25 — 3 (5)

The Civilization System periodically warned and alerted Louis.

Quests did not only grant rewards; they also carried penalties, and the backlash of a punishment matched the size of the reward.

Only two days remained until the promised date, and at this point even Louis could not help feeling anxious. The only way to resolve his anxiety was for Hansen to succeed in winning people over. Louis was doing his utmost to divert Max and Dekal’s attention elsewhere so that Hansen could work more freely.

If Louis failed the food-ration quest, he would lose more than Respect; it would also lead to losses in manpower. Louis had already selected low-ranking administrators from the slums and had them on standby.

At that very hour… Hansen felt just as anxious.

“Damn it….”

It felt like everyone had taken the same pill. Hansen’s attempts at persuasion were not working at all. Every person he approached rejected him, and even those he knew would not hold a proper conversation.

For the first time in ten years, Hansen felt isolated.

‘Louis promised in two days. I have to secure evidence before the food distribution two days from now… It’s not enough. Far from enough. Max’s administrative control exceeds imagination… More than that….’

Crunch.

Hansen could have admitted failure to Louis as things stood, but beyond that, it had become an issue of pride.

Hansen was a man who had made others outcasts, but had never been made one himself.

The emotion he tasted for the first time in his life dragged him into rage.

Even when he lost to Louis in the cultivation test, he had not felt this humiliated.

But the real incident happened the day before. Hansen had been publicly disgraced.

‘Pense… that bastard….’

Pense was someone Hansen knew fairly well. No—he had spent his childhood with Hansen and was one of the boys who had followed him. Although factions later split them apart, Hansen believed he still had feelings of attachment for Pense.

That Pense lynched Hansen and spat on him.

Hansen was not in his right mind. Rage. Not only had he been mobbed and humiliated by someone he considered beneath him, he had been spat upon.

Enduring the throbbing pain, Hansen went to Louis.

‘I won’t let this slide. We go to the end….’

The methods circling in Hansen’s head were of a different order than when he had competed with Louis.

‘Let’s see if you can keep your mouth shut on the brink of death.’

Of course, the plan Hansen had in mind was impossible alone; he needed Louis’s help.

If he had been one of Dekal’s men, who held the troops, he could not have used such rough means, but as one of Max’s men, it was possible.

Kidnapping—plain and simple.

Hansen stated it directly to Louis, and after a brief thought, Louis agreed readily.

Seeing Louis respond that way, Hansen had no choice but to revise his opinion of him once more.

‘As expected, the young lord… he is ready to grow.’

The consul’s office. One wall was entirely open, and Proia spread out beyond it. Five attendants stood by at all times. Except for the clerk who handled documents, all were young girls.

Two of them brought in fruit.

The fruit was not fresh.

Those in power were not always insulated from the citizens’ hunger.

Three girls each held long leaves and fanned the room to create a cool breeze.

And in that breeze sat two people.

Those two were exchanging looks that could drain the blood from one’s face.

They were Louis, the current consul of Proia, and Max, who oversaw the finances.

Louis’s expression was dark, a murderous air leaking out.

Even so, Max seemed used to it by now and accepted it calmly.

The two guards at the door stiffened for no reason.

Fanning with leaves was not such a difficult task, and yet the girls were sweating cold sweat in streams.

Louis was the culprit.

Though the weather was fine, another alert window rang for Louis.

Silence followed. Louis asked again.

“Why is it that we cannot increase the food rations?”

“…It is simple. Food is not something to be handed out recklessly. As I said before, our supplies were looted again this time. Goblins are always a nuisance.”

“This is maddening. Max, do you think goblins could raid the Pontina directly governed territory’s supply convoys twice in a row? Have you ever even seen a goblin?”

Louis growled. Max had never seen a goblin, so he could not answer.

“I have. On the way here, I personally crushed a skull. With this.”

Louis drew his sword and drove it into the table.

It was a bizarre, broad blade covered in grotesque sorcerous sigils.

Louis continued.

“It is the sword carried by the chief of the Green Skins’ Big Tusk Tribe. I cannot believe your story.”

Momentarily cowed by that force, Max broke into a cold sweat as he spoke.

“………H-ha… Haha. Wait… c-calm yourself. You seem too agitated. I heard it as well—you made a promise to the lower classes. By tomorrow, was it? Lord Louis, there is no need to keep promises made to the rabble. Our top priority for supply right now is the soldiers. Once they are fed well, next come the commoners in commerce. Are you a consul, my lord?”

“…………”

“A consul is not a child. To say you cannot see the larger picture because you made a promise to the baseborn?”

Silence stretched on. From the spot where Louis had slammed the heavy sword vertically, even the girls stopped fanning.

When Louis sheathed the blade and sat, Max wiped his sweat and snapped to the side.

“What are you doing? Fools, who told you to stop fanning? Cool the young lord. Not me—the young lord, focus on him.”

“Fine. Then bring me the documents.”

“Pardon? I already reported…”

“I said bring me the ledgers of entries and exits. I will see them with my own eyes.”

Max smiled. Those ledgers had already been forged. Even if he brought them, Louis would find no flaw.

With that, this problem could be considered wrapped up for now.

“If you must see them with your own eyes to be satisfied, then of course I shall bring them. You there—tell Pense to bring the documents.”

All Louis had to do now was wait in silence.

Any important documents the consul requested always had to be delivered to the office by the one in charge. This was the tactic Hansen had aimed for.

Time flowed—quick if called quick, slow if called slow—and Louis, unaware of the turn of events, was just as anxious.

Pense’s arrival was not good for Louis, but being discovered after a failed kidnapping would be no better.

There was nothing that would firm up Louis’s position.

Even if they abducted him, could they make him talk within a day? Hansen was confident, but that too was uncertain.

A corrupt manager did not necessarily have a weak mind; on the contrary, he might carefully try to stall for time.

What mattered was that Louis’s quest could not be stretched by a day or two like a human promise.

A quiet breeze flowed in and seeped through the wide office, but no one noticed. Of the roughly ten people inside, all focused on Louis.

The young girls who fanned him looked up to him with admiration; the soldiers felt pressure; Max brimmed with hostility.

It was a situation the old, bookish Louis could never have dreamed of, but the Leadership trait had made it possible.

No—trait or not, their hearts were already moving.

Those nearby… even if they were slaves and guards, not one of them was a fool who failed to grasp what Louis and Max were saying now.

All of them silently cheered for Louis, but the situation looked difficult.

Hansen, enjoying the increasingly complicated look on Louis’s face, brought up the Colosseum to shift the mood a little.

Whether it helped or not did not matter; as long as there was something to talk about. In fact, Louis merely nodded while most of the talk was Hansen’s rambling.

“…So my thought is that we should watch it in the long term, but…”

Louis cut him off with a single line.

“He’s late.”

Despite the displeasure in his voice, Louis smiled inwardly. Hansen had succeeded; the time by which Pense should have arrived had long passed.