"And then, you see! One of my little ones did this—!"
"I see, I see. That truly is an exceptionally delightful scene."
"Right—?!"
With a cup of the alcohol provided by Strategist-kun in one hand, our conversation bounced along merrily.
After that grand entrance, because of the massive blunder I committed with my aura, the soldiers who had lost control of their basic bodily functions had to be transported back into the town. It would have been far too cruel to leave them lying out there, not to mention it was terribly stinky and messy. Since it was entirely my fault, helping out was the least I could do, though part of me couldn't help but think, 'Couldn't you guys have held it in just a little bit more?' Back in the highlands, that level of pressure was practically a light jab. Well, I do comprehend that the baseline for common sense around here is completely different from mine.
I had tried my best to look imposing so the Strategist wouldn't look down on me, but because both armies sustained devastating psychological (and intestinal) damage, the negotiation strategy was completely scrapped. We put the serious talks on hold and immediately pivoted to a massive cleanup operation. Since things were quite unsanitary, I let my children run free to play while the Strategist and I initially handled things. Afterward, we slapped the relatively conscious soldiers awake to make them work, and the cleaning and transport had finally wrapped up just a short while ago.
Even so, I wonder if doing the exact same chore together builds a strange sense of solidarity? The soldiers of Heed and Nagan were all patting each other on the back, consoling one another while scrubbing their trousers and armor by the river. They had become incredibly close friends in record time! Mmh, mmh, peace and friendship truly are beautiful things! (Desperate optimism).
(Well, because everyone else was stuck doing laundry, we ended up having to kill time outside, but...)
The sole survivor of the initial blast, the Strategist, had approached me with a polite, "Would you care to accompany me for a brief moment?" while bringing out a stash of alcohol, so I gladly accepted the offer.
According to the scout soldiers who had returned from monitoring the Beast Kingdom direction last night, there wasn't a single shadow or trace of any follow-up forces coming from their country. The current consensus was that the army led by the Beast King himself was likely the entirety of their invasion force. In short, there were no immediate battles scheduled, and my children were free to play to their hearts' content. We still needed to maintain a baseline level of vigilance, but what the kingdom ultimately demanded from us was pure, raw military might. Therefore, having a casual drinking party in the middle of the day wasn't a problem at all.
As long as someone on the level of the Beast King didn't show up unexpectedly, I could handle pretty much anything now. Besides, my only remaining schedule for the day was watching over my children while practicing the mana manipulation homework Amelia-san had assigned me. It wasn't something I needed to rush, and since he went out of his way to invite me, there was no reason to decline. Plus, I simply wanted a drink.
Furthermore...
『Every single item inside this luggage carriage consists entirely of wine barrels. While the main stock is grape wine purchased from the Heed royal capital, I have also loaded multiple varieties of fine fruit wines that caught my eye along the way. There are several identical carriages just like this one. Since there will also be supplies coming from the Heed Kingdom, please, drink as much as your heart desires.』
...he had said it like that! It was broad daylight, but if an ostrich turned down a direct challenge like that, it would bring shame to the entire flock, wouldn't it? Which is why I dragged three whole carriages' worth of wine barrels over and was currently chugging them down! It hadn't even been an hour yet, but I had already completely emptied two entire carriages! Ahaha~! The Strategist seemed to have grown used to it by now, but you should have seen his face when he first witnessed the speed at which I drink! He looked exactly like a man staring at a phenomenon that completely defied the laws of physics—it was absolutely hilarious!
"Besides, the Strategist-san's stories are so fascinating that the alcohol just keeps going down!"
"No, no, the pleasure is entirely mine to be drinking so merrily with you."
He said so with a perfectly smooth smile, but to be completely honest, it wasn't fun at all. To be precise, it was only fun at the very beginning.
And it was no wonder; the man was a "Special Tactical Force" based purely on his intellect. He was someone deemed to be on the level of a highland apex predator through sheer brainpower. And even though my "Intimidation" hadn't been at absolute full throttle, he was an opponent who had coolly brushed it aside without a change in facial expression. The person in the bright red armor standing next to him had looked reasonably strong, but even she had gone down hard. Yet, the Strategist alone remained standing until the bitter end. I couldn't feel even a shred of mana or physical strength from him, but his intellect and the sheer strength of his willpower were clearly extraordinary in their own right.
(His actual combat capability is definitively beneath mine, yet he can withstand that pressure... To say I don't find that deeply unnerving would be a lie.)
