Reroll: I Brought Sarcasm To A Sword Fight

With Mnex quiet for once and nothing but endless rows of swaying wheat around us, I figured I might as well talk to Gareth.

"Gareth," I said, lowering my voice just enough to sound serious.

He straightened up like I'd just summoned him to war. His sandy blond hair shimmered faintly under the sun, and those wide light-brown eyes blinked like he'd just been caught doing something wrong.

"Yes, young master?" he replied quickly, posture snapping to attention. His voice was calm, well practiced, trained, not natural.

"How long have you been working for my family?"

"Six years now, young master. Since I was seven."

—thirteen— It pop up without even trying. Mnex must be proud. His human calculator finally kicked in.

Child labor, huh. Fantastic.

I glanced at the older guard beside him, he looked like he could be my dad. Or my older brother if I squinted and had zero shame.

He towered over Gareth by at least a head, with a buzzcut that made him look like he'd walked out of a soldier's camp and into a wheat field. His beard was short and scruffy, just enough to look like he wasn't trying too hard. Broad shoulders, thick arms, and a stance that said "move me if you can."

"And you?"

"I've served your household since birth," he replied, voice deep and steady.

Where Gareth stood with shoulders a bit too tight, this one was relaxed, like the field belonged to him. He didn't move much. Didn't need to. Just stood there, calm and unshakable.

"Are you a secret cousin or something?"

"No, young master. I was born an orphan. Our lord takes in every orphan born in Godfrey's Cross. Provides for us. Trains us. That's why I've been in service since day one."

Ah. Makes sense. Slave Number One, reporting for duty. If this were a Game of Thrones episode, he'd be halfway to swearing vows at the Wall.

"Name and age?"

"Doyle. Eighteen."

Eighteen? He looked halfway to retirement, but still moved like someone who'd outpace a horse if needed.

I nodded, pretending I wasn't impressed, or mildly alarmed, and turned back to the fields.

That's when I saw it.

The wheat wasn't just dying randomly. There was a line, sharp and unnatural, cutting through the field like a scar.

"Mnex," I muttered, "could you stop pretending to think for a second?"

"I am thinking."

So I exist now? Descartes would be proud.

"What do you want?"

"Look at the field. There's a straight-up wall between the living and the dead crops. Is that natural?"

"Analyzing... No comparable pattern exists in the agricultural catalog. This realm may have crop diseases unknown to your previous world. Still... this looks engineered."

"If I go closer, will that help?"

"Probably."

I turned to Doyle and Gareth. "I'm going into the field. Come with me."

Before I could lift a foot, Gareth stepped in front of me with a quiet urgency.

"Young master, this isn't wise. Your lord father gave strict orders."

"Cool. Then I'll go interrupt his chat with the farmers and ask him myself, in front of everyone."

Gareth hesitated. "Sir Doyle...?"

Doyle let out a breath. "Young master, if you promise not to run and follow my every word, I won't stop you."

"I will not allow your safety to be compromised."

"Oh relax," I said with a grin. "If danger shows up, I'll throw you into it and run."

They shared a look, the kind that says is he joking? Spoiler: I wasn't.

We stepped into the field.

The first few steps were ordinary, golden stalks brushing against our legs, the warm breeze carrying the smell of sun baked grain. It felt peaceful. Familiar.

Then we crossed the line.

It wasn't visible, not really. But we felt it.

The air cooled, just slightly, enough to raise goosebumps. The golden hue faded. The stalks ahead were brittle, limp, and colorless. No buzzing insects. No birdsong. Not even wind. Just stillness.

One moment, life. Next moment, death.

"Mnex," I said quietly, "run a scan."

"Analysis initiated... Processing... Error. Analysis failed."

I blinked. "Wait, what?"

"That's what the data says. Analysis failed."

"No, I heard you. I mean why?"

"There's not enough input. Visual scans are inconclusive. If you could acquire a soil sample and a piece of the dead wheat, I may proceed with deeper analysis."

"You could've led with that."

"Would you prefer to hold them, or place them in your mouth for better data accuracy?"

"Are you seriously suggesting I eat dirt?"

"You consumed fast food in your past life. This isn't that different."

"That's offensive, and somehow valid. Still not doing it."

