I Built a House in the Forest of Death, and a Silver-Haired Spear Knight Showed Up
A full month had passed since I first set foot in Braken Forest.
Morning arrived right on schedule, and instead of birdsong, the rich, toasty smell of baking potatoes tickled my nose.
“Ahhh.”
I stretched long and hard in bed.
No one kicked me awake. No changing of the night watch. And best of all, Leon’s punchable face was nowhere in sight.
“Who knew mornings without that slave-driving boss’s mug could feel this good.”
I rolled out of bed and headed for the hearth. The potatoes I’d buried in the ashes last night had roasted to a perfect golden brown. I split one open and steam billowed up from the fluffy white flesh.
A light sprinkle of salt, then a big bite.
“Hah—hot…!”
The soft potato crumbled on my tongue.
“No wonder everyone walks around with a resignation letter tucked in their heart.”
A month ago this place had been pure ruins. The first three days I spent patching the collapsed roof and door. On day five I cleared the clogged drainage ditch. By day ten I’d cut back the thorn thickets and broken ground for my first field. At two weeks the potato sprouts were already past my knees, and by day twenty I’d dug up more than enough to feed myself with leftovers to spare.
The harvest was sweet. A warm bed, plenty of food—this was paradise on earth.
I stepped outside. Morning sunlight spilled across my little farm. A neat dirt path ran from the stone house, flanked by wide potato fields. On one side bean vines climbed their supports. Tomatoes hung heavy and red, heads bowed. A channel fed by the spring burbled cheerfully between the furrows. Under the eaves, dried mushrooms and smoked fish hung in tidy rows.
“At this point I should rebrand the Forest of Death as an Outstanding Rural Relocation Pilot Zone.”
Basket in hand, I walked into the fields.
Two potatoes. One tomato. A handful of herbs.
At the end of the water channel, the trap I’d set held a thrashing silver fish the size of my forearm.
“Time to put together today’s fully organic breakfast!”
The menu: potato pancakes and grilled fish.
I sliced the potatoes thin and laid them in a lightly oiled pan.
Sizzle.
When the edges turned golden I flipped them and scattered the herbs on top. The fish got a rub of salt and herbs and went on whole. As the skin crisped, a rich aroma filled the house.
I set the potato pancakes, the grilled fish, and a perfectly ripe tomato on the table.
A month ago I’d been so busy feeding everyone else that my own share always came last. Now the crispiest pancake and the thickest fillet were all mine.
I folded a pancake in half and took a huge bite. The crunchy exterior shattered with a cheerful crackle, and the soft, sweet interior flooded my mouth.
“They stiffed me on the severance pay, but the retirement lifestyle is perfect.”
I leaned back in the chair and sipped herb tea.
Over the past month I’d used Amplification about twenty times. Four on the axe and shovel. Four on the house and hearth. Two on the blocked channel and spring. Six on the field soil. Four on seed growth.
Yet because a fresh charge stacked every half-day, I still had four hundred and fourteen left.
I’d worked hard and the stockpile had grown.
That was the beauty of it. My unique trait and skill, Amplification, recharged once every twelve hours and accumulated if unused. Best of all, I could layer the effect on the same target as many times as I wanted. It didn’t grow exponentially, but pure arithmetic stacking was already plenty dangerous.
Five hundred percent plus five hundred percent.
From now on I would use this power only for my own peace and safety.
“The owner’s inventory management is seriously lax. Refills faster than I can spend it.”
I was just reaching for the last pancake when—
Ting-a-ling.
The little bell I’d hung at the farm entrance rang. It was rigged to sound whenever a beast brushed the fence.
I stuffed the pancake in my mouth and grabbed a kitchen knife.
“Looks like lunch is meat today.”
I walked quietly toward the fence.
Someone stood among the bushes.
Silver-white hair. Vivid red eyes. A cloak caked in mud and leaves. And a long spear in her hand.
It was Aileen.
“Huh? What are you doing out here?”
After a month apart she couldn’t find words for a moment. Before either of us could celebrate the reunion, something else broke the silence.
