Reroll: I Brought Sarcasm To A Sword Fight

As Gareth and I made our way to the front courtyard of the mansion, the early morning sun cast long shadows across the cobbled path. My father was already mounted, his posture tall and severe atop a midnight-black stallion, flanked by ten soldiers clad in the Godfrey livery, each tunic bearing our family's coat of arms: three falcons soaring above a mountain. Noble. Dramatic. A little too self-congratulatory, if you ask me.

The soldiers sat stiff in their saddles, hands resting lightly on their weapons, not because they expected trouble, but because discipline was expected of them. Their presence wasn't just for protection; it was theater. A performance of power.

Sir Theo, the leader of my father's guards, urged his horse forward. He was built like a fortress, with flame-red hair that flickered in the morning light and a gaze that didn't wander. Silent, steady, and absolutely immovable once given a command. When he moved, it wasn't a command. It was habit. We all followed.

We passed under the mansion's great arch and out into the streets of the city that had grown around us, Godfrey's Cross. Though they called it a city, I wouldn't get too excited. This wasn't some glittering metropolis. More like a very large medieval town, with narrow lanes, uneven rooftops, and buildings crammed so tight they looked like they were holding each other up.

Still, it had its charm. Stone walls five or six meters tall ringed the entire place, a monument to either pride… or paranoia.

I noticed quickly that we weren't heading toward the central market square. How did I know?

Because people parted like waves around us. Some on foot, others pushing carts, all stepping aside the moment they saw our crest. Horses moved cautiously over the cobblestones, hooves clicking in an uneven rhythm that echoed through the morning air.

Maybe it was because I was leaving the mansion for the first time, but something awful started attacking my nose, bit by bit, then all at once. A vile stench clung to the air, growing stronger the further we rode. It wasn't just unpleasant. It was offensive. The kind of smell that seemed to have shape and weight, pressing down on your lungs like a damp cloth soaked in rot.

"What is this smell?" I asked Mnex silently, trying not to gag.

"There's no sewage system in the period you're living in," he replied matter of factly. "Since you only recently became fully conscious, you might not realize this, but even in the mansion, there isn't what you'd call a proper toilet."

"Haha… very funny. Now tell me the real reason."

"…"

"I was telling the truth."

"Please."

"Begging won't make it less true. I can't make something I'm already telling the truth about even truer."

"Okay, fine. Then where does everyone... you know, go?"

"The common folk relieve themselves wherever they can. But your family, thanks to a slightly more civilized law, doesn't allow waste to be dumped in the streets. Instead, it's transported to a river we're about to reach. The dumping is only permitted at one specific point, so most people have to walk a bit to get there. The river has a strong current, so the feces are carried away downstream..."

Mnex just kept talking like this was some fun fact on a travel brochure.

We finally reached the river he was talking about.

And wow.

The air here was different. Thicker. Heavier. It clung to my face like invisible filth. The banks were dark and muddy, buzzing with flies. Discarded refuse floated near the edges, and though the current did its best, nothing could truly clean water once it had been used like this. If my nose had nerves of its own, they were crying.

The smell was so pungent it felt like it was burning my lungs. Like I had taken a deep breath of fermented misery.

Yet somehow… nobody else seemed to notice.

"Stop talking. Can you block my sense of smell? Right now?"

"Yes."

[MNEX SYSTEMS: SENSE OF SMELL STANDBY MODE – ACTIVATED]

Ah… blessed silence. And blessed nostrils.

"Thanks, Mnex."

"So, how is this handled back in the mansion?"

"With chamber pots, of course. The servants empty them into the river and clean them afterward, for your family's use."

"What the actual hell? Why don't they just use magic or something? They always find the perfect spell for everything in anime, self-cleaning toilets, poop-disappearing charms…"

"Those are anime. This is your life now. Also, what do you think wizards are, sanitation engineers?"

"Well no, but… I haven't even seen a wizard around yet."

"That's because Marquis Vance has forbidden all wizards in the western lands from leaving the magic tower in Vanceburg. Any lord caught sheltering one pays heavy penalties."

"…He's hoarding them?"

"Marquis Vance governs the entire western region of the Tharowen Kingdom. That comes with power. If he says 'no one trade with the Godfreys' or even 'let's seize Godfrey's Cross,' everyone listens."

We were still riding through the outskirts, patches of dry grass, worn paths, and far-off stone fences passed by as Mnex's words sank in. It wasn't just that there were no mages in town… there were none allowed. The absence wasn't accidental. It was enforced.

"Right. Okay. Remind me to never piss off House Vance."

"Perhaps it would be better if you never showed yourself."

I pictured a towering man with rings on every finger and a permanent scowl, someone who didn't bother issuing threats, because his silence said enough. If he controlled the flow of magic, trade, and judgment… then yeah, we were walking on eggshells.

And I was barely tall enough to reach the chair, let alone survive his notice.

"So, if even the wizards can't fix this smell, am I seriously doomed to live like this? Just… nose-dead, forever?"

"If it bothers you that much, you could always develop the city's infrastructure yourself. Build a sewage system."

"Oh sure, let me just grab my three-year-old city planner license, what the hell do you think I am, Mnex?"

"If I told you what I see when I look at you, you'd cry. But fine. If you want, I can prepare a compressed knowledge package. Upload it directly to your brain."

"Ugh, again? You'd think I'd be used to this by now."

"Analyzing. Compressed package created. Do you approve the upload?"

"I mean, I won't be able to do anything with it, but I guess knowing what's involved won't hurt. Go ahead."

That familiar headache returned, no, scratch that, this one was worse. Like someone was stirring boiling soup in my brain using a steel knitting needle dipped in vinegar. My vision shimmered. My stomach twisted. And somewhere in the distance, a bird cried out in what I swear sounded like sympathy.