He was already someone who required maximum vigilance, and then out of nowhere, this terrifyingly smart person casually asks, "Shall we have a drinking party?" There was absolutely no way I wouldn't be on guard. Of course, he likely understood that dynamic perfectly, which is why the conversation consisted entirely of meaningless banter and casual complaints typical of a late-night dive bar. But the sheer execution of his conversational flow was entirely too flawless.
I vaguely recalled books from my past life with titles like The Art of Captivating Conversation or How to Make Anyone Like You, but I could feel that this man was utilizing techniques that lightly transcended anything written in those pages. That being said, completely shutting down or deliberately ruining the atmosphere was something I had to avoid. As long as I belonged to the Heed camp, this man was a high-ranking official of an ally nation.
Moreover, if I allowed the mood to turn excessively sour, my children might draw their own conclusions and flag the Strategist as an "Enemy!" Delightfully enough, my existence seemed to carry immense weight to those little ones. Perhaps because some of them were still carrying the tension from the battle with the Beast King, a few of them were staring at me with intensely protective, unblinking glares from a short distance away.
(The moment I make an uncomfortable face, they will fly over here, and in a fraction of a second, this place will turn into a cannibalistic banquet. In more ways than one, I want to avoid that outcome.)
I had always been incredibly resilient to alcohol, but this was the first time in either of my lives where no matter how much I drank, I couldn't feel even a tiny bit of a buzz because my brain was working on overdrive...
We kept up a steady stream of relatively meaningless dialogue, the kind of casual banter that drunkards excel at, but the benchmark for what counted as "meaningless" information was ultimately up to me. In other words, simply by conversing, I was inadvertently presenting this Strategist with data regarding my personality, my standard of judgment, and the baseline intelligence of my flock. I was doing my absolute best to steer clear of anything critical, but...
(He really is a handful.)
"Ah, right! Strategist-san, you should tell a story too!"
"Me? Let me see... Then, if you don't mind a bit of a complaint."
With that smooth transition, what he began to vent about was his grievances regarding the "human supremacy" ideology rooted within his country. It was supposed to be a casual vent, but because his storytelling was so fundamentally excellent, it was actually a little annoying. Furthermore, the current me lacked the necessary background information to properly parse and verify his claims. Even listening with half an ear felt dangerous. This man absolutely knew I wasn't drunk in the slightest...
It was amusing at first, but constantly talking to someone this smart is thoroughly exhausting, Patrasche... I felt like a puppet dancing right on the palm of his hand. No matter how many memories of a past life I possessed, there was no way an ostrich could ever win a battle of wits against—wait! Oh, right! I could just destroy my own brain and force an evolution until I reached the exact same intellectual level as the Strategist-kun!
(Well, even if I did that, I have no idea if I'd actually level up that much, and it hurts like absolute hell, so I'm not going to do it...)
"As I'm sure you understand, correcting a deeply rooted ideology is exceptionally difficult. It is a matter that must be handled gradually, taking a vast amount of time."
"I see, I see... Well, alcohol is the perfect cure for such gloomy talk! Here, drink up, drink up!"
I said, pouring more wine into his glass.
According to him, he was dealing with his own mountain of stress regarding these ideological matters. While the number of citizens who held no prejudice against other races was steadily increasing, human supremacy still loomed large as the defining ideology of the nation. Because the belief had spread not just among a faction of the nobility but deep into the common populace as well, he was constantly terrified that moving too aggressively against it might trigger a literal revolution.
"If we sit down for a 'chat,' there are those who can be brought to understand, but doing so on a large scale begins to look entirely too much like brainwashing..."
"Hmm... Oh, this one is delicious."
"Pardon me, that was a terribly boring topic. What you are drinking now is a mead we procured along our journey. I believe it is quite renowned as a local specialty of that region."
Oh, no wonder it tasted so good. I've always had a massive sweet tooth.
...Come to think of it, among the alcohol they prepared for me, the vast majority of it leaned heavily toward the sweeter side. I didn't particularly care for dry or bitter drinks, so I was incredibly happy, but wait... did he already figure out my taste preferences too? The sheer volume of food the Nagan reinforcements had brought along was also clearly calculated for a massive transport tailored specifically to the ostriches' appetites. Now that I thought about it, I had a bit to drink back when we were at the royal capital, and my children had been eating their meals just as ravenously as always. ...Ah, I suppose if you analyze human rumors and the sudden shifts in market logistics, it's not that hard to deduce.
(Sigh, this is proving to be much more tedious than I thought.)
The fact that I was currently contemplating 'What kind of compromise would be the absolute best outcome for my flock?' was likely completely transparent to the Strategist as well. As I gulped down my drink with that thought in mind, I spotted a red-haired woman marching toward us at a considerable speed.