"A simple palm contact will suffice. But honestly, aren't you just a little curious?"

"Not curious enough to snack on soil."

"Tch. Very well."

"Touch the soil and wheat now, please. I'm still running your 'get rich quick' calculations in the background. If you distract me too much, you might end up selling onions in a village market."

Nice pivot.

I crouched down, scooped some soil, broke off a brittle stalk.

"Analysis initiated... Processing... Complete. Would you like the results?"

"Do I ever say no to that?"

"The wheat is lifeless. But the cause isn't natural. The soil contains mana-infused residue, along with an unregistered toxin. Subtle, subtle enough that only a trained mage might even notice it."

"Someone's poisoning the fields," I said slowly. "But why?"

"Possibilities include sabotage. Most likely a rival noble house attempting to undermine your father's influence."

Of course.

That's when I heard it, movement behind us, from the lush side of the field.

First one footstep. Then more. Too many.

"Five individuals approaching," Mnex said in his usual not helpful enough tone. "Unknown life signatures. Possibly enemies."

"Doyle!" I hissed. "I think someone's here to kill us!"

He didn't flinch. Didn't speak. He just smiled.

But his hand found the hilt of his sword, and in a blink, he was in front of me, silent and steady like a stone wall.

The wheat parted.

And five... children stumbled out.

Dirty faces. Messy hair. Wide eyes. Not assassins, just kids. Barefoot and breathing hard, as if they'd run for miles. Their clothes were torn and mismatched, and dust clung to their arms and knees like second skin.

They froze when they saw us. One of them squeaked, a sound closer to a hiccup than a scream.

Doyle didn't raise his weapon. Instead, he crouched slightly, lowering himself to eye level.

"Who are you?" he asked softly.

Wrong move.

The kids flinched.

They stared at him, this towering man with buzzed hair and a hunter's stance, then Gareth, who looked almost regal beside him, then curled into a tighter huddle.

I stepped forward, circling gently around them with my hands raised like I was herding frightened deer.

"These guys are with me," I said gently. "No need to be scared."

"I'm Henry Evan Godfrey. And you are...?"

The boy who seemed slightly older than the rest blinked rapidly, then dropped to his knees like I'd drawn a sword on him.

"S-sorry, m'lord! We din't mean nothin'... we was jus' playin', honest!"

I knelt and placed a hand on his trembling shoulder.

"It's alright. Really."

I glanced back at Doyle and smirked. "He overreacts. It's kind of his thing."

The boy lifted his head slowly. He had tousled blond hair, streaked with sweat and dust, and vivid green eyes that darted between us with unease.

"Name?" I asked.

"I gave mine. Wouldn't it be rude not to give yours?"

"R-Robin, sir. Jus' Robin."

"Robin," I said, shifting my tone slightly, "has anyone been 'round here lately? Anyone strange?"

Robin looked over his shoulder at the others, then back at me.

The other children looked at him, then at each other, guilt spreading across their faces like ink in water.

"Ain't no one comes here, m'lord," one of them mumbled.

"'Cept that ol' beggar man," another piped up. "He used t'sleep here some nights."

"Stopped comin' when the fields went bad," added a third, barely audible.

Of course he did.

I raised an eyebrow. "That's... a little too perfect."

"I believe we have our primary suspect," Mnex added helpfully.

"Well, Sherlock, thanks for confirming."

The children hadn't moved far. They lingered just behind us, whispering, peeking, waiting for a signal to either flee or follow. Robin still hadn't stopped watching me.

I crouched again near the withered patch, brushing a thumb across the crumbling stalk.

"Mnex," I said. "Any more insights?"

"Nothing new. Same toxin signature. But the delivery method was clean. Whoever did this knew what they were doing."

Of course they did.

That's when he said it.

"Oh, and one more thing," Mnex added. "Your wealth generation strategy report is complete."

Finally. Something useful.

"Lay it on me."

"Conclusion, your best chance of becoming rich quickly in this world is... gambling."

He said it like he was revealing the meaning of life.

I stared blankly at the wheat.

"Gambling."

"Yes."

"In a feudal society."

"Correct."

I let the silence sit between us for a long moment.

"I hate you."