The Here-Knight of the Female Knight Tribe
—Kyaaak! Kack!
"Son of a bitch!"
The instant the lid came off, the Plums—which until that very second had lain as still as the dead—flared their razor teeth in unison and launched themselves out of the pickling jar.
"Kyaaaaah! I told you to check whether they were actually dead before you opened it!"
"It's been a whole year! How was I supposed to know they weren't dead?!"
I had heard the stories—snakes pickled for snake wine that refused to die and came thrashing out to bite people—but Plums? Seriously?
I slammed the lid back down in a panic, but a few of the little bastards had already scrambled up over their comrades' corpses and made it out of the jar. They went bouncing and skittering through the house, hunting for something to sink their teeth into.
"They're coming this way!"
"I'm catching them, I'm catching—oh, hell."
The elf, who had been giddy at the prospect of a refreshing glass of plum tea, let out a shriek at the sight of those vicious little demon-fruits and fled around the room trying to stay ahead of them. It was almost impossible to believe this was the same woman from yesterday. Her face was pure sunshine as she had waited for her plum extract—and now her enormous breasts went bouncing and swaying as she ran, with a trail of tiny Plums hop-hop-hopping along behind her like they were out for a morning jog. The whole spectacle was nothing short of magnificent.
—Kiyaaaaaak!
"Eek?!"
By a hair's breadth she managed to kick one of them and pop it, then went on screeching.
"Catch them already! Catch them!"
"You grab way nastier things than these without blinking. What's the problem?"
"Again! It's climbing again! Kyaa—it's biting, it's biting, it's biting—?!"
Thwack!
I worked my hands as fast as I could, stuffing them back into the jar one by one—but the Plum that slipped past me and bared its teeth at the elf met a miserable end under the buttstock of the rifle that had somehow appeared in her hands.
Instead of blood, sticky fruit juice sprayed everywhere. The murder weapon: the long wooden stock of a rifle. It was an M1 Garand, the kind that showed up in every World War II movie, and she had brought it down reverse-grip like a club. The elf let out a breath of relief over the thoroughly obliterated Plum, then stared down at it with a look of pure mourning—before whipping her head around to glare at me.
"I warned you! Plums have stronger vitality than other plants—you only eat them once the flesh has completely broken down! How can one monkey be this stupid?!"
"I wasn't going to open it, but Lady Celestin said, 'On a sweltering day like this, nothing hits the spot like a nice refreshing plum tea!' and—no, wait, you're right. My bad for not checking if they were dead. Heh heh."
Goddamn it. If I'd had a gun of my own…
Her chest was so enormous she could barely shoulder the rifle properly, but at this range she could have hit me just by pointing and squeezing. She kept the muzzle trained on me for a beat, then sighed like her head was throbbing and shoved the weapon back into her Magic Poncho.
"What exactly am I supposed to expect from a monkey who only just figured out bipedal locomotion? Hurry up and get ready."
"Ready? For what…?"
Not that there was any shortage of things she ordered me to do.
The elf sighed at the blank look I gave her and explained.
"I told you before. We're going into a dungeon on an excavation run—including the commission we didn't finish last time—so I told you to pack your kit in advance."
"Oh, that. Already done."
Sleeping bag, blankets, tent canvas, stakes—the whole regulation full field pack, stuffed tight. She could have just tossed everything into that Magic Poncho she always wore, but for reasons known only to her she insisted I haul that miserable load on my back wherever we went. I still had no idea why, and she had never bothered to explain.
"We're going back to the same place as last time. A Rush Type dungeon."
"The one we ran from the second we stepped inside?"
"We did not run! That was a tactical withdrawal!"
Dungeons, despite the name, were not particularly picky about location. Sometimes they formed in the classic spots—old underground prisons, caves that looked like goblins might live in them—and waited for intruders. Other times they threw up barriers that felt like stepping into another world entirely, luring any adventurer foolish enough to wander in. Seasoned explorers had eventually sorted them into three broad categories by pattern: Trap Type, Maze Type, and the one Celestin and I were heading for now—Rush Type.
The names were straightforward enough. Trap Types were packed with traps. Maze Types had labyrinthine layouts that made getting lost almost inevitable, and the toxic miasma filling them made it nearly impossible for an adventurer to escape under their own power before clearing the place. Rush Types, according to the elf, had neither elaborate traps nor confusing paths. What they had, true to the name, was wave after wave of monsters throwing themselves at anyone who walked in.
How many? Even a small one fielded dozens at minimum; the bigger ones climbed into the hundreds. That overwhelming flood of bodies charging from every direction made Rush Types the natural enemy of small adventuring parties.
"Honestly, I had no idea there would be that many Walkers in there. And a Juggernaut on top of it!"
"My condolences."
"Don't 'my condolences' me. You're coming in with me this time."
"Wait—why me?! Why am I getting dragged into this?! I don't want to go in there!"
It had only been a few days since we had bolted the second we set foot inside, dignity abandoned, tails between our legs, with dozens of Walkers staring us down. The memory was still fresh enough that the elf looked equal parts embarrassed and furious about it. She bounced her absurd chest with an indignant little jiggle, folded her arms, and spoke as if I had nothing to worry about.
"Still, this time I specially requested Dyna's cooperation, so even someone like you should make it back in one piece. So relax."
"That's not the point—why me at all…? More importantly, isn't Miss Dyna buried in semester prep right now? How did she even find the time…? And even if there is a fee, it's not like we have anything worth offering her as—"
"Hm? As for the fee, of course it's…"
"What. Why are you pointing at me."
Don't tell me the fee is me.
Did the elf sell me?
