13 (78)

Euclid’s Aqueduct possessed a wondrous appearance in and of itself. Pillars were embedded here and there as if giants had erected them, yet the simplicity of not a single pattern being visible anywhere was the defining feature of this aqueduct. Viewed from below, the water seemed to flow from north to south along a slanted surface, but viewed from above, it flowed in a direction that would make everyone gasp in shock.

It sent water drawn up from the south to the north. Like a narrow river, the waterway flowed majestically in reverse, and when it reached its endpoint, it dropped water to both sides across the broad stretches of ground. Below it, squat trees about three to four meters tall with thick trunks stood in lush rows. Considering the area, it had grown ten times wider than in the past.

In this lush forest, fresh green bananas bore fruit in abundance, about twenty to a row. Since each tree had five to six rows, this place looked like a green sea. Most of those harvesting here were people who had once been barbarians. The one checking the quantities while wearing local clothes, as if he had assimilated with them to some degree, was Boromir.

He had been ordered to send the supply here to the capital. Though he had lived here only a short time, the growth rate of the bananas was enough to shock Boromir. The yield was two or three times that of wheat, and frequent as well. Thinking of Louis, who had boasted that while it was not ideal food to eat, it could certainly prevent people from starving to death, Boromir’s heart grew hot as he wondered what kind of magic Louis was performing now.

Large wagons were being loaded full of stacked blue-green clusters. The fully loaded wagons formed lines of ten each, and their numbers continued to grow. Pantalist had not been negligent in paving the road to the capital in particular. Louis’s plan, prepared in advance for such a situation, shone through. There was no doubt that this terrifying volume of supplies would reach the capital all at once.

The grass was tough and strong, the kind one might commonly see on a plain. Millions of such blades of grass swayed like the wind. Running over them were sturdy warhorses and humans. There were also the rarely surviving Demon Soldiers, monsters, puppets infused with black magic, and heretics. Among the heretics, the woman staring pale-faced ahead was Kadrian, the third-ranked member of the Puppeteer Wandering Guild. Her eyes had sunk darkly, and she was pouring cold sweat.

Her succubus-like outfit, which had always pretended to be neat, was torn here and there, revealing her curves, and the calm composure could no longer be found on her face. Her gaze turned left. There was a small boy whose body was half-covered by a hood. Oar, the second-ranked member of the Wandering Guild. The eyes inside his outfit had lost focus. As if frightened, he kept looking around and muttering something endlessly. He was developing schizophrenia from excessive use of black magic. His hands were clenched tightly, but he was not preparing any black magic.

His two legs trembled as if he would collapse at any moment. Even if he could do something, his specialty was useless here. His forte was using black magic beyond common sense through mass sacrifices, but there were no more humans left to offer as sacrifices. Her gaze shifted forward again. The light cavalry that had pursued them until now were scattering blood.

Spears pierced the backs and abdomens of the Demon Soldiers. Three, then four. Cavalry surrounded them. Another Demon Soldier had just struck a cavalryman with its blade-like hand. The cavalryman’s armor crumpled, and he floated into the air. Behind the flying cavalryman, other cavalrymen were driving their horses at full speed. There were hundreds of lines tangled together in this fashion. Behind that line, the heretics were murmuring. Their heads were shaved, six-pointed stars had been drawn on their foreheads, and three spears crossed behind their backs, each spear bearing a skull.

Dozens of such men gathered together, pulled out the spears stuck on their backs, and charged at one person all at once. A warhorse floated into the air to brush past a Demon Soldier. The one riding atop it was a huge man, 2 meters and 20 centimeters tall. In his hand was a steel spear thicker, longer, and deadlier than an ordinary spear. Overflowing mana leaked from him. This man was Anok.

Anok fell into the middle of dozens of heretics as if a meteor had dropped there. Paying no attention to those crushed to death beneath him, Anok spun his steel spear round and round. The fanatics stopped and stepped back the moment they charged. It was obvious to anyone that the spinning spear would soon turn the area nearby into a sea of blood. The one swiftly driving her horse two hundred meters away was Mihoff.

Her short-cut hair and delicate face made her resemble a young noble lord awkwardly placed on a battlefield. However, the mana flowing from her body was more intense than Anok’s. To capture her and the dozens of cavalry following her as she penetrated deep into enemy lines, five Demon Soldiers with vicious muscles were charging from both sides with roars, while ten heretics ahead were raising their spears to form a clumsy square formation.

The cavalry quietly slipped to the side to stop the Demon Soldiers, and she drove her horse hard toward the square formation. Just before the collision, she leaped off the horse and dropped into the formation. She fell from the air. The heretics’ eyes widened sharply. Before anyone could issue the order to attack, a predator had entered the cage. Every time she dashed in a straight line, red lines were drawn across the necks of the heretics near her.

The moment when ten became two was nearly instantaneous. The two looked at each other, and Mihoff walked forward expressionlessly. Beside her, heretics with their necks slashed and fatal wounds rolled across the grassland floor. The two finally charged. Two heads popped up with a thud. Her warhorse, which had circled once, raced toward her like an arrow. She climbed onto the running horse as if performing a trick.

