01: Another Day of Peaceful Pet Life! …Or So I Thought Until Bandits Arrived!

“Routa, feast your eyes upon this beautiful blade. This sword was forged by a direct descendant of the famous blacksmith Gengo Kisaragi.”

“A-arwf? (O-oh, is that right?)”

What am I gonna do? It’s only been three months since I was reborn in this world, but this is the most boring conversation I’ve been stuck in yet.

The deplorable beauty gushing over the sword is Zenobia. She’s a knight who was invited to stay at the mansion and has since degenerated into a shameless freeloader.

Her hair is a fiery red, and her eyes burn with conviction. On the surface, she’s the spitting image of a “cool beauty,” the type popular with guys and ladies alike, but her personality is a big mess.

In a peaceful mansion with little else to do but train, she often seeks me out and forces me to play audience to her little demonstrations.

“Arwf… (So sleepy…)”

Before she woke me up, I was enjoying a nice nap under a tree in the garden, so I’m still a little groggy.

Her spirited weapon-fawning is going in one ear and right out the other.

I don’t care all that much, so I’m mostly just sleepy.

“Hey, are you listening to me, Routa?”

“Arwf, arwf… (Yeah, yeah, I’m listening…zzz…)”

I respond while nodding off.

“It’s just that this is such a work of art. When I think of everything that went into getting it to this point, I can’t help but get a little fired up. Look at the pattern on the blade! If you don’t use enough adamantium, this particular type of marking isn’t even possible.”

“Arwf… (You don’t say…)”

Yawning a half-hearted reply, I scratch behind my ear with my hind leg. Ahhh, scratchy scratchy.

Even though I’m making it painfully obvious that I couldn’t care less, Zenobia fails to take the hint.

She keeps going on about how wonderful her sword is, like a kid showing off their favorite toy.

“The carefully calculated curve of the blade, the delicate workmanship. No matter how you look at it, this is a masterpiece. Even you can tell, can’t you?”

“Arwf, arwf… (No, not really…)”

Why would a former wage slave know anything about weapon quality? Talking to me about a sword is as pointless as talking about yesterday’s weather.

Not that I care, but is it really okay for Zenobia to be out here talking to a dog by herself? Doesn’t it make her look a little desperate?

Look, the maids are already staring through the window and gossiping.

“Hee-hee… It’s so amazing… What an incredible sword…”

Zenobia doesn’t notice and keeps gushing on and on about the intricacies of her sword.

She stares at the blade, entranced, as though it were made of gems. It’s a new level of weird.

“It took a lot to get my hands on this sword. I followed rumors to several different weapon shops, and then it cost me three years of my adventurer’s wages.”

That’s one hell of a purchase.

I don’t know how much Zenobia earned back when she was an adventurer, but it seems like she was pretty famous, so I’m fairly sure that three years’ worth of her wages was a hefty sum.

So here’s a question. Why is she facing me while brandishing the sword?

“…You’ve beaten me before in our two previous matches.”

She calls them matches, but what she’s referring to is when she thought I was suspicious and tried to murder me. Twice.

I didn’t do anything on either occasion. All I did was stand there basically peeing myself in fear as blades snapped over my head.

Actually, both of those broken swords are still hidden in the bushes over there.

“But this time it’s different. My will is focused and honed to levels hitherto unseen. I won’t fail like that again.”

S-sure. It’s nice that you’re so pumped up, but do you have to swing the sword around?

Come on, Zenobia, you know I’m not a bad guy. You’ve said so yourself, right? So there’s no reason to cut me down, right?!

“I’ve learned from my past two defeats! Today, victory shall be mine!”

“Ar-arwf?! (H-has nothing changed?!)”

This isn’t a game! You know I’m not a monster, so there’s no need to kill me!

“Don’t be afraid! I’m not going to kill you! Just some fur! I’ll just cut some fur!”

That doesn’t make me feel any better! It’s clear as day you want to test your sword out on me!

“Here I goooooooo!!”

“Arwwwwwwwf!! (Nooooooooooo!!)”

Zenobia closes the gap in an instant, her sword slicing through the air.

The blade glints right in front of my face, giving me no time to even think about dodging before it gets split right down the middle.

The sword, that is.

“Unnyaaaaaaaa?!”

Zenobia lets out a strange cry.

The blade made a nice, crisp sound as it snapped; the cling almost sounded like a musical instrument. I guess it really was high quality.

The broken end of the sword twirls through the air before vanishing into a nearby bush.

“M-my sword… Th-three years’ pay…”

“Arwf… (Yeesh, I thought I was a goner… No matter how many times you do that, I’ll never get used to it…)”

Just like the previous two times, I’m completely unscathed. No damage at all.

I guess I was aware of this already, but my body’s crazy tough, huh?

The first time this happened, I just assumed Zenobia’s sword was a fake, since it wasn’t able to cut me or even hurt me, really.

And no matter how fluffy my fur is, there’s gotta be something else that’s preventing the pain.

Maybe this Fenrir body of mine simply has really high defense.