I stared at her, dumbfounded, as she pointed at me with total casualness. Whatever she read in my face, she thrust her chest out even further and preened.
"Ooh~hohoho! Don't tell me you thought I sold you off to the Female Knight Tribe? So you've finally realized what a wonderful mistress you have! I know—I can see it perfectly well in those anxious little eyes of yours!"
Give me a break.
My gaze went colder by the second, but the elf just kept preening and shaking her chest, clearly having decided to interpret my expression however she liked.
"Relax. I only agreed to lend you out a little as payment. So stop trembling like I've abandoned you or sold you o—wait! Where do you think you're going?!"
"To check my pack."
"I wasn't finished talking!"
Don't you walk away from me!
As if she still had plenty of nonsense left to unload, her flustered voice chased me down the hall as I fled to my room.
"I was trying not to call on her if I could help it, but of course it had to be a Rush. And the second Dyna heard it was a Rush Type, you should have seen how shameless she got! She said she wouldn't help unless I lent you to her!"
"Ah… right."
And so I followed the elf into the forest. Even hours of forced marching and nonstop grumbling had not been enough for her. She had already spread a mat in the cool shade of the trees overhead and was fanning herself with one hand, looking thoroughly aggrieved.
"If it hadn't been a Rush! I mean, I wasn't going to refuse outright, but the way she smirked the moment I came to her looking humble—like she'd been waiting for the chance…!"
"You can see her face through the helmet?"
"It's a figure of speech! And more importantly, are you taking Dyna's side over your own mistress right now…? Ugh, why is it so hot out here?!"
"…"
I was hauling several dozen kilos of full kit on my back. She, as always, had strolled along in that barely-there outfit of hers like she was out for a picnic. In the spirit of petty revenge, I let my eyes linger on the sweat beading and pooling in the deep valley of her chest. The elf, still panting, flinched and shivered.
"What is that look? Why are you looking at me like that again—like yesterday…"
"Hm? Like yesterday?"
"I-It's nothing! You've forgotten, I'm sure. More importantly—did you bring a proper weapon…?"
She still seemed rock-solid in her belief that I had been hypnotized yesterday. She let out a small breath of relief at my blank head-tilt—then her eyes landed on the massive war hammer hanging from my pack, and she shrieked like she had seen something unspeakable.
"You! Wh-What is that hammer?!"
"This? You know what it is. Miss Dyna gave it to me as a gift a while back."
"You're my slave!"
It was no household claw hammer for knocking in nails. This was the kind of iron mallet you used to drive stakes the size of fence posts. I had been carrying it around for ages whenever I trailed after her on errands, so I had no idea why she was acting like she had never seen it before. Then again, her blowing up over nothing was hardly a new development, so I held it up for her to see.
"I figured things might get dangerous, so I brought the one I use as a hammer-slash-weapon…"
"Why would you bring that?! Don't tell me you're planning to wag your tail at another mistress the second you get the chance?!"
"Wag my tail or not, what am I supposed to defend myself with? And you've seen me carrying this thing for ages."
"Urgh…!!"
I stared at her, completely at a loss, as she suddenly decided the hammer was a hill worth dying on.
"So that excuse was available to you, was it…?! Then—!"
Under my stare she glared back, looking ready to explode all over again, and shoved a hand into her Magic Poncho. A moment later she pulled out a rifle—the same one she had used a few hours earlier to pulp a Plum in the kitchen.
What is she about to do now.
Was all that hammer nonsense just buildup for another one of her stunts?
A spike of unease hit me. I watched her carefully, timing a potential escape—then what she did next left me too stunned to move.
"Well? Take it. This thing is heavier than it looks, you know."
"Out of nowhere?"
An unexpected firearms ceremony. In three years the elf had put me through every kind of nonsense imaginable, but a gun—that, she had never once placed in my hands. My fingers started trembling on their own.
A gun!
The Garand rifle, personally forged by Lord Garand himself for us magicless muggles—the muggle wand!
Clumsily, I worked the bolt back and locked it open, feeling the solid weight that was nothing like a K2, swinging it this way and that like a kid with a brand-new toy. I spent a long moment just fondling the thing before I suddenly remembered myself and turned back to the elf.
"…So where's the ammo?"
"What, so you can shoot me the second I turn my back? I gave it to you to use as a club, at a level appropriate for someone like you. Did you honestly think I would hand over ammunition as well? Don't tell me you already can't stand it and you're itching for freedom again, you ungrateful little yellow monkey…!!"
"Without ammo this is a worse club than the hammer! Then why make me haul this heavy thing around instead of just using the hammer?!"
"Are you seriously bringing up the hammer again in front of me?!"
"Indeed. The hammer. A hammer is a most excellent means of conversation."
Right then, a deep, resonant voice cut through our bickering—and my pack suddenly got lighter. Celestin and I both turned as one toward the black-armored knight who had plucked the hammer clean off my gear. The jet-black knight tested the weight a few times, opening and closing her grip, then held up the enormous hammer she had brought of her own as if showing it off.
"A hammer is the finest of weapons. Convenient for felling foes, and one need not overthink its use. Far better than some suspicious club whose principles one cannot even fathom—this, large and heavy and gallant besides…"
"Are you actually talking about the hammer?! Where do you think you're looking right now?! Why are you staring at someone else's slave's crotch…!!"
"She's wearing a full helmet. You can see that?"
"You shut up!"
At the entrance of the gallant here-knight clad head to toe in black armor, the elf bristled on cue—but the jet-black knight paid her no mind at all. She spread both arms wide toward me.
"Long has it been! I have missed you, Iceman!"