3 (6)

Pense, who should have been on his way, was… being hauled off in a sack. He thrashed, but Boromir did not budge. For all his looks, he was a centurion who could wield mana.

From the start of the abduction they had gagged him, so little sound leaked out, and above all they had timed it well.

They loaded him in an instant onto Hansen’s prepared carriage, and though Boromir glanced around in case anyone saw, the streets were empty thanks to the citizens who had gone to watch the Colosseum.

Thanks to that, Boromir let out a breath.

It was his first time doing such a thing, and he did think it was wrong, but Boromir also knew what Hansen and Louis wanted right now.

The city’s situation was so chaotic they could not see even an inch ahead.

Inside the carriage, one of Hansen’s arms was broken; before Boromir could even ask why, Hansen gave the sack a sharp kick.

“Ghh…!”

“Haa… haa… Drive!”

“Yes, sir!”

Boromir had experienced his share of brutal military culture, so he instantly grasped the relationship between Hansen and Pense in the sack, and sat opposite Hansen without a word.

‘Scholars… aren’t so different after all.’

The carriage sped down the empty street.

Three dead. Pense disappeared en route. Naturally the administration was in an uproar, but the search was Dekal’s job, and Louis, pretending to be at work, came to the place where Pense was held.

Following the soldier guiding him, Louis went down a dark alley and entered a strange building.

This building, tucked in the very corner of the slums, was practically a ghost house. Even the slums had places worse off, and sadly, the poor in this area had all starved to death.

If Dekal searched in earnest, he could find it in a day, but unfortunately, anything to do with Max’s affairs Dekal handled half-heartedly.

In Louis’s view, it would take Dekal at least three days to discover this place. In truth, Louis needed only about a day, so he had secured more time than he needed.

Knowing all too well what was happening inside this dark building, Louis felt heavy-hearted. It was the first time he had ordered such a thing, and he was somewhat shaken by his own decision.

He did not show it on his face. Yet after only a short walk here, seeing the collapsed poor lying about, such thoughts vanished.

Some were already dead; others were dying. Even at this very moment, people were dying.

As someone who could see the city’s status information, Louis felt the immense weight of the population numbers.

People lived and died by his decisions. If he wanted to save even a few more, he had to think efficiently.

“This is the place. I’ll keep watch outside.”

Louis opened the dark doorway. Inside, Boromir, gaunt-faced and loose-limbed, sprang to attention the moment Louis entered.

“Young lord.”

“…The situation?”

“Hansen… has his men working on him.”

Here “working” meant torture. What answer was Hansen torturing Pense to obtain? The answer to the bait Louis had tossed.

As expected, through the Civilization System Louis knew that a considerable amount of food had entered the city again.

The problem was that the food had arrived, yet vanished somewhere.

Food had come in, but the amount recorded as entering the warehouses was minuscule—what did that mean? Louis had posed that question to Hansen as is, and what Hansen was doing was connected to it.

Then Hansen came up from the basement.

“Ah, Lord Louis. You’re here.”

“…What’s the information?”

Hansen grinned and said,

“This is the price of trusting me. As expected, they siphoned off the grain. It seems they built a secret storehouse in the northwestern forest. The rest of the food is there.”

“Good. Boromir.”

“Yes.”

“Take your trained hundred and raid the storehouse. Then haul every last grain back into the city.”

“Understood.”

“Hansen.”

“Yes.”

“Handle the cleanup.”

“Understood.”

Louis turned on his heel the moment he arrived and headed out—to go to Dekal.

…

The Colosseum blazed again today. All the citizens were enthralled and distracted by it. Their anxiety and desires erupted there, and they could forget both the unpleasant reality and their hunger.

Only a few days had passed, and yet people gathered here as if addicted.

And it was not only the lower classes. After seeing the first match, Dekal had not missed a single day of the Colosseum. He himself could not explain why he was so drawn to it, but one thing was clear—time flew when he was here.

‘Is it the blood, after all?’

Perhaps it was a swordsman’s instinct, he thought. The match had hit its stride, blade meeting blade.

Louis appeared at that very moment.

“Dekal.”

“Oh, Lord Louis.”

The match was a war of attrition. The criminals’ desires and skills were so evenly matched that the outcome was unknowable.

It was a perfect time to talk.

Louis began to converse with Dekal—from ordinary topics, to the gladiators, to more secret matters….

The crowd was so loud that even those nearby could not make out their words.

The prisoners were barbarians. Barbarians were naturally adept with the sword, so the fights were worth watching.

At last one man’s waist was cut open, and the fallen man collapsed onto the sand.

Cheers erupted on all sides.

Louis spoke.

“So, your answer?”

As the barbarian finished off his comrade, Dekal replied,

“Well, fine—if I get seven.”

Another round of cheers.

One more bout remained. Louis had no reason to stay and rose from his seat.

Another’s misfortune was someone else’s gain. Was that not how the world worked? Looking down at the soldiers barking at people to line up and at the poor standing in rows, Louis began to choose his reward.

‘Five hundred points….’

The reward was bigger than expected. It also proved how difficult the pledge he had made had been. Had he failed, he would have received the worst punishment on record, which at this point would have been a death sentence.

Louis felt both pleased and bitter. Relief circled him.

‘I must be careful from now on.’

One must not make promises to the masses lightly. Louis had succeeded, but he took a lesson from the difficulty of this affair.

It was his first time gaining 500 points at once, and his first time seeing the reward split into two options. Judging by effect alone, the six-month, +30% food-output option was his lifeline.

A Monument added one hammer to a single tile—and only to that tile.

But the current reward’s condition was +30% to total food. Louis ran three farm tiles in total. If he raised output by 30% on all three tiles for six months, how much food would that effectively produce?

One tile produced 3 food. Near harvest, Louis would gain 9 food; add 30% to that.

It dwarfed a Monument.

Comparing a Monument that raised production to this reward that raised maximum yield, Louis would need to unlock high-tier Civilization traits—at least 1,000 points, he suspected—to get anything comparable.

‘The problem is that it’s one-off.’

The effect lasted six months.

Proia’s population under Louis was 3. Without this ration distribution, 3 would have dropped to 2. In any case, to grow from 3 to 4, there had to be surplus food. A population of 3 consumed 9 food per turn.

Exactly the yield of Louis’s cultivated land. If he chose the latter, the surplus would exceed 2 at least.

Maintain surplus, and the city would resolve starvation and begin to grow. Population would increase.

‘Conditional growth….’

Conditional growth appealed to Louis. With more people, the possibilities multiplied. Quests would become harder and rewards larger. Looking at the long term—in the early phase of Louis’s grand plan now—growth with a burden did not seem bad.

High as the percentage was, Louis could not fully leverage it under current conditions. If he were not a small lordship like this but a great empire, the value would be beyond imagining.

But that was why the Civilization System handed such rewards to Louis. For an empire, it would have assigned a quest beyond anything Louis could imagine.