Mushoku Tensei: Swordsage Path -The Noble's Great Breasts

An hour later, the Toba Hills canyon was silent once more, inhabited only by a dozen knights stripped of their armor and the growing shadow of their dishonor.

The trio had moved on. Their modest wagon, now overloaded with a haul of high-quality steel, leather, and weapons, would make any town blacksmith a fortune. They found a sheltered spot to make camp as night fell: a small oasis of flat rocks beside a creek that snaked through the arid landscape.

The fire crackled, a warm, dancing patch of orange in the growing darkness. The aroma of the stew Hilda was preparing—a mix of dried meat and vegetables bought in Creston—filled the air. They moved in a comfortable silence, the kind shared by soldiers after a won battle, where words aren't needed to understand each other's exhaustion and relief.

Ghislaine sat on a flat rock, polishing her katana with an oiled cloth. Her movements were hypnotic, a dance of precision and reverence for the steel. Her beast-ears twitched subtly, catching every sound of the night.

Hilda, sitting on the other side of the fire, watched her. Curiosity had overcome her fatigue. This woman was a walking contradiction: a force of nature with a sword, a cyclone of contained violence, yet with a vulnerability so palpable it was almost painful.

"So... the southern marshes?" Hilda asked, her voice soft so as not to break the peaceful atmosphere.

Ghislaine stopped polishing her blade. Her visible eye fixed on Hilda, sizing her up.

"What?"

"Paul said you met in the southern marshes. Hunting goblins."

The mention seemed to break the ice. A crooked smile, almost a grimace, appeared on Ghislaine's face.

"Ah, that. Yeah. Years ago. I was a rookie, fresh out of my village with a sword and nothing else. He was a rookie too, though he already had that stupid grin and that way of walking like the world owed him a favor."

Paul, who was counting coins from one of the knights' pouches, looked up.

"Hey, my walk is legendary. It's a calculated blend of confidence and strategic laziness. It disarms enemies."

"You mean it disarms barmaids of their skirts," Ghislaine retorted without missing a beat. "The guild paired us up to clear out a goblin nest. An E-rank mission. Easy stuff. Or so the paper said."

She leaned back, the katana now resting on her knees. The firelight danced on her dark skin and taut muscles.

"The problem was, nobody bothered to mention that those goblins had found an old, ruined temple. And that the nest's shaman had learned to use the magic of that place. Water magic."

Hilda leaned forward, interested.

"Water magic?"

"Yeah. The damn bastard flooded the whole nest. We had to fight knee-deep in water, in dark tunnels, while goblins attacked us from the shadows. A total disaster. And this tactical genius here," she said, nodding her chin at Paul, "decided the best strategy was... to take a nap."

Paul shrugged.

"I was tired. And the sound of water relaxes me. Besides, I knew you'd handle it. You were already a monster with that sword back then."

"A monster who almost drowned because her partner was snoring while a goblin tried to use my guts as a jump rope!" Ghislaine exclaimed, but there was no anger in her voice, only a kind of nostalgic amusement. "I had to kill thirty of those things by myself. When I came out, covered in mud and goblin blood, he was sleeping in a hammock he'd rigged up with some vines."

Hilda glanced at Paul, who was smiling as if reminiscing about the best vacation of his life.

"You woke up just in time to claim half the reward," Ghislaine continued.

"Of course. Tactical supervision is exhausting work. I deserved compensation."

Ghislaine shook her head, and for the first time, Hilda saw a genuine laugh from her, a low, throaty sound.

"You haven't changed a bit, Paul. Still a lazy, opportunistic freeloader and a..."

Her words were cut short. Her gaze followed Paul's, which was no longer on her face. It had drifted down to the generous neckline of her adventurer's blouse. Paul's attention, which had been split between the conversation and the glint of a silver coin, was now completely fixed on her chest—large and firm, barely contained by two strips of red cloth.

Ghislaine noticed the stare. Her ears twitched. She sighed, a long, exasperated breath.

"...and a hopeless pervert."

Paul blinked, as if shaken from a trance. He didn't have the decency to look embarrassed. On the contrary, he grinned even wider.

"They're magnificent, Ghislaine. Truly. They've either gotten bigger since last time, or my memory's failing me."

Hilda choked back a cough. The frankness of the conversation took her by surprise, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of amusement.

