4 (2)

Louis reviewed the series of notifications.

Boromir, who had been sent on the food-transport mission, brought the food back perfectly. The food supply immediately exceeded the baseline, and—just as if it had been waiting—mortality fell and the city’s population increased by 1.

The population was now 4. Since 3 were assigned to agriculture, there was a spare 1.

There were several options: use that 1 pop to restore the sugar plantation, construct a Wonder, or convert it into military.

The expanded Colosseum granted the city extra Happiness. The city shifted from Normal to Happy. Happiness spurred additional zeal and boosted production.

The problem was upkeep. Louis’s grace period narrowed to 3 turns.

If he failed to resolve it within 3 turns, the treasury would drop to 0.

‘Since Boromir is back, it’s time to move.’

With Boromir and 100 soldiers—and by borrowing troops from Dekal—he had to seize the sugar marsh.

The boon on Louis’s side was Jerome.

There was a 1st-circle grimoire in the Proia Consul’s record room.

1st-circle grimoires were quite common; the Mage Tower had widely distributed them to promote magic.

But only up to the 1st circle. From 2nd-circle onward, the grimoires had to be purchased in a large city.

Strangely, Jerome mastered the 1st-circle grimoire in an instant—the Great Mage buff at work. Up to the 3rd circle, he would absorb knowledge preternaturally, regardless of effort.

Louis planned to eliminate the werewolves occupying the sugar tile with Jerome, Boromir, Kalbang, and the soldiers.

After wiping out the werewolves, he intended to restore the sugar plantation and, centered on the sugar tile, complete the quest to purge all monsters within 3 tiles.

The monster-purge quest was Difficulty 3 and surely carried a 1,000-point reward.

Though the Library Wonder had been unlocked, it was on hold for now. The ordered marble had to arrive; otherwise the treasury might hit 0 before that.

‘It’s been a while.’

A place not unfamiliar to Louis.

He had nearly died here. Everything felt sticky; the swamp stretched wide.

This was only the entrance. They needed to advance a bit more to enter the true marshland; for now, they would form ranks here.

Louis looked back. The soldiers were moving, entrenching on the firmest ground they could find. They planned to hold the position and dig traps.

‘If this were my own army and not Dekal’s, we’d be earning promotion XP…’

Aside from the 100 men, the rest were Dekal’s troops, so there was no unit-level experience. Unit XP could accrue through intense training, but most of all during battle.

If you survived, you grew stronger—simple as that.

And once XP piled up, what could be raised? Special skills.

Each unit developed various special skills—essentially the road to becoming elites.

“Jerome, help the soldiers build traps.”

“…H-how, my lord?”

Jerome now bore the title of Mage. He hadn’t even donned a proper robe yet and hardly cut the figure, but his status panel proudly read “Mastered 1st-circle.”

The problem was he didn’t yet grasp his own abilities. He wasn’t dull—he’d been selected as a junior administrator—but the sudden gift left him visibly flustered.

“What do you think?”

When Louis lobbed the question back, Jerome thought frantically and soon found the answer.

“Dig… you mean, my lord.”

Among 1st-circle spells, the most basic was Dig. Its effect was simply to open a hole in the ground; it could also soften earth. In marshland, it was even easier.

As the formation neared completion, Boromir arrived.

Boromir’s stats: Swordsmanship 6, Mana 2—enough to lightly infuse his blade. His special skill was Charge.

Unusually, it was a personal technique; in Charge state he received +1 to Swordsmanship.

“It seems the area is teeming with werewolves. But they’re not approaching rashly.”

Werewolves were nocturnal. They grew stronger and bolder at night and under the moon. Thus, even if Louis’s soldiers fortified the site, the odds were high the beasts would attack after nightfall.

“We must cleanse this place swiftly. Even two days is too much.”

“We’ll do our utmost.”

Kalbang had proposed the plan: form ranks, bait them, and annihilate the werewolves in one go.

Kalbang’s Swordsmanship and Mana were each 1 lower than Boromir’s—5 and 1—but as a former mercenary, he was crafty. Fittingly, his special was Trap Construction.

“Jerome, go to Kalbang. He’ll tell you what to do.”

“…Understood.”

Jerome, still awkward and hesitant, started toward Kalbang. Watching him, Boromir spoke.

“We should buy him a robe at least. Still, having a Mage at a time like this… splendid. The goddess of fortune surely smiles upon you, my lord.”

Mages were precious assets. They possessed keen minds—at least above average; without a quick, prodigious intellect, one could never become a Mage.

They played major roles in military operations and produced various inventions in peacetime.

Even Louis’s eldest brother had only three.

Louis and Boromir made a circuit of the area. The chief reason they had to settle this soon appeared before them.

‘Sugarcane.’

Despite the barbarians burning parts of it, a tremendous amount grew wild.

