Chapter 9: Dogora, Son of the Weapons Merchant

Snow fell gently from the sky. It was now December. There were no more albaherons flying in the sky, as they had all finished migrating. Before then, however, Allen had managed to hunt six more of them for a total of sixteen. He had then finished butchering them all, and the tax collector had come the other day to collect their feathers and magic stones together with sixty percent of the family’s potato harvest.

The village chief did not have to collect taxes in person, so it was another villager who had showed up with the cart. Although he had heard the rumors of Allen capturing albaherons, he was surprised to find out just how many there actually were.

There were now 150 kilograms of meat hanging out in the garden to dry. The first ten kilograms were already fully preserved.

“You ready, Allen?”

“Yes, Mr. Gerda.”

Today, the two of them were going to the residential area to buy firewood and salt.

Firewood was an absolute necessity for getting through the cold winter. Normally, Rodin would, after every hunt, immediately trade in a portion of great boar meat he received for some firewood. That way, there would always be a certain amount within the house. This year, however, because Rodin got hurt, the family had not purchased any new firewood within the past two months.

Similarly, their salt reserves were also scraping bottom. Firewood was quite readily available, as it was sourced from the surrounding forest by the village’s woodcutters who chopped down trees in the surrounding forest. Salt, however, had to be brought to the village from faraway sources by traveling merchants. During years when few traveling merchants came and supplies dwindled, the price of salt would rise. As such, it was common sense for families to stock up whenever possible.

Today was the day when Gerda would teach Allen how to purchase goods. Because they did not have carts, the two had to attach everything onto racks that they would then shoulder. The one currently on Allen’s back was loaded with ten blocks of albaheron—one kilogram each—all of which he planned on bartering for firewood and salt.

Theresia waved her hand as she saw her son off, Rodin standing next to her. He had gotten much better in the month and a half since the incident. Although he could stand and walk without much issue now, going to the village center required two whole hours of walking, plus the return journey would require lugging home a heavy load. He was not quite well enough to do this just yet, so Allen offered to go instead. By now Rodin knew better than to say no and simply asked Gerda to accompany him.

Gerda had likely heard about what Allen had revealed to his parents, but the way he treated the boy remained largely the same. He already had an inkling that the boy was someone special, so he took the revelation in stride.

“Are the commoners still in the hunting party, Mr. Gerda?”

Allen had started speaking to Gerda more respectfully because of how much the man had taught him about farming and how much he had taken care of Allen’s family in general. In fact, he spoke to Gerda even more courteously than he did his own parents.

“Mm? Why the question all of a sudden?”

“Nothing much. I was just curious.”

Because it would take a whole hour to reach the village center, Allen tried striking up a conversation. Gerda had an easygoing and straightforward personality and would generally answer whatever Allen asked.

“Nah, they never came again after that one time, and Deboji hasn’t said anything either. Which means it’s probably only us serfs for the rest of the year.”

“I see.”

“Mm.”

A part of Allen wondered if this was because the commoners had been scared away by the experience. However, he put the thought out of mind, as this question was only the conversational starter. He promptly moved on to the real topic.

“By the way, what’s the difference between being a commoner and a serf?”

“What’s this out of the blue? Go ask Rodin.”

“Can you imagine how awkward that would be?”

It would be akin to Allen telling his parents that he did not want to be a serf anymore, although that was the truth. Even though the reason for the question was his desire to help raise his whole family out of serfdom, his parents would still be shocked, to put it mildly. He had no one else to ask aside from Gerda.

Gerda vigorously scratched his head and sighed heavily, but still proceeded to answer Allen’s question. To sum up his explanation, the biggest difference between serfs and commoners was how they were taxed. Serfs were taxed sixty percent of everything they produced, be it through hunting, farming, or any other means. Commoners, on the other hand, were taxed per head. Each adult was taxed three gold coins, and each child was taxed one gold coin. This tax was collected on an annual basis.

I see, so our family would be taxed based on the four of us, which comes to a total of eight gold coins each year. After mother gives birth again next year, that number is going to go up even higher.

“Hmm... Since we’re on the topic, how can a serf become a commoner?”

“If I remember correctly, you can pay ten gold coins. Ah, I’ve also heard of cases where the feudal lord granted someone commoner status as reward for some achievement. I don’t know how true those stories are, though.”

So the buyout price is the same for both adults and children. My family would need a total of 50 gold coins, then.

“Thank you, Mr. Gerda. Uh, please don’t tell anyone I asked you about this.”

“You know I won’t,” Gerda scoffed while tousling Allen’s hair.

Eventually, the pair reached the commercial district of the village, where the road was lined by stores on both sides.

“First is the salt. The firewood’s heavy, so it comes after,” Gerda explained as he pushed through the Western-style swing doors.

Allen replied, “Yes, sir,” and followed along behind.

