“Hmm, this kind of feel, maybe?”
Improving Porter, Poyo-Poyo and I sat in the shed agonizing over the fully-built Porter.
The last critical part wouldn’t settle.
“That’s a little… how about this?”
Poyo-Poyo agonizing too. The completion of the crystallization of my love with chicken-bastard was running rough, and we traded opinions.
And the ancestors in the Jewel were piping up.
The Second —
“Oi oi — that position? Definitely off-balance.”
The Third was serious like never before.
“No — what about deliberately the opposite side? Looking at it in isolation it’s odd, but in overall balance—”
The Fourth:
”…No, plain center, right? Anything else — unthinkable.”
Even the usually-indifferent Fifth was earnest.
“Hey, Lyle… cat-ears. Definitely cuter.”
The Sixth objected.
“What are you saying! Horns! Lyle, a man — horns, surely!”
The Seventh took middle ground.
“Something that could be horns or ears. Important point: these wide-open eyes!”
In my hand was a round cylinder with two big, round, cute eyes. Poyo-Poyo had embedded glass beads.
Right.
Couldn’t decide where the head went.
In the shed, lately-grown-more-manly Aria watched us, sighing.
I knew she was exasperated. But we couldn’t blow the final detail at this point.
Aria, exasperated:
“Does he need a head? — He’s just decoration, right? Stick it anywhere. — Do you need it?”
A correct argument.
Not wrong.
Which is exactly why it was wrong.
Poyo-Poyo, sniffing:
“For you as you are, that large bust is decoration too. — Lately ever more manly, viscount’s-former-daughter Aria-san.”
Hand to mouth, forced laugh.
I looked at Aria seriously.
“Aria — we’re serious. Don’t get in our way.”
From the Jewel, agreement.
The Second on down.
“Shut it, girl!”
“Cat-ears… horns rejected, but ears might be fine.”
“Better safe on the exterior! Get attachment, get popular — don’t get fancy!”
“Rabbit ears are fine too.”
“Why are horns rejected…”
“No — keep it simple as-is. Adding horns or ears will distract from those cute eyes.”
— No, I was wrong.
Apart from the Second, no one had even heard Aria.
I covered for Aria. Felt sorry for her at last. Though Aria probably didn’t feel sorry for herself.
Even now veins on her forehead, glaring at Poyo-Poyo.
”…Sorry, Aria. We’re seriously stuck. This is Porter… important to a comrade of ours.”
Poyo-Poyo raised one hand and hopped in place, twin-tails bouncing.
“Yes, yes! I, too, am an important comrade to chicken-bastard and the merry amazonian band! Maid-type automaton, everyone’s comfort! And the name is important!”
This time Aria sniffed.
“Ha — Poyo-Poyo is fine. Junk.”
Poyo-Poyo looked at Aria.
“You’ve picked a fight… very well. I accept. From today, Aria-san’s meals will be high-calorie. Weight will gradually climb — anxiety will set in. I’ll prepare proper night-snacks. Truly sweet and delicious sweets!”
Would that even work? I tilted my head.
I looked at Aria — frustrated.
The Second:
“Now that’s something. Aria’s got the rhythm too.”
“That’s foul!”
Poyo-Poyo laughed. What a nasty smile.
I thought:
(She can do that expression too. The ancients — incredible.)
Poyo-Poyo swept up one twin-tail and declared:
“Foul? Take it as praise. For chicken-bastard’s sake I’ll use any means — ow!”
I hit Poyo-Poyo’s head with Porter’s head. Nice sound.
“Don’t pin it on me. — More importantly — where does Porter’s head go—”
Aria:
“Just about there. — How long are you going to dither—”
Poyo-Poyo and I followed her finger and were stunned.
“That’s it! Aria, you’re amazing! Porter’s head position — decided! Thank you!”
I smiled. Aria looked complicated. Glad? Exasperated? Hard to tell.
“U-uh? If you’re happy then I guess… eh?”
Poyo-Poyo also nodded.
“Frustrating, but rather than dead-center or flush… that position is truly superb.”
The ancestors too.
“This kid — capable, surprisingly.”
“That leaves only the ears…”
“Magnificent! Looks matter to earnings! Customers will flock!”
