Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World: Volume 8 [Parts 1 to 7] by Schuld

Author:Schuld
Language: eng
Format: epub

[Tips] The drugs peddled by the Baldur Clan amount to nothing more than the failures from their master’s pursuit of a way to abolish the physical pains of this world. Though they incur no unintended physical side effects, the withdrawal symptoms are severe. Some unfortunate souls beg for death if they are parted from their crutch. They are nothing more than the last respite for those whose hearts the world has broken beyond repair.

The work was filthy at times, and life could get him down powerfully, but for Siegfried the reasons to keep chasing after his dreams of heroism still firmly outnumbered the reasons to abandon them.

He’d stormed out of his home after a big fight with his family. He’d pilfered his spear and sword from the Watch’s storehouse. His childhood friend ,whose prospects were far brighter than his, came along with him out of concern and never complained.

He knew full well that this amounted to nothing more than idle vanity, but Dirk of Illfurth had propped himself up on such reasons through every exhausting day of idle labor.

It was true that Kaya’s influence elevated him from dirt in the gutter to something marginally more tolerable, but for this young man who had gone as far to change his name to that of his revered hero, the work was still a far cry from anything heroic. A poem written about him now would amount to little more than a gussied-up list of his complaints.

Kaya’s help weighed heavily on him—almost as much as how little his efforts to keep her protected amounted to. The onslaught of clan invitations had lessened recently, but Siegfried still felt it bear down on him. A hero needed to hold his own—to be self-sufficient.

Maybe that’s why he had flared up so angrily at his peer.

And why...

“Whoooa! I think it hit me! D-Do I still have an ear?!”

“Cool it, Sieg! You’ll make me go deaf!”

...he had allowed himself to squeeze close to this same guy on the back of a bucking horse as he squealed in terror.

He’d abandoned a life empty of prospects for a future of wealth, glory, and renown that would draw the curious to his gravesite for ages to come. So what happened? He had been on a relatively mindless job alongside a gaggle of bodyguards doing very little actual guard work. Despite the good pay of fifty assarii per day, the gig was a dull one: Hang around the caravans, discourage bandits, and keep an eye out for pickpockets.

And yet here he was now—barely holding onto a horse as an organized mob of bandits followed behind, baying for their blood.

This is what he got for trying to overtake his overachieving comrade. For some reason Goldilocks had taken a liking to him and offered him this well-paying gig, but it seemed like his luck had run its course. Now he was barely hanging on under a literal storm of arrows.

“They’re well equipped! Think they’re a local lord’s own little private army?!”

“Gwaaah, don’t ask me! Oh crap—that was close!”

Yes, it had been tedious work.

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