Starting the Strategy from Frieren

Ivan had utilized every part of the dark dragon's remains to their fullest potential. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he repeatedly practiced holstering and drawing the sniper rifle, striving to make its use second nature. Though proficient in its handling within the illusionary world, transitioning those skills into reality required dedication and practice.

"A long-range weapon like this is reliable," he muttered to himself, inspecting the rifle's sleek, bone-white form. "But mid- and close-range combat are just as critical."

With that in mind, Ivan had spent considerable effort crafting a second firearm: a dragonbone handgun. The weapon had a smooth, jade-like texture that offered a natural, comfortable grip. While less powerful than the sniper rifle, its portability made it a practical choice for closer engagements. He named the handgun Draco, complementing the sniper rifle he had already christened Night.

Crafting meaningful tools brought Ivan a rare sense of satisfaction. That night, he dreamed of wielding Night and Draco, vanquishing foes with precision and ease. As for the sword-drawing ceremony the next day, it didn't concern him in the slightest.

The hero's sword, left by the goddess, was more than a mere blade. It granted its wielder extraordinary abilities, such as the strength to cleave mountains. Its true purpose, however, was to serve as a safeguard against existential threats or invaders. Under normal conditions, the sword couldn't even be drawn.

Fortunately, Serie had taught Ivan a trick to bypass the goddess's mechanism. By avoiding the activation of its permissions, he could extract the blade. Even if he chose not to return it, he could replace it with a random branch to retain its full permissions. Ivan wasn't interested in the sword's power; he sought the title of "Hero," which would make his future plans much easier.

The following morning, while eating breakfast, Ivan heard an announcement. The tall, imposing village chief, Winry, was standing on tiptoes to address the crowd.

"Urgent notice: the sword-drawing ceremony has been postponed."

A murmur of confusion swept through the villagers and adventurers. A middle-aged man in extravagant clothing stepped forward, puffing out his chest with self-importance.

"My name is Felo Puskash, envoy of the viscount's family," he declared, his tone haughty. "The ceremony has been delayed until next week. His Majesty the King, along with talented young elites from across the nation, will attend. Whoever draws the hero's sword may even be granted the title of viscount on the spot!"

"A viscount?!" The crowd erupted into astonishment.

For the common folk, even the title of knight was an unattainable dream. A knight marked the first step into nobility, barons owned land, and viscounts governed cities and villages. The Village of the Sword itself was under the jurisdiction of Viscount Hicks.

The sudden royal decree puzzled many, as legends depicted heroes drawing the sword only in times of crisis. Never before had titles or wealth been involved.

Sensing the unease, Felo elaborated. "The decree stems from necessity. Demonic invasions have intensified, and border cities are at war. One such city is less than 100 kilometers from this village. His Majesty's entourage will include royal guards and the Court Mage Division. Viscount Hicks has ordered the Village of the Sword to prepare for the King's arrival. Clear the roads, renovate the village, and show our finest hospitality to impress His Majesty and the elites!"

Ivan: "..."

The young village chief, Winry, looked visibly distressed. By lunchtime, she was still sulking in her seat, her plate barely touched.

"Do road repairs bother you that much?" Ivan asked, sitting beside her and patting her head.

Winry pouted, her cheeks puffing indignantly. "Ivan! Don't pat a lady's head like that! I won't grow taller!"

"Sorry, sorry," Ivan said with a chuckle. "It seems my hand has a mind of its own. I'll fix it when I get back."

Winry couldn't suppress a laugh, her frown momentarily lifting. "You're here to cheer me up, aren't you? I didn't know you had a humorous side."

Ivan smiled. "Life's full of burdens, so finding joy is a lesson every adult should learn. Now, tell me what's bothering you."

Winry sighed, her expression growing serious. "It's not much of a secret. As you've probably guessed, it's the road repairs and village renovations. Winter's already tough, and we spent most of our funds hiring adventurers to clear out monsters. Now, we're barely scraping by to make it through to spring. Adding these tasks on top of that…"

She trailed off, her brows knitting together.

"That's strange," Ivan said, frowning. "Usually, for events like this, the higher-ups allocate funds and resources, right?"

"I asked Felo about that," Winry replied bitterly. "He said local finances are tight and told me to figure it out myself. The grain and a few scrawny slaves he brought were apparently the best support Viscount Hicks could offer."

Ivan had noticed the slaves and carts at the village entrance earlier. At the time, he assumed they were refugees, but now the truth was clear: Viscount Hicks was stingy, even when it came to preparations for the King.

Winry sighed again, her small shoulders slumping under the weight of responsibility. Ivan's gaze softened.

"Don't worry," he said quietly. "You'll get through this. If you need help, I'll lend a hand."

For now, though, Ivan knew he had to prepare for the coming days. With the King's arrival and the sword-drawing ceremony postponed, things were bound to get even more complicated.