The inside of the store was basically just a counter in front of shelves lined with bottles presumably filled with salt and other spices along the back wall. There were no items on display in the storefront, likely due to the costly nature of the goods handled here.

Gerda, who was here today to do his own trading on top of showing Allen the ropes, walked straight up to the counter and simply said, “Exchanging meat for salt.”

There was no haggling. The sour-faced storekeeper asked what kind, and Gerda told him it was great boar. The former asked to see the meat, so the latter placed the goods on the counter. The storekeeper used what looked like a scale to measure the weight of the large block of meat, then said simply, “Twelve scoops.”

“That’ll do,” Gerda replied, handing over a small wooden box.

The shopkeeper accepted it and used what looked like a wooden tablespoon to scoop salt from a large urn he had into Gerda’s box.

“Go on, confirm it.”

Gerda accepted his box back and shook it lightly. Then he opened the lid back up, dipped the fingertip of his pinky inside, and licked the granules stuck to his finger.

“Mm, confirmed,” he said gruffly before tying the box up with rope and returning it to his chest pocket.

Seeing that Gerda was done, Allen stepped up to copy what he just saw. He said, “Albaheron meat,” then placed five blocks onto the counter. The shopkeeper roused a little upon hearing the unfamiliar name, but then returned to wordlessly weighing the meat. Allen waited for him to finish, somewhat worried about being turned away.

Eventually, the shopkeeper said, “Ten scoops.”

“Albaheron is worth less than great boar?”

“Huh? It’s the same.”

In other words, Allen had simply brought less than Gerda did. He obediently handed his wooden box over, and the shopkeeper filled it. After confirming the salt the same way Gerda did, Allen tied his box up and, because it would not fit in the front of his clothes, cinched it around his waist with a rope.

Next, the pair headed for the general store, which sold fruit, wheat, beans, potatoes, and other similar things that farmers would want to barter with each other for. The fruit, however, was special in that it had been brought to this village by a traveling merchant, as there was no orchard in this village.

The old lady who minded the counter in this store turned out to be very friendly. Here Gerda exchanged one block of meat for four molmos, then Allen did the same using a block of albaheron meat.

The salt merchant was just...salty. Ha ha...never mind. Ahem. Everything so far implies that meat from the Rank C great boar and meat from the Rank D albaheron are assigned the same value. Is this how it’s supposed to be?

Allen had assumed that the higher ranked the meat, the more it would be worth. He had therefore brought more than he thought would be necessary, just in case. As it turned out, however, his fears had been unfounded.

There were no pigs or chickens in the village, as far as Allen knew. In other words, no one was raising or breeding livestock—the only animals inside the walls were the horses that pulled carts. Is meat valuable just on the basis of being meat, regardless of what creature it comes from?

Naturally, Allen had been writing down his observations so far, such as the various merchants’ attitudes, the location of each store, and the value of products. Next time, he would be coming by himself. It was going to remain cold until March, which meant he would need to make multiple trips until he eventually gathered a total of three months’ worth of firewood. How much he could carry each trip was limited.

The firewood merchant had stationed himself in front of a large warehouse. The crack through the door revealed piles and piles of firewood stacked within.

After Gerda showed him how it was done, Allen handed over one block of meat and received four bundles of firewood in return. The wood in each bundle was around a meter long, and one entire bundle weighed around fifteen kilograms. This was enough to last a household one day if the fireplace was not kept lit all day long. Economizing while the sun was up was crucial to cutting costs.

Allen began tying the firewood to his shoulder rack. The firewood merchant was a taciturn and gruff man, but even he could not help but be concerned. After all, four bundles together added up to a total of sixty kilograms. He approached Allen to tell him not to overdo it, but then stopped dead in astonishment as the boy shouldered the rack and stood up as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

With that, Allen and Gerda turned to make their way home, paying the firewood merchant no mind. Now Allen knew how to barter for what his family would need in the coming winter.

＊ ＊ ＊

Two days after Allen had secured the first four days’ worth of firewood, he was back at the village center for another round of bartering. Because Krena came in the afternoons, his plan was to do these shopping trips in the morning every second or third day.

Rodin and Theresia had given him complete discretion on how to spend the meat from all sixteen albaherons. Last time, he had used some to bring home molmo fruits and they had not said anything. While watching Mash happily eat his portion, Allen thought about how he could provide a more nutritious diet for his pregnant mother.

Allen packed ten blocks of meat—totaling ten kilograms—onto his rack and put on a thick pair of shoes woven from wheat straw. These shoes were supposed to keep his feet warmer, but melted snow would still soak through. The hemp outfit he was wearing had been worn quite thin as well, so honestly, it was still really cold out.

An hour later, he arrived at the commercial district. The villagers referred to it as a district, but it was really only a few merchants’ stores huddled together.

Since I’m alone today, I can take my time exploring.

