Where did these guys even come from?

Their clothes—or rather, their lack of them—caught me off guard. The guy lying on the ground after I hit him was at least wearing both a top and bottom. But the three men walking toward me now had no shirts on, and their pants were short, as if deliberately torn off at the knees.

They looked like medieval versions of the Hulk.

It wasn’t winter yet, but the leaves were falling with a dry rustle, and the trees around us were bare. We were approaching the time of year when the first snow could come at any moment. Weren’t they cold, dressed like that?

Could it be…?

“Are you guys unable to afford proper clothes?” I asked without thinking.

Suddenly, the crowd around us burst into laughter, assuming I was joking.

But I was serious.

Sure, it was a ridiculous question, but what other reason could there be? It wasn’t like they didn’t feel the cold—their shoulders and arms were covered in goosebumps. So if they were cold, the only logical explanation was that they couldn’t afford clothes.

I felt a strange sense of camaraderie. After all, I, too, had been going without new clothes due to a lack of funds.

The guild employee who had looked like he was on the verge of tears moments earlier was now covering his mouth, struggling to stifle his laughter.

“…Rafa, those men are from the Iron Brothers party. They’re known for being so tough that they wear light clothes even in the middle of winter.”

Toughness has nothing to do with wearing less clothing. My mother was the strongest person I knew, but she wore thick fur coats in the winter. She always dressed properly.

Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen my mother shiver from the cold. Even in the dead of winter, she would exhale clouds of mist but never tremble from the chill.

‘Come to think of it, didn’t Father once tell her to wear more clothes?’

I vaguely remembered him saying something about feeling cold just by looking at her, suggesting she dress warmly.

Could it be that the stronger you are, the less you feel the cold?

No, that can’t be it.

I’m stronger than my mother now. She wouldn’t say that just to make me feel better, so I must truly be stronger. But I still get cold in winter, and I wear thick furs and boots made from animal pelts.

As I continued to stare at the three men, they seemed to think I was looking down on them. The largest of the Iron Brothers, wide and heavily muscled, stomped toward me, reaching for my collar.

Alright, if you want to go first, that’s fine.

Just as I clenched my fist, a deep voice called out from behind.

“What’s going on here? Do you have business with one of our guild adventurers?”

“Isn’t that the Shirtless Brothers? Surprised to see you guys out here instead of hiding in your cave now that it’s getting cold.”

“You were just about to grab our youngest’s collar, weren’t you?”

Youngest?

Did I hear that right?

It seemed like they were talking about me.

The man who had tried to grab me turned his gaze toward the voice behind us. I followed his gaze and saw a group of six adventurers sauntering toward us, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.

A crowd had gathered around us, eager to watch the fight unfold, and their excited chatter filled the air.

We were now encircled, with the Iron Brothers on one side and, apparently, members of my guild on the other. The situation reminded me of the old saying about a child hitting a puppy, then the puppy’s mother attacking the child, and finally the child’s older brothers stepping in.

Except this time, I was the “child.” Which felt strange.

“What’s this? Looks like a bunch of mutts have gathered around the guild’s lapdog. You guys can barely call yourselves adventurers.”

“Hah! The mutts who crawl into hiding every winter are yapping now. Can’t even understand what they’re saying because, well, I’m human.”

“You lot talk tough, but without the guild behind you, you’re nothing.”

“You’ve got the parts, but that doesn’t make you a man. Our youngest here knocked one of you out with a single punch, and—”

My mother would’ve settled things with her fists by now, but it seemed men in this world liked to go through a ritual first—starting with insults before moving on to physical combat.

The guild employee, looking panicked, glanced between the two groups, clearly at a loss.

“Everyone, calm down! You’re all supposed to be fighting together soon. We shouldn’t be doing this here—”

One of the Iron Brothers spat on the ground, cutting the guild worker off with a glare.

“Worry about your guild’s lapdogs and stay out of our business, you spineless little lackey.”

“What did you just say to our guild staff?”

The two sides were getting closer, chest to chest, grabbing collars and shoving shoulders together. It was no longer just a war of words—they were starting to test each other’s strength.

