Evans (1)
"My lady. It seems we've arrived."
At the maid's words, I pulled myself upright with a groan.
I glanced out the carriage window — the scenery that had been rolling past us endlessly had finally ground to a halt.
We'd finally reached Evans?
This trip had been pure, unfiltered hell.
I never dreamed I'd come to understand the saying "leave your home and suffer like a dog" so deeply and so painfully.
The beds were abysmal.
The food tasted terrible.
I couldn't even bathe properly. My only daily routine, outside of that, was rolling around exactly as Forsell ordered.
But the worst of the worst? The bugs.
No matter how well you prepared, we were still camping with torches lit, weren't we?
Which meant the bugs were inevitably going to come swarming.
And here's the thing — the bugs in this godforsaken fantasy world were somehow even more vicious than the bugs back home.
Just remembering it made my skin crawl.
The moment one of the knights set up a bug-repelling magic circle, all the insects that had been squatting patiently outside its perimeter... you get the idea.
Until now, I'd wondered whether I really needed to learn magic at all.
Once I'd committed to playing a tank, there was no reason to invest in the magic tree.
But this trip changed my mind.
If for no other reason, I needed to learn magic for the sake of a bug-repelling magic circle.
Sure, I could live with it while I was at the Academy — but after graduation I'd be camping until I wanted to die, and just imagining doing that without a repellent ward made me shudder.
Anyway, after two days of that misery, I was thoroughly sick of camping.
Living in worse conditions than military training had left me with zero desire to ever sleep outdoors again.
Today I'd finally get to sleep indoors, right?
We reached the village, so I get a bed here, yes?
Right?
Climbing down from the carriage and peering ahead, I spotted Forsell deep in conversation with the village chief of the Evans region.
We were too far away to catch the words, but both men looked cheerful, so things were probably going smoothly.
"My lady. Did you manage to rest a little?"
I was in the middle of stretching when a voice came from behind me.
It was Carl, hauling a pack roughly twice his own height.
His punishment hadn't ended with last night.
What he'd done was far too serious to be atoned for with a mere day or two of penance.
He had, after all, laid hands on the precious young lady of the family.
So he kept getting dragged off to every miserable chore imaginable.
Night watch? He was always called out first.
Beast attack? He was the first name on the list.
Even in peacetime, he carried most of the knight order's luggage himself.
It was less a knight's life than a slave's.
Having spent the entire journey living like that, he had every reason to look miserable — and yet Carl's face was still bright.
I couldn't understand it.
"My lady?"
A little, I suppose.
"The carriage was garbage, but I got some rest."
I'd actually only climbed into the carriage because I'd passed out from exhaustion after marching alongside the knights outside.
The thing rattled so violently that "resting" was a generous word for it, but at least catching my breath had helped a little.
"And how was the journey? Was it bearable?"
That's what you call a question?
"You call that a question?"
Would you have found it bearable, hmm?
This trip was, without a doubt, the worst journey of my entire life!
It wasn't a trip — it was training camp! Honestly, the winter exercises in the army would have been more comfortable!
...Actually, no, maybe not that far.
Anyway!
If you were expecting a pleasant answer, you're in for a rude awakening!
I am fully capable of complaining about this trip from now until sunset!
"Ahaha. That's only because you rarely leave the estate, my lady. Once you're used to it, all of this becomes easy."
You think time alone makes it easier?
"Loser. You think this gets easier? Maybe that's just because you're an idiot."
Sure, eventually you get used to it.
But that's not "getting easier" — it just becomes slightly less of a living hell.
Getting easier would mean actual progress.
Better suspension on carriages, better camping facilities, better food.
Did he think the passage of time would improve any of that? Not a chance.
Well, fine — give it a loooooooooong while and things probably would get easier.
Say, another three hundred years or so.
By then I'd be old and dead, so it's kind of a moot point, isn't it?
At my barbed reply, Carl averted his eyes.
Apparently he'd been playing along with the banter without actually believing a word of it.
Well, still...
"Still, it should be fine today. I'll get to sleep in a bed."
"A bed? Ah. Well, if it's just you alone, my lady, that should be possible?"
I'm sorry, what?
"Huh? Just me?"
"Yes. We knights are planning to camp near the dungeon."
According to Carl, Evans was large for a village, but apparently it simply couldn't house the knights.
They were the Count family's military might — if a force like that marched into the village, it could terrify the locals.
They hadn't come here to fight or work, just to train, so there was no way they'd inflict themselves on the territory's people. Instead, they seemed to be heading off to camp near the dungeon.
Uh. Hmm. If that's the case, wouldn't it be better for me to camp with them too?
A count's daughter showing up in a village like this would cause its own kind of chaos, no?
But I do need to stop by the village, though?
There's something I have to pick up in Evans.
Ugh, this is a problem.
"You'll be sleeping in the village, my lady."
I whirled around at the voice that had come from absolutely nowhere, and there was Forsell, somehow standing right behind me.
For a man whose every footstep should shake the earth to pull off stealth movement like that — incredible, as expected.
I'm to sleep in the village, sir?
"I'm to sleep in the village?"
"Yes. You've suffered enough camping, so rest comfortably for a night."
Won't that be an inconvenience for the village, though?
"Why would I sleep in some scrub-tier little village?"
The considerate concern I'd tried to voice came out of my mouth as a verbal attack instead, courtesy of the skill.