Huh? But when Len bites me it really hurts…

“Arwf… (Wow, mouse teeth are incredible…)”

“Squeak… (Call me a dragon… ‘A dragon’s fangs are incredible’ is more like it…)”

Len mumbles a sleepy rebuttal from her napping spot in my fur.

“Arwf, arwf. (Right, right, my bad, my bad.)”

Oh well, RIP to Zenobia’s three years of wages.

“Ahhh… Sword… My sword…”

Zenobia stares at the sky, flabbergasted.

A perfect representation of grief. Normally I’d say she got what she deserved, but this sight is too pathetic.

“Arwf. (I hope you learned your lesson. Quit it with the dangerous antics already.)”

I paw at Zenobia, who is still gripping the hilt of her broken sword.

“Wh-what are you doing…?”

“Arwf, arwf. (There, there.)”

Zenobia is befuddled by the head pats. No matter how good my little paw pads feel, she’s had enough of it.

“Tch, what a disgrace…!”

And to the victor go the spoils. In this case, a trembling Zenobia with a bright-red face.

Hee-hee-hee, there’s my favorite sight. I wanna lick her.

Zenobia’s angry face is just too cute; I should paw at her some more.

Paw paw paw paw. Ah, paw paw paw paw paw paw.

“E-enough already! Y-you’re taking it too far!”

Whoops, she’s escaped.

“You may have won today, but I won’t lose next time!!”

Are we seriously going to do this again?

Looks like she’ll keep trying until she’s bankrupt.

And then we’ll have broken swords pouring out of the bushes.

“I’m not going to lose agaiiiin!!”

“Arwf, arwf. (Yeah, yeah.)”

And with these parting words, Zenobia runs off and I return to my nap under the tree.

“Thus the hero Routa and his seven companions went off to the spirit world to defeat the terrible Demon Lord.”

“Arwf. (So with the hero, it was an eight-man party? They probably only took four into battle and left the rest back with the wagons. I bet they left behind members like a wizened old mage and an elderly knight.)”

I’m listening to my lady read her book aloud.

The hero gathers his companions, topples the five generals of the Demon Lord’s army one by one, and then triumphs over the Demon Lord in a final showdown.

It’s an easy-to-read hero story for kids.

It sounds like the kind of story that would typically appeal to boys, but Lady Mary really likes it, so I end up hearing her read it a lot.

“Arrrf! (I’ve already heard this story a million times, but getting to hear my lady’s cute voice makes it all worth it. I’ll listen to you read as much as you like!)”

As she goes along, Lady Mary brushes my neck with her slender fingers.

Hee-hee, being petted feels so good. Keep it up.

“Squeak… (Grr, you’ve got that slovenly look about you yet again…)”

Len’s irritated face pops out.

Hey, just because you’re on good terms with Lady Mary doesn’t mean you should poke your nose out whenever you want. My lady is kindhearted and gets along with anyone, but what’ll you do if someone else sees you? You’re a mouse, the sworn enemy of chefs and maids.

Not to mention that things would be a hundred times worse if you turned into a dragon.

“Squee-squeak… (What exactly is it about this child that entrances you so…? When I assume a human form, you always claim I’m too young for you… Your perversions are absolutely incorrigible, darling…)”

That’s rude. I’m not a pervert—I’m completely normal. And I definitely don’t want to hear it from a spinster dragon with a puppy fetish.

“Oh, little mouse. Good morning.”

“Squee! (Hmph!)”

Len shoots a venomous glare at Lady Mary, but she doesn’t notice and simply smiles back.

“Would you like me to pet you, too, little mouse?”

My lady’s fingers find their new target, and she begins delicately scratching Len’s tiny head.

“S-squee… (Ah, no, stop that! Stop that, I say! Fwaaaahhhhh…?!)”

“You like it here? Or maybe over here?”

What amazing technique. A single touch from those skilled fingers caused Len to melt.

“Squeeeee…! (I said shtaaaapppp… Shtaaaapppp… Afwahhhh hhhh…)”

I get the feeling that the strongest person in this household isn’t Len, or I, but Lady Mary.

“Arwf, arwf… (Time for food, glorious food! I wonder what’s for dinner today…)”

“Well, look who we have here. You’re right on time, Routa.”

Old man James seems to be on his break after the lunch rush. He looks over at me.

Heh-heh-heh, I know I can usually score something freshly made if I show up right as Lady Mary and the rest of the family are about to have a meal.

It’s too hard to wait when you can smell all the delicious scents wafting from the kitchen. I’m already at my limit!

“Woof! Woof?! (Hey, old man! What’s on the menu tonight?!)”

“Just hold your horses. If I don’t do this in order it’ll all fall apart.”

With that the old man takes a large set of tongs and pulls a few choice morsels from the stew pot.

He piles slow-cooked meat along with rough-chopped chunks of vegetables onto a plate.

He then pours a rich broth over the top to complete the meal.

“There you go, pot-au-feu. An easy enough dish to make that hides a lot of subtleties.”

Hey, I recognize this. I’ve never made it myself, but I have eaten pot-au-feu before at diners.

