The Steel Warrior and the Birth of a Name

Why was the Liege-Vassal Relationship showing up?

Outsider women are frail. They die easily, scare easily, and can't handle the cold.

"…Hngh."

Look at her. Compared to the northern snowfields, it wasn't even that cold, but she was already shivering.

Ragnor, son of the barbarian great chieftain, clicked his tongue.

He had just finished the "proposal" and was on his way back with the woman who would become his first wife.

"Outsider woman. Don't die. You will be my wife, and I won't let my wife die."

Ragnor took off his fur cloak and draped it over Freira's body. That should hold off the cold for a while.

"I don't get it. Why leave our tribe's tough women for a frail outsider like her?"

"Ragnor. Isn't the great mother an outsider too?"

Ragnor immediately agreed with the warrior's words.

The great mother. The great chieftain's third wife. Probably from the marquisate southwest of the Northern Wall. He didn't know what a marquis was, but she must have been important.

"…Right. The great chieftain must have his reasons."

Weighing his father's intentions, Ragnor turned north once more.

That's when an unfamiliar scent brushed his nose. Not the ancestors' scent, but an outsider's.

"Did people from the Wall follow us? Unexpected."

"…No. It's oil and steel. Mixed with black powder."

Through the swirling blizzard, a human shape gradually approached.

Tall and broad-shouldered for a Wall-dweller. No eyes, nose, or mouth on its face, just neat clothing.

The problem was the blood and guts splattered all over it.

"…Did it take out all our brothers?"

"No. It must have broken through the encirclement."

"Ragnor. Let us handle it. As the great chieftain's son, judge our prowess."

Steel man.

Artificial people made by the Wall folk. Generally weaker and dumber, easy prey.

"Employer, front 80m. Core at max output. Removing obstacles."

Ragnor watched his brother warriors step forward. He yawned.

"Commencing cleaning."

Until he saw the steel man butcher them with demonic movements.

…Different. Not like the steel men so far.

It parried or dodged every predictable attack. Then struck vital points at precise angles, killing in one blow.

It even stabbed the fallen brothers multiple times to confirm kills.

No wasted motion. Undeniably strong.

"…A true warrior."

Blood rushed to his head. Ragnor gripped his axe tighter and stepped forward.

"Outsider woman. Watch. See your husband triumph."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"…Hngh."

Freira, now unconscious, let out a faint breath.

Ragnor stood tall before the steel man on both feet.

"I am Ragnor. Eldest son of Great Chieftain Iskandar, heir of the snowfields. Warrior, what is your name?"

"Response. This unit has no name. Suggested name: Tin Can."

Indeed. A nameless warrior. Romantic in its own way.

"Then, nameless warrior, come."

With a thud, Ragnor kicked off the snow-covered plain and charged.

"Target detected. Aiming. Firing in 3, 2, 1—"

The moment the roar sounded, Ragnor kicked the air. His ancestral runes glowed, letting him dash through the sky.

The steel man's weakness. It openly announces ranged attacks.

Honorable, but unfit for victory.

Clang!

The axe blade plunging from above clashed with shears. Ragnor grabbed the rifle, preventing it from aiming.

"Ancestors. Grant me the strength to sunder stone."

His arms swelled massively, overwhelming power surging. He felt the steel man yielding.

Strong, but just this much? No match for flesh after all.

That's what he thought.

"Warning. Employer body temperature dropping. Critical level."

Until the steel man's back opened and heat vents blasted flames hot enough to ignite the air.

"Initiating core overclock."

Whirrrrr—

Spheres spun. The enlarged arms were pushed back helplessly.

"…I'm being overpowered in strength?"

"Auxiliary servos engaging. Until propellant explosion—"

3.

2.

1.

Explosion.

He knew and still got hit.

The shears that clashed with his axe—he knew the angle, yet couldn't block.

They sliced the blade and haft, severed his arm, then carved from shoulder to heart.

"Guhk."

Blood sprayed from his mouth. His knees hit the ground.

Ragnor collapsed before the steel man.

"Splendid… warrior."

"Cleaning complete."

Was that the Wall folk's way of honoring?

Ragnor smeared blood on his palm and pressed a handprint on the steel man's body.

"On the ancestors' land, if we meet again, tell me your name."

"Response. This unit has no name. Shall I assign one?"

His powerless torso toppled. In the enveloping blizzard, Ragnor finally realized.

That frost-like woman. Your wife? Then it makes sense.

A warrior doesn't let his wife die.

***

Oh. I won.

I looked down at the freshly killed barbarian.