First, Allen walked into the salt merchant’s store. The amount that he had purchased last time was far from enough, as he needed to build up a stock. Same as before, the merchant accepted his five blocks of meat and weighed them wordlessly.

Soon, he gave the same assessment. “Ten scoops.”

“Yes, please,” Allen replied, passing over his box.

The man accepted it and transferred salt over using his large spoon.

“Thank you,” Allen said, checking and then putting the box away. “By the way, how much would this be in money?”

“Hm? Five silvers.”

All right, noting that down.

The next place Allen went to was the general store. He was leaving the firewood merchant for last, just as he had been taught, as the firewood would be heavy and bulky.

“Can I trade meat for fruit please?”

“Sure thing. Which fruit do you want?”

Allen looked around and pointed at a yellow peach-like fruit that he had never seen before. “What’s that?”

“That’s popo. It’s pretty expensive, kid. I can only give you one in exchange for a block of meat.”

Oof, yeah, that’s expensive. Guess I’ll just stick to molmo after all. “I see. Then just the molmo, please.”

Despite his insistence on this being for Mash’s sake, Allen also had quite the sweet tooth himself. He could not very well go home without some fruit.

“By the way, how much would these be if I used money?”

The friendly old lady who tended this store readily answered a few more questions from Allen. He jotted down her answers alongside the observations that he had made on his previous trip.

These Things Are All the Same Value:

One block of albaheron meat (around 1 kg)

Two tablespoons of salt (around 30 g)

Four molmos

One popo

Four days’ worth of firewood (around 60 kg)

The reason why fruit and salt were so expensive was because they had to be brought to town by traveling merchants. The storekeeper of the general store also taught Allen about the currencies in use, so he noted that information down as well.

These Things Are All the Same Value:

1 gold coin

100 silver coins

1,000 copper coins

10,000 iron coins

Allen was looking into the market prices of products and the currency of this country because it was his goal to make his entire family commoners. According to Gerda, this would require fifty gold coins total.

Based on the salt merchant’s answer, one kilogram of albaheron meat is worth one silver coin. Each albaheron gives me about ten kilograms of meat, which means I’ll only need to hunt five hundred albaherons. If I really go ham with hunting starting in October next year, I can probably earn the fifty gold coins in a few years.

Back when he was Kenichi, Allen had hunted a countless number of monsters in games. For a hardcore gamer, five hundred mobs was nothing. Depending on the specific game, he had even been killing tens of thousands every hour.

After having gotten a general idea of market prices in this village, Allen headed toward the firewood merchant. However, he spotted a drug store and a weapons store on his way. What looked like medicinal herbs could be seen through the open doors of the former. Allen had not been able to check it out the other day, as he had been following Gerda, but he was now alone and free to make whatever detours he wanted. He decided to take a look inside, his curiosity piqued.

“Excuse me.”

“Mm, welcome.”

There was a large variety of grasses and roots all over the interior of the store. The shopkeeper here, seated at the far end, was an old woman quite advanced in years.

“Um, do you have any medicine to help recover MP?”

“Spare me if you’re just here to jeer, boy. There’s no way we’d have something that expensive for sale.”

As it turned out, the herbs being sold at this store were only on the level of lowering fevers and making poultices to bandage wounds with.

“I see.” Hmm, so medicine to recover MP does exist but is very expensive. Guess I can’t expect to get my hands on any until I manage to acquire a steady, sizable income somehow.

The first time he fought with an albaheron, Allen had lost a lot of Summons during the fight itself. Every time another one got done in, not only did he lose a fighter, he also lost the stat buffs that the Summon’s card gave him. Because of the way his class worked, if he was ever facing an opponent strong enough to take down his Summons, the longer the fight went on, the less possible it would be for him to recover. This was why he was interested in items or potions that could help recover MP.

Even though Allen continued to examine and ask about various other things on display, and even though he was a six-year-old boy who clearly did not have much money, the shopkeeper showed no intention of chasing him out.

It was the same with the firewood and the salt merchants. They’re probably all commoners, but I don’t get the feeling like they’re giving me the cold shoulder just because I’m a serf.

“Which one is the medicine used for poultices?”

The old lady curtly jerked her chin. “Those, over there.”

Allen closely examined the dried herbs in the indicated area, wondering if most people were just curt and gruff in this world.

Hmm, I’ve never tried this before, but can I add images to the memo pages?

On the spur of the moment, Allen mentally tried to impress an image of the dried herbs into his grimoire. To his surprise, what looked like a pencil sketch appeared on the page.

Nice, it worked! I guess you never know till you try.

Up to now, Allen had been using the memo function of his grimoire for noting down results from his experiments, working out hypotheses, journaling, and keeping record of his memories from his previous world. Now he had learned that he could also use it to keep images of things. Just in case, he went around taking “pictures” of all the other herbs too.

Although his movement was greatly restricted at the moment due to him being a serf, once he gained his freedom, he could go in search of all these herbs in person.