Grrrrrooowl—.
A roar loud enough to shake the Forest of Death erupted from her stomach.
I lowered the knife.
“That’s a pretty intense way to say hello.”
Aileen’s ears went scarlet in an instant.
“…On the honor of the knighthood, pretend you never heard that.”
“That volume just earned a standing ovation from every horned rabbit in the forest.”
“Rabbits don’t talk.”
“I, however, am more than happy to.”
Her red eyes narrowed.
“Luka.”
“Yes?”
“Want to start this conversation with a punch to the solar plexus?”
“I’ll pass on pre-meal violence. You’re starving—don’t waste energy on pointless things. Hit me now and the impact feedback will be terrible.”
Her stomach rumbled again.
Grrrrrooowl——!!!!
Longer. Louder.
She silently lowered the tip of her spear.
“…Just show me a seat.”
“Yes, ma’am. Interrogation after the meal.”
Aileen stepped onto the farm and kept glancing around. Neatly ordered fields. Smoke rising from the stone house. Firewood and sacks of potatoes stacked inside the fence. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“This is really Braken Forest?”
“The cadastral records say so.”
“You built all this alone in a month?”
“I’m both contractor and client, so permits were free. And you already know how good my ability is.”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
“Extreme hunger makes you awfully sensitive.”
I reheated the leftover pancakes and grilled fish. The moment the plate hit the table, her gaze locked onto it.
“I’ll say it again—I did not come here to eat.”
“Of course not.”
“I only needed to confirm you were alive, ask a few questions, and then—”
I set a potato pancake on the plate. Her sentence cut off mid-word.
“Wipe the drool first, then talk.”
“As I just said, I am absolutely not hun—”
“Your stomach is filing continuous appeals.”
Aileen stared at the plate for a long moment. Then she picked up a fork. She cut a piece of pancake and put it in her mouth. Her eyes widened slightly. One chew. Two chews. Then she immediately cut the next piece.
“Taste is pretty ordinary, right?”
“…Extremely ordinary.”
“And you’ve already polished off three of those extremely ordinary ones.”
She tore off a big chunk of fish and stuffed it in. Her eating speed kept climbing. Without a word I fried another pancake and slid it onto her plate. She snatched it at once.
“I never ordered more.”
“The empty plate made a heartfelt plea.”
“…Fry one more.”
“Now you’re placing the order out loud.”
Aileen set her fork down hard.
“D-don’t mock a knight!”
“Mocking the hungry brings divine punishment. I cooked these just for you. Eat as much as you want.”
“If you know that, why do you keep running your mouth?”
“Because the reaction is gourmet-grade.”
The fork handle creaked. I added yet another pancake.
“So. Where exactly did you camp out for a whole month?”
Aileen fell silent for a moment.
“I dumped Leon and Bram at the city clinic and left.”
“They’re still breathing?”
“Regrettably.”
“Their vitality puts cockroaches to shame.”
“The second I saved them, those filthy mouths started flapping again.”
She took another bite of pancake.
“I left them at the clinic and quit the party on the spot. I knew the general direction you’d gone, but not the exact destination. I combed every nearby village and old border outpost.”
“You did that for an entire month?”
“I remembered late that every time you made camp you kept staring at a map of Braken Forest.”
Her voice dropped a little.
“At the very least, once you’d decided where to go, you should have left word of your destination.”
“I got fired on the spot for no reason. I didn’t exactly feel obligated to write a handover memo with my forwarding address.”
“…Still.”
“Were you worried about me?”
Aileen didn’t answer. Instead she pushed the empty plate toward me.
“Just… bring one more.”
“I’ll take that as deep concern.”
“It means the plate is short on potato pancakes.”
“Intentional mistranslation is the listener’s right.”
She shot me a sharp look, but this time she didn’t crush the fork.
After the meal I gathered the empty plates.
“Survival confirmed, stomach filled. Heading back to the capital now?”
“No.”
The answer was short.
“What about the Hero’s party?”
“I already told you I quit.”
“You’re still under royal command. A recall order will definitely come.”
