A Flat-Chest Believer Reincarnated in a World Where Women with Small Breasts Aren't Treated as Women ~ I Ended Up with a Flat-Chested Harem. - Chapter 53

I sat on Risty’s bed, staring at nothing with my mouth slightly open, utterly dazed.

An overwhelming sense of relief and an almost blinding euphoria filled my mind.

“Hehe, Folca, you sounded so cute when you were flustered. You were even thinner this time, so I guess there won’t be any explosions for a while.”

I couldn’t even muster the energy to retort with something like, “I wasn’t going to explode.”

“Thank you…”

“As your wife, it’s only natural. Whenever you need me, I’ll always help you. And this way, there’s no need for cleanup… though, your… well, it’s a bit covered in drool.”

Risty stood up with a mischievous smile.

From the depths of my heart, I silently thanked King Coorm. Thank you for leaving that journal. My apologies for everything I’ve ever thought about you.

Risty sat beside me, leaving about 30 centimeters of space between us. When I tried to scoot closer, she reached out to stop me.

“I might smell a bit…”

“I don’t care. I want to be close to you.”

When I spoke like a child, Risty sighed but gave in, lowering her hand. I moved closer and wrapped my arm around her shoulders.

There was a faint scent, slightly fishy. Knowing the source of it only confirmed my thoughts—I was the happiest man on Earth.

For a while, I simply basked in the quiet joy of the moment.

Then came a knock at the door.

“Lord Folca, are you here?”

It was Rita. I answered, “I’m here.”

“The Holy Water transporters are already waiting. I just wanted to let you know.”

Ah, it was that time already.

“Got it. I’ll head there now. Risty, I’ll see you later.”

“Take care.”

I left the room and headed to the courtyard. Once I finished my usual task of supplying “Holy Water,” I moved to the office-library to get on with my administrative work.

The sounds of banging and hammering could be heard. Construction on Selena and Lasha’s rooms had already begun.

As I thought about where to start, there was a knock at the door. Rita entered with one of the scribes.

Rita, who had been told by the physician that her pregnancy was almost certain, showed no signs of morning sickness and seemed her usual self. Mariel, who had suffered terribly, looked at her with a somewhat resentful expression when they crossed paths.

“Lord Folca, the sample kettle hats with brims have arrived. If there are no issues, they’ll begin full production.”

Three metal helmets were handed to me. They were lighter than I expected, though somewhat thin. All three were uniform in weight and shape, showing consistent quality.

“Here’s the report from the workshop regarding their performance tests. It seems they meet your specifications for deflecting arrows fired along a parabolic arc.”

I examined the helmets closely. For now, I decided to try one on. It was a bit loose, but it needed to accommodate heads larger than mine. Adjustments could be made with padding. Grabbing a handkerchief from the desk, I tested this out. After securing the chin strap, I shook my head—no slippage or shifting. It seemed fine. Despite its sturdiness, it didn’t feel heavy, which would reduce strain on the neck.

“Rita, what do you think?”

“As a practical piece of equipment for soldiers, it suits its purpose, though I wouldn’t say it complements your appearance, Lord Folca.”

So, not stylish then. But appearance wasn’t the priority here.

“Let’s test it just in case. Summon a few archers to the courtyard.”

I gave the order, and the scribe quickly left to carry it out.

I took Rita with me to the courtyard and, feeling playful, placed the helmet on her. It was quite loose on her, but the sight was endearingly silly.

“Lord Folca, why do you look so amused?”

“Because you look adorable.”

“I-Is that so…”

As we waited, the scribe returned with the soldiers.

I put the helmet back on myself.

“I’d like to test this armor’s effectiveness. Shoot some arrows at me from a distance, aiming along a parabolic arc.”

Testing under realistic conditions was ideal, and having someone wear the helmet was the best approach.

“You want us to shoot at you, Lord Folca!?”

The archers were understandably shocked. Hmm, if they were mages, they’d probably just say, “Oh, this again.”

“I’ll deploy a defensive magic barrier close to my skin. Ordinary arrows won’t penetrate it. You’re not using anti-magic steel arrows or anything, right?”

“Of course not. Those are locked away in the armory and prohibited for general use.”

“Good. Then it’s perfectly safe. Don’t hold back—just aim properly. It may be hard to hit with a parabolic arc, but if you fire enough, one should land eventually.”

