38 — 4 (8)

“…May I begin?”

“Yeah.”

Louis faced Boromir. Among Louis’s subordinates, Boromir had the highest swordsmanship level.

Born in a ducal house and drilled by his father since childhood, Louis still fell short of expectations with the sword.

Louis’s Swordsmanship was 2; a common soldier finished training at 1, so objectively Louis was only a notch above a soldier—no more.

‘…Overhead.’

Boromir closed the distance in a heartbeat and struck down from above. Because the aim was to sharpen Louis’s skill, Boromir’s movements were big and obvious.

Even an ordinary soldier could read them; Louis, a bit better than a soldier, could read them too.

But inside that simple-looking motion was a heavy, un-simple power.

Clang!

They used blunt practice blades, but when steel met steel Louis felt a solid weight coil through his wrist.

‘Good for practice.’

Kalbang might have botched the control of strength and technique, but—well—this was Boromir.

Boromir had real talent with the sword. If only his mana kept pace, he might, through relentless effort, reach Sword Expert.

Where Kalbang—with lower sword talent—might have failed, Boromir adjusted the skill gap deftly; as Boromir shifted into a natural guard, Louis dredged up his memory and began to bring his blade down.

The ring of metal on metal filled the yard again and again.

After some time, when Louis was drenched in sweat, Boromir lowered his sword—judging Louis had reached his limit.

‘Plenty to fix. Feels like he hasn’t handled a sword in a while—but he hasn’t forgotten the basic lines.’

Sensing many shortcomings in Louis’s form, Boromir kept any hint of it off his face and began to explain politely.

As Louis caught his breath and listened to Boromir list his weak points, the Civilization System suddenly threw him a quest.

Another alert chimed right after.

‘…I can pick only one. Both are Difficulty 3.’

Same difficulty as the purge quest. The difference was that these demanded administrative prowess, not military performance.

Choosing one would cancel the other; aside from the personal Swordsmanship goal, it essentially asked him to pick the domain he felt surer about—Food vs. Finance.

“Boromir, hold a moment.”

“…I think it would help to shorten your stride— Yes, my lord.”

‘As expected, the pursuit quest vanished.’

Its difficulty had kept climbing—beyond what Louis deemed feasible—and disappeared.

Indirectly, Louis now knew roughly how far he could push himself.

‘Difficulty 6.’

Perhaps 5 was the limit you could hit by straining to the edge, and 6 was the kind you pursued while breaking something utterly.

At least for that military pursuit, a Difficulty-6 mission implied domestic policy might be smashed past recovery.

‘For now, that is.’

Yes—by current standards. Difficulty 6 wouldn’t always push Louis to the brink; as he grew, what once felt hard would become trivial.

“Boromir.”

“Yes. Your orders, young lord?”

“We’ll extend sword practice. I want to achieve this.”

“Gladly. But will you be all right?”

Boromir asked for a simple reason.

Louis was the consul. He couldn’t train with the sword all day like a man-at-arms.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Understood. Then let’s add one hour at this time each day.”

“No—split it. Once in the morning, once in the evening.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Boromir had a habit of drinking at early dusk after work, but it seemed he would forgo it for a while.

‘Current points: 1,800.’

The Civilization System allowed investment in three big areas. First was Leader Traits—effects applied to the individual and only to the individual.

Here Louis had unlocked two: Military Charisma and Talent Insight.

Second was Buildings. Counting Wonders under Buildings, Louis had opened four: Monument, Colosseum and Barracks, and the Library of Alexander.

Last was Social Policies—complex overall, but broadly split into Domestic, Commerce, and Military. Louis had invested nothing here yet.

In truth, Social Policies only shone atop a city of some scale, so for Louis they were still just candy behind the glass.

‘I can’t decide yet.’

He needed time to think before choosing the Food quest or the Finance quest.

---

The heat of the Colosseum remained.

They no longer ran matches daily; it was about three times a week.

Louis had built three Colosseums total—one per district—so each hosted a match once a week.

The biggest problem now was the dwindling supply of death-row convicts. To solve it, Louis planned to buy barbarians captured by Fred at bargain prices.

Today’s match was in the newly expanded arena. It had been a while since he’d seen one, and Louis arrived a bit late.

‘Boom times.’

Even at the start, the crowd’s roar rang all the way to the entrance.

“Let us in!”

“It’s full. No more entry.”

A long line of citizens stood at the gate, wanting to watch but unable to get in.