“Arwf, arwf! (Time to dig in!)”

Y-yuuum! It’s completely different from anything I ate in my previous world.

The individual ingredients are all still structurally sound. The potatoes are nice and soft, and the carrots are so tender they practically melt in my mouth.

The sausages add a level of saltiness that’s pleasantly subtle when mixed with the broth.

And finally, the pièce de résistance: the heaping chunks meat. The moment I put a piece in my mouth, it begins to melt away, then explodes with flavor.

“I marinated boar ribs overnight in salt and wine vinegar. You love it, don’t you? Another way to get the meat that tender would be to use carbonated water, which keeps the meat juicy, but it’s hard to get your hands on any. If only it weren’t so difficult to transport…”

Eating is my specialty, regardless of preparation methods. But the old man seems to enjoy talking about them. Like Zenobia and her endless knowledge about weaponry. I’m just gonna tune it all out.

While the old man is distracted with talking, I take the opportunity to slip Len some of the food.

“Squee, squee, squeak… (My, my, this is delectable. I thought freshly hunted meat was without peer, but this is far superior. This ‘cooking’ practice is most intriguing. It certainly does wonders for the flavor…)”

Len sits there nodding and harrumphing as she chews. She’s even listening to the old man’s stories with a lot more attention than I am.

It’s good that you’re interested, but please try not to blow your cover.

Chefs and mice have a history of conflict.

“Miss Miranda, we just found this jammed under the door in the entranceway…”

“Oh, what is it?”

Right outside the kitchen come the voices of Miranda and Toa, two maids of the household.

The maid with the large breasts and glasses is Miranda, whereas the short one with small breasts is Toa.

“It doesn’t say who it’s from nor who it’s for.”

“Indeed, and the mailman didn’t come today. Whoever brought it to the mansion must have slipped through the gate and across the courtyard. But no one saw anything.”

The mansion is out in the countryside and surrounded by forests. Even by carriage, it takes a few hours to get to the nearest village.

Surely there’s no one who would come all the way out to such a remote place only to play a prank.

“I wonder if we should give it to the master?”

“Well, it seems to be a simple envelope. How dangerous could it be? We’ll give it to him after the meal.”

Hmm, a letter from an unknown sender… Definitely intriguing. I think I’ll tag along.

“Arwf! Arwf! (But before that, I need to polish off this delicious food!)”

I gorge on pot-au-feu until the stew pot is completely empty.

“Hrmm, a letter. And with no addressee written, nor anything else. Well then, let’s open it and have a look.”

After we’ve eaten, Papa relaxes in the living room and takes the letter from Miranda.

He picks up a letter opener and sticks it into the envelope.

“PLEASE WAIT!!”

The sudden cry stops Papa in his tracks. I’m just as shocked as he is.

There stands Zenobia, one hand outstretched to halt Papa.

“Wh-what is it, Zenobia?”

“Master, do not let your guard down. You shouldn’t carelessly open something when we have no idea who sent it. There might be poison or some magic curse within. We just don’t know.”

“Wh-what? I—I can’t imagine that would be the case……”

Well, Papa is filthy rich and a noble of some repute, so Zenobia might actually be onto something.

“I will open it and inspect it. Is that acceptable?”

“I suppose I can’t simply dismiss your worries. If you would, then, Zenobia.”

“Yes, sir.”

Zenobia takes the letter from Papa and then casually tosses it aside.

Wait, what is she doing?

As the thought crosses my mind, she pulls a new sword from the sheath around her waist.

There’s a sudden flash. An instant later the envelope is cut into shreds. The naked letter flutters to the ground, and Zenobia’s hand goes still.

“Hmph, looks like there’s no danger…”

After carefully checking the letter and confirming that it’s safe, she passes it to Papa.

“As splendid with the blade as ever. I couldn’t even follow your movements.”

Weird. Zenobia just did something that made her seem like a real knight.

But she’s not really Zenobia without the trademark helplessness. Maybe she has a fever? I’m worried.

Papa seems to be in a good mood after witnessing the skills of the freeloader knight.

But as he opens the folded letter, his face stiffens.

“Wh-what’s this…?!”

“What’s wrong, Father?”

Lady Mary rushes up to Papa and glances at the letter over his shoulder as he reads aloud.

“‘This is a warning. You are a corrupt lord who consorts with demons. We shall be visiting tonight to relieve you of your mansion’s riches. Signed…The Silver Wing Bandits’?”

I don’t really get it, but everyone else in the room freezes.

Did he just say “warning”? What the hell? Like those calling cards that master thieves like Lupin send before committing their crimes?

“An advance warning! Wow! Just like in the stories!”

“M-my lady, this isn’t the time to be excited. They said they would come tonight…”

Miranda’s face is pale as she lays a hand on Lady Mary’s shoulder, still trembling with excitement.

“The Silver Wing Bandits…? This is the first I’ve heard of this organization. And they’re quite brazen to send warning before the heist. Or perhaps they have a different motive…”

Papa leans back in the leather sofa, absorbed in thought.