Just as Allen was mentally sorting out which plants were medicinal, the one that had saved Rodin’s life suddenly came to his mind. He asked, “By the way, do you have a Flower of Muellerze here?”

“What?! Of course I don’t! Even if I did, I’d make you pay full price!”

Allen flinched slightly at the shopkeeper’s sudden outburst. “Um, I’m sorry...?” he asked in a confused tone.

“Ah, no, I should be the one to apologize. I just had a terrible experience with one.”

This is the place where Gerda bought the Flower of Muellerze that saved father, right? What happened?

Curious, Allen asked about what happened one and a half months ago. According to the shopkeeper, the man named Gerda rushed into her store and desperately begged her to sell him the most effective medicine she had for wounds. She fetched the single Flower of Muellerze she had in stock and told him it was worth five gold coins. When he heard that, the man begged her to sell it for three gold and promised to bring the money the next day.

The man did not look like someone who would have three gold coins, but he prostrated himself in the store, going on and on about saving his close friend’s life. What’s more, he promised to turn himself into a debt slave if he failed to bring the money the next day. In the end, the storekeeper folded and agreed to let him have the flower for three gold coins payable the next day. Sure enough, Gerda kept his word.

“The problem is, the herb could have easily fetched more than five gold in the feudal lord’s city. I was planning on selling it to the next traveling merchant who came to town. I lost out big time on that deal.”

The old woman continued repeating that she had lost out. When Allen nodded and indicated that he understood where she was coming from, she emphasized once again that even if she had one in stock at the moment, she would refuse to sell it for any price less than five gold.

Seeing that the story was over, Allen lowered his shoulder rack, grabbed a block of meat, and placed it on the counter.

“Hm? Which herb are you trading for?”

“I’m not trading. That’s for you.”

“What do you mean?” The old woman frowned in puzzlement, making her wrinkled face even wrinklier.

“Because you sold the flower at a discount, my father’s life was saved. This is thanks from me. Thank you very, very much.”

The shopkeeper looked on with an astonished face as Allen bowed deeply. After this day, whenever he came to the commercial district to shop, he would always make sure to drop by the drug store and leave another block of meat. The third time he did this, the old woman told him that was enough.

After leaving the drug store, Allen continued his exploration of the commercial district, the touching story of the close friendship between Rodin and Gerda still fresh in his mind.

Hmm, next door is a weapons store.

Although he had no plans to do so, Allen decided to drop in anyway. He ducked inside and called out, “Excuse me,” but no reply came. Apparently this was the kind of store where the storekeeper would not answer. The man himself was sitting in the back, though.

Wait, isn’t he the father of the Ax User kid?

This man had been sitting at the same table as Allen during the feast at the village chief’s house. As it turned out, he was the village’s weapons merchant. Although he was not saying anything, he was staring right at Allen. It did not look like he had anything particular that he wanted to say, though, so Allen decided to ignore the gaze and browse the store.

I’d thought this was a weapons store, but it looks like it’s also a hardware store. There are things like pots and carvers on sale.

This was a tiny settlement which had only barely received official acknowledgment as a full-fledged village. That was probably why this weapons store had stocked such a large variety of goods. It was similar to how convenience stores in rural Japan also sold locally produced vegetables.

I’m in no hurry, but it might be time to consider using something better than wooden swords.

The main reason why Allen had walked in was to find an upgrade to the weapon he was using to hunt albaherons. A few wooden swords had snapped on him so far, so he always made sure to bring a spare. However, sometimes he would not be able to draw in time, and therefore had to resort to using his bare hands to strangle his prey to death.

“How much is this short sword?”

“Fifty silver.”

Unbeknownst to Allen, he was actually quite well-known throughout the village as Rodin’s son. Rodin and Gerda had spearheaded the serfs’ great boar hunting efforts from the village’s very founding. This effectively made the two of them authorities among the serfs. And considering how seventy percent of the population in this village were serfs, that was quite a lot of influence.

Normally, a six-year-old boy in worn-out clothes asking the prices of weapons would come across as messing around. However, due to his connection to Rodin, the weapons merchant answered his questions earnestly.

I see. I picked this up because I thought it looked the cheapest here, but it’s still fifty silver. In other words, it’s worth five albaherons.

“How about a simple iron bar the size of this wooden sword? How much would that be?” Allen asked, pointing to the weapon at his waist.

“Hm, twenty silvers.”

Oof, it’s still quite expensive. That’s still two albaherons.

Allen wanted to improve his gear, but he could not do so just for the sake of self-satisfaction. The albaheron meat was, at the end of the day, to be used for the entire family. And so he gave up and left the weapons store.

All right, it doesn’t look like there’s anything else for me to check out. Let’s get the firewood and go home.

“Oh, you’re the kid from last time. Firewood again?”

Did he remember me from last time? “Yes, please. Here is the meat.”