“Position doesn’t matter. What kind of ears, that’s the question!”
“Horns rejected…”
“No extras needed. With the head off-center, weird ornaments will be in the way!”
We attached the head.
Operated by magic — the head moved. A ball joint at the neck made it possible.
Poyo-Poyo’s all-day head work was splendid.
“Perfect!”
“Porter… how grown up you’ve become.”
I praised. Poyo-Poyo wept. Aria watched with a complicated face.
Aramsus-specialized Porter: low chassis, broad wheels.
Rubber wrapped around the wide wheels, brought by Poyo-Poyo. The body, seen from above, was rectangular — sized to take dungeon corners with a margin.
The cargo area had a roof; the side boards deployed as shields.
The front was thickly armored — could block a corridor. The legs for stair descent were now shorter.
But deploy the shields wide and brace with the legs — a proper wall.
The ceiling-hung lantern was adjustable now.
A lot of pointless effort.
Poyo-Poyo:
“I’d hoped to keep the shield separate.”
I agreed, but it was rejected for a reason.
“Can’t help it. Clara and I will switch off operating, but I’m fine — Clara is…”
One was fine. Clara couldn’t manage two or more.
She’d borrowed a small doll for practice — not going well.
“I participate in combat too. Use magic when I have to. With that…”
We’d planned to make up for manpower with Porter, but combat manpower was also short.
While Poyo-Poyo and I talked seriously, Aria:
”…Why are you two so serious about a hauling-doll that works only here?”
Hearing it, Poyo-Poyo and I — and the ancestors — in chorus:
“Porter!”
“Remember the name! He’s Porter — crystallization of my and chicken-bastard’s love, holding a more splendid name than I do!”
“He’s Porter, dammit!”
After being on Porter for so long, even the ancestors had developed attachment.
You’re casually amazing, Porter.
— At the Aramsus Guild, Novem had come to submit paperwork for the dungeon run.
Miranda and Shannon too.
Shannon was nibbling her fingertip and tearing up.
Registration required pricking the finger to register blood into the Guild card. She was trembling.
Scared.
“Why do I have to become an adventurer! I’m only thirteen! I’m weak…”
Hearing it, Miranda placed both hands on Shannon’s shoulders.
The smiling pose — looked like an older sister soothing her younger. Beautiful sisters — it was picture-perfect.
Around them, some adventurers smiled at the sight.
But —
“You weren’t planning to stay like this forever, were you? — No work, no food.”
Smiling, Miranda dug her fingers into Shannon’s shoulders. Shannon frantically nodded.
“Y-yes — that’s right, Onee-sama! I — I was wrong!”
Novem held two forms.
One — the real run, a week out.
A form for the B30 goal. The other — a form to take Shannon into the dungeon.
Not to make her fight.
But leaving her alone wasn’t on the table. Add to that: thinking ahead for Shannon, Miranda had decided.
Daughter of a viscount house — confined to Aramsus due to her eyes — was Shannon’s public position.
Novem said:
“Both of you — after submitting, we’re entering the dungeon today for Porter’s tests with Lord Lyle. Ready?”
Shannon wasn’t used to dungeons.
A particular oppressiveness in the air.
To get her used to it, they were taking her.
(If she can’t handle it, leave her at lodging — can’t keep her alone at the manor.)
A young woman alone in the manor wasn’t an option.
Supplies for the run were already ready. Foodstuffs were reserved; just pickup.
Watch Porter; if Shannon couldn’t, leave her.
In fact, everyone had been planning to leave Shannon. Only Miranda was set on taking her.
“Ready. Shannon — listen to your support senpai. Got it?”
Shannon answered:
“Carrying things? No. And sticky things — no… no bath, right? Hii! Lie! I’ll listen to that bespectacled woman properly!”
Miranda balled her fist and smiled; Shannon accepted, scared.
Novem felt something off about Miranda’s insistence on taking Shannon.
After submitting, they left the Guild to meet Lyle.
On the way, adventurers who recognized them as Lyle’s party called out.
Near the steps leaving the Guild, they met a trio.
There Novem remembered Rondo’s group from Darion.
