Creating Anime In A Fantasy World

Chapter 233: Playing Goblin Slayer in the Military Camp!

After receiving the Southern Territory Grand Duke’s permission, Edward set off toward a desolate stretch of land dozens of kilometers away from the southernmost city.

This was where the Southern Frontier Garrison was stationed.

At his side was Daphne, the duke’s daughter. Acting as his guide, she led Edward through the heavily guarded camp.

The moment he stepped inside, Edward caught sight of a tall, broad-shouldered man with golden hair, barking orders as he drilled his soldiers. The man turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, surprise flickering across his face when he saw who it was.

“Daphne? What are you doing here? And this man is…?”

Seeing his suspicion, Edward quickly stepped forward.

“My name is Edward Durin, of the Durin Family. Due to certain matters, Lady Daphne was kind enough to bring me here.”

“You’re… Edward of the Durins?”

The blond officer’s eyes widened, but he quickly collected himself and offered a polite introduction.

“My name is Brando Viktor, eldest son of the Grand Duke’s house, and Daphne’s elder brother. At present, I also serve as a captain of the frontier guard.”

“I see…”

Edward blinked, momentarily stunned. He hadn’t expected that this man—whose only real resemblance to Daphne was the color of his hair—would turn out to be her older brother.

And then, as if struck by inspiration, he spoke without thinking.

“So it’s you, then.”

“—???”

Brando tilted his head in confusion.

Not wasting another second, Edward laid out his intentions as plainly as possible.

The captain froze. Of all the explanations he had been expecting, “I came here to recruit actors” was not one of them. After all, this was a Frontier Garrison—miles from the nearest city—and “film” was a brand-new invention that had only emerged within the past half year. To these soldiers, the very concept was utterly alien.

But Edward believed that some things had to be seen to be understood. Words wouldn’t be enough. So he decided to show them with their own eyes what a “movie” truly was.

He returned briefly via teleportation to fetch a memory crystal, while the still-bewildered Brando gathered as many soldiers as possible and had a makeshift screen strung up in the yard.

By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, Edward was back with his equipment.

“So this is what you call a ‘movie’?” Brando asked skeptically.

With a confident smile, Edward held up a small, glittering crystal in his palm.

“This is the medium that contains the film. Don’t worry—it’ll be entertaining. More entertaining than you can imagine.”

“…If you say so.”

Though his expression betrayed doubt, Brando nodded. A shard of crystal no bigger than a thumb hardly seemed capable of anything remarkable. Still, his father had personally recommended Edward, and that alone was reason enough to watch and wait.

Meanwhile, at the captain’s orders, the garrison troops assembled in front of the screen. One by one, rough and rugged men filled the yard, exchanging uncertain looks.

“Captain Brando, what’s this about? Why gather us all here so suddenly?”

The voice came from a tall soldier who approached from the back.

Brando gave him a reassuring smile.

“Ah, Jocen. This is Edward Durin, a renowned young Grand Mage of the South. At my father’s request, he’s here to show us something called a ‘movie.’”

“Movie?” Jocen frowned, blinking in confusion.

Edward, however, studied the man with quiet satisfaction. His instincts hadn’t failed him—among these frontier guards, he had already spotted the type of people he was searching for.

As more and more soldiers crowded the yard, the atmosphere grew restless.

They had just finished their evening meal, and this was their only time for rest and recreation. Instead, they had been ordered here to stare at a sheet strung up like a sail, while some young noble fiddled with a crystal.

Though none of them dared voice their displeasure outright—military discipline ran too deep—their faces were a mixture of irritation and doubt. The undercurrent of discontent spread quickly through the ranks, heavy and stifling.

Faced with the rising tension, Captain Brando had been about to step forward and calm the men.

But Edward stopped him with a gesture and strode out on his own, his voice ringing across the assembly ground.

“Soldiers of the Southern Frontier Garrison, greetings. I am Edward Durin of the Durin Family. Each of you here, who guard our nation’s frontiers and protect its people—you have my deepest respect. That is why today, I have brought with me something popular across the South: a movie. I wish to share it with you, to bring a little color to the monotony of life on the frontier.”

As the men traded uncertain glances, Edward drew forth the memory crystal and placed it upon a slab of stone prepared in advance. A soft hum echoed as he fed it a trickle of magic.

Dim light shimmered into being, spreading across the distant screen. A faint image flickered, hazy at first, then slowly stabilizing into view.

“This is a film released half a year ago in the South,” Edward announced, his tone calm yet confident. “It is called Goblin Slayer. I brought it especially for this occasion. Please—enjoy.”

With that, he stepped back, leaving the crystal to work on its own.

Confusion immediately rippled through the ranks of soldiers.

They had never heard of such a thing as a “movie,” much less seen one. To them, it was nothing more than another of a magician’s strange tricks, of no real consequence.

And beneath that confusion lay something deeper: the long-standing tension between knights and mages.

“What the hell is this supposed to be? A movie? Looks like some useless magical toy to me.”

“Captain Brando is the duke’s son, isn’t he? Why bother humoring some baron’s brat like this?”

“I think I’ve heard of him… Edward Durin, right? They say he’s some famous prodigy in the South—became a Grand Mage while still young. By rank alone, he’s equal to Colonel Roy.”

“A Grand Mage, is he? Then what’s he doing here, showing off to soldiers in a frontier camp?”

“Tch. It’s just some arrogant mage, convinced his tricks will impress us. A ‘movie,’ huh? Hah. Even if I die, I wouldn’t waste my time watching such nonsense.”

“Exactly! Magicians are just spoiled brats born with fancy talents, always thinking they’re above everyone else. Why should we care about the toys they make?”

“…”

The soldiers’ muttering grew louder, dripping with scorn and prejudice.

It was inevitable. In a world where magic was monopolized by a chosen few, friction between common folk and mages was a constant reality.

True, the Empire’s doctrines preached respect for mages, and it was undeniable that they had played a decisive role in countless wars of defense. But to the men here—who bled and died on the battlefield while mages stood behind their spells—their view was simple: magicians were cowards.

Yet, however sharp their words, curiosity was not so easily stifled.

For when the opening scenes of Goblin Slayer played across the screen—the flicker of firelight, the tense shadows, the first desperate clash—many of those same soldiers found their eyes drawn, almost against their will, to the strange moving images.

Before long, even the harshest scoffers had fallen silent, staring at the screen as the story unfolded before them.