The man runs a huge company and holds the noble rank of marquis. Of course he’s not going to be unnerved by some unexpected notice of an impending crime. He’s too cool.

“The letter mentioned my riches, but… They didn’t write exactly what they were after, so I haven’t the foggiest idea what the target could be.”

Fair. They could take any single piece of furniture and make a fortune.

In fact, depending on your definition of riches, you could include most things in the mansion.

“But of all my riches, the most precious to me is my Mary.”

Papa throws in a dashing wink, but my lady has devoted her full attention to wondering what kind of burglars the Silver Wing Bandits might be. There’s no getting through to her.

“M-Mary…”

Poor Papa.

But the second-most important treasure has to be me, right?! Say it’s me!

“Are you here to comfort me? Thank you, Routa.”

I cuddle up to Papa, and he pats me on the head. I’m satisfied.

“Anyway, what are we going to do about this? There’s too much left shrouded in mystery. If only we knew what they were after, we could simply give it to them and put this all behind us.”

Papa does prefer to avoid unnecessary conflict.

But he’s being naive.

If we give them one thing, they’ll want to take another, and then a third, and then a fourth. That’s how people think.

If you keep giving in to their demands and handing things over, next thing you know, the pantry is bare and there’s nothing left to eat.

…Hold on a minute, when did this become about me?

“Master, please leave it to me! I’m here to deal with problems like this!”

Zenobia crows and puffs out her chest.

“You’ve shown me such kindness by allowing me to stay here. Please allow me the opportunity to return the favor!”

“Oh, thank you, Zenobia.” Papa’s face brightens. “I was actually just thinking I had no choice but to ask for your assistance. I don’t have the time to contact the guild or hire guards by this evening. I’m sorry to call upon you like this, but please help us.”

“Of course! And these villains, these scoundrels, who would dare accuse my master of corrupt and heinous crimes—I’ll wet my sword with their blood!”

“Hmm, while I’m grateful that you think so much of me and the family, I am hoping for a more peaceful solution. Something that avoids killing.”

Papa tries to keep Zenobia’s zeal in check.

“Then I’ll use the blunt side of the blade!”

“Ah, yes, the blunt side should be… Wait, isn’t that sword double-edged…?”

It wouldn’t make a difference. With Zenobia’s gorilla strength, anything could become a lethal weapon in her hands.

I wonder if Gorillanobia could even hold back if she wanted to.

“Right then, I’m off to start my rounds! Everyone make sure to lock up all the doors and windows, and I ask that nobody leave their room tonight!”

Wow, Zenobia’s a lot more fired up than she usually is.

Usually she moves even less than I do. And I’m the family pet! Oh well.

She’s a hardworking freeloader of a knight. I guess she’s trying to shed her deadbeat stigma.

I’ll cheer her on from my bed.

“Arwf, arwf. (Now then, my lady. Thieves are scary, so let’s hurry up and go to bed. I’ll be your teddy bear.)”

I push Lady Mary out of the room with my head.

And then someone grabs me by the scruff of the neck.

“Where do you think you’re going? You’re coming with me.”

“Arwf?! (Huh?! Why?!)”

“You’re the family guard dog! It’s time for you to get to work!”

“Arwf, arwf! (I work all the time! I provide emotional support as the family’s beloved pet!)”

“Stop resisting…!”

“Rrrggh…! (I! Don’t! Wannaaaa…!)”

Zenobia’s yanking on my collar, and I’m resisting with everything I’ve got.

Give it up, Zenobia! You’re pulling all my scruff to the front and making me look silly!

“Pfft… hnk…”

Look over there! Toa looks like she’s about to die laughing! Think of the children!

Isn’t there anyone, anyone at all, who will help me?

Ah, Lady Mary. Lady Mary is watching.

I’ll have to beg for help.

“Arwf! Arwf! (My lady! Save me, my lady! Your adorable pet is being abused!)”

“Zenobia! You can’t just take Routa! I want to join you on the night watch as well!”

Wait, that’s what she’s worried about?!

Trust our little tomboy to worry about missing out on the action.

“C-certainly not, my lady. Come now, let’s get ready for bed. Toa, please double-check the doors and windows and inform the rest of the staff.”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

Miranda leaves the living room with Lady Mary in tow.

“I’ll be heading to my room as well. It doesn’t look like I’ll be getting any work done tonight.”

Oh no, even Papa left.

Which leaves one victorious Zenobia and one incredulous Routa.

“…Are you still going to resist?”

“Arwf… (I’ll come quietly…)”

“I’ll patrol the second floor. You patrol the first. We’ll meet each lap at the staircase of the great hall.”

“Arwf… (Fiiiine…)”

I wave my tail in response to Zenobia as she springs up the stairs and begin my patrol of the manor.

“Arwf, arwf. (I know we all kind of got caught up in the moment, but aren’t people normally afraid of bands of thieves?)”

What do I do if I find the thieves and they attack me? It’d be a huge loss if anything happened to the family pet.

“Squee. (There isn’t a thing in the world that would be able to harm you, my darling.)”

Idiot. Even if I’m 100 percent safe, scary things are still scary. Super-scary. That’s just the kind of dog I am.

