Inside a shabby house.
'I got lucky.'
Jake thought as he tightly fastened the drawstring of his leather pouch.
In truth, when he'd raised his hand in the village square, he'd been half resigned to whatever fate awaited him.
A serf knowing how to read and write was something that simply couldn't be explained by the common sense of this world.
If the conscription officer had shown even the slightest suspicion, his flimsy excuse would have fallen apart almost immediately. He might even have been falsely accused of making a pact with a demon and ended up being burned at the stake.
But contrary to his concerns, Conscription Officer Martin's reaction had been surprisingly favorable.
Rather than suspecting him, Martin had looked at him with genuine interest.
Almost as though he'd discovered a precious jewel buried in the mud.
'But why? Was it because I answered so calmly? Or perhaps...'
Jake's gaze suddenly fell upon the water jar sitting in the corner of his house.
His reflection was faintly visible on the surface of the rainwater collected inside.
He looked filthy, covered in dust and drenched in sweat.
Yet even beneath all that grime, his striking features were unmistakable. His golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his blue eyes seemed to possess unfathomable depths.
'Ah, could it be because of my appearance?'
He hadn't put an extraordinary amount of effort into customizing his character, but anyone looking at him would have to admit that he possessed a refined, handsome appearance.
Perhaps the conscription officer had seen his face and readily believed his ridiculous claim that he'd learned to read merely by watching over someone's shoulder.
'Heh, maybe he's even mistaken me for someone with noble blood.'
The thought was amusing even to Jake himself, but it seemed surprisingly plausible.
After all, didn't most nobles in this world regard golden hair and blue eyes as symbols of their bloodline?
The fact that he'd supposedly been abandoned as an infant only lent further credibility to such speculation.
Whatever the reason, Jake decided that he would make full use of his appearance from now on.
An appearance befitting a noble and the linguistic abilities granted by his [Translation] skill.
If he could make good use of those two advantages, he might genuinely be able to achieve great success in this world.
Just as he was about to rise from his seat with that determination, however, someone knocked on his old wooden door.
Knock, knock.
“Hmm? Who is it?”
“It's me, Jake.”
Recognizing the familiar voice, Jake unfastened the wooden bar.
When he opened the door wide, he found the large-framed Paul standing outside with an awkward expression.
“Fortunately, you haven't left yet.”
“Uncle Paul, what brings you here?”
Instead of answering Jake's question, Paul abruptly held out something he'd been hiding behind his back.
“I've got something to give you.”
“This is...”
Jake's eyes widened.
What Paul handed him was a sturdy-looking shortsword and a thick gambeson.
A gambeson was, simply put, a type of armor made from multiple layers of tightly quilted fabric.
Although it wasn't as effective as expensive iron armor, it could protect against most ordinary impacts and provided excellent insulation against the cold.
It was the kind of equipment a serf could scarcely hope to see in his entire lifetime.
“Paul, why would you give me something so valuable...?”
“Ahem. There's no need to get so emotional.”
Paul cleared his throat and avoided Jake's gaze.
Then, still looking somewhat embarrassed, he continued.
“It's an investment.”
“An investment?”
“Yes, an investment.”
With those words, Paul looked directly into Jake's eyes.
“I've thought this for a long time, but what happened in the square today finally convinced me. You're not someone who should spend his life rotting away as a serf in some remote village.”
His thick hand closed roughly around Jake's shoulder.
“When you become successful someday, you'll have to repay me twice the value of what I've given you today. No, three times as much. Understood?”
“Paul...”
Paul maintained the attitude that this was strictly a business transaction, but Jake knew better.
He understood the genuine warmth hidden beneath those words.
Even if Jake hadn't demonstrated any special talent and had been conscripted as an ordinary meat-shield soldier, Paul would have willingly given him these items.
After all, he was a warmhearted blacksmith who always pretended to be indifferent toward Jake while secretly making sure he had bread to eat.
“Paul... Thank you so much. When I become a noble someday, I'll build you an enormous, state-of-the-art smithy.”