The test began. At first, the hesitant archers fired cautiously, but upon seeing arrows bounce harmlessly off my torso with a sharp ping, they gained confidence and started shooting more freely.

The sound of arrows whistling through the air filled the courtyard. Around the 20th arrow, one struck the helmet directly, producing a light metallic sound.

I raised my hand to signal a pause. Removing the helmet, I inspected the impact point. There was a scratch but no penetration. Success.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to continue for thoroughness. Angles might make a difference.

“Resume the test!”

The arrows began flying again. As the archers adjusted, their accuracy improved. Between volleys, they collected spent arrows, and the test continued. Several more arrows struck the helmet, but none penetrated. Things were looking good.

Then, after dozens of hits, one arrow made a loud noise as it struck the magical barrier I had deployed around my head.

Raising my hand, I halted the test once more.

The helmet now had a small hole.

It was unclear whether the arrow had struck a pre-existing scratch or if the angle had been particularly favorable, but…

“That’s enough. It’s not 100% foolproof, but we’ve confirmed its effectiveness.”

In a battlefield scenario, it was unlikely that an ordinary soldier would endure such concentrated fire. If the helmet could hold up most of the time, that was sufficient.

Increasing the thickness would improve defense but make the helmet heavier and harder to wear. This design achieved the ideal balance.

“It’s approved. Inform the workshop to begin mass production.”

The scribe responded with a crisp “Understood!” and left.

I returned to my office and resumed administrative tasks—reading reports, doing calculations, and tackling various matters—with Rita by my side.

After working for a while, I took a short break. Moving to the sitting room, I invited Risty and Mariel to join me for tea.

Since the group consisted mostly of pregnant women, we drank herbal tea considered safe during pregnancy.

Then Father arrived with a scribe in tow.

“Father, what brings you here?”

“A letter has arrived, and I wanted to discuss it. Since Risty is pregnant, I thought it better to come here rather than summon you.”

Fair enough. Thank you for the thoughtfulness, Father.

I offered him a seat and poured him some tea. When Rita and Mariel tried to stand, Father gestured for them to remain seated.

“There are two letters. The first is from Count Redding. Regarding Folca’s idea of having another family take on soy sauce production, the Redding family has volunteered.”

Wonderful. Since it’s Mother’s family, I can trust them, and being near the royal capital should make distribution easier. Let’s dispatch some Lab members to assist. With the Redding family, it should be fine to provide them with thermometers for temperature control.

“That’s great news. Finally, it’ll see the light of day. I’ll get the preparations underway immediately, with Kudell’s help.”

Let the aroma of soy sauce spread through the royal capital. I want to set up yakitori stalls, maybe even soy sauce ramen. In fact, why not create a street food village? Perhaps I should secure some land for it.

Dreams were expanding. Using modern knowledge for initiatives like this was far more enjoyable than the 40-year Griffis suppression plan.

“Good. Please proceed. The other letter is from the Quitunen family. They’ve agreed to hold the ceremony at the great cathedral in the royal capital. The next step is deciding the guest list…”

Ah, the tricky part.

Even in my past life in Japan, I remembered friends agonizing over their wedding guest lists. “If I invite this person, I’ll have to invite that one too, but if I expand it too much, the venue will…” they’d grumble. Nostalgic.

“The first decision is whether to invite the Founding Six families.”

“No, we start with the royal family. If they attend, inviting the Six is mandatory.”

Ah, that makes sense. In Rolique Kingdom culture, it’s common for the primary wife’s relatives—especially her father—to attend a concubine’s ceremony. This is because the primary wife’s influence often reflects the interests of her family. If the royal family attends, then inviting the Six becomes necessary. Whether they come is another matter, but not inviting them would cause offense.

…What a hassle.

“I’m sure someone from the royal family will attend.”

Risty spoke up. I had the same feeling.

“After that, we invite families connected to both sides through recent marriages and the lords of neighboring territories.”

“That seems reasonable.”

Hopefully, Duke Manjula won’t show up.

…Though with this settled…

“By the way, we’re only holding one ceremony, right?”

“Yes. The two brides will be wed together. It’s exceptional, but there’s no issue with it under the faith’s doctrine.”

Perfect. Another significant step toward my ambition!