"My eyes are up here, idiot," Ghislaine said, though her tone was more resignation than anger. "At least, the one you can see. Though I'm surprised to see you like this. With... a partner."

Her gaze fell on Hilda. It was an analytical look, without malice, but intense.

"I always thought you'd end up alone in some dive bar, too lazy to take a mission that involved walking more than a hundred steps."

"I found a good reason to walk," Paul replied, his gaze softening as it rested on Hilda.

The shift was so subtle, yet so profound, that the very air around the fire seemed to change. Ghislaine noticed it. Her expression grew more serious, more curious.

"A mage," the beast-woman said, addressing Hilda. "And a good one. What you did in the canyon... controlling the terrain like that... that's not beginner's work."

"I'm learning," Hilda replied, feeling strangely comfortable under the warrior's scrutiny.

"You learn fast."

The compliment, coming from someone like Ghislaine, was worth more than any praise from a nobleman.

"But it's not enough," the beast-woman continued, her voice tinged with a familiar bitterness. "Being strong isn't enough in this world. If you can't read the contracts, if you can't count the coins, there will always be someone ready to stab you in the back with a piece of paper."

She told them how, after her adventure with Paul, she had tried to join other groups.

"A team hired me to hunt a griffin. They told me the reward was a hundred silver coins. When we came back with the beast's head, they gave me ten. They said the rest was for 'administrative expenses' and 'hunting permits.' I didn't know. I signed the paper they put in front of me."

She told another story, about a mission to escort a merchant.

"He promised me a payment of fifty coppers a day. Good money. We traveled for twenty days. When we arrived, he gave me fifty coppers in total. Said the contract specified 'a single payment,' not 'daily.' How was I supposed to know? To me, the words on the paper are just smudges."

Hilda listened, her heart aching. She saw the reflection of her own cage in Ghislaine's words. She had been imprisoned by silks, expectations, and duties; Ghislaine had been shackled by forced ignorance. Two sides of the same coin.

"That's why I work alone," Ghislaine concluded, her voice a low growl. "It's safer. I trust my sword. I don't have to trust anyone's words."

"And that almost got you killed today," Paul said softly. "They sold you out as bait, Ghislaine. Because they knew you could kill the beast, and they also knew you couldn't read the trap."

A heavy silence fell over the camp. Ghislaine clenched her jaw, the afternoon's humiliation returning to her in full force.

Hilda set down the stew ladle. She looked at the formidable warrior, at the survivor, and made a decision.

"I can teach you."

The words hung in the air, so unexpected that both Paul and Ghislaine just stared at her.

"Teach me... what?" Ghislaine asked, suspicious.

"To read," Hilda said with perfect calm. "And to count. It's not magic, it's not an innate talent. It's a skill. A tool, like your sword. It can be learned."

Paul looked at her, an expression of awe and immense pride on his face. It would have never occurred to him. His solution to Ghislaine's problems had always been to kill them. Hilda's was to empower her.

Ghislaine stared at her for a long minute. Her single eye scanned Hilda's face, searching for deceit, for pity. She found neither. She found an honest offer, a hand extended in fellowship.

"Why?" the beast-woman asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Because being strong shouldn't be a weakness," Hilda answered with a disarming simplicity. "And because a team looks out for each other. Paul is the muscle and the tactician. I'm the strategist and the mage. And you... you're our sharpest sword. A sword shouldn't be blind."

Ghislaine looked away, toward the fire, but not before Hilda could see a moist sheen in her one eye.

"We'll start tomorrow, during the journey back to Creston," Hilda continued, her tone now that of a tutor organizing a lesson. "With the letters. A first. It's like a small mountain with a bridge. Easy to remember."

Paul smiled. He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head as he watched the two women. His world, which for years had been a simple straight line from one tavern to the next, one mission to another, had suddenly become complex and interesting. And, for the first time, he didn't want to run from that complexity.

"Stew's ready," Hilda announced, changing the subject with a naturalness that indicated the matter was settled. "Eat up. We have a long day tomorrow."

She served three bowls. Ghislaine accepted hers in silence, with an awkward, almost shy, gesture.

They ate under a blanket of stars, the group's new dynamic settling between them with the warmth of the fire and the weight of a promise. The road ahead was still uncertain and dangerous, but for the first time, for all three of them, it felt a little less lonely.