When did I become the youngest member of our guild? This situation was getting stranger by the minute, and I hadn’t even had a chance to do anything yet.

As the tension escalated into a full-blown brawl, the crowd’s cheers grew louder.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“1 lira on the Iron Brothers!”

“I’ll bet 2 lira on the other side!”

“1 lira on the Iron Brothers!”

“I'm betting on the guild side. The numbers are on their side.”

“I’m putting my money on the barbarian. Did you see how he knocked one of the Iron Brothers out? It’ll be an easy win.”

In no time, a gambling ring had formed around the fight. People were placing their bets as if we were in some kind of arena.

Inside the human circle, the guild employee was still flustered, looking left and right as things spiraled out of control.

I, meanwhile, had become a bystander. I simply stood there, watching as the situation unfolded, not quite sure how it had come to this. Then, a commanding voice rang out from beyond the crowd.

“Move! Get out of the way! What’s going on here?”

Someone was pushing through the onlookers, forcing them aside. The crowd parted, revealing a young woman flanked by several men.

She was probably around twenty, maybe even younger. She was quite beautiful, though I had a feeling her looks might owe something to makeup.

What truly stood out was her attire. I had never seen a woman dressed like her since arriving in this world. She wore an enormous, puffed-up dress that seemed several times the size of her body. Atop her head, a hat adorned with ribbons and feathers sat perched, and draped over her shoulders was a cape lined with expensive-looking fur.

It wasn’t even winter yet, but she was already wearing fur. Her outfit was entirely out of place—both for the season and for the setting.

The woman’s face twisted in distaste as she glanced sideways at me, the Iron Brothers, and my fellow guild members. Her lip curled in disdain.

“Barbarians,” she muttered under her breath.

She spoke quietly, but I heard her clearly. Judging by the way those closest to her stiffened, they heard it too.

Though she hadn’t directed it at me alone, the insult was meant for all the adventurers here. Several faces around us darkened in anger, but no one said a word. From her clothes, it was obvious she was a noble or from a wealthy family. In this world of strict hierarchies, it seemed no one wanted to openly challenge a noble.

However, my mother had always said, If someone hits you once, hit them back ten times harder. It didn’t matter if they were a man, woman, or noble.

I summoned the wind, wrapping it around my axe. I let it build up around the blade more than usual. Then, with a loud thud, I slammed the axe into the ground, unleashing a powerful gust of wind that blasted in all directions.

“Gah!”

“Ugh!”

“What the hell is this?!”

People near the woman were blown back by the force of the wind, some of them even tumbling to the ground. The adventurers who had been bickering in the middle of the crowd staggered, caught off guard by the sudden gust.

Oops. It looked like I overdid it.

The guild employee got knocked off his feet and rolled a couple of times across the ground.

Glancing toward the noblewoman’s group, I noticed they had been thrown back as well. The woman and her entourage had been blown several paces away, and now they lay sprawled on the ground.

I was mildly alarmed to see that the woman’s dress had collapsed sideways, spreading out like a fallen tent. She must’ve rolled a couple of times in the dirt, and her once-pristine gown was now caked with soil. Dust swirled through the air as it clung to the fabric.

‘Wow, women really do wear a lot under those dresses.’

I could see layers of lace and fabric beneath the gown, and her legs were kicking frantically within the mound of fabric.

“Ahhh! What is this?!” she screamed from somewhere inside the dress.

Now that I thought about it, I had heard a shriek earlier, but it sounded so strange—like a frog being squashed—that I hadn’t connected it to her.

She might have looked cute all dressed up, but it turns out that when scared, her screams were just like anyone else’s.

“Miss!”

“Are you alright?”

The men quickly scrambled to their feet, shouting in panic.

“If you have time to ask, help me up already!” the woman yelled, struggling.

It looked like she couldn’t get up on her own. The men rushed over to her, flustered.

“Where do you think you’re touching?!” she snapped.

“Sorry, miss, but if we don’t… uh, we need to lift you…,” one of the men stammered.

“Just grab my hands!”

“Miss, we—uh, your dress….”

The gown was so heavy that pulling her up by her hands alone wouldn’t work, but with the woman yelling and complaining about every little thing, the men had no choice but to try. They grabbed her hands, but soon she was whining that her arms hurt and that her shoulders would pop out of place.