“A noble? Hahaha! I'll look forward to it.”
Paul laughed heartily, apparently believing Jake's words were nothing more than an outrageous boast.
But when Jake continued looking at him with a perfectly serious expression, his laughter gradually faded.
“You...”
Just as Paul was about to say something more, Jake changed the subject.
“Oh, by the way, how's the village chief doing?”
A satisfied grin spread across Paul's face.
“Haha! Apparently, he won't be getting out of bed for about two months. I heard several of his ribs were broken.”
“Tsk, that's disappointing. It would've been better if he could never get up again.”
“To tell you the truth, I feel the same way.”
“Hahaha!”
Just as the two burst into laughter while looking at each other, a booming voice rang out from outside the shed.
“Jake! Have you finished preparing? Our plans have changed, so it looks like we must depart immediately!”
It was Conscription Officer Martin.
“Oh, yes, sir! I'll be right out!”
Jake hurriedly answered.
With Paul's help, he quickly put on the gambeson and strapped the shortsword to his waist.
As the unfamiliar weight settled over his body, it finally began to sink in that everything was real.
Before opening the door, Jake turned toward Paul one last time to say goodbye.
“Well then, Paul. I'll see you again someday. Thank you once more.”
“Of course. Stay safe, my boy. May the Sun God's blessing always be with you.”
Leaving Paul's heartfelt farewell behind, Jake finally threw the door wide open.
***
Two days had passed since they left the village.
Having arrived at the neighboring village of 'Oakhaven,' Jake began working in earnest as an Assistant Scribe to the Conscription Officer.
The work was simpler than he'd expected.
His responsibility was to assist Martin, the conscription officer, by handling administrative duties on his behalf.
His primary task involved carefully recording the personal information of conscripts, including their names, ages, and places of origin, on parchment.
“Next.”
At Martin's brief summons, a man approached the makeshift desk in front of Jake.
Nervousness was plainly visible on his dust-covered face.
Jake addressed him in a gentle voice.
“Please tell me your name and age.”
“R-Robin, sir. I'm twenty-three years old.”
Scratch, scratch.
The quill glided across the parchment with a soft scratching sound.
There wasn't the slightest hesitation in Jake's movements.
Thanks to his [Translation] skill, writing was as natural to him as breathing.
But that wasn't simply because he knew how to write.
This kind of paperwork was something he was thoroughly accustomed to.
'Back in my previous life, I got sick and tired of writing reports and preparing documents at work.'
Compared to putting together complicated reports filled with all sorts of data, entering simple information such as names, ages, and places of origin was a piece of cake.
In fact, he'd often been complimented on his neat, attractive handwriting in his previous life.
The quill itself was unfamiliar, but systematically organizing information according to a particular format was something his body remembered.
Jake smoothly proceeded with the next question.
“Your place of origin is Oakhaven, correct?”
“Y-yes, that's right.”
“And are you married?”
“Not yet, sir.”
After neatly recording the final piece of information, Jake placed the completed document to one side.
And so, the stack of completed documents steadily grew.
By the time the midday sun was directly overhead, all the conscription work for the day had been completed.
Martin looked through the neatly organized stack of documents and spoke in disbelief.
“...Jake.”
“Yes, Conscription Officer, sir.”
“Have you ever done this kind of work in your village?”
“No, sir. This is my first time.”
At that answer, Martin let out an incredulous chuckle.
“Your first time? Yet you handle the work this skillfully?”
But Martin's reaction continued even when they reached the next village, and then the one after that.
Jake consistently demonstrated competence that exceeded everyone's expectations.
Thanks to his presence, Martin's conscription party was able to travel through the territory at a much faster pace than originally planned.
Then, one day...
While they were leading the conscripts toward the next village, Martin suddenly called out to Jake, who had been walking along while nodding off.
“Jake, draw your sword.”
“Pardon? My sword?”
“Yes.”
“...?”
Although he couldn't understand why, Jake obeyed and drew the shortsword hanging at his waist.
It was the sword Blacksmith Paul had given him.