To be precise, he was a tutorial boss, but infamous as hell.

No idea why they gave him raw specs like that. Patterns where a slight timing miss meant getting smashed unilaterally. Parries, dodges, counterattacks—you had to pick perfectly in rock-paper-scissors style.

They called him Newbie Butcher Ragnor-sensei, or Rag-jerk.

Yet his warrior mindset had cult popularity.

Definitely. I'm way stronger than the starting player build now.

I'm gonna turn into a total mech nut.

Normally it'd take dying dozens of times headbutting the wall, but I one-shotted him without a single hit.

That was the problem.

I'm over-specced now, but a little inflation and I'd be mob fodder.

Plus, I'm an automaton. Unless I bullshit my way somewhere, my employer has to spend to upgrade me.

So what to do?

I neatly set Ragnor's axe on the ground.

Thud thud thud thud!!

And smashed my own head with it!

Think of it like a car. It gets flooded, it's scrapped, but a busted side mirror? They replace it.

By the time the dulled blade turned blunt, cracks spiderwebbed my arcanium alloy face.

Perfect angle.

About now, the voice should glitch out. Vocal synthesizer damaged.

Then they'll install a voice module, right?

Liberation from this damn language lock, even if it's canned speech.

While at it, I mangled my right arm's shears, bending and shattering the blades.

Need bigger, more beautiful weapons. More!

Self-damage enough.

Yeah. Gotta get her saved quick.

I rushed to Freira, laid out behind me, and brushed off the snow piling on her.

Freezing cold all over. Must feel worse for the lady with her low body temp constitution.

As I scooped her up and stroked her cheek and hair, Freira barely opened her eyes.

"…Hoo. Saved me again? What's with your face? Hurt? …Sorry."

No. Self-inflicted.

And sorry for what? That's what butler automatons are for.

"You're cold too? …Snow's getting fierce."

Not really. Isn't the grand duke's lady colder? I'm a tin can; zero chill.

Not knowing my thoughts, Freira chanted amid her fading life.

"I beseech thee, ignite my body with flames."

The ignition magic inherited from the grand duke activated. Her breathing grew rougher from the recoil.

"There. Warm now. …Right?"

Squeeze.

Freira touched my cheeks with both hands. Faint warmth transferred.

She's an angel.

Classic scene from the original spawning grand duke lady fans.

Now my turn to repay. Warm her before she dies.

Thermal mode active. Core max output.

I hugged Freira close and stood. Through drooping eyelids, the grand duke's lady murmured.

"…Warm."

With a cozy smile, Freira snuggled tight into my arms.

***

Back at the Wall, Ulrich the grand duke greeted me. Situation seemed sorted; reinforcements must've driven off the barbarians.

"Freira! Safe… truly, truly glad."

"Ung… Father?"

Ulrich tossed aside decorum and took his only daughter from my arms. He held her for minutes before releasing.

Gathering knights and soldiers chimed in.

"Your Grace. Did you install military modules on the automaton?"

"No way that was butler model movement."

Butler model, yes.

Just that I'm a vet, and Argent Heavy Industries' tech is top-tier.

Ulrich approached me at rigid attention.

"I don't expect an automaton like you to understand. …But I must say it."

Excuse an old man's sentiment.

The grand duke stared straight at my face.

"Thank you. My daughter lives because of you. If you were human, I'd grant you a title and medal."

Whoa. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Why this? Don't look with misty eyes.

No title sucks. Early-game free pass.

"Just to check, need anything?"

Whirr whirr whirr.

My head bobbed like a woodpecker.

I desperately pointed to my damaged face. Vocal synthesizer spot.

Come on, scrap this junk and install a voice module!

"…Father. How about synthetic skin?"

An intruder cut in.

Freira! Repaying kindness with enmity!

What's the point of a human face on a tin can like me?

Just let me speak!

My voice, naturally, reached no one.

"We'll do that. Plenty of spare vocal synthesizers anyway."

"Good, right?"

Good my ass.

I drooped my head sullenly.

"…And one more thing."

Freira, coughing, smiled faintly. Looked like a reward for me.

Relax. I know my place. Tin can automaton.

Not bitter or anything.

Freira sat me down to meet her eyes.

"A name."

"Response. This unit has no name. Shall I set it to Tin Can?"

No. Please. Anything but Tin Can.

Understanding my heart, the grand duke's lady let out a soft laugh.

"Hamel."

Emerald eyes crinkled in a smile.

"Hamel. Thanks for saving me."

I have a name.

What's a Liege-Vassal Relationship?

Why's relationship dominance showing?

…It won't flip, right?