[UPLOAD COMPLETE]

"From now on, just thinking of the right keywords will give you access to the information. For this particular one, the keyword is your name from your previous life."

"Wait, what? That's rude… And I just thought about sewage, and nothing came to mind."

"That's because the keyword is Hal Miller."

"Oh come o..."

The moment Mnex uttered my name aloud, a torrent of disgustingly detailed knowledge exploded behind my eyes. Pipe dimensions. Flow dynamics. Waste filtration ratios. It was like being punched in the soul with a blueprint.

"You manipulative little gremlin. That's direct brain-hacking, not guidance!"

"Too late. Keyword embedded."

"Change it. Right now. Or I swear I'll spend the rest of my life doing everything I can under your name. I'll name a pig Mnex. I'll fund a latrine in your honor. I'll make sure when we meet TABAAL again, the whole multiverse knows you as the god of waste."

"…A request to change the keyword from Hal Miller to Sewage Systems has been submitted. Do you approve?"

Of course I approve!

This time, no headache. But as soon as I thought sewage, the same cursed knowledge surged back into my skull like an overexcited encyclopedia.

"Do you know how long this would take to build? And for a city of this size? At least six months to a year, and that's without factoring in the cost."

"Weren't these exactly your wishes? '…A life worth building.' That's what you said."

Ugh. Never trust your past self. He's an idealist. And kind of an idiot.

"Tch. I get it. But how do you expect a three-year-old brat to start such a project?"

As if on cue, the city gates loomed ahead, two thick towers of stone framing a heavy wooden portcullis that opened before us without question. No guards checked us. No citizens stopped to stare. We simply… passed through. Like ghosts.

And then, for the first time since I woke up in this life, I saw it.

Not bricks. Not walls. Not ceilings.

But sky. And land. A vast world, breathing and golden.

Fields. Endless, rolling fields stretched across the horizon like some slow-moving ocean. Some patches were dark and bare, the earth cracked and dry, failures of the season, maybe. But others… others shone. Waves of wheat, gold and thick, shimmered in the morning sun, swaying like they were breathing.

It was beautiful in a way no screen could capture. Raw. Imperfect. Real.

And also? Terrifying.

This wasn't a sandbox. This was a battlefield of time, labor, sweat, and planning. And I was a toddler with a shovel.

"For such a project, you'll need to convince your father. Present your plan. If he approves, implementation won't be difficult."

"You told me we were short on money, remember? How am I supposed to fund this without involving my family?"

"You could develop and sell certain products using knowledge from your previous life."

"Like what?"

"List in progress... Soap, perfume, and skincare creams are low-cost and relatively easy to produce with available materials."

"Oh great. We've officially arrived at the Isekai Apothecary arc."

"Your sarcasm is noted. But unless you intend to live off of entitlement alone, you'll need money."

"I have no money. Did you forget? What do I do, sell the idea of soap?"

"You could license your formulas through the artisans' guild. They'll take a cut, but it's a start. However, it won't generate significant profit. Selling the product yourself would be more lucrative."

"So what if I ask my father for funding?"

"Your father is a landed noble. Direct trade is beneath his station. And since you're his son, your involvement will raise eyebrows."

We passed by a patch of trees, their shadows flickering across our path like hands reaching for answers I didn't have. Gareth rode ahead without a word, posture straight as always. Soldiers followed in rhythm. All of them had roles. Expectations.

And here I was, a three-year-old dropout from modern Earth, mentally arguing with an AI about market strategy.

"You're giving me a hundred ideas and then stomping on each one with your perfectly polished logic. Where am I supposed to find the money?"

"Give me time. Analysis initiated..."

Whatever Mnex was analyzing, it was clearly taking its sweet time. Meanwhile, we rode deeper into the countryside, wheat brushing past us like golden waves. The air was cooler here, cleaner, untouched by the city's stink. It smelled like wind and soil. It smelled like work.

Eventually, scattered farmhouses came into view. Some were sturdy stone dwellings, others so crooked they looked like they'd collapse from a sneeze. But they all shared something I couldn't quite name.

A silence that wasn't peaceful. A stillness that felt too careful. Like everyone was waiting for something, but no one dared ask what.

And suddenly, the weight of it all hit me again.

My family wasn't just dealing with tough times. We were cornered. Marquis Vance wasn't some mustache-twirling cartoon villain. He was a walking system, a power broker who didn't need armies to destroy us. All he had to do was say, "Stop trading with Godfrey's Cross," and that was it. Game over.

Anime never talked about this part. The unromantic part. The part where the noble house you're born into is teetering. Where your birthright is both a shield and a target.

If I don't work hard, the people will rebel. But even if I do everything right, someone stronger could still come and take everything we've built. It's a lose-lose.

A paradox.

Still... I made a promise. To TABAAL. To myself. To this second chance.

So I'll do it. But clearly, I don't have the luxury of doing things one at a time anymore.

I need to get stronger, financially, physically, magically.

I need to protect the people.

I need to secure this house.

All at once.

Why did I choose this life again?

What was I thinking?

Mnex's "solutions" so far had been... less than helpful.

At that moment, our party slowed to a stop. My father raised a hand, a simple gesture that stilled every rider at once.

"Gareth, Henry is in your care while I speak with the farmers. I'll assign you one guard. Don't stray far."

"Yes, my lord."

Gareth bowed, his posture straight and unreadable. Everyone else dismounted with practiced ease. No one spoke. No one needed to.

My father and the others began walking toward a small group of farmers clustered near what looked like a crude stone platform.

As for me?

My legs were jelly. I'd spent way too long on horseback for a first-timer.

With a sigh, I slid down and gave myself a moment to wobble in place like a particularly dizzy duckling. Then I started walking around, anything to get the blood flowing again.