40 — 4 (10)

The maids, who had been idly chatting, started in fright when Louis suddenly appeared in the office.

‘What do we do…?’

The moment they saw Louis’s face, their minds went blank.

But what came out of Louis’s mouth was something else entirely.

“Guests have arrived. Bring simple refreshments—and bring that.”

By “that,” Louis meant the blueprints he had painstakingly copied in his office over the past few days.

There was a moment of confusion. Louis gestured Hector to a chair.

“Thank you.”

“What’s your first impression of Proia?”

“It has changed a great deal.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Yes.”

That was as far as the perfunctory small talk went. To use the brief window of time, Louis reached for the papers on the desk, when Hector spoke, eyes bright with interest.

“Your city has quite the reputation.”

“For what?”

“The Colosseum.”

“Ah. Lately a number of merchants from the port city have dropped by to see it.”

“That’s all anyone talks about.”

“…I see.”

“In fact, I was a little late because I went to look at the Colosseum building.”

‘Was he late…?’

So focused on other matters, Louis had forgotten anything of lower priority.

“It’s simple—but it surprised me. I’ve built for years; I know how long it takes to develop an idea this clean. Whose idea is it? I must meet them.”

Twitching his mustache, Hector pressed Louis. For all his looks, he was a man who had staked his life on architecture.

Signing documents, Louis said,

“Whose? Mine.”

“…Pardon?”

After a beat of silence, Hector asked again, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“I designed the Colosseum—and I devised its functions.”

Hector was puzzled.

‘No, this young noble is lying.’

Louis was a consul—and young. Ideas were even more impressive, but that could happen; ideas had no bounds. Buildings, however—architecture did.

Shabby as it looked, that practical layout was so efficient it would take Hector himself years to devise.

The nobles he had met were mostly sly and arrogant.

A few—even if not many—casually stole their subordinates’ achievements as if it were nothing.

Hector pre-judged Louis as one of those.

“Remarkable. How many years have you studied architecture?”

“I read a bit when I was young. That’s all.”

“…I see.”

That confirmed it for Hector—though he didn’t show it.

‘The drawings will tell the truth anyway.’

Blueprints didn’t lie. They held many “codes”—things only another builder would notice: signs of captivity, or special jargon pointing to something, and so on.

“My lord Louis, I’ve brought it.”

A soldier and a maid entered together. The soldier unfolded a new, wide table; a massive sheet was unfurled atop it.

And it opened—

The Library of Alexander.

‘Let’s see what this is…—gasp.’

Hector’s jaw dropped. The overwhelming sight left him speechless.

‘Such… a beautiful building!’

Set aside utility—if you added even the rough sculptural motifs Louis had sketched, this was not a building but a work of art.

Moreover, the halting annotations swept away Hector’s doubts at once. There was no coded jargon anywhere; the notes bore the clear marks of someone who had learned purely from books.

Thus, where explanation was needed, it was written out in detail.

Louis’s next words only sealed it.

“You can ignore the rough ornaments and patterns I doodled. I just drew them in. What you need to do is erect the structure.”

Absurd as it was, among the thirty-odd people in this vast office, only Hector grasped the plan’s value. He was still in shock.

No wonder—Louis’s Library of Alexander was an artistic pinnacle of Hellenistic taste.

“D-did you truly design this yourself, Consul?”

“Mm. That’s right. There will be many parts hard for you to parse. I’ve never been properly trained. If anything in the notes isn’t clear, ask me directly.”

At this point, it was a coup de grâce.

Hector could only murmur one word:

‘Genius.’

“Does something not please you? Just build it. We’ll use it as a library anyway.”

“N-no, my lord—there’s nothing I dislike. I’m utterly taken with it. This commission is a great fortune for me. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“…Good. Can you start today? I’ve already informed the soldiers.”

“Understood.”

At last, Louis’s first Wonder began to rise.

‘That’s one problem solved.’

Soon Louis planned to circulate among the laboring soldiers and pick out those with high construction talent.

He would assign one as Hector’s assistant to learn the trade.

Contracting out every major building would be far too costly.

---

Points remaining: 1,500. In the Buildings tab, Louis upgraded the Market to Level 2.

There were three options, but Louis had only one in mind.

‘Tourism.’

Using Tourism points.

A second option—consuming internal sugar—was worth considering during wartime, but with cash short right now, it wasn’t useful.

They would have to see how it played out, but Louis was confident it could yield up to +2 gold per turn; that was how many visitors from the port city were now coming to watch the Colosseum.

