What is a soldier?
What is a warrior?
What’s needed to protect our nation, our cherished families, friends, lovers, and children?
Weapons to crush and shatter the enemy, stable supplies, or a mindset that stays vigilant even in peacetime, always preparing for war—there are many answers, endless ones.
But we didn’t gather in Garam Forest for some grand, national stand.
We were here for the goblin extermination, now practically an annual ritual.
“Are there enough shovels?”
“…Shovels? Why would we need—uh, fine. We’ll do as you say, Lord Paramir.”
But above all those answers, the greatest virtue of a soldier or warrior, in my opinion, is how well they can dig.
“That’s the spirit, Sir Garland. Put some muscle into it and dig deeper!”
“Hrrraaagh…!”
“You’re doing great!”
It’s like praising a puppy: Are you a dog? You’re really a dog! Wow, such a good dog! They’ll bark and spin in circles with joy for no reason.
And Sir Garland, fueled by my endless praise, shoveled with more fervor than anyone.
It’s not just funny—it’s genuinely effective.
“One more, and that’s ten!”
“Hrrrraaaagh!”
As soon as I demonstrated like a seasoned drill instructor, the future Border Count dug into the earth almost as fast as me.
It’s like a backhoe. Saves me some effort, too.
Truly a model for knights, a proud act worthy of the respect of his subordinates.
The traps to bury the goblins were completed faster and deeper than expected.
Almost to the point of Wow, this actually worked?
If they fall and crack their skulls, great. If not, it’d still buy us time. But the results exceeded my expectations.
“Let’s take a break. If you exhaust yourself digging, you might get seriously hurt in the actual fight.”
“Hoo… Got it. Is this enough, Lord Paramir?”
Garland asked, looking at the pits we’d dug with our shovels.
“It’s plenty. Perfect depth to bury those goblins. All thanks to your hard work, Sir Garland.”
“This? It’s nothing for someone like me.”
Seeing Sir Garland finally smile like a boy his age, I smiled too.
Like a kid starving for praise.
I’d heard he wasn’t on bad terms with his father, but it seemed the stern Border Count didn’t care much for his son’s self-esteem.
We won’t know each other long, but until this extermination mission ends, he’s practically my superior, so it’s not a bad deal.
For someone like me who’s good at making a fuss, he’s a pretty compatible type.
In contrast, the useless inner court knights, fawning over nothing, shot me dirty looks.
I ignored them lightly.
What are you gonna do about it?
Sir Garland, the supreme commander, trusts me now. You think your glares will change anything?
Bleh, bleh! I stuck out my tongue to mock them, and the knights’ faces turned beet red as they slunk behind the tent, looking ridiculous.
As noon approached, Tenok, who’d prepared lunch in advance of the battle, brought salted rice balls.
“Have some before we start.”
“Thanks. Your name was…”
“Tenok. I’ll leave these here.”
“Wait, don’t go. Eat with us.”
Even though we’d gotten a bit closer, a noble is still a noble.
Sir Garland casually ordered—not requested—Tenok to eat with us, and Tenok glanced at me.
I nodded, giving permission, and Tenok cautiously sat on the ground, using me as a buffer.
“I’ll eat gratefully.”
We scarfed down the rice balls in silence.
Just rice with salt, but it went down so smoothly.
This is it. Sweat-seasoned rice balls after digging trenches—nothing beats that rare delicacy.
“I have a question, Lord Paramir,” said Sir Garland, who’d devoured his rice ball in no time.
“I believe you when you say the goblins in Garam Forest will come charging soon. But I haven’t heard how. What did you do to make those wretched things, who haven’t shown a whisker, come out?”
Oh, you’re curious about that?
“You know what goblins look like, right, Sir Garland?”
“Of course.”
“And how much do you know about their habits?”
“Well…”
Seeing him trail off, I gave a sly grin.
As expected. Why would the future Border Count need to know about the habits of lowly monsters?
I licked the rice grains off my fingers and said, “Goblins are a lot like us. If you observe them closely, how they act, you’ll see they live eerily similar to us. Scholars might disagree, but… well, we live closer to goblins than those degree-holding types, don’t we?”
“That’s… true. Mercenaries like you see monsters up close more than haughty scholars. That’s undeniable.”
“Exactly, Sir Garland. We know things those learned folks don’t. It’s a trade secret, but… I trust you’ll keep our little secret.”
“Such valuable information…! I swear by Elon’s name, this secret won’t leak to anyone.”