“Squeak. (Your vigilance makes you all the more desirable, my beloved… Oh my, did I say ‘desirable’? That’s so embarrassing~)

Even if you blush, I can’t find you cute. You’re still just a dragon masquerading as a mouse.

Your human form was a little endearing, but that’s only because you looked like a kid. Either way, you’re outside of my strike zone.

“Arwf, arwf. (So my body really is super tough?)”

Being able to fire laser beams and break swords with my face isn’t very useful for pet life, but those abilities do come in handy in times like this.

Guess I better give thanks to that ditzy goddess.

But wait. If I weren’t a monster to begin with, I probably never would have had as many problems!

Tch, now I’m just contradicting myself.

“Squeak. (You’re Fenrir, King of the Fen Wolves. What nonsense are you spouting? How could any beast who defeated me, the great Lenowyrm, be weak? Even in your youth, you are still the most ferocious of all. Yes, you will truly make a fitting groom, my beloved.)”

With emphasis, no thank you.

I’m fed delicious food, and I sleep and play whenever I like. I’m more than happy just cruising through life like this. So I’m sorry, but I’ll have to decline your proposal.

And if any villains—such as these thieves—try to get in the way of my happy pet life, I’ll use this Fenrir body to turn the tables on them.

I stand up on my back legs to try out some shadowboxing, but I’m still in a canine body, so it comes off as more of a silly waddle.

Also, I’m still rather afraid of fighting. Maybe if I find the thieves, I can just run away and get Zenobia. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

With that decided, I continue creeping quietly down the hall.

“Arwf, arwf? (Even the maids have retired early. It sure is quiet, isn’t it?)”

All the others have locked their doors and are shut up in their rooms, as Zenobia requested. This prevents amateurs from clumsily roaming about and then being caught and used as hostages by the thieves.

It’s Zenobia’s fault that I’m thinking like this.

I’m a bit uneasy that we only have two guards, but, well, if Zenobia’s reputation as a former top-rank adventurer isn’t just for show, I’m sure she’ll be able to handle things.

…She’ll be able to handle things, right? If there was ever a time that she absolutely had to be at the top of her game, this would be it.

“Mrooow. (Routaaa. I’ve come for a late-night snack. Gimme gimme.)”

Following the voice, a hole opens in midair and a cat falls out of it.

Damn it, Nahura’s back yet again. While she looks like nothing more than a strangely colored cat, she’s actually the familiar of a powerful witch.

But instead of using her magic for noble causes, she uses it to come over and steal food whenever she’s hungry. What a waste of teleportation magic.

“Arwf, arwf. (Pretty brazen from someone who isn’t even a house cat.)”

“Squee. (Exactly right. And riding about on my darling’s back without permission, no less. Brazen indeed.)”

I don’t think someone who’s living in someone else’s fur has the right to say that.

“Mrow? (Oh, come on, you’re going to get mad now, after all this time?)”

Nahura puts her forepaws up to her face and acts all bashful. Now, that’s cute.

And so, with one animal on my head and another on my back, I continue off down the hallway.

“Mew? (Awfully quiet tonight, isn’t it?)”

“Woof, woof. (Oh, right. Apparently, some burglars are gonna show up tonight.)”

“Mrow?! (Burglars?! …Hmm? How do you know they’re on their way?)”

“Squeak. (They sent advance warning.)”

“Mew? (An advance warning? Why would burglars do that? For what purpose?)”

“Arwf? (I have no idea. Why would they do that?)”

Papa was also curious about that part. One possibility is that it was simply to scare everyone in the mansion.

Or maybe someone just wants to play pretend as a phantom thief?

“Bark. (Maybe they’re trying to distract us with one thing while they go after something else.)”

If you think about it, that’s always one possible outcome of a warning.

If you’re told what the target is, you’ll do whatever you can to protect it. Look at us. We’ve got only two people on patrol, and we’re both guarding the inside of the mansion, leaving absolutely no one to watch the outside.

Which must mean that the thieves aren’t after some treasure inside the mansion, but rather something nearby.

“M-mew?! (D-did Routa just say something intelligent?!)”

“S-squeak?! (Are you all right, darling?! You didn’t eat something strange, did you?)”

“Arwf—? (Okay, you know what—?)”

Just as I am about to retort, my stomach growls.

“…Arwf. (…Maybe we should eat first.)”

““MrowSqueak! (Agreed!)””

That’s about the level you can expect from us three stooges.

I turn toward the kitchen and off we trot.

“Mrow? (What shall we have today? We just had ham recently. Are there any new smoked meats?)”

“Arwf, arwf… (Well, I’m pretty sure that back when I was eating the pot-au-feu the old man said something about making spare-rib bacon…)”

“Meow! (Bacon sounds great! I love bacon!)”

“Arwf. (There’s no way it’ll be ready to eat yet.)”

First you have to brine the meat, then slow-smoke it. It’s a pretty lengthy process.

I’m always stealing some, so I’ve become well acquainted with how it’s made.

It almost seems like he’s started smoking more meat for me than for everyone else in the mansion.