“I refuse.”
Aileen walked outside and settled the spear on her shoulder.
“I have no intention of watching Leon’s arrogant farce any longer under the name of a party.”
“So you’re unemployed. What’s the plan?”
Just then a rustling came from the western fence. A big horned rabbit vaulted the low barrier and started chomping on cabbage leaves.
“Hey, hey, those aren’t ready for harv—”
Thud!
Aileen’s spear slammed into the ground right in front of the rabbit. Dirt sprayed. The terrified rabbit bolted over the fence with a cabbage leaf still in its mouth.
Aileen checked the broken section of fence.
“Western defense line is far too weak.”
“The local rabbits take their lower-body workouts very seriously.”
“Security staff is just you?”
“As you can see—an ironclad one-man security system.”
She pulled the spear free and rested it on her shoulder again.
“Then there’s an open position.”
“We’re a zero-capital startup. No salary.”
“Room and board is enough for a knight.”
I eyed the five plates she’d just cleaned out.
“Looking at the number of empty plates, I foresee serious damage to the farm’s finances.”
“…Retract that statement immediately.”
“I’m currently conducting salary negotiations as the employer.”
“Retract it and I’ll start work right now.”
“I welcome you with open arms, unpaid Security Chief!”
Aileen didn’t rest for a second. She drove stakes deep with the spear shaft and hauled thick logs by herself. I lashed the posts together with vine rope. Work that would have taken me half a day alone was finished in under an hour.
“That stake looks a little tilted to the right.”
“By a knight’s senses, this is perfect vertical.”
“Well, by knightly formation standards, sure.”
“What does a farm owner’s shoddy standard even mean?”
“It means the angle at which cabbages can’t walk off on their own.”
Aileen looked at the cabbage patch.
“…Cabbages do not have walking functions.”
“In this forest’s ecosystem I can’t guarantee a hundred percent.”
She studied my face, clearly trying to decide whether I was joking. Instead of answering I set a blank wooden board at the farm entrance.
“So what’s the official name of this farm?”
“Still undecided.”
“You spent a month building a house and fields from bare dirt and never put up a single sign?”
“Putting food in my mouth was more urgent than naming sense.”
After a moment’s thought I carved letters into the board with the kitchen knife.
Aileen stared at the carved words.
“What meaning did you put into it?”
“Even when the seasons turn harsh, there’s always something to pick and eat in the fields.”
I watched the smoke rising from the chimney.
“And no matter how far you’ve been beaten up out there, there’s always a warm place to wash up and lie down.”
Aileen was quiet for a long while. Then she leaned her spear against the inner wall of the fence—not the action of someone planning to leave.
The sun set. We ate potato soup and toasted bread for dinner. After washing the dishes Aileen looked around the house.
One room. One bed.
I was folding a blanket when I spoke.
“A critical problem has arisen.”
“What is it? Enemy attack?”
“Sleeping infrastructure is single-occupancy.”
Aileen looked at the bed, then at me. After a moment’s thought she took off her cloak and laid it on the mattress.
“…Doesn’t matter.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Just decide which section of the floor you’ll sleep on.”
“On day one you’re already committing the rudeness of kicking the employer out of bed.”
“Optimal sleep is a mandatory condition for a security chief’s defense readiness.”
“The farm owner also has to break his back with a hoe tomorrow.”
Aileen eyed the bed as if measuring it.
“Then we’ll simply divide the bed equally in half.”
My hands stopped. Aileen realized a beat later what she’d just said. Her red eyes wavered and the tips of her ears flushed crimson.
“I-I meant…! Strictly demarcating the occupancy zones of the bed!”
“I was also talking about the physical bed.”
“Don’t make impure and unnecessary misunderstandings.”
“I haven’t even opened my mouth yet. Sounds like you’re the one feeling guilty.”
A pillow flew at my face.
Whump.
I caught it and laughed.
“Security Chief.”
“…What.”
“Welcome to our farm. Truly.”
Aileen spun around in a hurry.
“…The welcome is ridiculously late. I’ll be imposing for a while.”