Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: The War Hero Becomes a Fairy Godmother (3)
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A knight is a being who wields mana.
Here, wielding mana brings tremendous merit to humans.
Mana is the source of power that allows humans to directly confront demons or monsters—the miracle that makes it possible.
To draw a comparison, though the genre differs, one who has awakened mana is like a 'superhuman' or 'martial artist,' set apart from ordinary folk.
The power to turn a single human into a super soldier.
That was the definition of a knight in this world until twelve years ago.
The war changed that concept.
During the war, countless knights were slain by the Empire's Magic Artillery Weapons.
Imagine how grueling the training must have been for those knights who served as retainers for over a decade, earning their knighthood, and living to serve their noble houses.
Having rolled through the battlefield myself for twelve years, undergoing compressed training firsthand, I knew full well just how arduous the path to becoming a knight truly was.
Yet if a knight falls to a single 'click' from a musket loaded with a mana stone bullet from the Empire's Magic Artillery Weapons?
The era diminished the value of knights.
The Empire's magic rifles emerged from the age of cold weapons.
Just as the medieval age of knights gave way to guns and cannons with the invention of gunpowder, the Alliance Kingdoms were utterly defenseless against the kingdoms they faced.
There were two ways to hold out against the Empire.
One was to seize their weapons by any means and turn their magic rifles against them.
If even a peasant could drop a knight with one trigger pull, it meant their weapons could be used just as easily on our side.
Those who captured Empire magic rifles and racked up achievements were rewarded by the various nations with medals and titles.
The other way... was to withstand mana bullet fire with overwhelming mana.
A mana bullet was ultimately a magic missile with the substance of a mana stone.
With enough physical force to endure the mana stone bullet and sufficient mana, you could tank as many shots as they fired.
The knights who survived the twelve-year war were mostly of the latter sort.
I was one of them.
So.
"Weak."
"Guh...!"
The ones charging at me now, claiming to be knights, weren't knights in the strict sense.
"My memories are jumbled, so I can't say for sure, but you're no knights."
"Shut your mouth! You don't even know how we became knights!"
One of the Baroness's lackeys, whose wrist I'd twisted to pin his arm, screamed at me in rage.
His outburst was fueled by genuine fury, but whether he raged or not made no difference to me.
"Do I need to know? I don't concern myself with those weaker than me."
Except for beautiful women.
"Guh, you arrogant...!"
The mercenary calling me arrogant pointed accusingly, then pulled his hand back.
It wasn't that he'd noticed something—it was instinctive fear that his finger might snap under my gaze.
"One question. Why are you so obsessed with this armory?"
"What?"
"This is under the Young Lady's management. No one enters without her permission."
I pointed to the key embedded in the armory door.
"I'll not let intruders pass. Nor thieves peeking inside. This is the Arsin Barony, after all..."
"In the Arsin Barony, shouldn't you follow the Baron's will?"
The man gripping my shoulder shouted.
He was the one I'd lightly smacked on the shoulder with my knuckles; his eyes bloodshot, he jabbed toward the mansion above.
"The Arsin Barony is currently under the Baroness's full authority! Her orders—"
"Do her orders supersede the Baron's?"
"......!"
Every thug before me was clearly a mercenary.
Even a single tumble on the battlefield engrains the importance of the chain of command, especially for mercenaries, where hierarchy is brutally enforced by differences in strength.
"The Baron is laid low right now!"
"Before he fell, the Baron issued an order. He entrusted the armory to the Young Lady."
"Kuh...!"
"If you want in, fulfill one of two conditions. Get the Young Lady's permission, or fetch it from the Baron himself."
Both impossible, of course.
"Naturally, no knight would bully or threaten her into letting you inspect the armory. If a knight disregards his house's lady—"
"Right?"
As we stood off, two women emerged from among the men.
Even inside the mansion, they wore lavish dresses and bore a striking resemblance to the Baroness.
"And you two are...?"
"I'm Jasmine. This is Rosmarin. The eldest and second daughters of the Arsin Barony."
"......."
Dresses that bared their legs and clung tightly to their hips.