Sorry for the trouble, old man. But thanks as always.

And with my heart full of newfound appreciation, I’m off to steal more food tonight. Drool.

“Arwf…? (Huh? Do you hear voices coming from the kitchen…?)”

I hear female voices whispering to each other.

Maybe some of the maids got hungry. Everyone was shuffled off to bed early today, so who knows, maybe someone missed dinner?

You shouldn’t break the rules, little maids. You’ll have to be punished.

And by that I mean I’m going to surprise you and make you split your snack with me.

“Arwf… (All right, you two, pipe down…)”

“Squee… (You’re going to do something foolhardy again, aren’t you…?)”

“Mew… (Ooooh, I love playing pranks…)”

I crouch down and creep toward the kitchen. I lift my forepaws up to a window.

I slowly raise just my head and take a peek inside, and there I see…

“Got it. We’re in,” says a girl to her two companions while returning her lock-picking tools to her pouch.

“Keep quiet. The lights aren’t on, but they’ve probably posted guards.”

The tallest of the girls adjusts her hair ornament.

“Well, that’s why we wrote the warning letter. It draws the attention of the guards away and gives us the chance to sneak in,” responds the shortest as she pushes up her glasses.

The two of them follow after the girl who picked the lock, and they sneak into the room.

While there are differences in looks and physique, the three girls all share common features.

Like the silver hair and the long ears. Not to mention the inhuman beauty. All signs of the long-lived elves.

The elves trespassing in the mansion all seem very serious as they tiptoe around in light clothing.

“Where should we start our search?”

“I wish we knew more about the layout of this mansion. I didn’t have the time to investigate.”

“And what about our sisters? Who knows what they will be forced to endure while we take our time investigating? The sooner we can make this evil lord cough up wherever he could be holding them, the better.”

“Eruru, please don’t suggest such horrid things…”

“I’m with Ururu. We’re not actually a gang of thieves. We’re just here to save our sisters.”

“I’m sorry, Oruru. It’s just that we’ve been living as bandits for so long. I mean, just look how good we’ve gotten at breaking and entering…”

“Come on, you call us bandits, but all we’ve been doing is stealing food in the dead of night. And no one knows who we are, so we’ll be fine. We’ll just keep doing this until we save our sisters, and then we can find a nice, peaceful forest, gather our scattered friends, and rebuild our village.”

“Right. We’ve been searching for so long, and we’ve finally found a clue as to their whereabouts. We must succeed!”

“Yes, we’ve got reliable info that the slavers who abducted our sisters are connected to Faulks Co. by way of Morgan Trading. There’s a good chance our sisters have been sold.”

“I’ve heard the lord of this manor takes in girls with debts or no place to go and then employs them as his maids. He probably makes them do all sorts of unseemly things.”

“Tch, what a disgusting abuse of power…!”

These elves sure seem riled up over hearsay.

“Anyway, what kind of room is this? It’s shockingly clean…”

“Well, judging by all the tools, I’d say it’s a kitchen.”

“Dang it. How do we always manage to break in to the food storage part of the house…?”

“W-well, whatever. As long as we make it inside, we don’t need to sweat the details.”

“Whoa, look at this flour. Typical rich people—they’ve always got the best ingredients.”

“Wow, you’re right. You could bake some quality bread with this stuff…”

“Don’t get distracted, you two. Let’s keep going.”

At her urging, the other two reluctantly walk away from the bag of flour.

“First, I’m going to check on the hallway. When I give the signal, follow me.”

As the one called Oruru checks the hallway, she notices that something new has captured the attention of the other two.

They stand there, mouths agape, staring up at the window.

“Oh, for—I told you two to get it together.”

“Oruru, Oruru…!”

“Ah! Ah! Ahhh…!”

What has them so spooked? She follows their gaze until she sees it.

Looking down on the three elves are six glittering eyes.

“Wh-what the…?!”

Its size far surpasses that of the girls, and it gives off an intensely intimidating aura.

Why would a monster be here? Does the owner just let monsters have the run of the house?

These sorts of thoughts race through the minds of the girls, but they’re too scared to speak.

They’re elves. They grew up in the forest, they’ve come face-to-face with demons, and they’re more than skilled at determining an opponent’s strength. But even going back through everything they’ve faced, they’ve never encountered anything like this.

Their sixth sense is screaming at them.

Here’s where we get eaten and die, they think.

“Ee—eeeek……”

The beast’s giant, jagged, drooling maw opens wide, and—

“““WoofMrowSqueak!”””

The creature lets out a strange cry, causing the three elves’ faces to contort in silent screams before they faint on the spot.

“Arwf…? (Huh? Did we just manage to subdue the bandits without lifting a paw?)”

We peeked through the window after hearing the voices, but the three girls fainted without us having to do anything.

I leave the window and head into the kitchen.

“Arwf, arwf. (These three girls don’t really seem cut out to be bandits.)”

They’re not quite what I’d imagined.

Because they went as far as sending an advance warning, I was expecting someone more like a cool middle-aged master thief kind of person.