Strategist-san, is that an acquaintance of yours? ...Wait, she was the person inside that bright red armor? Wow, since she had been completely encased in heavy plating from head to toe earlier, I hadn't been able to tell her gender at all.
With a heavy, stomping stride that practically screamed her internal turmoil, the woman marched right up to us and dropped heavily onto one knee.
"Forgive my intrusion during your pleasant conversationッ!"
◇◆◇◆◇
The woman known as the "Red Knight"—her true name being Dorothea Equest—was currently at her absolute wit's end.
And frankly, it couldn't be helped. While she wasn't a blind fanatic, she did believe in "human supremacy" and had always viewed non-human races as inherently inferior. However, because she had received direct orders from the "Strategist," whom she deeply revered and respected, she had mentally prepared herself to maintain absolute composure throughout this entire mission.
Among the personnel of Nagan's military, particularly those of higher rank, everyone fully understood the sheer abnormality of the Strategist's intellect and the profound depth of his patriotism. As long as he was present within the nation, their security was absolute; as long as they followed his words, they would never go astray. Yet, what he desired was not a collection of mindless puppets, but comrades who could firmly state their own opinions. She understood that aspect of him well.
(However, I do not possess an intellect grand enough to offer such lofty opinions.)
She had been born and raised in a noble lineage of knights that had persisted since the very founding of the kingdom. Because the Nagan Kingdom had originally been established specifically to protect humanity from the attacks of other races, her household made it a family precept to never commit acts that would bring shame upon the exploits of their ancestors. Every single member of her family was a staunch believer in the nation's ideology. Consequently, having spent the vast majority of her childhood in that environment, it was only natural that she was thoroughly dyed in those beliefs.
Brought up in a strict yet deeply loving household, she gradually set foot upon the path of a knight. Every capable individual in her family was a member of the military, and with the sole exception of those who lacked the physical aptitude, everyone served as a knight—acting as the shield of the nation. Having grown up listening to the grand exploits of her ancestors, the victories of her parents, and the brilliant battlefield achievements of her brothers, it was entirely natural for her to choose the exact same path.
To that young girl who deeply yearned to match her family's achievements, the goddess of fortune offered a tiny, sudden smile.
She possessed absolutely no talent for magic, nor did she hold any reality-bending unique skills. However, by the tender age of five, she already possessed raw physical strength grand enough to swing around her fully armored eldest brother—a grown, active knight—with a single hand. Her family was astonished, and simultaneously rejoiced with immense expectation: 'With this child, Nagan might finally birth a physical "Special Tactical Force."'
At that time, before the Strategist had officially initiated his activities, a nation like Nagan—which lacked a Special Tactical Force of its own—was being pushed into an exceptionally agonizing position by neighboring powers. Amidst such a crisis, the birth of a child with such monstrous talent was a blessing. As knights serving the country and as parents, there was no greater joy. Seeing the pure happiness on the faces of her parents and family, she resolved to dedicate herself to her training with even greater fervor.
Thus, time flowed onward. Right around the time she had acquired enough martial capability to easily slaughter a thousand ordinary soldiers on her own and was preparing to commission as an officer, Nagan's true "Special Tactical Force" was born.
During a desperate counteroffensive operation launched by Nagan to endure the crushing pressure of surrounding nations, the "Strategist" suddenly rose to prominence. Utilizing pure strategy, he annihilated the enemy army in the blink of an eye while reducing ally casualties to absolute zero. It was an exhibition of overwhelming capability. Upon hearing the news, she was deeply captivated. The moment she entered commission carrying her family's immense expectations, she discovered the ideal model she was meant to strive toward. Raw military might and supreme intellect—though their directions were entirely different, he was undeniably the summit she aspired to reach.
She thought to herself:
'If I can successfully become a Special Tactical Force, Nagan will possess two ultimate pillars of strength.'
The existence known as the Strategist would weave the perfect web of strategy, and in accordance with his plans, she would step forward to utterly smash everything to pieces. With the innocence of youth still lingering on her face, she had dreamed of such a future like a maiden in love, throwing herself into her daily training with relentless devotion. While there was always a higher summit, the number of individuals across any nation capable of facing a thousand opponents entirely on their own was exceptionally scarce. An important post was immediately prepared for her, and she was swiftly dispatched to the front lines, converting every single battlefield experience into raw nourishment for her growth.
The more she fought, the more she could physically feel her own growth, and countless voices of praise and expectation poured in from her surroundings. Combined with the rise of the Strategist, she was grandly celebrated by the public as "Nagan's Next Special Tactical Force." She never allowed those voices to make her arrogant, but she never denied them either. Because she, too, firmly believed that she would eventually attain that height.