The upper body was so-so, but the lower half seemed confident—or perhaps the lack of volume up top made the bottom stand out relatively more.
"My ladies."
It wasn't bad enough to look away from, so I stood politely before the armory door and offered them a formal bow.
"Sister, just as..."
"Mother said."
The sisters whispered to each other at my greeting.
Close enough to hear everything, but they must have concluded their guess about my identity was spot on.
A 'formal knight' from a foreign land with amnesia.
To the Arsin Barony, not some soldier who earned merits with a magic rifle 'click,' but a true knight who directly manipulates mana and channels Aura into his blade.
Facing such a being, after their minions charged in yelling 'Let us see the armory!' only to get floored, dialogue was their only option.
'Familiar pattern.'
The war with the Empire always played out like this.
They'd try brute force to subdue me, fail, then send women to devour me.
"Hehe, you're strong. What should we call you?"
"The Young Lady named me 'Yuri,' so Yuri will do."
"Oh, Diela did...?"
"Yes."
"I see. Then, Yuri?"
The classic honey trap unfolding right before me.
"Shall we have some tea first and talk?"
"My apologies."
I retrieved the key, cracked open the door to the armory, and stepped inside.
"Diela is waiting for me."
"W-wait—"
Kiiiek.
I shut the door and locked it from within.
A typical warehouse shape, no lights inside, but this level of darkness posed no issue for me.
"What the hell, that lunatic...!"
"He just ignored us?"
The sisters' incredulous laughs echoed from beyond the locked door.
But I was the one who wanted to laugh.
'Why would I even talk to them?'
Biologically female, and they'd suffer less in childbirth later—fair enough to call them women.
Among women in this rural backwater duchy, they were decent.
But I'd seen countless beauties across kingdoms, the Empire, the entire continent—a battle-hardened man who'd sampled every flower.
A dandelion or two by the roadside wouldn't catch my eye.
And here, smack in the middle of the field, was a ripe watermelon. How could I pass it by?
In the kingdoms or Empire—where ranking women is wrong, but they do it anyway—the Empire classifies women by whether they can seduce Hans Wilhelm into bed as 'S-rank' beauties.
Such a watermelon was suffering.
And to claim that watermelon—
"Ahem."
Not some beastly urge to grab it or bury my face in it.
This was purely the righteous chivalry of a knight, happening by after the armistice to rescue an unfortunate noble lady from misfortune.
But.
"Hmm."
Sweeping my gaze over the pitch-black armory interior, a chill ran down my spine for a moment.
"Well, now."
The armory.
For a baronial house, it should hold swords or armor at most.
"Wow."
An exclamation escaped me as the weapons began reacting to the key in my hand, slowly emitting light.
"No wonder a mere mercenary band is trying to seize the barony."
An armory stores weapons, but weapons have types and grades.
"To think this would be here."
"...That man named Yuri the butler went into the armory?"
"Yes, Vice Captain."
Vice Captain Jackson of the mercenary band swept his gaze over his bruise-covered subordinates as he received the report.
"And when the young ladies tried talking to him, he ignored them completely and just went in?"
"Yes."
"...He's head over heels for Diela, that's for sure. Ha."
Vice Captain Jackson scratched his head furiously in exasperation.
"When the young ladies start throwing hysterics, it's game over. Damn it. What the hell is that guy thinking?"
"I... wouldn't know."
"Yeah? Me neither. Not like some 'I only obey beauties I fancy' type."
"......Right?"
The subordinate rubbed his throbbing jaw cautiously.
"Maybe he's from the Empire? And figured out what's in that armory."
"Shh. Quiet. We can't let that slip."
Vice Captain Jackson signaled his man to hush, then glanced toward the armory, guarded by the two women and mercenary band members.
"We absolutely cannot let it get out that Empire magic defense gear is stored here."
"Found it."
One of the Empire's Magic Artillery Weapons.
Magic armor.
No mana core inside, but slot one in, and its defense skyrockets.
The reason for its design—not heavy plate like the Amazonian Knights, but like a female character skin from some 19+ fantasy game—was simple.
'Because of Hans Wilhelm.'
Exposure proportional to defense, directly tied to survivability.
"This is the real dress armor."