The Silver-Haired Spear Knight Flexes Her Entire Fortune

My right arm was numb.

The moment I opened my eyes, the reason became obvious.

Aileen was using my arm as a pillow.

And that wasn't all — one of her arms was locked firmly around my waist. The blanket border I'd carefully erected down the middle of the bed had been shoved clean behind her back.

"Security Chief."

No answer.

I tried to carefully extract my arm, and her hold only tightened.

"…Don't go."

"You've confirmed I'm alive and well. How about lifting the arrest warrant?"

"…Luka."

Even half-asleep, she got the name right.

She'd spent an entire month hunting me down without proper food or sleep, she'd said.

In the end, I just pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.

"You know, you threw the first punch here."

Her red eyes snapped open.

Aileen checked my face, her own arm, and the blanket behind her back in that order. Color flooded from the tips of her ears straight down her neck.

"Good morning, unauthorized occupant."

Thud!

I rolled right off the bed.

"Hold on — the one who invaded the territory is forcibly deporting the native resident?"

"Y-you rolled over to my side!"

"There's clear physical evidence currently draped over the Security Chief's back."

Aileen hastily yanked the blanket off herself.

"You must have staged it overnight…!"

"Are you suggesting I'm some kind of conspiracy theorist who plots bedding coups in his sleep?"

A pillow came flying next.

I caught it this time. Heh.

Aileen asked quietly,

"…Is your arm all right?"

I rotated my right arm. It tingled.

"After being exploited as a human pillow all night, I've lost all feeling in it."

"Then rest from today's work."

"Are you actually worried about me right now?"

"It's a matter of labor force management."

"I've never met an employee so unscrupulous she uses her employer's arm as a pillow."

Aileen reached toward her spear.

"That's enough of that."

I fled to the kitchen.

Breakfast was roasted potatoes and bean soup.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠also grilled the fish I'd gutted yesterday and left soaking in the cold stream channel — the kind of thing you eat the same day.

I tipped the salt jar.

Tok.

A single coarse grain of salt dropped onto the pan.

I shook it again. Nothing came out.

"Security Chief."

"What."

"Our farm's financial situation is not looking good."

The oil bottle was scraping bottom too.

The flour would last maybe two more loaves of bread.

The spice pouch held more dust than actual spice.

"There's food growing all over the fields. How can supplies still be short?"

"Potatoes don't spontaneously secrete salt, you know. Raw meat spoils if you leave it. You either eat it the same day, or you salt it, dry it, and smoke it."

Aileen looked down at the empty salt jar.

"So you're saying we have no salt for preservation."

"It's currently the farm's highest-priority acquisition asset."

She nodded with complete seriousness.

"Then we must secure the salt warehouse first."

"For a former knight-commander, your operational scale has gotten remarkably humble. And it's not just salt — we need a whole list of things."

After breakfast, I checked the storage cellar.

The potatoes sat unwashed on straw, just brushed free of dirt. The beans were thoroughly dried and sealed in jars, and the dried mushrooms hung in moisture-free cloth pouches.

The real problem was the supplies we had to buy from outside.

I wrote them out on a wooden board.

Salt, oil, vinegar, wheat and barley, flour, spices, honey, nails, hinges, rope, large jars, seeds.

Aileen added a final line.

Wine.

And beneath that, wine again.

"That's two lines of alcohol."

"A mistake."

"The handwriting is a perfect match, though."

"It's for wound disinfection and long-term storage."

"You mean for disinfecting the Security Chief's esophagus, don't you?"

"Sh-shut up!"

The nearest settlement, Haben Village, was a solid three-and-a-half-hour walk along the old patrol road.

Aileen geared up in her armor and spear, then confiscated my pack and slung it over her own shoulder.

"Your arm isn't right."

"The workplace-injury culprit is personally providing escort service. How thoughtful."

"Open your mouth one more time and I'll make sure the other arm doesn't work either."

The road was peaceful.

We drank from the valley stream, and on a sunlit hill we picked wild strawberries. When juice got on the corner of my mouth, Aileen reached out — then stopped.

I leaned my face in just a little, and she shoved a whole strawberry into my mouth.

"Mph."

"Shut up and chew."

"Are you feeding me affectionately right now?"

"It's an assassination disguised as choking."

"A remarkably sweet assassination."

Once we reached Haben, we headed for the bedding shop first.

The old proprietress looked us over.

"Aigoo, setting up a new household, are we?"

Aileen's lips opened instantly.

"We are not!"

"Then why are you looking at bedding with that handsome young man?"

"…There's only one bed."

The shop went quiet.

Aileen's face locked up.

I nodded.

"The paperwork hasn't been filed yet."

"Luka!"

"Just trying to cut off any room for misunderstanding."

"The misunderstanding just expanded to continental scale!"

The old woman smiled warmly and brought out quilts and pillows.

Aileen kept insisting it wasn't like that while still selecting one blanket for me, one pillow for herself, two sets of dishes, and two cups.

"Does someone who's only staying temporarily really need her own personal tableware?"

"Because the aesthetic sense of the dishes you picked is catastrophic."

"Sounds like you're settling in for the long haul."

"I'm merely preventing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠visual terrorism on the farm! Close that mouth of yours!"

At the market we bought coarse rock salt, oil, vinegar, whole wheat and barley, flour for immediate use, dried garlic and onions, spices, honey, and cheese.

Plus two bottles of wine and a small keg of beer.