How to maximize this skill? Satisfy the condition—force tourists to pass through the Market.

‘Road blockade.’

Louis summoned Kalbang. At this point Kalbang effectively oversaw the Colosseum; he managed it beyond expectations.

“You called.”

It had been a while; Kalbang looked pleased.

“Kalbang, about those merchants from other cities.”

“Ah, I know whom you mean. Their numbers have gone up lately.”

“Make it so they have to go through the Market to reach the Colosseum.”

“…Sir? Is there a reason?”

‘There is.’

“Can you, or can’t you? That’s an order.”

“My apologies if I offended you. I’ll have soldiers control the roads.”

“Good.”

---

That afternoon, on the way to a Colosseum bout—

Oseulleo, a noble from the port city of Kayani, climbed into her palanquin. Inside the sizable litter, two of her sex-slaves awaited. Once she entered, six burly slaves outside raised the poles, three to a side.

Destination: the Colosseum. Oseulleo had tossed work aside to visit, having heard there was a marvelous spectacle.

“How exciting. Heh.”

“Exciting? What is? Me?”

Oseulleo muttered with another meaning, while the two women inside teased her.

They wore next to nothing; loosen one string, and every curve was laid bare.

A notorious lover of women, Oseulleo had chosen them carefully; though of similar age, the two had very different bodies.

“Right. We might as well work up a sweat before the show.”

A heavy bosom pressed against her back sent a tingle through her hips.

Not to be outdone, the slimmer woman slid like a snake and moved below Oseulleo.

As the pleasure mounted and Oseulleo closed her eyes to savor it, the six bearers outside sweated under the weight, step by steady step.

They preferred to avoid crowded streets to spare themselves, and turned down a quieter lane—only to find soldiers waiting.

“Halt there.”

‘Great. Why block us now?’

The slave grumbled inside, but the soldiers outranked him by far. His tone stayed polite only because the passenger was a noble.

“This is Lady Oseulleo of Kayani, bound for the Colosseum. Please do not bar her passage.”

“By order of Proia’s consul, this road is now closed. Please proceed that way.”

The direction he indicated forced them through the Market.

The slave’s face crumpled.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me…’

Lost in rising pleasure, Oseulleo heard the voices outside clearly. She flung the door open and glared at the soldier.

Meanwhile, silken sensation still flowed from below…

“What is the meaning of this?!”

The soldier bowed and answered,

“To reach the Colosseum, you must pass through there and cross the plaza. By order of the consul, this way is closed.”

‘The consul? The third son of Duke Remitri.’

“I wish to pass here…”

“The consul ordered that if you object, you may protest to him directly. In any case, this route is sealed—please go through the Market.”

‘Tch. It’ll take longer, but fine. I meant to see his face once anyway. Let’s see how fun this Colosseum is… ugh—close…’

“I… understand.”

Stammering suddenly, Oseulleo shut the palanquin door. The slaves instantly guessed what was happening inside and sighed.

‘Damn.’

Thus Oseulleo’s litter passed through the Market. Because of the crowd, the slaves slowed; the din around them shook the litter—

But Oseulleo felt something oddly thrilling.

‘What’s this? I’m more aroused than usual today.’

The slave beneath her bounced mercilessly, and Oseulleo climaxed bluntly and fast.

“Haa… ngh.”

She lay on her side, thinking. Was it because they did it among a crowd? The experience had a rare, heady edge.

Naturally her gaze drifted outside—and something shiny caught her eye.

Apples.

‘………’

Suddenly wanting them, she called out,

“Stop.”

The litter halted; Oseulleo spoke to the slave beside her.

“Go buy some apples.”

“How many, my lady?”

“For me… and all of you—enough for everyone.”

She didn’t know why, but that’s what she said. And Oseulleo wasn’t the only one. Buyers in the Market were twice the usual number. Every tourist passing through felt a stronger-than-usual urge to purchase.

At that hour, Louis walked toward a secluded corner of the residence compound. The pond at the edge of the manor lay frozen solid—and within the ice rested something far too big for a fish.

The Forest Wurm.

‘I wonder how long Jerome can keep this up.’

Louis went to check on Jerome’s condition.

Only Jerome could sustain the Ice spell; Louis had sent a pigeon to Pontina’s demesne, and a mage under his father would petition the Mage Tower for a deal.

The key was preserving this state until someone from the Tower arrived after the request.