Gun Girl from Another World

Chapter 35

Jack

"Well!" I push myself to my feet and only give a passing glance to my mana - bringing myself back to full health with that spell took half of my MP and a solid couple of minutes. Definitely no completely topping up in the middle of combat.

I turn back to Ayre, who has mostly shaken off the Paralysis status. Surprisingly, the spell I used didn't completely relieve the wear and tear on my body; I'm still sore like I've overexerted. I know she's going to be tender for the rest of the evening, too, even if she has full movement back.

Recovery hasn't changed our plans.

"I'm going to get started on setting up camp," I announce decisively.

"... Do you want me to help?" Despite the offer, I get the impression she really wants me to say no. Lucky her.

"Nah, I've actually got a skill I've been looking forward to trying out," I reply. "I got it from Jack of All Trades, and I haven't gotten to try it yet."

Her eyes widen. "You actually earned that trait?! You said you've only been around magic for a month and a half! Most people go their whole lives without ever receiving a single one, and you already have three!"

"Well, I started with the other two," I confess as if apologizing. "Being selected as a Hero grants Hero, obviously, and then every Hero seems to get a specialty trait that makes them better when using it."

"It's really hard to wrap my head around you being a Hero," Ayre admits. "Though I guess you're definitely weird enough." She completely ignores my scowl with an ease that makes me worry she's already gotten too used to me. "So how did you get that last one, then?"

"Well, I picked up a lot of general skills to do different projects and people saw my work with them," I answer. "Both parts seem to have been necessary, because I didn't get credit for the last one until I did a Wood quest for logs, even though I'd already cleared two acres of my own."

At the mention of clearing that much land, Ayre just gives me a flat glance, including her ears going nearly level with her eyes. "Because what else would a Hero do with their free time?"

I just shrug. "I needed somewhere to stay!"

"Two acres?"

"I'm going to put in a garden," I counter with crossed arms. "Maybe a pond!"

"... This is a your people problem, isn't it?"

I blink. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She just shakes her head. "This obsession with crafting. Homes, gardens, ponds, dungeons!"

"Hey," I argue, "I'm also working on making repeating crossbows not suck, and I redesigned our carriage's suspension!"

"No, really," the elf sighs, "how do your people get anything actually productive done? I'd be hard-pressed to believe you could do it all with magic, but without it?"

I scratch my cheek at that. "Well, most probably don't keep quite as busy as I have."

She nods as if she's agreeing with me calling myself an idiot. "I've noticed you do seem to have a lot of energy to burn."

"And I don't want to be a crafter," I insist. This just earns me another sarcastic nod. "There's just a whole lot to get done and nobody else to do it!"

"Right, right," she agrees indulgently. "So what's this skill you got from all of this crafting you absolutely aren't obsessed with?"

"It's a Hidden Skill called Auto-Mode."

She frowns in thought, clearly searching her memory for any such thing. "A Hidden Skill?"

"Yeah," I nod, leaning in with eagerness, "apparently, there's all sorts of skills that you can't get through normal means, even as a Hero able to buy them. They don't even show up until you meet the requirements, and then they're granted automatically. They don't even take any points!"

"With a requirement like displaying so many general skills," Ayre considers, "they probably don't need to take any. You've already spent far too many points for it to be worth the investment by that point, anyway."

"I built a slime-breeding farm," I explain that complication away.

"Of course you did." Again, she shakes her head with a sigh. "I want to ask if you've ever considered trying something other than building your way out of your problems, but it got you a Hidden Skill and a trait, so as stupid as it sounds, I guess it works for you."

I scowl at her, but it feels like the same face that makes Zeiya laugh at me. I quickly shove the worry about it actually looking like a pout aside. "I'll have you know that I absolutely consider other options! In fact, I choose shooting my way out of my problems a lot more often than I choose building out of them!"

But then I pause and consider my track record. "... Maybe. I think so. I actually haven't encountered many situations since I came here where shooting's really helpful."

She actually gives a snort, so I take it as an invitation to ask a question of my own.

"To be honest," I venture, "ever since I've shown up here, everyone has been balking at anything more than minor projects. It's fine to commission a better suspension when you're stuck in a box on wheels for two weeks, and you're commendable for wanting to stomp around your own land to outline where you want things, but suggest doing the work yourself, and everyone blows a gasket!"

The elf blinks at the end of my declaration, her ears twitching.

Right, gaskets. Probably not a pre-industrial thing.

"Um, I mean they lose their minds," I try, but Ayre shakes her head.

"I was able to piece it together," she assures me. "And you want to know if it's something cultural you're offending?"

I nod, and she tilts her head to the side, touching her chin as she considers the question.

"Nothing specifically scorned comes to mind," the elf finally answers. "But why do it yourself? Like I said earlier, doesn't a Hero have better things to do with their time? No abominations to slay? No rabbits to rescue from trees?"

I blink back at her. "Is that a thing?"

"I don't know," she answers easily. "I'm not from Dabun. They certainly seem to be everywhere else, why not trees?"

"Fair point," I concede, then think over what she asked for myself. "Well, at the time, I didn't have anything better to do, no. I mean, I probably could have found something technically more like Hero work, kept my stuff at the inn until crews got something built. But since I'm not from the Empire, I don't have any personal wealth to pay for that."

