Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World: Volume 4 Canto I by Schuld

Author:Schuld [SCHULD]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: J-Novel Club
Published: 2022-07-12T00:00:00+00:00

[Tips] Parades see knights, officials, and their servants marching through the city in a display of military might. Those who march take pride in their beautiful garb and the cheers of the people; those who watch rest easy at night knowing the great might of those who protect them.

In the words of Lady Agrippina, these were vain castles in the capital of vanity; yet, at times, that gilded veneer was what swayed men’s hearts.

“Wow,” I said. “Look at that, Elisa.”

“Pretty! Pretty, Dear Brother!”

I’d loaded Elisa up on my shoulders to make sure she wouldn’t get lost amidst her excitement. I knew the crown had mandated festive decorations, but the sights of the town were really something to behold.

The mystic streetlights that stood at every corner each served as the pole to a flag embroidered with the national emblem of a three-headed drake (representing the three imperial houses). Houses on major streets were covered in all sorts of fantastical banners, making a mere walk candy for the eyes.

Soldiers had obviously cleared out the route to be marched, but just an alley away from the projected path, one could find all manner of street stalls being run by the city’s populous merchant class. I couldn’t even count the number of shops selling food and water, not to mention the foreign textiles, clothes, lifestyle goods, knickknacks, and even weapons on display.

“Ice candies!” Elisa exclaimed. “Dear Brother, there’s ice candies!”

“There really are,” I agreed. “Let’s get some later, okay?”

All her enthusiasm had caused Elisa’s speech to devolve a bit, and she began to kick her legs as soon as she spotted her favorite frozen treat. There there, calm down, I prayed. I’ll buy you some later. I don’t know what I’ll do if you get this fancy outfit dirty, so calm down, please.

Elisa’s clothing had been, alas, handpicked by Lady Leizniz before leaving the College. Her gothic evening wear utilized enough silk and velvet for one to buy a house with the raw materials, and was arranged in a way that made me question whether the design had arrived a few decades too early for my baby sister to wear. The deep maroon trimmed with black and scarlet puffed up her shoulders and fit snugly near the waist to make for an unnecessarily mature contour for a girl her age.

On the lower half, she had a shorter skirt that only went down to her knees, which the wraith had gone so far as to puff up with a metal wireframe. Her thin black tights had intricate embroidery all across them; this wasn’t very standard for gothic styles, but probably arose from Lady Leizniz’s penchant for making her unique tastes known.

That woman was so bizarrely fixated on forcing long gloves and patterned tights onto little girls. The moment wherein she’d called for a seamstress crying, “I must see the shape of her knees!” would sit in a special part of my heart for as long as I lived—the part labeled emotional trauma, of course.

Despite wearing

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