Once again, Allen tied sixty kilograms of firewood to his shoulder rack and stood up easily. He bowed courteously to the merchant who went, “You really are something, kid,” then headed home. There were quite a lot of people out and about, as it was currently around ten o’clock in the morning. They all stared at the boy who was carrying firewood several times his weight.

As he continued walking, paying no mind to all the attention he was drawing, Allen suddenly found his way blocked by a familiar face. It was the boy with the country bumpkin face, Dogora.

“You really came! What are you here for, Black Hair?!”

Dogora had likely heard from his father, the weapons merchant, that Allen had come to the village center. Perhaps he considered this part of his turf, judging by how he seemed to be picking a fight.

“Hm? To buy firewood,” Allen answered coolly, trying to walk past Dogora and making it clear he had no intention of engaging with him.

“Hey, don’t ignore me! You running away?!” Dogora used the palm of his hand to push Allen’s chest, taking issue with the other boy’s attitude.

Allen backed away a few steps and readjusted the firewood on his back to regain his balance. “What’re you doing?”

“You can’t pass here!” Dogora declared with a wide smirk, convinced of his victory by Allen’s nonresistance. “I’ll let you pass only if you become my henchman.”

In response, Allen wordlessly went to lower his rack at the side of the road, out of the way of passersby. He recalled back to when he was gaming as Kenichi. At the time, he was somewhat famous among the gaming forums. Despite having a full-time job, it was not uncommon for people to refer to him as a gaming addict in comments. Normally “gaming addict” was a title reserved for those who had truly given over every aspect of their entire life to gaming. There were some who disagreed, but the general opinion was that normies who were plugged into real society—such as by being properly employed—could not earn this title.

Kenichi’s playstyle had been straightforward and simple: to get stronger, he would forge better weapons and kill higher-level mobs. He had zero interest in gathering unnecessary collectibles or training crafting skills that had no bearing on fighting strength. He also ignored all seasonal and holiday in-game events.

This of course meant that he did not care for PVP, or player-versus-player fights. He would not get XP—which meant he would not get stronger—from defeating other players. Therefore, his preferred opponents were monsters, not players. However, being famous meant he was subjected to “fame tax,” a term that referred to how those who were in the public spotlight would attract unwanted attention.

When Kenichi’s in-game character went out to hunt, he would get attacked by “player killers,” players who specifically hunted other players. Some did it for fun, some did it to steal people’s equipment, and some for other reasons.

Kenichi’s chosen response to those who hunted him was to beat them at their own game. He did not care if they were middle schoolers, housewives, or so-called “e-girls.” He killed every last person who got in the way of his grinding.

Seeing Allen lowering his rack, Dogora asked, “Oh? You really want to be my henchman?”

“You seriously think that?” Allen responded, drawing the wooden sword from his hip. He held it up with both hands, keeping the tip at chest height.

“What?!” Dogora, who was unarmed, unconsciously took a step backward. He had not expected Allen to actually use the weapon that he was carrying.

“Well, come on. We doing this or what?”

“Th-That’s so cheap!”

“Would you say the same on a battlefield, Knight of the Ax?”

Due to his three years of playing knight with Krena, Allen had gotten quite used to speaking like a knight. His words came out naturally.

“Huh?!”

“I’ll wait. I don’t care what—go get a weapon of your own, Sir Dogora, Knight of the Ax.”

“You said it! Don’t you dare run away!” Dogora rushed off, then came back in no time, carrying something huge in his hands. When he got close enough, Allen saw that it was a large, round pole that looked like a pestle. It had likely been just lying around in the weapons store.

Seeing Dogora simply hold the stick up, Allen asked provocatively, “You scared? Aren’t you gonna attack?”

“RAAAAAAHHHH!” Red filled Dogora’s face as the blood rushed to his head, and he charged forward, signaling the start of their playing knight.

The boy with a bumpkin face swung his weapon with brute force again and again, and the black-haired boy skillfully parried each and every one of those attacks with his wooden sword. There were quite a lot of spectators, but they all stayed silent.

So, he’s an Ax User. I do remember a game I played having a class called Ax Warrior. Well, we started fighting but...what should I do about this?

Allen had not really thought things through before starting the fight. All he knew was that he should not draw blood, as this was not just a mere game. He continued racking his brains for how best to end this fight while continuing to deflect Dogora’s onslaught.

“What—huff—What’s wrong? Haahh, are you not—gasp—gonna attack?” Dogora asked in provocation, panting heavily from the exertion.

Allen gave him a measured look, then decided to put more strength into his parries, changing up the timing of his own swings so that he was not merely deflecting Dogora’s blows.

It was now December, which meant albaheron hunting season was over. Harvesting was also done, and Rodin was recovering steadily. In short, there was no particular need for Allen to bolster his Strength stat anymore, so he had swapped out many of his Beast F cards with Grass F instead. The more MP he had, the more he could train his skills. Even so, he had left himself with more strength than the average adult, to say nothing of a child near his own age.