What a scene.

Several people around us had looks of exasperation on their faces, and some of the onlookers began to quietly slip away. Even the adventurers from my group and the Iron Brothers seemed to lose their will to fight, the tension between them evaporating.

Actually… come to think of it, were they losing interest because of me rather than because of the woman?

I wasn’t sure anymore.

After a long, clumsy struggle, the men finally managed to lift the woman by supporting her around the waist.

‘If they were going to do that, they should’ve just done it from the start.’

I almost felt sorry for the men.

The woman, however, was furious. She dusted off her gown as best as she could and marched toward me. The men following her looked pale as they trailed behind.

They must have realized what I already knew—that I was far stronger than them. But the woman was too angry to care. She ignored their attempts to calm her down, and they could only watch helplessly as she stormed over to me.

“You! How dare you attack me, a noble! Do you think you’ll get away with this?”

"..."

This wasn’t going how I expected.

Usually, when things reached this point, my opponent would back off, but apparently, that wasn’t going to work with this woman.

What a bother.

My mother would’ve struck her down no matter what, but I’m not as bold as she is. If I did something rash and got thrown into prison, that’d be a disaster. Becoming a fugitive, constantly on the run, would ruin my plans of living a comfortable life in this world. I wanted to settle down, build a nice home, marry a beautiful wife, and raise children in peace.

I wasn’t about to throw that dream away.

If I couldn’t handle this the way my mother would, then I’d have to rely on something my father taught me.

Fortunately, I’d learned a lot from my father. One of those lessons involved understanding the peculiar games nobles played with their words. To modern ears, their wordplay might seem trivial, but among nobles, this kind of rhetoric was essential.

Back when my father taught me, I didn’t see the point and grumbled about it. But now, I realized he had the foresight I lacked.

“Father, thank you.”

I straightened up and slammed my axe into the ground with a loud thud.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘attacking you.’ I simply struck the ground with my axe,” I said calmly.

“Hah! A barbarian using wordplay? Do you think that’ll work here? Word games are for nobles, not for brutes like you!”

She turned to the men who had followed her.

“This man attacked me, a noble! He deserves the death penalty! Take him away—no, let’s bring him to the castle. I’ll have Father torture him—”

“My lady!” one of the men interrupted her urgently.

Oh dear. It seems wordplay wasn’t going to work.

As the woman continued to rant, the men’s faces grew increasingly pale, clearly realizing they were in over their heads.

The adventurers nearby began murmuring to each other, sensing how strange the situation was becoming.

Yeah, this is definitely getting weird.

The guild employee stepped closer, trying to intervene.

“Excuse me, my lady, I work for the guild, and I—”

He seemed to think I was in serious trouble and wanted to help. I appreciated his concern, but it was unnecessary.

If Plan A doesn’t work, there’s always Plan B.

I raised a hand, signaling him to stop, and turned back to the woman. This time, I spoke with deliberate politeness to show her that, despite being a “barbarian,” I knew the proper ways of this world.

“As I understand it, my lady, a noble cannot freely sentence a commoner without cause. By attacking me, you would be breaking the laws of the kingdom. Are you aware of this?”

Yes, a noble could make life difficult for a commoner in a myriad of ways, but the law still existed. And while it might be bent or twisted to suit the needs of the powerful, it couldn’t be completely rewritten. I was in the right.

The woman’s eyes widened slightly as she realized I was correct. Her lips trembled, and her expression twisted with frustration.

But something was wrong.

A faint spark of static crackled from her fingers.

Was she… a mage?

I hadn’t expected that. I hadn’t met any mages other than myself before now.

But more importantly…

‘What is she thinking?’

Surely she wouldn’t be foolish enough to ignore what I said and try to kill me here, right? Did she think she could get away with it because I’m a barbarian? Or was she just so consumed by anger that she couldn’t think straight?

Maybe she just wasn’t very bright.

I sighed as I gathered wind into my hands.

“Haaah.”

If this escalates, I’ll have no choice but to defend myself. I wonder if killing a noble in self-defense is still considered justifiable…