Chapter 29: CH 13.2

Come to think of it, the senior knights who met along the way, who had self-proclaimed [injuries from fighting to escape], were wearing shiny armor. Dragon species, as I remembered, have a crow-like habit of collecting shiny things, so the wyvern must have been attracted to them due to that and chased after them instead of chasing after Dirk and the remaining servants.

Wasn’t there a major war a few decades after the war with the demons ended? The quality of the knight squadrons seems to have declined so much that they can be defeated by a wyvern or so.

Or maybe, just maybe, the dragon species in real life may be stronger than it was portrayed in VRMMOs.

“Hey, I’m tired. And I’m hungry!”

“Sorry, Dirk-boy. All our luggage was in the wagon…”

“What the heck? Go get it right now!”

What a selfish boy. I would like to tell him to starve on his own, but the servants, who could not resist, began to wonder whether they should return or not, so I offered my help.

“Let’s have lunch. I have a little.”

“Really?”

These were my lunch and dinner, but those apple-like pears were so good that I bought a few more, so I should be able to make it through lunch.

“What, a sandwich? There’s no meat!”

Suddenly, Dirk complained and tried to reach his hand out, so I stopped him by slapping his hand with a smack.

“Wha, what are you?”

“First, wash your hands, okay?”

“I’m hungry.”

“I don’t care.”

I grabbed Dirk’s hand with one hand while I materialized water with the [Running Water] of life magic with the other hand.

“Young, young master…”

Boom!

“Get out of my way.”

“…”

I grabbed Dirk, and the servants tried to stop me from doing so, so I shot the sky with an unplugged Break Revolver to silence them with sound.

They were kind servants, but their inability to reprimand a nobleman’s child was not good for Dirk’s education.

“Wash your hands?”

“…” This time, Dirk washed his hands quietly, with a mortified look on his face.

“Good job.”

“Hmph.”

I patted his head, but Dirk brushed my hand away with a red face as if he was angry. I felt like an older sister scolding her naughty younger brother, and it was kind of fun, although it was forced.

“Well then…”

“Wait.”

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I grabbed Dirk’s hand quickly to stop him when he suddenly tried to bite into his sandwich.

“I washed my hands!”

“When you eat, you have to say ‘Itadakimasu’, right?”

“What the hell is that?”

“You can pray to God, but you have to be thankful for the people who procured, made, and prepared the food.”

“…Hmmm, you subhumans have some weird customs.”

When I stared at him, Dirk looked away and prayed to something god-like before starting to eat. I say it in the mansion too, you know. I’m three years old, so it’s [ita-ki-asu].

The sandwiches were not enough, so I also gave him some fruit and asked him to eat it with everyone. I am a half-elf, so to frankly say, just pears would be enough for me. For dinner, let’s buy something edible from a food stall in town and go home for dinner.

As I am eating with [Hermes Dagger], peeling and cutting up the pears, Dirk, who was really hungry, quickly finishes his sandwich.

“Wash your hands again when you’re done?”

“…hmmm.”

When we finished eating, we set out. I took the lead, and when a wolf or something demon-like came close to us, I shot it with my magic gun to drive it away. If it were 10 meters away, it would be hard to hit it, so I had no alternative.

“Hey, subhuman woman, that’s a [magic gun], right? I know it! Let me use that one.”

“…fine.”

If he leaves me, it disappears in 10 seconds, so I have to stay behind Dirk to back him up.

“Chi, close”

“Concentrate.”

Boom-boom-boom, he suddenly fired three shots in rapid succession.

“Hiii!”

“This is dangerous stuff. Dangerous if your body is weak and small.”

Dirk drops the magic gun as if numb from all the recoil coming on his arm because I let him shoot it just by supporting his hand. This was another lesson for him.

“Don’t carry a weapon without being prepared. Give me your hand. [Heal].”

“…”

I healed his arm, and Dirk turned over with a mysterious look on his face.

“…I’m tired.”

After walking for a while again, Dirk started to whine. I also got carried away, which may have made him a little depressed, and he became very quiet. But maybe it’s too much for an eight-year-old aristocrat to walk for three hours on a bumpy road?

“Do you want me to carry you?”

“No, no, I’m a nobleman. I’m an aristocrat. I’d be ashamed to be carried by a woman!”

“Okay.”

Dirk shook his head hurriedly, red to the ears again. Was he angry? If he said he would do his best, I would have him do his best, even if it means working himself to death.

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