He awkwardly adjusted his grip and attempted to assume a proper stance.
Holding a sword felt completely different from gripping a farming tool, and the unfamiliar sensation made his hands feel clumsy.
Martin examined him for a moment before nodding.
“As I thought, this must be your first time holding a sword.”
“Yes. The only things I've ever held are farming tools like hoes and plows.”
“Hmm... But your lower body is firmly balanced, and the tip of your sword doesn't waver. Your fundamentals are surprisingly good.”
Martin seemed to contemplate something for a moment before finally speaking as though he'd made a decision.
“From now on, I shall teach you how to wield a sword every morning.”
“Pardon? Me?”
“Yes. Even as a scribe, it would be wise for you to learn the basics of combat.”
Jake was momentarily bewildered by the offer, but at the same time, an overwhelming sense of joy welled up from deep within his chest.
Martin was right.
Learning basic combat techniques would dramatically increase his chances of surviving on the battlefield.
No, that wasn't all.
Swordsmanship might also become an excellent stepping stone toward achieving his ambitions.
'But why is this man going so far out of his way to help me?'
Jake understood something very well.
There was no such thing as kindness without a price in this world.
However, his relationship with Martin wasn't close enough yet for him to question the man's intentions.
For now, it seemed his only option was to gratefully accept whatever generosity Martin offered.
'Right, I'll just look at it positively. After all, there's nothing for me to lose.'
Having made up his mind, Jake began learning swordsmanship from Martin in earnest that very day.
Naturally, everything was awkward and difficult at first.
But perhaps it was thanks to his [Robust Physique] skill.
He began absorbing Martin's teachings at an astonishing pace.
By the time a month and a half had passed since leaving his village, Jake had transformed into a capable swordsman.
His swordsmanship had improved so dramatically that he could comfortably gain the upper hand against three adult soldiers during their morning training sessions.
SWISH!
Jake's wooden sword sliced sharply through the air and grazed a soldier's shoulder.
Martin, who had been watching the training, called out in satisfaction.
“That's enough!”
After the training ended, Martin showered Jake with praise as the boy wiped away his sweat.
“You truly are exceptional. Even thinking about it again, I find it hard to believe that a boy like you was living in such a remote village.”
“It's all thanks to you, Conscription Officer, sir.”
Jake answered with a smile, but Martin shook his head.
“No. You have talent. You possess an exceptional mind, and your aptitude for martial arts is equally impressive.”
Just as Jake was beginning to feel embarrassed by the continuous praise, one of the soldiers who had been scouting the road ahead came running toward Martin with a report.
“Captain, we're approaching the lord's castle.”
“Understood.”
Martin nodded before turning toward Jake.
“Jake, once we arrive at the lord's castle, you will likely be sent to the front lines before long. Of course, even at the front, you will probably be assigned duties similar to your current work as a scribe. However, you must not neglect your swordsmanship training there either. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I'll remember that.”
“...And immediately after the war ends, come straight to me. I shall arrange a position at the castle that suits you perfectly. Perhaps you could even become one of the lord's retainers.”
The moment he heard those words, Jake finally understood everything.
He realized why Martin had been treating him so well.
Martin intended to cultivate Jake's talents and eventually bring him into the service of the baron's household.
But understanding his intentions didn't diminish Jake's gratitude toward him.
Without Martin, he wouldn't have been conscripted as a scribe, nor would he have had the opportunity to learn swordsmanship like this.
Of course, Jake had absolutely no intention of becoming a servant of the baron's household.
His ambitions lay far higher than that.
However, Jake didn't reveal even a hint of his true feelings.
Instead, he put on an expression of genuine emotion and gratitude.
After all, knowing how to conduct oneself around others was an essential part of achieving success.
“Thank you so much, Conscription Officer, sir! Yes, I'll definitely come and find you!”
“Good.”
Martin smiled with satisfaction and patted Jake on the shoulder.
And a short while later...
At last, an enormous castle wall rose majestically before their eyes.
They had arrived at the lord's castle.