“Well…”
I told this young, naive(?) man the secret that drives goblins wild.
It’s not even that big a secret.
These disgusting green creatures go crazy for a woman’s scent.
So, before leaving the city, even though we couldn’t get oil, we asked a madam for discarded or unwashed undergarments.
Of course, we paid a fair price. We’re not creepy perverts—it’s a strategic weapon(?) to protect Mosul.
I swear, we didn’t do anything weird!
Secrets have a way of bonding strangers.
Since it’s already a well-known fact in the mercenary world, I told him about the goblins’ habits.
“…!!”
Sir Garland’s face turned red with shock, looking like a teenage boy just discovering romance.
“Is… is that really effective? Not that I doubt you, of course…”
“Absolutely.”
Nod, nod. Tenok, who’d used this method dozens of times, nodded beside me, and Garland promptly shut his mouth.
When a veteran says so, what’s a newbie going to argue?
It’s no big deal among mercenaries, but to the still-innocent Sir Garland, it clearly was.
“To think… women’s scented clothing…”
He seemed deeply shocked by our secret. Whatever. They’ll come rushing in soon.
Since morning, our members went into Garam Forest, tying women’s undergarments and used towels—laden with their scent—to branches leading here.
It’s about time…
“S-Sir Garland! T-They’re coming!”
“Huh? What’s coming… oh.”
As expected, right on cue.
The soldier’s report was unnecessary—the goblin horde was charging from the shadowy depths of Garam Forest like a pack of rabid gypsies.
“Goblins!”
The long-awaited moment of goblin extermination had arrived.
***
“Is this okay?”
“Isn’t it a bit small? It’s barely the size of my palm.”
Surabar held up a piece of baby clothing made of fine cloth, doubting whether such a tiny scrap was worth the price.
“Surabar, our baby’s smaller than you think. Maybe as big as your palm. This is actually a bit large.”
“Exactly, Sir Surabar. Don’t worry too much. Leave the baby stuff to us women.”
“…Ugh.”
Surabar scratched his head and sat in the chair as the old woman guided.
Buying things for a baby not yet born made him fidgety.
Picking out tiny clothes and socks the size of his fingers made him regret not joining the goblin extermination instead.
For Surabar, who’d lived a rough mercenary life fighting and hunting monsters, becoming a father felt utterly strange. Utterly.
“Will I be a good father? I grew up without one. I don’t know how to raise a kid.”
“Why worry so much? I’m in the same boat, so don’t stress. Barhan ensures everything the kids need is prepared.”
“That’s… yeah, you’re right.”
Surabar didn’t believe Jasmine’s claim that “Barhan prepares everything,” but he didn’t contradict or shake his head in front of her.
There was no evidence that Barhan, the mythical giant tiger god said to wrap the continent with his tail, cared for his descendants like Surabar.
Elon had followers and temples across the continent.
But Barhan, the ancestor god of all Bars from the mythical era, supposedly vast enough to envelop Armenia with his tail—what was he doing?
Couldn’t he see the Bars enduring tough times after leaving their homeland, Saberhan?
How could he explain his descendants being relegated to second-class status in the Human Empire?
Surabar didn’t believe in the grand lie of the greatest god, claiming a path for souls was prepared before birth.
But he sincerely hoped the pain and discrimination would end with his generation.
Jasmine was his first woman and would be his last.
Every moment with her felt like walking on clouds—light and fluffy.
It was strange.
No matter how angry or exhausted he was, having Jasmine by his side gave him strength.
Jasmine… she was his everything. Everything.
“Surabar! Look at this! Isn’t it adorable?”
“…Huh? Yeah.”
“What kind of answer is that? You were zoning out again. Who were you thinking about while with me~?”
“It’s not like that…”
Surabar, flustered, looked at Jasmine, joyfully holding pink baby clothes, a hat, and tiny socks.
She looked happier than any woman in the world.
Even the Emperor of the Human Empire couldn’t be happier than Jasmine right now.
Surabar never imagined the naive fox girl who once wanted to join his mercenary band would become his supporter and life partner.
Barhan prepares everything… Her words echoed in his mind.
Maybe she was right.
If he hadn’t been an orphan, a mercenary, or if she hadn’t come to him…
Among countless possibilities, could this moment be anything but divine arrangement?
“What should we name our child?”
Jasmine asked, linking arms with him as they left the clothing store.
Surabar began pondering more seriously than he had about anything in his entire life.