“OOF!” Dogora was sent flying even though Allen’s blow had landed on his weapon, not him directly. He swore and was about to get back up when he found the tip of a wooden sword right in front of his nose.

“You still want to continue?” Allen asked.

Dogora growled with frustration. He was completely out of breath. Although he continued glaring, he made no move to stand up, so Allen went to shoulder his rack again.

“Sir Dogora, Knight of the Ax.”

“Wh-What?”

“I’ll be passing by again two days later at this same time.”

“Huh?!”

Allen shot Dogora, who was still on the ground, one final look before resuming making his way home.

＊ ＊ ＊

The year turned, spring came and left, and it was now early September. The late summer heat still lingered in the air. Allen would be turning seven next month. The sun beat down on him mercilessly as he stood in the garden of Krena’s house.

“I’m fighting you next, Allen.”

“Come at me any time, Dogora.”

Dogora tightened his grip on his club, then rushed toward Allen.

“Dammit, why can’t I hit you?”

“As I keep saying, I’m predicting your moves.”

“I know that!”

These two were currently playing knight. The reason for this could be traced back to December of the previous year. Two days after they fought for the first time, Allen was making his way back home from trading for his family’s necessities when he found Dogora waiting for him once more, raring to go. This time, the other boy had brought a club instead of a pestle, likely due to it being easier to use as a weapon.

Dogora had been hoping to take revenge, but Allen once again managed an overwhelming victory as a matter of course. Dogora had said, “We’re doing this again in two days!” This eventually continued all the way till the end of December.

However, by then Allen had gathered more than enough firewood and salt for his family to last the winter, what with having come visit the village center almost every other day for a whole month. When he told Dogora that he would be cutting back the frequency of his visits starting in January, Dogora said, “You running away?!”

So Allen consulted Krena and asked if she would be interested in letting Dogora join their playing knight sessions. She immediately agreed, ecstatic about gaining a new playmate. The next day, Allen told Dogora to come to Krena’s house if he wanted to fight again. The boy replied, “You got it!” on the spot. After that, the three of them began to meet at Krena’s house practically every day. They used Krena’s house as the gathering point because hers was closer to the residential area than Allen’s. And that more or less summed up the current situation.

“Hah! Sir Pelomas the Knight! Is that all you got?!”

“Ugh... YAAAH!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Allen watched Krena and Pelomas, the village chief’s son, in the middle of their own match. Dogora had invited Pelomas to come, as the two of them had been friends beforehand. Their friendship was the reason why Dogora and his father had sat at the same table as the knight captain during the feast at the village chief’s house.

Pelomas’s dream was to become a merchant in the future, and so he was rather half-hearted about playing knight. His general attitude made it very clear that he had been dragged here by Dogora against his will. Even so, he still showed up every second or third day. The reason for this lay with his father, the village chief. These play knight sessions were an opportunity to play together and forge a relationship with Krena, a Sword Lord who might even serve the royal family in the future. Pelomas found himself both pushed forward by his father and dragged along by Dogora. There was nowhere for him to escape.

There was one other person who was participating in these play knight sessions—Mash, who had turned three in December. Theresia had granted him permission to leave the house so long as he was with Allen. As such, ever since the play sessions had been relocated to Krena’s house, he had been coming almost every day.

In total, there were five children: Allen, Krena, Mash, Dogora, and Pelomas.

“Mash, here I come!”

“Okay, Allen!”

Mash’s weapon was quite long; he was not using a sword, but a spear.

At first, Allen had made Mash a wooden sword that matched his smaller size. However, he suddenly begged to have a go at using Allen’s sword, which was twice his in length. Allen handed it over and watched in concern as his younger brother handled the weapon that was nearly the same size as him, but then realized that his movements had actually improved. In short, using a spear suited Mash more than using a sword did. Based on this information, Allen had then made a more spear-like weapon for his brother.

“Yah!”

“That’s good, Mash.”

So this is Talent. I’m looking forward to his Appraisal Ceremony two years from now.

Mash’s thrusts were sharp and accurate. What’s more, they were improving further by the day. Allen firmly believed that Mash possessed a class related to using the spear, though there was no way to confirm this until he was Appraised as a five-year-old.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

“Aw shucks, it’s already time?”

“C’mon, Dogora, let’s go home.”

It was the three o’clock bell. Dogora and Pelomas always went home at this time. Because they would head over at the noon bell and arrive at around one o’clock, the playing knight sessions lasted roughly two hours for the two of them. The boys bade farewell to the other three children and headed off.

After playing a while longer, Allen and Mash also left for home. At first, Mash would get so exhausted from these play sessions that he would beg Allen to give him piggybacks, but now, he was strong enough to make it back on his own two feet. Allen could not have been happier to witness his younger brother’s growth.