And while they are definitely wearing lightweight clothes reminiscent of thief gear, these three are young ladies.

Judging by their long ears and silver hair, is it possible they are elves?

They remind me of a certain witch. And given that she and they have the same distinctive facial features, it’s highly possible they’re of the same race.

“Squeak. (Careful, darling, you’re drooling.)”

“Arwf. (Oh, my bad.)”

I started drooling because of the delicious smells wafting out of the kitchen. It wasn’t because I saw these girls and thought they looked tasty. Of course not.

“Mrow. (So what should we do? We can’t just leave them here.)”

“Arwf, arwf. (We’re out of options. Guess we’ll have to get Zenobia.)”

And speak of the devil—Zenobia is standing right there at the door.

“You were late to the meeting point, so I came to check on you, and w-were you about to eat them…?!”

“Bark, bark?! (You’re way off! How do you see this and jump to that conclusion?! These girls just fainted!)”

“I’m kidding. No doubt they saw you and were so surprised they fainted, right?”

Thank God she understood. My heart can’t handle that kind of joke.

And excuse me? Why would anyone faint after seeing a cute pet like me? How rude. Harrumph.

“Anyone worth their salt is going to take one look at you and know exactly how much of a monster you are. Hmm, are they elves? I suppose you couldn’t have done anything against their acute senses. But still, I’ve never heard of elf bandits before.”

I knew something was off. Elves don’t really strike me as the bandit type.

“We’ll have to inform the master, and he’ll decide what to do with them. I’ll restrain them, so you go and fetch him.”

“Arwf, arwf. (All right, all right.)”

It doesn’t really feel like snack time anymore, but maybe he’ll give me a treat.

I head up to the second floor and softly bark outside Papa’s room.

“Arwf, arwf. Arwf, arwf. (Papa, get up. We caught the burglars.)”

“What is it, Routa? You haven’t caught those thieves already, have you?”

Papa slips a gown over his pajamas and peeks out the door.

“Arwf, arwf. (I did indeed. Well, we say ‘caught,’ but they kind of just fainted all on their own.)”

“I don’t see Zenobia with you—is she watching over the thieves? And did she send you to get me?”

“Arwf, arwf. (As sharp as always.)”

“Well then, I’m on my way. But I’ll need you to guide me, Routa.”

“Arwf, arwf. (Just leave it to me.)”

I lead him downstairs to the great hall, where Zenobia has the three elf burglars tied up together.

“These girls look young enough to still be called children. Are you sure they’re the ones who sent the letter?”

They’re elves, so they probably don’t look their age, but they also really don’t look like they’d be in some dangerous line of work like robbery.

“U-ughh……”

The taller elf is coming to.

Her unfocused eyes pass over the room before suddenly locking on Papa.

“Y-you! Are you Lord Faulks?!”

“Ah, exactly right. And you would be the thieves who sent the letter, I presume?”

“Tch, you’re more corrupt than I’d imagined, keeping a beast like that in your mansion…”

“Beast? Do you mean Routa here? Our family dog…?”

Papa glances over at where I’m sitting next to him.

“Well, I suppose he has been getting a bit large lately. Have you been eating a little too much, Routa?”

H-have I? Maybe it’s your imagination? I guess I should probably go on a diet.

“I don’t think his food intake is the problem…”

Zenobia groans before brandishing her sword and pointing it at the girl.

“Eek…?!”

“It’s fine to be confident, but don’t go thinking you’ll get away with breaking in to our house and attempting to rob us.”

Whoa, scary.

After being targeted by the sudden bloodlust, the other two girls begin to stir.

“Ahhh, awawahh…”

“Shoot, we’ve been caught…”

Unlike the other two, who are coming to terms with the situation, the taller girl the sword is pointing at continues to glare at Papa.

“Damn you, Faulks, you corrupt noble! Return my sisters!”

What sisters? And “corrupt noble” couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Well now, I fear there may be some sort of misunderstanding. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about why you’re here?”

Typical Papa. Even when facing thieves who tried to rob him, he’s calmly assessing the situation.

“……Very well.”

She tells us the whole story of how she and the others came to find themselves in this situation.

They were living in a peaceful village in the woods when they were suddenly attacked by a gang of humans.

Out on the frontier, beyond the oversight of the kingdom, such slave raids occur, though infrequently.

Most of the elves were able to abandon the village and escape, but there were still several who were unable to flee and were captured.

Their gang of three was originally a group of five, but their two eldest sisters, who saved them and helped them escape, were captured in their stead.

In fleeing from the humans, the villagers were scattered, and the three girls pooled their skills to survive.

Now they pretend to be bandits and live day by day, stealing from scoundrels and continuing to search for their captured sisters.

“Uuunh, you’ve had it so hard…!”

Zenobia is bawling in sympathy.

I don’t get to see you cry that often, Zenobia. I wanna lick you.

“And so you heard a rumor that your sisters are here.”

Based on the information that their sisters had been sold to the Faulks family, they had come here to rescue them.

According to the rumors, Papa used his money to gather the finest girls as his slaves and indulged in a sumptuous feast every night.