“You bastards—let us in!”

‘As if we don’t want to watch too.’

The guard didn’t say it aloud but grumbled inside while ignoring the curses.

Because of his shifts—three days a week during matches—he himself managed only one viewing on days off.

At least, as a soldier he had a small priority and didn’t have to queue with citizens—that was something.

At that moment, a familiar figure caught his eye.

‘Wait… is that…’

As the figure drew nearer, the guard’s heart started pounding.

‘Lord Louis!’

Citizens had packed the front like a market crowd; entry wouldn’t be easy. If he didn’t want a scolding later, he needed to clear the way quickly—but more than that, he wanted to open a comfortable path for Louis.

“Go fetch the soldiers inside.”

“…Why?”

“It’s Lord Louis.”

“…Really? Gods—I thought he was already in.”

The runner darted in like an arrow, and the guard called out,

“The consul approaches! Clear a path!”

At his shout, puzzlement spread over the disgruntled faces; some looked back and cried out,

“Lord Louis!”

At that single cry, a wave of murmurs rolled outward. Soldiers burst from inside to force a passage, but in truth there was little they needed to do.

Packed shoulder to shoulder, the citizens opened a way of their own.

Louis’s horse slipped nimbly through the lane as the crowd parted in a rush on both sides. Along the way, everyone called out Louis’s name.

‘Support ticked up again.’

Judging by the reaction, Louis could tell without checking the panel.

Stabilizing food and succeeding in the monster purge had sent support soaring among commoners—especially the poor.

Meanwhile, support from the clergy had hit rock bottom.

‘Clerical support down to 14%. But I’ve no bandwidth to invest there yet.’

Soldiers from inside formed up, and the one in front announced,

“Consul, your seat is prepared within. Welcome.”

Louis had thought it might take time to get through, but clearly this gate guard had exerted himself.

“Thank you.”

Leaving the word behind, Louis swung down and strode ahead.

The soldier who took his reins felt his heart hammer with emotion.

‘Gasp—w-what did I just hear?’

Whether the soldier was moved or not, Louis already reached the interior.

Walking a special passage rather than the general one, he finally emerged to the arena view.

What greeted him was a man locked in a savage melee.

‘…Kaiser.’

Kaiser stood against multiple barbarians—blades bared. Three to one. The barbarians, too, had decent gear—survivors of several bouts.

As Louis descended, he pulled up Kaiser’s info panel.

‘He’s grown fast.’

Even at a distance, the panel revealed Kaiser’s Swordsmanship level.

Last time they met he had been only Level 3; now he was Level 4.

In the right situation, he might even beat Kalbang one-on-one.

Seats lay below; the very center was open. Louis went and sat there.

“You’ve come. Perfect timing—just when it’s getting good. You haven’t seen that one, have you? He’ll finish this beautifully today. He’s never once disappointed me.”

Louis knew Kaiser, but feigned ignorance.

“Oh? Who is he?”

“Kaiser. Likely the most famous gladiator. While you were away, the shows he put on were no joke.”

Louis watched Kaiser trade tight strokes.

‘You’re here!’

Amazingly, Kaiser had been waiting for Louis. No one in the stands knew it, but Kaiser could have taken a life from one of the three at any moment.

He had held back, wanting to show his feats to Louis.

‘My first match to show you since that day. Glory to the Consul.’

Kaiser’s mindset was almost that of a devotee.

He truly meant to glorify Louis by destroying these men utterly.

“By the way, you must have had a hard time. Those weren’t proper soldiers, and you fought in marshland.”

“No. It was simple.”

At Louis’s reply, Dekal’s brow creased.

‘Well now…?’

He had expected a long, whining tale emphasizing hardship. Instead Louis tossed off a line as if it were nothing.

To Dekal’s mind, that couldn’t be. Impossible, really.

He opened his mouth to press further—but the crowd’s roar swallowed everything.

Kaiser, three-on-one, had gracefully lopped off a barbarian’s arm.

The man clutched the stump, screaming and rolling. In essence, he was already dead.

Shock from massive blood loss was likelier than being cut down.

‘Hah… I like him.’

Half-listening to Dekal, Louis focused on Kaiser’s sword, watching with his own eyes.

And now, at last, he decided.

‘I’m pulling Kaiser out—he’ll be part of my force.’

He likely had a higher chance than Boromir to be a superior vanguard captain. His Respect remained at max, so Louis could also keep him close as a bodyguard.