The related facilities were destroyed, but the terrain was rugged rather than the installations being complex. Werewolves lurked throughout the thickets.

Even drawing a little closer, they looked ready to tear Louis apart.

“…Please be careful, my lord.”

“I know. Let’s head back.”

“Yes.”

‘These creatures… they’ve grown bolder than before.’

For a short time this place had been defenseless; some of them must have come down to hunt humans. What easier prey than starving people?

As a result, the werewolves were now exceedingly feral.

‘They’ll come when the night deepens.’

Watching Jerome cast Dig fascinated both him and the soldiers. He formed seals, moved his mana, and seconds later the ground suddenly collapsed.

Spent at the end, Jerome sagged.

Louis pulled him out to rest for now. Another weakness of werewolves was fire.

The simplest spell—Fire—would help greatly here.

Night.

It was pitch-black around them. Even fully prepared, nerves were inevitable.

Animal blood placed at the center filled the air and lured the werewolves.

There was no light, but the clever monsters, by scent alone, knew many humans were gathered.

The moon rose, and their fear vanished. Likely every werewolf nearby had assembled.

They slid into a collective frenzy.

That was precisely why Kalbang had proposed this plan.

Once werewolves went mad, they didn’t know how to retreat.

“My lord Louis… they’re coming.”

Jerome spoke beside him. There wasn’t a soldier present who didn’t know the werewolves were about to crash over them.

A low growling vibrated through the brush.

Kalbang held the left, Louis the right, and Boromir the front line.

With a single breath in and out, the werewolves began their charge.

‘Very monster-like… a frontal assault.’

He hadn’t given the signal yet. Wait. Not yet… not yet…

A portion of the packs pounding across the ground suddenly dropped away on three sides.

In the inky dark, collapsing ground left even beasts little time to react.

‘Now.’

At Louis’s signal, the rear archers loosed in a volley. They had measured the range in advance, so despite the darkness the arrows plunged into the pits.

The patter—thud, thud—of things sticking like a downpour filled the air.

Werewolf screams mingled with their excited howls.

‘At least one rank annihilated. Now.’

At Louis’s second signal, the prepared bonfires roared to life, brilliantly lighting the surroundings.

What the moonlight hadn’t shown clearly spread before their eyes.

They were numerous, but the first strike had hurt them badly; their numbers had already thinned.

They might have withdrawn—but of course they didn’t. They vaulted over their comrades’ corpses.

When the second wave crossed the line, Louis sent the third signal.

‘Close-quarters.’

Every soldier waiting in the front rank raised his spear. Before they could even take a full breath, werewolves and spearmen crashed together.

A preemptive strike leveraging the long reach.

The werewolves’ second rank collapsed in an instant. Dekal’s soldiers were well-trained; this was proof they belonged to a legion.

A second barrage of arrows struck the rear of the werewolves.

The right, where Louis stood, was straining a bit—there was a reason.

“Jerome! What are you doing?!”

His first battle—the fear of death had pushed Jerome into panic. He was losing his head.

Louis immediately found the proper remedy.

Jerome took a slap to the face and flew back—then finally seemed to come to his senses.

“Argh… ah—”

“Jerome—light it!”

Only then did Jerome fumble into casting. Far ahead of the lines, flames suddenly washed over the werewolves.

1st-circle magic: Fire. It only kindled flames, but with ready kindling it spread from below and out to the sides.

The faltering right flank seized the momentum at once.

With the third rank broken, they could call it.

The few surviving werewolves, having lost their pack, stumbled back and fled.

Pursue them? No. Werewolves were incredibly fast; chasing them in this darkness would be trouble enough, and beyond here lay marshland.

Knowing that, Louis gave the signal to end the battle.

The fight ended in a flash—and, as ever, the ending was announced by a notification window.

Louis smiled.

‘1,400 points.’

With that amount, he could unlock a trait and fix the finances even without securing the sugar resource.

In any case, Louis looked around. The werewolves had taken near-total losses, while friendly casualties were visibly minimal.

Jerome counted for the report.

‘Mages… definitely useful.’

If 1st-circle was this effective, 3rd-circle would be even better.

‘Now, the question is how to spend 1,400 points.’

If he opened Monarchy—the Tier-3 Social Policy—he could partly ease the gold problem.

Monarchy granted +1 gold per 2 population, a long-term trait.

With population 4, that would add +2, plugging the deficit; moreover, gold would continue to rise with population.

Dekal was startled by the news from Louis.

“You wiped out the werewolves without a single casualty?”

“Yes.”

He’d planned to nitpick if he lost a few of his own soldiers, yet the outcome was perfect.

Even if he had commanded personally, he doubted he could have achieved such perfection.

‘Hmm… no, that can’t be. The werewolves must have been few. Yes, that’s it.’