“We’re home!” the two boys cried out in unison as they stepped through the door.

“Welcome back, Allen, Mash,” Theresia answered from within. She was currently busy preparing dinner with her youngest child on her back. Allen hurried forward to help out.

This past February, Theresia had given birth to her third child without incident, a baby girl this time. As Theresia and Rodin had agreed that she would get to name all their daughters and he would get to name all the sons, she finally got her chance. She went with Myulla, derived from the Flower of Muellerze that had saved Rodin’s life. She had apparently decided on this name even before the child was born.

Allen honestly thought that, between his parents, his mother had the better naming sense. After all, “Allen” and “Mash” were both derived from monster names. Allen was now more than familiar with the monster that his name was based on, but he had yet to have the chance to meet Mash’s.

Once, while going on a supplies run with Gerda, Allen had asked him about the murdergalsh. As it turned out, this monster had once been responsible for blocking salt and fruit from reaching the village.

Murdergalshes were solitary creatures and would wander wherever they wanted. They kept no nests and had no interest in territory. Its appearance was like that of a giant wolf. It was supposedly twice as huge as a great boar, but Gerda said even he had never seen one in person before.

These monsters would sometimes temporarily settle down on the roads that ran between villages and cities. When this happened, the merchants and travelers that normally traversed those roads would have no choice but to either give up the journey or double back to take a huge detour. As a Rank B monster, the murdergalsh was not easy to defeat. There were times one would stay put for over a month, severely impacting the flow of goods and people. When that happened, the feudal lord’s chivalric order would be dispatched.

Gerda said he had vivid memories of when this had happened to another village. However, when the knights arrived on scene, the monster had already up and left for somewhere else. In the end, there was no subjugation.

Allen’s impression was that the murdergalsh was a monster that caused a lot of trouble all around. At the very least, it did not sound like the type that anyone would take a liking to. He stared at his younger brother, who was currently listlessly rolling about, and hoped that he would grow up into someone whom everyone would love.

“I’m back,” Rodin announced. He had made a complete recovery, returning to the fields in spring to sow the seeds. Now, he was back to being the one carrying fresh water every morning. Other than that, he spent the majority of his days in the fields.

Allen was also applying himself to farming, learning from his father. However, he did this only in the mornings. When he had suggested helping out the entire day, it was Gerda, not Rodin, who stopped him. The large man had even grabbed both of Allen’s shoulders, heavily stressing that “children should play outside while they’re children.” Allen still remembered how tightly Gerda had gripped him and how much it had hurt. So he now passed his days helping out in the fields in the morning and playing knight in the afternoons. Every day was very busy.

The family gathered around the sunken fireplace in the main room of the house and ate dinner. Spittle dribbled down Myulla’s face as Theresia spoon-fed her baby food, which was slowly being incorporated into her diet. Allen, who was starving from all the exercise he had gotten in the afternoon, devoured the steamed potatoes voraciously.

“You came home pretty late today,” Theresia suddenly said to Rodin.

In light of what had happened before, she would now get worried whenever Rodin returned late. He knew this and therefore would do his best to come home on time, but today had ended up being an exception.

“Mm, Deboji summoned me again,” Rodin answered, his brows drawing together into a frown.

Anger and alarm flashed through Theresia’s face, as Rodin’s huge injury last year had also been set off by a similar visit to the village chief’s house. She inadvertently leaned forward toward Rodin and asked anxiously, “Wh-What did he say?!”

Rodin froze, still holding onto his soup bowl and wooden spoon. Silence filled the air as he seemed to struggle for words, but he eventually said gravely, “He wants us to double the number of great boars we hunt to twenty in two years. To do this, he wants us to expand the hunting party to include both commoners and serfs.”

What Theresia feared the most had proven to be true. She blurted, “What?! B-But that’s...! After last year! He can’t be serious!” Because her sudden outburst had caused Myulla to burst into tears, she had to reach over and pacify her in a fluster.

“Father, can we continue this conversation after I put Myulla and Mash to bed?”

Both Rodin and Theresia looked over at Allen in surprise, “Huh?” escaping their lips at the same time. Their son was still spooning soup into his mouth calmly as if nothing had happened. The sight of it helped the two adults calm down somewhat and they resumed eating.

After dinner was over, Allen tucked Myulla and Mash in. Once he confirmed that they were fast asleep, he came out to the main room and found both Rodin and Theresia sitting silently, their heads lowered. Theresia was using both hands to slowly swirl a cup filled with boiled water, now lukewarm after cooling down.

“So, can we hear the rest of the story, father?”

“Mm.”

Rodin proceeded to go into detail. He had visited the village chief’s house together with Gerda, and was told that they had two years to double the number of great boars they hunted. What’s more, this was not a request from the village chief, but from the feudal lord directly.