“Oh — Piggybacked’s companions? When does he do the Porter service next?”
“Piggybacked? Hey — his party’s all beauties? No wonder he doesn’t bite at our pitches.”
“Hey, you’re troubling them. Sorry. Pass along: ask Lyle to take us next time.”
Novem greeted them and parted. Shannon:
“What? He’s called Piggybacked? Suits him.”
Miranda’s fist landed on Shannon’s head.
Shannon writhed in pain.
Novem stood uncertain. Miranda:
“Quite popular, Piggybacked Lyle… — strange epithet for someone hauling adventurers and gear.”
Novem:
“It’s adventurer-style sarcasm. And the impression of him being piggybacked after clearing B40 was strong, surely.”
A bland response. For an instant Miranda’s face was serious, scanning the surroundings.
When Novem noticed, in an instant she spotted the suspicious figure her gaze had been aimed at.
(…That’s why Miranda-san is taking Shannon-chan along.)
Lately Novem too had sensed eyes on her.
She’d assumed it was because Lyle was a topic in Aramsus, but malice was present too.
(…Avoid acting alone. — Worried about Aria-san.)
Aria had been receiving instruction from an adventurer.
That was over, but she still met that adventurer to talk.
Aria looked happy, so Novem couldn’t tell her to stop, but she’d warn her.
At some point Miranda’s gaze had returned to Novem.
”…Got the noticed face, didn’t you.”
Novem managed a wry smile.
Being on guard from her was tricky.
“No — I just followed your gaze.”
“I see… — Shannon, how long are you going to be in pain? Hurry.”
Miranda’s eyes stayed suspicious.
To Novem, no emotional change. She was thinking of her as a candidate for Lyle’s harem.
Pulling the pained Shannon, Miranda descended the Guild steps.
To micro-adjust Porter, I went into the dungeon and looked at Shannon.
“What?”
“Nothing — you’re not having trouble breathing? Dungeons normally feel oppressive the first time.”
Shannon looked at me and sniffed.
She sat on Porter’s roof, swinging her legs.
“Mana density’s high, sure — but this is nothing.”
For someone tired enough to ride Porter, she was sure of herself.
“Oi — don’t swing your legs so much. And — why a skirt in the dungeon. The inside shows.”
Shannon raised her voice.
“NO! Onee-sama! He’s peeking at my underwear!”
Sounds bad, I thought. Poyo-Poyo, busy adjusting Porter, didn’t react.
Clara, watching her seriously, didn’t even hear.
Aria stood by the entrance to the room we’d used.
“You wore a skirt — that’s on you. Are you serious? — And, the junk over there is also in a skirt. Never shown her underwear once.”
A truly manly opinion.
Poyo-Poyo, looking at Aria:
“Why should I service you? My underwear is for chicken-bastard alone.”
I answered fast.
“Not interested. Wear pants.”
Poyo-Poyo shouted back.
“You’d have me discard this attire?! This is my formal wear and my battle suit… I will wear it even on a battlefield!”
— What is she saying.
Novem, to Shannon:
“From that angle, nothing visible — you’re safe, Shannon-chan.”
I’d hate to be misread by Novem.
“No — no intent to look. And, no interest in her underwear.”
Shannon hurled a shoe at me. It hit my face — kind of stung.
For a beat I thought she’s got skills.
“Her?! In Central we were called the beautiful sisters! Frail, in need of protection — that’s what they said!”
The Third from the Jewel.
“Sisters skilled at the cat-face. The second and third are also to look forward to.”
The Fifth and Sixth, somehow, went oddly silent.
Miranda-san was drinking from a canteen on break.
Somehow her drinking pose was eye-catching. She was just drinking — but the eye went there.
Miranda-san, to Shannon:
“If you want to be seen, child’s underwear won’t do. Wear something more daring.”
Snickered at as a joke, Shannon flushed.
She caught my shoe, head down, hands open. Yes — she really did see more than ordinary people.
“This isn’t my kind older sister…”
I answered.
“What did you do to that kind older sister.”
The new-addition Shannon was loud, but glancing at Miranda-san —
(If Shannon hadn’t done anything, this Miranda-san wouldn’t exist? — Which was better?)
Thought about it, briefly.