Behind the cavalry, in the middle of the blue grassland, a single horse stood still. Atop it was Mark Jay, wearing a hood. The carefully bent horn bow was curved as if it might snap, and the arm gripping the bowstave had bulging muscles. Mana bloomed around his body as if soaking him, and it slowly gathered into the arrow. When it seemed to vanish all at once, the arrow was already flying through the air.

He did not even check whether the target had been hit and took out another arrow, nocking it again. Far ahead of him, a cavalryman who had taken the wrong position had fallen from his horse. A Demon Soldier seemed about to kill him, stepping on his chest and raising its blade-hand to strike. Mark Jay grabbed another arrow and drew the horn bow until it bent. The direction was entirely different. At that moment, the Demon Soldier that had been about to kill the cavalryman had its skull shattered by an arrow and was flying backward. The cavalryman glanced back briefly, then hurriedly retreated.

Kadrian’s complexion grew even darker. She bit her lip.

‘This has gone wrong, far too wrong. Nestor and Ian are both dead. The only survivors of the Wandering Guild are us. We touched someone we should never have touched. Not only Louis, but even the forces under him are already beyond the scale a small country should possess. We should never have come here. I regret it so much.’

The heretics were being swept away as if they were being sliced into raw fish, and she saw Mihoff cutting through them toward her. As soon as she saw her, she drew a dagger, cut her own hand, and scattered the blood onto the ground. By the time Mihoff had almost reached her, Mihoff’s brows rose. Fifteen giants were rising from the ground. They had no armor, and their bodies were half-rotten, but impure mana flowed from them terrifyingly.

‘They are my puppets, summoned by shaving away my lifespan. Losing ten years of my life is a shame, but I can’t die here.’

‘They did well. With this, all the quests connected to Nestor have been resolved.’

Louis checked his remaining points. He had 352,000 points. All the extinguished lights flashed on at once. It meant he could choose anything. What he had in mind was Commerce. If he unlocked jewelcrafting, it would have synergy with the gem mine. Gold only needed to be sorted and minted, but gemstones did not end with simple sorting. Without the technology to process them, he would have to sort only the raw stones and sell that volume. A gem mine was profitable even with only that, but to reliably draw out maximum profit, processing the gemstones into accessories and exporting them would leave an extreme amount of profit. However, this was not the best choice.

These points could also be focused on developing tools of war. He could open a special troop type, the next stage after heavy cavalry, or develop all sorts of weapons combined with Magitech. He could also focus on increasing food, but that was not attractive in the current situation. In truth, even in the Duchy of Eron, judging by the level of hunger, only about 60% were full, while enough food was not circulating to the rest. Even considering only this, it was still a country with underlying strength. The fact that food remained above 50% despite Louis waging war after war proved that domestic administration had not been handled carelessly.

He could invest in scientific facilities from the start. He could establish a school that provided comprehensive education and intensively increase the population related to that field. Science points also automatically unlocked technology. If he obtained technology this way, no matter how advanced the technology was, it would not cost points. However, this method took time. Moreover, Louis did not have an important unique building.

‘Magitech University.’

It was a long-established unique building possessed by the Kingdom of Ainmarad. Considering that the Mage Tower existed near the Kingdom of Ainmarad, it was not particularly strange.

‘If I attack that place, I’ll become hostile to the Mage Tower. That’s certain. I need to have enough military power to deal with even them.’

Dealing with high-ranking mages was not something that could be solved simply by having many troops and troop types. If it could have been solved that way, the Loernia Empire would have conquered Ainmarad a thousand years ago. Ainmarad itself was located inside a rich granary region. That made it far too advantageous for defense.

In the end, the difference would be whether he operated aggressively or took time to encourage domestic development. As expected, the choices were focused on Commerce and war. Money was good to have either way. If he earned a great deal of money, even if he could not possess groundbreaking military tools compared to other countries, he could do anything. He could strengthen military spending and cover the military itself with existing superior weapons, and if food was lacking, he could import it from other countries and supply starving cities. However, considering fluctuating prices, merely hoarding money was not the best solution either.

While Louis sat in a chair thinking this, soldiers were tearing down the castle wall in front of him. Originally, it had been a room with one large window, but Louis had ordered them to knock it down because it felt stifling. The wall was almost gone, and the outside was clearly visible. Only a few bricks barely remained on both sides. It could be dangerous, considering this was on a high floor of the castle, since an ordinary person would die instantly if they jumped down from here.

At any rate, the city’s overall outline appeared elegantly below it. It was a city where many places had been destroyed and the smell of blood still flowed thickly, but soon the blood would be forgotten, and the city would gradually come back to life. This city needed to be developed. Louis’s plan was to make full use of the mining district and prepare massive military funds. To do that, he needed a huge city capable of supporting the mines.

‘Should I try forcing some migration?’

“Your Highness. Sir Euclid has arrived.”

“Oh. Tell him to come in at once.”

“Yes. He is coming here now.”

Archmage Euclid had arrived. Louis planned to mention Magimetal Casting to Euclid. It was a national-stage reward he had obtained after taking down a demon that was even more troublesome than Nestor. Since it had raised the country’s scientific power by a staggering 80,000 all by itself, there had to be something important contained in it.