A Female Harem

"Now, follow me!" Lisandra says cheerfully.

This, you will come to learn, is Lisandra's way of saying she has absolutely no practical experience but tremendous confidence. She isn't wrong about the location, at least. The Adventurers Guild is a broad, weathered building wedged between a blacksmith and a loud, busy tavern. Inside, it smells like leather, old wood, and good old-fashioned sweat. Adventurers of all kinds walk about and chatter with each other.

You hadn't thought about it before, but you realize you can understand everything everyone around you is saying. Lisandra catches your slack-jawed expression before you can close it. "I know what they're saying, but they can't be speaking English. How—"

"You were reincarnated, remember?" She whispers. "This you was born and raised in this land, so of course he— you, in other words—speaks the language here."

Simple enough, you say to yourself.

You both approach what looks like a reception desk.

"Joining? I don't think I've seen you around this branch before. Do you have a transfer token?" she asks. You pat yourself down and shake your head. That answers that, then. Before you can open your mouth, Lisandra smugly steps forward.

"Well met, my friend!" she announces, planting both hands on the desk. "He's new, so please proceed with enrollment. And, to be fully transparent with you, he's quite weak." She pauses, as if genuinely reflecting on the full scope of it. "Like, really, truly weak. I would save everyone the trouble and simply assign them the lowest rank available. You could skip any assessment entirely, if you ask me," she giggles. The receptionist stares. You stare. Lisandra glances between you both, and somewhere behind those wide blue eyes, the gears begin their slow and grinding turn.

"OH — I mean —," she pivots as if she just knocked over a priceless vase, "he'll probably be very strong in the future! Tremendously strong. Just... in the faaarr future. From now. Which is today. Where he is, currently, really, really—"

"Assessments are mandatory," the receptionist says, cutting her off. "Guild policy. We determine quest eligibility by rank, and rank is determined by assessment. No exceptions." She slides two forms across the counter with the practiced efficiency of someone who has also heard every variation of this argument. "Both of you."

Lisandra blinks. "I beg your pardon—both? No, no," she says with a chuckle. "I assure you, I will need no sort of assessment."

"Both," she confirms, without looking up.

The assessment itself is mercifully brief. You are not surprised by your results. You are, however, surprised by Lisandra's—or rather, by the look on Lisandra's face when she receives them. She stares at her rank card with an expression that moves through several distinct stages: confusion, denial, and indignation. She's one rank above you. One. You say nothing. You don't particularly need to. The small, quiet warmth spreading through your chest says it well enough on its own.

"There has clearly been an error," Lisandra announces. The receptionist does not respond.

"I would like to be retested."

"You're welcome to retest in thirty days," the receptionist says pleasantly.

Lisandra turns to you with the expression of a woman searching for an ally and finding none. In a motion that manages to be both dignified and ****, she reaches into your pockets and takes the stat card she gave you before, and inspects it with narrowed eyes as it glows in her hands—and then places it back in your pocket without a word. Whatever she saw must not have helped her case.

"Gathering quests," the receptionist says, sliding your enrollment papers across the counter. "For both of you."

In spite of Lisandra's "help," you adapt slowly but surely. You live by a simple philosophy: survive, eat, and avoid anything that looks likely to kill you. It works, more or less. You take gathering quests, minor bounty hunts, and delivery quests that more seasoned adventurers won't touch on principle. At first, you're alone with your divine companion, armed with patched leather armor, a rusty short sword, and a beat-up wooden shield you carry everywhere like a safety blanket. The coins stack up, though. And through it all, Lisandra keeps her word and remains stubbornly, relentlessly by your side.

And through the Guild—through the late nights, the bad jobs, and the grueling misery of being under leveled and underpaid—you find something you didn't expect.

People. Your people. Kind of.

The first person to join you is Elira Moonwell, a sleepy half-elf healer with pale green eyes and light green hair always slightly tangled. Her soft, round face is framed by strands of hair that never seem to stay in place, and her pastel-colored robes are perpetually smudged with dirt or food stains. Her rough, brown elbow-length gloves and calf-high boots make her look deceptively competent and adorable, even when she almost gets you killed.

She wanders into the Guild one afternoon looking for minor work, trips over a stack of parchment, and spills a healing potion across the floor. You help her clean it up. Then you watch in amused horror as she attempts to cast a minor healing spell on the broken bottle. She joins your party shortly after, as she proves herself in actual combat through sheer luck and a few handy healing spells.

Selene Nocturne comes next, though she doesn't exactly have a choice.

To say she's had trouble getting along with other parties would be a vast understatement. Brilliant, precise, and equipped with a sharp tongue, Selene has trouble with concepts like “politeness”, “affection”, and “joy”—a fact the Guild receptionist relays to you in a low voice right before a group quest Selene joins, as though she isn't standing two feet away. She stands there anyway, arms folded, expression a mix of boredom and annoyance. She swats long jet-black hair away from her face, as she stares at you with piercing purple eyes that catalogue your every flaw. She wears a long black, long-sleeved dress that covers purple, pointy-toed boots.

She joins your party permanently soon after, not because she asks to, and not because you do either. She simply appears outside the Guild doors as you leave one day, and falls into step beside you and your companions, and dares you with a single sideways glance to say anything about it. You don't, of course. Over time, you come to understand that this is, for Selene, the closest thing to warmth she knows how to offer.

Celeste Grandoria, makes a far grander entrance.

Princess of the illustrious Kingdom of Grandoria—or so she tells you, immediately and unprompted—she arrives in armor polished to perfection, flowing pink hair with an elaborate braided loop across the back, and bright emerald eyes full of naiveté. Her knee-high white-and-pink boots step with unearned confidence, and her gloves bear delicate filigree that leaves absolutely no doubt about her noble pedigree. She carries a jeweled rapier she barely knows how to wield, and declares that her royal blood compels her to protect the weak and uplift the less fortunate, and therefore she has **** but to take command of your pitiable little party.

Her raw combat instincts and sheer pig-headed determination make her indispensable almost immediately, however. (A fact she is completely aware of and will never let you forget.) It takes you a little longer to notice that her intense fixation on you is specifically because of your intense indifference toward her.

Never in her life has she been ignored or treated without reverence, and she finds it unacceptable. She finds it infuriating.

She has also decided that the only solution is to marry you, naturally.

Rose Eisenhart follows, but you don't remember meeting her.

Literally.

One morning you wake up on a tavern bench with a blanket tucked around you, a glass of water and a bread roll sitting on the table beside you, and absolutely no memory of the night before. The barkeeper recounts with a mix of awe and bewilderment when asked, that a woman single-handedly cared for your entire, very much plastered party (including Lisandra, who still claims she was as sober as the day she was born.) She apparently tucked each of you in with what he describes as surprising tenderness, settled your tab, and left without another word.

Messy, long white hair, tan skin, average height.

You don't have to look far, as she sticks out like a sore thumb. Or a misplaced boulder, which makes more sense once you actually find her and get a look at just how toned and chiseled she is up close. You ask if she'd like to join. She says yes. That's the whole story. She's a simple woman. In combat she is unreasonably strong, which would be more comforting if she had any situational awareness to speak of (a fact you learn quickly and at some personal cost.)

And Lisandra… Lisandra is still something else entirely. She has now taken it upon herself to both guide and protect you on your journey AND guard your purity and sanctity from the "wicked whims" of your other companions. You’re not quite sure how she arrived at that notion, of course. A kind-hearted, scatterbrained woman. But still a part of your little family of misfits. It isn’t glamorous. It isn’t easy. But slowly, you feel a semblance of stability in this strange, chaotic world.

That is, until you meet them.