Chapter 24
Chapter 24
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: The War Hero Becomes a Fairy Godmother (1)
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I asked for her three sizes.
And.
"Here you go. I'll write them down for you."
Surprisingly enough, I got Diela Arsin's three sizes from her without much resistance.
"Wh-what is that?! Such vulgar talk?! Are you trying to take advantage of my situation to learn my body measurements? You pervert!!"
...Nothing like that came out of her mouth—the kind of response you'd expect from any young lady her age.
I had been prepared to reply immediately with something like, "If you won't tell me your measurements, I can't make proper reference for crafting your dress," but I didn't need to.
"The war with the Empire is far too brutal for me to worry about such feminine details."
Princess Sylvia had once said something like that.
Even on the battlefield, there were certain things a woman had to care about to some extent. When I asked if she needed any consideration for that, she'd given me that answer.
The situation was so dire and desperate that she had to ignore even those aspects of her femininity, enduring the discomfort just to survive.
For Diela, the shame of revealing her three sizes to me wasn't important.
Even if it was, there was something far more important.
Proof of her trust in me.
That proof was the note with her three sizes now tucked into my inner pocket, right next to the key that could open a certain room.
The armory.
The only place the baron had entrusted solely to Diela before collapsing.
If I had to explain why it was the armory of all places, it was because that's where she could secure the funds to make her dress right now.
"Mother and my sisters couldn't touch the armory. Father was a former mercenary, so they were interested, but since I had the key, they couldn't get in."
Even though the baroness had seized control of everything in the family after the baron fell, she hadn't managed to take this one place he'd left to his daughter.
They'd probably tried sneaking in through some hole or using a spare key.
But the armory had thick walls, and Diela had the only key.
She even said it had alarm magic set on it, so trying to break in through a hole would trigger a loud alert.
In other words.
Even if the baroness and her two daughters had sold off every treasure in the Arsin Barony to buy jewels and dresses, the armaments in the armory were still unsold.
"Yuri. If you find something valuable-looking in the armory, take it and go see Butler Albert. If you contact the territory's merchants through him, you should be able to secure enough for one dress."
I had a lot to say about Diela's plan, but I decided to follow her instructions obediently.
I had no idea how valuable the armaments inside were.
I couldn't be sure Butler Albert would cooperate.
And buying a dress with money from selling used armaments from the Arsin Barony would be difficult in itself.
Above all, it was questionable if anyone would even buy them properly.
'She has zero experience in noble infighting.'
Diela was struggling alone, racking her brains desperately to survive, but she was still innocent and didn't know the world well.
Would the nobles of the Senderan Duchy really just sit back and watch a noble house get infiltrated by an outside mercenary band like this?
Did they think it was none of their business, watching from afar like it was a fire across the river?
Would Marquis Glasion's house—her mother's bloodline—really have no interest at all, just thinking, "Oh, that family's falling apart"?
No way.
Having lived as a noble in the Grates Kingdom, I knew better than anyone the pride nobles took in their status and their peculiar mindset.
'Nobles will tear each other down and fight among themselves, but if a commoner sides with one, they all band together to crush that commoner.'
Nobles have unparalleled pride in being the privileged class.
So even if they're feuding with another noble, if that noble is attacked by some commoner, they'll go after the commoner.
Angry that their rival was attacked?
No.
Angry that a noble—the same class as them—was attacked.
That's why they wouldn't just stand by while someone uses war merits as an excuse to join a noble house and swallows it whole when the noble head mysteriously collapses from illness.
"How dare lowly commoners try to devour a noble house using the war— they've gotten too bold!"
"I don't care if the Arsin family falls, but it's disgusting to see vermin kill a noble and wear his skin to play noble!"
"Who do these non-nobles by birth think they are, clinking champagne glasses at a ball?!"
That's what nobles are like.
When I first became a knight and received my title—even after I'd already killed an Imperial Swordmaster (a man)—some nobles in the Grates Kingdom looked down on me.
Of course, most of them died in the war or were assassinated later, vanishing into the dustbin of history, but that mindset permeates not just Grates but the entire Europa continent.
In a world like that, a noble house is under attack, yet the duchy does nothing?
Because the duchy is weaker than a kingdom?
Or because it's just a barony?
No.
The mainstream nobles of the Senderan Duchy desperately want the Arsin Barony—whose noble bloodline has its patriarch in a suspicious coma and youngest daughter powerless—to be devoured by outside forces.
Why?
I'll find out soon enough.
High chance I'll learn it this time.
Because the moment I left Diela's room, I was being tailed.
Thud.
Before I knew it, I was in front of the armory.
"Hey, you there. Halt."
The moment I reached into my inner pocket to pull out the key and insert it into the slot, a voice called from behind.
"Oi, you. I said halt."
I pulled out the key and slotted it in.
"Hey! Can't you hear me? You there!"
I twisted the key, and a magic circle flashed on the armory's iron door, unlocking the mechanisms connected to it.
"Hey!! Are you deaf?!"
"Who are you talking to?"
I turned around, key still in the lock.
"Don't make a racket. This is the Arsin Barony. It's not a marketplace where the likes of you can shout like a peddler."
"Wh-what did you say?!"
The man yelling to the end was a burly, bearded middle-aged type you could find in any mercenary guild.
The notable thing was the turquoise armband on his left arm, marking him as part of the Arsin Barony.
"......."
I knew what it was.
The symbol of belonging to the Arsin Barony.
One of the mercenaries the baroness had brought in—a subordinate of hers.
In short, one of the thugs forcibly suppressing this barony with brute force.
I didn't particularly look down on mercenaries, but these were rough types who’d rub shoulders anywhere for coin.
"You, don't you know what this is? Ah, right, amnesia. Yeah, this proves I'm a 'knight' of the Arsin Barony!"
"A knight?"
"That's right! A knight! Call me Sir Mastin!"
"......A knight?"
I quickly sized up the bearded man calling himself Mastin.
Apart from the mana everyone has, I checked if he could wield it as his own.
"You? A knight?"
"Yeah! I'm a knight! A knight recognized by the Senderan Duchy!"
Why boast about being a knight to someone with amnesia?
Probably to bolster his own pride and implicitly pressure me.
'Not just all talk.'
Not talented or skilled enough for formal knighthood, but a veteran mercenary who could kill a novice knight with mind games and ambushes.
The reason he was picking a fight with me, full of caution, was simple.
'Because their boss got her wrist snapped by me.'
Me subduing the baroness.
She was a powerhouse in their mercenary band—likely the undisputed leader—so they were wary of me.
Maybe they'd warned their underlings beforehand since they thought I was a "knight with amnesia."
At least they weren't swinging swords on sight like thieves' guild thugs, so they had some sense.
"You? A knight?"
"What... did you say?"
Wary or not, once hooked by provocation, they were useless.
"A half-baked guy who can't even properly infuse his sword with aura calls himself a knight? Do they hand out 'knight' titles to any street rat these days?"
"Y-you bastard...!"
"Or does just wearing that armband make you a knight? Interesting. Even with my amnesia, I still have a feel for what a knight is..."
I slipped one hand behind my back and extended the other forward.
"First, let's gauge the caliber of the bottom rung who dub themselves knights in this country. Come at me, Sir Mustang."
"Wha—! I'm Mastin!!"
"Oh, that was the name? My apologies."
Too bad.
"No need to remember the name of some upstart wearing a title he doesn't deserve."
The only faces and names I bother remembering precisely are those of the women I've embraced.