(...However, everything possesses a definitive limit.)
Right around the time her combat capability reached the 5,000 class—attaining the rank of a Quasi-Special Tactical Force—a strange sensation began to manifest. The constant feeling of growth she had experienced up until then completely vanished. Yes, she had hit her absolute growth ceiling. While a handful of true Special Tactical Forces grew continuously as if limits simply did not exist for them, as long as one was a living creature, an upper bound inevitably existed. She had arrived at that ceiling at the young age of eighteen. It was an entirely too premature limit.
Upon becoming a Quasi-Special Tactical Force, the King himself had bestowed upon her a title containing her own hair color—the "Red Knight"—alongside a set of crimson-colored Mythril full-plate armor that burned like deep fire. The expectations of the people grew far grander than they had ever been in the past. Everyone expected her to step over the line, demanding that she become stronger still.
However, her own body was screaming that it had reached its absolute limit.
Crushed under the reality that she could never become what was demanded of her, suffocated by the voices of her surroundings, and utterly devastated by her own helplessness, she came one step away from breaking completely. The one who reached out to her at her lowest was the Strategist. It was him.
(Thanks to that gentleman, I was able to stand on my own feet again. I can never stand beside him as an equal Special Tactical Force, but I can still move as his loyal piece.)
She redefined herself as a mere chess piece for the Strategist.
It was the fastest method available to reconstruct her shattered psyche, and above all, it felt like exactly what he desired of her. Even as a Quasi-Special Tactical Force, her effectiveness on a battlefield was still immense. She could easily slaughter not just ordinary soldiers, but even seasoned veterans with absolute ease. She could never be the ultimate, unbreakable spear, but she could become an exceptionally sharp, highly efficient blade to be utilized at the perfect psychological moment.
An individual of her caliber was ultimately replaceable; therefore, she resolved to become a piece that could be used up until it broke.
The Strategist never praised her for that decision, but he silently accepted it. To the her of that time, a rejection would have been fatal. Furthermore, for the "Strategist"—a man who had completely sacrificed his own heart for the sake of the state—acting out of personal sentiment for a single individual was impossible. If one prioritized the national interest above all else, this was the absolute best arrangement.
However, even the Strategist was ultimately human. Every single time she brought back a report of a glorious victory, his face would contort slightly, as if silently questioning whether the choices of the past had truly been correct.
The Red Knight was fully aware of those subtle changes in his expression.
She concluded that the faint look of anguish on the Strategist's face was entirely caused by her own lack of capability. In truth, while she had managed to become a highly efficient piece, her combat capability still hovered around the 5,000 mark. Even with equipment modifiers and armor enhancements, she couldn't break past 6,000. On a chaotic battlefield, it was not an amount of power that allowed a commander to rest easy.
(...I must become stronger still.)
Consequently, she sought greater power, while simultaneously choosing to sink even deeper into becoming a mindless piece.
Spending her days traveling to countless battlefields, searching for any possible method to elevate herself, and ruthlessly optimizing her combat style. Even when the Strategist, noticing her disturbing transformation, allowed his expression to cloud with worry for a fleeting instant, her momentum did not slow in the slightest.
And so, it led to the present.
The Strategist had brought her along specifically for the sake of countering the Beast King. What he felt she desperately required was an overwhelming experience of profound success—the successful subjugation of the Beast King. Believing that the experience of personally bringing down a true Special Tactical Force would undeniably spark a positive transformation within her, he had planned to deploy her the exact moment his traps succeeded and stripped the Beast King of his mana.
However, that entire layout had been utterly pulverized by the ostriches.
Consequently, the Strategist was forced to completely reconstruct his strategy. If a grand experience of success was out of the question, what if he opted for a complete psychological breakthrough instead? The ostrich was a Special Tactical Force that lightly transcended even the Beast King. By witnessing that terrifying reality from the absolute front row, he believed the fundamental desire sleeping within her—the raw yearn to 'become a Special Tactical Force'—might undergo a profound shift. It was an exceptionally harsh shock therapy, but it was an action born from his absolute confidence that she would successfully stand back up from it.
Furthermore, in order to simultaneously correct her troublesome racial ideologies, investigate the exact combat capabilities of the individual members of the ostrich flock, and fulfill a myriad of other analytical objectives, he had set his plan into motion.
...The result of which, well, was that.
Lais's casual "Hello, Intimidation" had caused a grand disaster where the Red Knight-chan, alongside nearly everyone else, lost control of her functions and fainted on the spot.
