate. Though outwardly delighted by their exceptional receptions, one might infer their inner discomfort; the quiet threat that all details, even personal preferences, had been thoroughly investigated.

Such a defeat in the information war would make even a noble tremble.

“Besides, rest assured, I’m not acting rashly. We’ll consult with Marsheim and prepare before setting out. Meanwhile, we’ll deploy scouts to ensure safety around us.”

Pieces clicked and clacked across the tactical map, supplemented by a chess set where many represented knights or mounted figures.

“Fortunately, the horses remain intact. It was truly a blessing to avoid slaughtering them for food just before the encirclement lifted.”

“So, Lord Bohenhausen…”

With a grand sigh, and without damaging a single furnishing, he unsheathed his sword from within the indoor confines, raising it high.

“Preparations for battle! Fame awaits! Take this opportunity to choose gifts for your brides-to-be!”

Once the magnitude of possible rewards became clear, his retainers, previously skeptical, quickly followed suit, drawing their own swords in agreement.

Unsettling how things escalate in such a setting where my influence extends further than expected.

Now, how far will I be dragged along into this?

Yet, I won’t stop rolling until I crush all in my path. I’ll claim what I’ve come for before rolling back down the hill.

Quietly, I resolved not to interfere with their growing enthusiasm, dissolving into the background while cementing my own intentions…

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