Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World: Volume 9 Canto I [Parts 1 to 14] by Schuld

Author:Schuld
Language: eng
Format: epub

[Tips] Experience from a life-or-death battle engraves itself on your heart and can boost your skills and reflexes.

Not once in my life have I managed to start or close out a major chapter of my life without the weather deciding to piss all over my parade. My big trip home from Berylin was baptized in a brutal downpour; the day after I registered as an adventurer, Marsheim got hammered just the same. Sure, the capital was wetter and more temperamental than anywhere else I’d lived before, but after today, well—“twice is a coincidence; three times is a pattern.” Somebody out there just loves to put a damper on my big days..

“Hmm...” I said, “I think someone’s bad luck is rubbing off on the group.”

“Uh, it’s totally you, man,” said Siegfried.

Clad in the biggest rain cloak I owned, I stood outside the Snowy Winterwolf with Sieg, who was similarly outfitted.

“Ouch.”

“For real though, remember what happened during our job in Zeufar? The one that was sent to you? You’re the unluckiest guy in the group; face it.”

“Seriously?”

I looked around to Kaya and Margit, hoping they would give me their full-blown support, but they awkwardly avoided my gaze.

“I hate to admit it, but I have to agree with him, Erich,” said Margit. “Do you remember how many times we were attacked on our journey to Marsheim? I think we should be grateful it’s raining water and not arrows.”

“Ha...haha... I have nothing really to add on top of that,” said Kaya.

Traitors, the lot of them...

“But it sucks... I wanted a fun send-off for our new carriage,” I said, pouting and letting my shoulders slump in despondence before I could catch myself. It hurt seeing my new two-horse carriage get soaked ahead of its first outing. Couldn’t at least one of them lie for the sake of my suffering mental health?

My Dioscuri were rigged up in front of a covered wagon of the usual make you saw in the Empire. I had specified some tweaks here and there and had it fitted with a steel frame to ease up on the suspension and improve its long-term survivability—it was a real beauty. Although it looked the same as any old carriage from the outside, it was nothing like the cheap things I’d ridden in my time working the caravans. Those glorified apple carts left the average thrifty commoner with, to cite the slang of the age, “viciously bumbasted”—sore of ass in a fearsome way; this baby, by contrast, was fit for noble rears. We were set to ride easy.

“Man, I gotta say, you really splashed out. How much did you say it was—ten drachmae?”

“It’s an investment with huge returns once you think about how much better it’ll handle on long excursions. We’ll be able to pitch tents without getting soaked and carry bread with us without it getting soggy. Also, think about your back! You were complaining the whole way back from Zeufar about how heavy your knapsack was.”

I’d dropped a veritable fortune on this in the name of adventure.

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