The ostriches, who had completely overwhelmed everyone present without discriminating between Nagan and Heed, had undeniably stepped right through the very core of the Red Knight-chan's pride.
It was a suffocating pressure that clearly communicated she stood absolutely zero chance of victory, a dense manifestation of raw death floating right before her eyes. Even as a Quasi-Special Tactical Force who had tried her absolute best to endure, she ultimately succumbed to the steadily tightening pressure of Lais's aura, collapsing face-first onto the dirt. And simultaneously, she had leaked a grand variety of things. Describing the details would constitute a severe violation of her human dignity, so we shall not delve into the specifics, but it was a "wide assortment" of bodily fluids.
Thus, when she finally woke up to an exceptionally bizarre, wet, and thoroughly uncomfortable sensation throughout her lower half...
(Waaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
...she was already, completely, at her absolute wit's end.
First, as a knight. She had committed the ultimate disgrace of losing consciousness long before her own commander—the Strategist, whom she was supposed to protect with her life as an individual second only to the King within Nagan. Furthermore, upon the precious, sacred crimson full-plate Mythril armor bestowed upon her by His Majesty the King himself, she had, of all things, violently discharged both minor and major varieties of bodily waste. The absolute instant her family caught wind of such a catastrophic blunder, the entire lineage would immediately commit self-sabotage and execute themselves to preserve their honor. Naturally, she would be the very first to cut off her own head.
Second, as a piece. Before their arrival, the Strategist had explicitly provided her with detailed instructions: 'Once we arrive, things will progress in this manner, so I would like Red Knight-chan to move like this~.' They were highly meticulous commands constructed to account for multiple fluid battlefield situations. She was supposed to have burned every single word into her brain and moved as his ultimate tool... yet she had passed out cold. Because of her helplessness, the Strategist's entire opening gambit had been completely ruined. She had failed as a piece. She was disqualified. She possessed zero value as a living creature.
Finally, as a maiden. She was still a young, unmarried woman who hadn't even reached twenty years of age. Because she had spent her entire life working relentlessly as a knight, she had never experienced anything even remotely resembling a romantic relationship. For such an innocent maiden to have the single superior officer she deeply admired and yearned for—the Strategist—witness her in a state where she had completely soiled herself??? It was over. It was the absolute end of the world. She felt like she was going to literally explode from sheer, unadulterated shame. In fact, given her current mental state, physically exploding into tiny pieces would probably be a massive relief.
Whether it was because she had intensely experienced the raw terror of death, her suppressed feelings as a young maiden had burst forth far more violently than her pride as a knight, leaving her writhing in absolute agony from the humiliation. Because she was actively commissioned to the state, she wasn't permitted to simply commit suicide on a whim. And above all else, she had to personally wash her own armor—the armor currently caked in a grand variety of her own waste. I mean, there was absolutely no way she could ever delegate such a task to another human being.
In this world, the capability gap between genders in actual combat didn't differ all that much, but it was a stark reality that the gender ratio within the military leaned heavily toward men. In other words, she had to clean her soiled armor with a bright red face while surrounded by countless male soldiers who were busy doing the exact same thing.
To make matters infinitely worse, the armor she wore—the armor currently carrying that unfortunate "fortune"—was a set of full-plate armor.
Compared to the ordinary soldiers, her gear possessed a vastly superior number of individual interlocking parts. The sheer time and effort required to clean it was exceptional.
(Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
She had absolutely no choice but to scream bloody murder inside her own brain.
Thus, after receiving some much-needed assistance from Matilde and the female soldiers of Heed and Nagan who took pity on her tragic state, she had finally laid her armor out under the sun to dry. Donning a set of ordinary town-girl clothes lent to her by a sympathetic citizen who felt deeply sorry for her, she marched forward with wide, aggressive strides, clutching her beloved sword in one hand. Her current mental state was at its absolute limit, to the point where she wanted to cover her face and wail at the top of her lungs, but she was a "Knight." She had to fulfill the bare minimum of the duties assigned to her.
In short, the mock battle with a member of the "Ostrich" flock.
She tried her best to vent the raging storm of emotions in her heart through her aggressive walking pace, but the feelings simply bubbled up without limit. Furthermore, the absolute instant her superior officer, the Strategist, entered her field of vision, the internal panic spiked even higher. And the added reality that Lais was still sitting right there immediately injected a massive dose of pure, unadulterated terror into the mix.
No longer capable of comprehending what she was even thinking, she simply allowed herself to snap, shouting out of sheer, desperate recklessness.
"Forgive my intrusion during your pleasant conversationッ!"