"How were you paying for the trip to Serazin Province in the first place?"

"The Throne was shipping me out here, so they paid for it," I explain. "They're the ones that granted the land to me, too."

"Couldn't the Throne have covered initial construction, then, as well? Or at least your inn room until you got going? That was the whole idea, wasn't it?"

I wrinkle my nose. "Yeah, they probably would've covered the bill, at least for the inn, and the mayor offered to let me stay there until I had something more, too. There were options, sure. But I didn't like any of them."

"What's wrong with that?" Ayre pressed. "You could have focused on your job and let others do theirs."

The way she says that clicks in my head. "Oh. That's the problem. I'm not sticking to my lane. That's why people are going batty."

The archer is tilting her head in confusion, so I elaborate. "Ayre, would you say the Empire is a fairly regimented society?"

But that just makes her furrow her brow further. "... Compared to what, exactly?"

"Well, would it be fair to say that the farmer sticks to farming, and he might be able to do general upkeep on his wagon, keeping things greased, oiling straps, keeping it out of the weather. But if something major goes wrong with it, he's not expected to do the work, himself, right? He's expected to bring it to the people who do wagons and he's supposed to go back to farming, because that's his job."

Ayre nods slowly. "... Yes? Is that so strange?"

"And if his roof leaks, he calls the carpenter or roofer or whatever. It might be easy enough to learn how to do such things for himself, but that's not his job. His job is farming, and civilization runs best when he sticks to that."

"You don't believe that," she guesses.

I sigh and cross my arms, certain I've figured out the issue. "I wouldn't say I don't understand the position. There's merit to everyone sticking to their one thing if you see society as a bunch of cogs."

"But you don't believe it," Ayre says again.

"In my homeland," I answer, shifting my attention fully to her instead of my own thoughts, "self-sufficiency is considered a virtue. We even have a phrase for it, and you've already heard it."

It takes her a moment to think about it before she guesses, "Jack of All Trades? I admit, the phrase didn't make a great deal of sense."

"It's centuries old," I explain, "and doesn't even actually originate from my homeland, itself. It's been used to mean different things over time as a result. A respected leader of my people reworked it to represent the ideal skillset, though: A jack of all trades, and master of one.

"To put it simply, you might have your one specialty that you do as your vocation, and that's the big thing your community turns to you for. The farmer, the doctor, the blacksmith."

"The Hero," Ayre inserts, and I nod.

"But it is considered virtuous if you have at least a basic understanding of how to do other things, too. You don't need to be a master carpenter, but it wouldn't kill you to know how to build a simple shed, yourself. You don't need to be a professional plumber, but knowing how to fix your own sink is a skill worth knowing. You may not be the village's huntmaster, but knowing the basics of how to track, hunt and butcher means you have the skills to feed your family in tough times."

"But the time you spend building your shed," Ayre counters, "and fixing your sink, that's time you're not spending growing food, healing wounds, repairing tools."

"Getting rabbits out of trees," I add to her list with a grin, getting a giggle out of her.

"That, too."

"Do you spend all of your time hunting, Ayre?" I ask. "Or adventuring? Do you spend every moment you're not eating or sleeping guarding caravans or skinning monsters?"

"I spend a lot of my time doing those things," she answers readily. "I do have hobbies, but that's a few stages below what we're talking about here."

"Sure," I agree easily. "But it's not just time management, it's frugality. If you can patch your own clothes to make them go a little longer, you don't have to replace them so often, which saves you money you can reinvest in things like a better bow. But more than anything, it's practicality. What do you do if there isn't a seamstress or tailor?"

"Or a healer or a blacksmith," she sums up.

I nod again. "I will say Essence-enhanced bodies seem really sturdy, but I imagine field medicine and first aid are still pretty valuable skills to have, for example."

"Absolutely." The elf narrows her eyes at me in suspicion. "... Don't tell me you have skills for that, too."

I give a wiggle motion with my hand I hope Essence will translate accurately. "No actual System skills, but I know how to splint a leg or tie a tourniquet. Internal injuries, there's a lot less you can do about that. And, honestly, most of those skills got rendered pointless when I bought that healing spell."

She frowns. "Well, make sure you tell the Guild about those field skills, it'll raise your value for when other parties are looking to fill in gaps." She pauses and peers at me again. "Also, most of us aren't as sturdy as you are. Anyone else level 5, even with the same Toughness, should have snapped like a twig, getting thrown around like you did today."

I find my nervous grin coming back. "I'll keep that in mind," I promise. "But yes, the System certainly makes it easier for me to do, but in my mind, there's a great deal of value in being able to do things for yourself. Not all things, but being someone others counting on you can rely on when something unusual is needed is worth a lot to my people."

"I can see it," she nods. "As you put it, I can understand the position. I can't help but think you must not have many stable, established cities, though. It's the only way I can imagine such a mindset taking root."

That uncomfortable grin widens further, and I reach up to scratch behind my ear. "Eheh, well, it's a geographical difference, to be sure. A lot of rural regions more like Dabun than the capital. But we've got cities that would make Fushiro look like Dabun, too."

From her doubting expression, I decide to leave out the part where my country's probably three times the size of hers, too.