The feudal lord had been making annual inquiries for the past few years about increasing the amount of meat sent to the city. Deboji had then conveyed the question to Rodin and Gerda, who had responded “no” every time. It had always been the same party of roughly twenty people, and there were no suitable candidates to add to their numbers. It was not as if they were turning away interested applicants either, as shown by their acceptance of the five commoners last year. However, the serfs all had families, and they valued their lives more than the meat. Their families naturally shared the same sentiment.

“So, you turned Deboji down this time too, right?” Theresia asked worriedly.

“The thing is, the feudal lord said that if we can’t ramp up our efforts by hunting fifteen great boars this year, he’ll gather more serfs from elsewhere in the domain.”

In other words, when it came to increasing the number of great boar hunts, the feudal lord was no longer taking no as an answer. If necessary, he was willing to displace serfs from other nearby villages and settle them in this one just to bolster the hunting party’s numbers with the hope of raising their output. This suggestion was based on the assumption that there would be serfs in other villages willing to join the hunts.

“So, you mean...increasing the number of serfs in our village?”

“Right. Which might cause the amount of land that each family can work to go down. That, or those who don’t go hunting might have all their land given to the newcomers.”

At the end of the day, serfs did not own the land they tilled. They had no right to. A single word from their feudal lord, and the land they had been nurturing for generations could be taken away in the blink of an eye.

“Th-That’s...!” Theresia was shocked beyond words. Allen now understood why Rodin’s face looked so clouded.

“Gerda and I discussed increasing the frequency of our hunts. There’s no other way to bring back more game. We’re gathering everyone together tomorrow to talk it over.”

“Even if you manage to make do somehow, when the quota is raised to twenty next year and the year after, you’re still going to have to accept more serfs into the village,” Allen said suddenly, speaking up for the first time since the start of this conversation. “That and, when you raise the frequency of the hunts, you might have hunting party members drop out.”

There was a reason why the party had left around ten days between each hunt. All the members were weighing the burden of hunting against their own livelihoods. They would get more meat the more hunts they went, true, but the danger they were exposing themselves to would also go up in proportion.

“Wha— You...do have a point.” Rodin was surprised to hear Allen calmly analyzing the situation, but had been thinking the same thing himself.

“So ultimately, you’d still need more members in the party.”

“That’s right. But we tried that last year and failed. I don’t even know if there’s anyone else willing to join, and even if there is, more people are just going to make the hunts more complicated.”

Rodin’s response to Allen was serious and direct. When Rodin had gotten injured, it was Allen who had harvested the fields, done the house chores, and looked after Mash. He even put himself in harm’s way fighting against albaherons, Rank D monsters, multiple times so that the family could make it through the winter. Because of how much he had done, Rodin now spoke to him not as a child, but as an equal.

I never thought I’d have to rely on my cover story for something like this. But, well, I guess this gives me credibility. Allen looked at his parents’ faces in turn, then said, “I have the wisdom that Elmea gave me.”

The two looked back at him with astonished faces as they recalled what he had shared before, about the Trials and the blessings that the gods had bestowed him with.

“Can you let me try to solve this problem my way?” Allen continued. “I have a feeling I can do something about it.”

In short, Allen was declaring that he had a solution, thanks to the wisdom that the gods had granted him.

＊ ＊ ＊

The next day, Gerda found himself summoned to Allen and Rodin’s house. After all, he was the other leader of the hunting effort; big decisions would naturally need his agreement.

“Allen, is it true that you know how to increase the number of hunters and keep it safe?”

Gerda did not trust Allen as deeply as Rodin did. He was, after all, a six-year-old boy who had never even seen a great boar hunt in person.

“I can’t guarantee that it’d be absolutely safe.” After all, there are no absolutes when hunting.

“What?!”

“Huh?!”

Surprise and disappointment filled both Rodin’s and Gerda’s faces.

“However, this hunting method is definitely safer than what you’ve been doing so far. In the first place, assigning newcomers to the all-important shield wall is a terrible idea.” They probably have low levels and therefore low stats. Their defense would be weaker than tofu.

Back when Allen was Kenichi, he had spent dozens of thousands of hours grinding to make his in-game characters as strong as possible. That took various forms and methods, be it hunting solo or in a party, staying still in one area or moving about according to spawn points. He would change up what he did according to the specific mob and zone.

The method currently used by Rodin and Gerda’s hunting party involved drawing a great boar to the hunting ground, keeping it in place with a shield wall, and then finishing it off. In games, this was called “fishing” or “pulling.”

Of course, training up newcomers required experience too, especially if safety was a concern. There were many considerations and precautions when incorporating someone new into a party.

“So what? You saying you have a better idea?”

“Of course. I’ll explain it now. And one more thing.”

“What?”

“I’m also coming along on the next hunt.”

After declaring his intention on being a part of the great boar hunts going forward, Allen proceeded to share his idea for how best to safely incorporate newcomers into the hunting party.