At the seed merchant we picked up wheat, barley, radish, carrot, onion, pumpkin, cucumber, and garlic seeds. We also selected grapevine cuttings and an apple sapling.

Aileen looked down at the sapling.

"It'll take years for a sapling like this to bear fruit, won't it?"

"If we follow the laws of nature, yes."

"You plan to abuse your trait."

"Yes. Though I'll use it in moderation. I'll grow it carefully from the roots up. If apples are hanging off the branches on day one, even the sapling will get cognitive dissonance."

By the time we finished shopping, the goods had piled into a mountain.

There was no way the two of us could carry all of it.

"We'll need to cut some of the unnecessary cargo. Looks like we got a little greedy."

Aileen stopped in front of a cart vendor.

There was a worn but solid-axled wagon and a scrawny brown mare. She carefully checked the horse's teeth, hooves, and leg joints.

"She's not that old. Just undernourished. The frame itself is perfectly sound."

The cart merchant grinned.

"Nothing better for hauling newlywed household goods."

"I said we are not newlyweds!"

The merchant let out a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hearty laugh.

"The bedding-shop granny already spread the word. That old lady sure works fast."

Aileen's face went scarlet.

"The village information network is faster than my Amplification."

"Shut your mouth!"

Aileen pulled out her coin purse.

The price was almost exactly what she had.

"Wait. Isn't that your entire fortune?"

"It is."

"If you dump all your remaining severance pay on this, you will one hundred percent regret it."

"I'm not investing in you. This is essential mobility equipment required for farm security operations."

She set the coin purse down in front of the merchant.

"Advance payment for room and board. Lump sum."

"Exactly how many years are you planning to dig in? For this kind of money, it'd be faster to just take an equity stake in the farm."

Aileen's ears burned red.

"I clearly said temporarily!"

"You just cheerfully spent your entire fortune."

"Be quiet. Just count the change accurately."

We named the mare Bori.

Outside the village, I gave her water and feed, then applied a single layer of Amplification to her stamina and recovery. Her cloudy eyes cleared, and her drooping ears pricked up. Bori nuzzled her nose into my palm.

"Pruuh—!!"

"Feels good, right? Stick with big bro and you'll never have a day short on adrenaline. Wait — is it 'oppa'?"

Watching us, the corner of Aileen's mouth twitched upward.

"You just smiled."

Her expression immediately hardened.

"I did not."

"Those red eyes traced a perfect crescent arc."

"It was the dazzling sunlight."

"The sun is currently directly behind you."

"Do you want to get crushed under a wagon wheel?"

I climbed onto the driver's seat shoulder to shoulder with Aileen.

In the swaying wagon our shoulders brushed constantly, and every time we hit a large rock she grabbed my arm. I started to pull my hand free, then left it alone.

"Human seatbelt, are we?"

"If the farm owner falls off, it creates complications for security operations. Food supply would suffer too."

"Your own center of gravity was swaying worse than mine."

"The result is that we both landed safely, isn't it?"

Thanks to the horse, the return trip took only about an hour and a half — remarkably short. Back at the farm, we sorted the new supplies.

Salt went into lidded jars. Whole grains were sealed and set on shelves raised off the floor. Flour was portioned into smaller jars.

Onions and garlic hung under the eaves. Oil, vinegar, and wine went into the cool storage cellar.

Aileen labeled each jar in neat handwriting.

"Your penmanship is quite tidy."

"What does that 'quite' mean?"

"I figured someone specialized in stabbing with a spear would snap pen nibs too."

"Want me to write block characters starting from your brow ridge?"

Even as she grumbled, she carved two names side by side beneath the wooden tag marked Salt.

Dinner was properly salted grilled fish, freshly baked bread, potato soup with onions, cheese, and tomatoes.

I poured wine into our cups.

"To the inauguration of our unpaid Security Chief and the complete liquidation of her severance pay!"

"Retract the second statement."

"To a successful slave contract!"

"Cancel the slave contract too."

"Then — to our first shopping trip!"

Aileen lightly raised her cup.

"…That one is acceptable."

The cups clinked.

Before she'd finished half a glass, her cheeks were flushed.

"This place isn't as bad as I expected. Different from the rumors."

"Thank you for the highest possible praise."

"That absolutely does not mean it's because you're here."

"I didn't ask anything just now."

"I'm issuing a preemptive notice as a defensive measure."

"'The thief feels her own feet tingle' — what a classic proverb."

Aileen held out her empty cup.

"Just fill it."

"Your alcohol tolerance is terrible, so why buy two whole bottles?"

"Long-term storage reserve supplies."

"You're already stockpiling half a bottle inside your stomach."

"It's the safest warehouse — one the enemy can never seize."

Then.

Jingle.

The bell at the farm entrance rang.

Once.

Twice.

On the third ring, the whole post came flying into the fence.

Crash!

Aileen set down her wine cup and grabbed her spear.

The trees beyond the fence parted left and right.

Sickle-shaped tusks. A bulk that towered over a person. A Blade Wild Boar appeared, drooling thick saliva.

Its gaze wasn't on us.

It was fixed solely on the bread and potato soup on the table.

I shifted the bread to the left.

The boar's head tracked left.

I moved it right.

It followed.

"Security Chief."

"Report."

"Drawn by the scent of our employee benefits package, a job applicant has made an unauthorized entry."

Aileen leveled her sharp spear.

"Looks like the type who needs a brutal pressure interview."

The Blade Wild Boar scraped the ground with its ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠front hooves.

"Well then — shall we hire this one as a field-plowing intern? As for the name…"