No, that is not how you phrase it!
I panicked and frantically scanned my surroundings.
In case the village chief of Evans — the man Forsell had just been talking to — happened to be standing nearby.
...Ah. There he was.
Behind Forsell stood the chief, wearing a stiff, frozen smile.
A man of his position would surely love his village dearly, and I'd just called it scrub-tier straight to his face.
How on earth was I supposed to smooth this over?
No — could this even be smoothed over?
...
You know what? So what if it can't.
Like these people would dare lay a finger on a count's daughter over a little slip of the tongue?!
If it bothers you so much, go ahead and start a revolution!
"I'll be counting on you. It's better for the knights this way, too."
Granted, the knights had bent over backwards for me at every campsite so far.
Since I was family to the house they served, they'd gone out of their way to accommodate me.
Wasn't it better to quietly bow out here? That way the knights could finally rest for a night, too.
Wondering if Forsell had a point, I stole a glance at the knights.
Every single one of them, standing ramrod straight, was shaking his head in desperate denial.
What? You'd rather have me along?
For people so quick to read my moods, you all look oddly sincere about this?
Why, though?
"There we go. My lady — follow the village chief, and he'll show you where you'll be staying."
Uh. Understood.
"Fine, fine, I get it."
But when Forsell leaned his brutish face in close and pressed for an answer, I had no choice but to nod.
When a hulking monster like that shoves his face in yours, how are you supposed to refuse?
Okay, yes, I technically outrank him, but you don't argue with a dragon looming over you!
The moment I said I'd sleep in the village, defeat was carved into every knight's face.
What is wrong with you people? What could possibly happen just because I'm not there?
Having secured my consent, Forsell introduced the man standing behind him.
"This is the village chief of Evans."
I know. I've seen him in the game.
He's the guy who hands out a whole pile of trivial little quests.
Not a single one of them was actually important, so he was an NPC I only bothered visiting when I had nothing better to do.
"It is an honor, Lady Lucy, Count's daughter. I am Panata, chief of the village of Evans."
Chief Panata bowed his head deeply, as if unworthy of the moment.
He'd just heard me insult his entire village, and by all rights he should have been furious — yet not a trace of it showed on his face.
Because I was the lady of House Aln, presumably.
Inside, though, he was probably cursing me up and down.
So Lucy Aln really is the arrogant, insufferable brat they say she is.
Ugh. I could practically hear Lucy's reputation crashing into the abyss from here.
"I have come today for the pleasure of attending you, my lady."
I am Lucy Aln. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.
"You know who I am, right? Serve me well, scrub-tier chief."
"Yes. Of course, my lady."
Once again, I thanked my lucky stars I'd started this life as a noble.
If I'd been a commoner or a peasant and talked like this, I'd have been beaten to a pulp ages ago.
The mesugaki's destiny is supposedly a "hard lesson" — and I have zero interest in receiving one, thanks.
"Ah — and one more thing, my lady. Is there a knight you'd like to bring with you?"
A knight?
"A knight?"
"Yes. You'll need an escort."
Ah, right — an escort knight? Fair enough, I do need someone to protect me.
My personal maid would be coming along, but she couldn't exactly serve as a deterrent if something happened.
God forbid anything happened to me — who knows what Benedict would do to these people.
If only to prevent that catastrophe, an escort was necessary.
An escort, hmm. Let me think. If I'm choosing someone to bring, there's really only one answer.
I'll take Carl.
"I'll take this loser off your hands."
I'm sure anyone else would do, but in situations like this you want someone willing to throw his life away for you.
For the sake of his own sworn oath, if nothing else, Carl would hurl himself into the fire without hesitation.
"Carl, you say? The man is currently under house arrest, my lady."
And so...
"And that means no? Idiot Forsell. I said to bring whoever you wanted to bring, didn't I? You told me to pick."
Forsell studied my face as if troubled by something, then finally shrugged his shoulders.
"I suppose there's no harm in it. Take him, then."
*
In Soul Academy, the village of Evans was never a particularly important place.
Its entire reason for existing was the dungeon nearby and a handful of hidden elements. Once you'd collected those, the village had essentially nothing left to offer.
Which is why, even as the chief explained the village to me, I wasn't really listening.
Why would I care about a village I had no intention of ever visiting again once I'd found the mace in the dungeon?
"Welcome, Lady Lucy, Count's daughter! Welcome to Evans!"
But the moment I set foot in the village, I realized I'd been making one mistake.
Children chasing each other around near the village entrance, shrieking with laughter.
People idly chatting beside the well.
Men and women sweating as they went about their work.
These were not the blank, motionless NPCs standing in place inside a game.
They were people living out their own lives, each and every one of them.
Of course. This was the world of a game — but it was reality all the same.
As I stood there staring blankly at the scene, the villagers caught sight of my face and began dropping to their knees, one after another.
Huh? What's gotten into them?
Why are they scared? What did I even do?
Chief, what's wrong with everyone?
"Panata. What's gotten into everyone?"
"My deepest apologies, my lady! If we have displeased your eyes, then—!"
When the chief bellowed a reply to my question, the small undercurrent of fear swelled into something larger and began seeping through the crowd.
Watching people press their foreheads into the dirt with faces drained white, I found myself regretting ever coming here.
Just what had they been told about Lucy Aln, to react like this?!