When they heard in the Royal Capital that the Faulkses had had contact with the slavers, they thought for sure that their sisters had been bought and pursued them to the mansion.

“Arwf… (Papa…)”

“Hmm. So that’s the sort of rumor that’s been spreading, is it…?”

Papa’s shoulders slump dejectedly.

“It’s utter nonsense.”

Miranda consoles Papa as she appears, carrying a lantern.

She’s wearing a cape over her night wear and cuts a much different figure from when she’s wearing her normal maid outfit.

“Certainly there are those among us from less-than-pleasant backgrounds, but we were all saved by Master Faulks. We are all thankful toward him, and not one of us bears a grudge. We work here in the mansion as maids of our own free will. We are all officially hired through the company and receive proper wages. Whatever you’ve been imagining is completely false.”

“Wh-what are you…?!”

Oh, thank goodness. It’s all bogus.

For just a moment there, I was envious—ahem—suspicious of Papa.

“So you’re saying that our sisters aren’t here after all…?!”

“Aw, man, but it took so long to get here…”

“Where could they be…?”

The three of them start crying, and we don’t know what to do.

“It is true that I was introduced to slavers during our stay in the Royal Capital. But I’m strongly opposed to slavery. I don’t even think we should allow debt servitude or penal servitude anymore. I did think it strange that I was introduced to such people, but perhaps it was simply to sully my reputation…”

“D-did you see any elves?!”

“No, I left the meeting location as soon as possible and couldn’t tell you who was in there. I’m sorry…”

“I see…”

The girls look so dejected, and I can’t think of anything to say to them.

“Well, at least the misunderstanding has been cleared up. Zenobia, untie these ladies.”

“Are you sure?”

Zenobia sniffles as she responds.

The girls in question look dubious about being released.

“Y-you’re letting us go…?”

“Well, I’m fairly confident that you’re not going to take anything now. And seeing as there haven’t been any crimes reported in the area, I can’t think of any reason—as the marquis—to arrest you, either. After listening to your story, I’ll also use my company’s resources to aid in the search for your relatives. Hunting people is a violation of this country’s constitution. It might take some time, but it will no doubt be better than searching haphazardly.”

“Why would you go so far as to help us…? You know nothing about us, and we’re just burglars, of a different race, no less…”

“If I abandoned someone in need, I’d never be able to look my daughter in the eye. I want my daughter to be proud of her father. That’s all that matters to me.”

He’s the embodiment of compassion and human kindness. Man, what a guy. Papa, you’re the coolest.

“And if you’re having troubles and you’d like, I could see about getting you some work through my company.”

“Thank you…but we’ll continue searching for our sisters on our own. Could you tell us about that group of slavers? I think we’ll restart our search there.”

“We just want to help them as soon as possible, you know?”

“Yeah, what they said.”

The three girls seem pretty set in their decision.

“Arwf… (I wish there was more we could do…)”

There didn’t seem to be anything I, a pet, could do to help, but I still didn’t feel right sending them off like this.

“I really did only meet with the slaver for a brief moment. The only thing I can say about the man is that it was impressive how little of an impression he left… I’m sorry I can’t be of more assistance. At the very least, please allow me to cover your travel expenses. Miranda.”

“Yes, Master Faulks. I assumed you would offer, so I brought this.”

Miranda walks back into the room carrying a leather pouch on a silver tray.

“Y-you really don’t need to go that far!”

“Please, accept it. Otherwise, I’ll worry about what might befall you on your journey. And I can’t have you stealing anything in my domain, now, can I?”

Papa laughs that last bit off as a joke, but it’s really not a laughing matter.

“Thank you. We’ll definitely repay this kindness.”

The tallest elf girl accepts the leather pouch before apparently being hit with a thought.

“Oh, right, this is a tool the people who attacked our village used. Maybe it’s a clue that can help us track down our sisters?”

From her pack she pulls out a collar adorned with a round stone.

“Arwf? (Huh? Haven’t I seen some of those before?)”

But where was it?

“Squeak… (Wasn’t it in the capital with that showy girl? You know, the noisy, uppity one…)”

Ah yes, that Goldilocks with the twin drills, Lady Elizabeth.

Len was right; the monsters Drillizabeth had each wore one of those around its neck. And they all were imbued with brainwashing magic.

When she was showing off her collection of pets, the spell snapped, and they all went berserk.

After that, Drills befriended Lady Mary and became a considerably dedicated pen pal, but I’m almost positive this is the same collar.

“Hmm. No, I don’t recognize that. But it might be useful as a lead. Do you mind if I borrow it?”

“Not at all—please do… I always thought of humans as nothing more than vicious creatures, but you’ve shown me that there are kind ones as well. I apologize for the late introduction. My name is Oruru.”

“I’m Eruru. Thank you for everything.”

“And I’m Ururu! Thank you!”

The three girls decline Papa’s offer to stay the rest of the night and depart in the morning, and instead they say their good-byes and leave the mansion.

I break off from Papa and the others, who are sadly watching them go, and slip out the back door into the night.