48 — 5 (8)

“Now, try it once more.”

Geurek pointed at the pigeon set before them. He was excited. Teaching a genius for the first time, he was tongue-tied at Jerome’s devilish talent that soaked things up like cotton.

The pigeon had been wounded just enough to be healed, and what Geurek wanted from Jerome was a reproduction of a Second-Circle Heal.

“Yes, Master.”

Even Jerome could not perform the same instant feat as with Ice Arrow, but at this rate he would master the Second Circle before a month had passed.

Jerome formed several hand seals, raised mana, and poured a Heal spell into the pigeon. His hands glowed faintly, wrapping the bird; the wound closed rapidly. It could not be compared to a cleric’s work, but it was fully worthy of a Second-Circle Heal.

‘Fast… far too fast.’

Geurek could not help admiring Jerome again when, after three failed tries, he finally grasped it.

He had seen prodigies a time or two, but this was his first time teaching one himself. In a rare school like Geurek’s, even attracting gifted students was hard.

“If only I could take Jerome to the Mage Tower…”

He had dropped plenty of bait already, but Jerome’s answers remained lukewarm.

“Jerome, will you come to the Mage Tower with me?”

Jerome did not want to miss a chance to learn. When a person’s belly was full, other thoughts arose—he honestly wanted to go—but the largest problem was his family.

If he up and left, who would support his younger siblings? Above all, they were fervent supporters of Louis. Even if he chose the path of a mage, they would never follow. They might even resent him. He did not want learning badly enough to accept that.

“I’ll think about it. But it will be difficult.”

As expected, Jerome gave a vague answer.

“Truly… a genius like you mustn’t stay in a small city. It’s a great loss to humanity. At any rate, we’ll end the lesson here for today.”

“Thank you for your guidance.”

“At this pace, you’ll master the Second Circle in a fortnight. I won’t report the truth to the Consul. Mages should band together. Can you cooperate?”

“Yes.”

“So—how far have you gotten?”

“I’ve learned about halfway. Master says I’ll master the Second Circle in a fortnight.”

That settled it: Jerome would not defect to the Tower while Louis was away.

Louis could afford to let Hector and even Boromir be poached, but not Jerome—not yet. Had Jerome’s answers sounded tepid, Louis would have taken him along.

“I see.”

“As you hinted, he’s trying to take me to the Tower…”

At the Tower, one’s talent could be maximized. Compared to Louis’s makeshift way of bringing in a teacher, Jerome could study systematically, enter a school, and interact with other mages.

The biggest issue—unseen by Jerome—was that the Tower, too, ran largely on birth and status.

Louis, though lacking magical talent, would be treated with respect at the Tower; his father was a duke, and there could be no shortage of Tower-linked ventures.

Even the Tower, which bore the lofty banner of pursuing human knowledge, could not fully cast off the caste system.

Moreover, there was no way it could provide for Jerome’s family as richly as Louis did now.

In many ways, Jerome had no room to betray Louis.

“Jerome.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I’ll stay in this city forever?”

“No.”

“I have ambition. I don’t know how far it will grow. You… only have to follow, and watch how far I can go. If you choose the Tower, I won’t stop you. You’re my discovery and precious to me, but if you think it through and go, that’s your choice. Still, in a few years you’ll surely regret it. Now—tell me clearly. Will you follow me?”

Louis demanded a definite answer. He judged that was better—hammer the nail in and focus completely elsewhere, rather than worry piecemeal.

Jerome had begun to like Louis in earnest.

‘Aside from… giving me a bit too much work…’

Since becoming a mage, Jerome had never truly rested between learning and labor. Of course, it was a hundred times better than starving, but he wasn’t entirely without complaints.

“Yes. I’ll follow you.”

“Good.”

Fred, Duke Remitri’s eldest son, had been entrusted with a legion and was in a prolonged standoff with the barbarians. The barbarians’ land stretched long along a mountain range, and beside it, at a narrow strip, overlapped with Marquis Gangpireu’s territory.

Fred ruled three cities; the legion obeyed him completely—if he ever changed his mind, his soldiers were ready to march down at once.

Respected enough to command a legion’s loyalty, Fred felt less like an administrator and more like a field general. He stood nearly 190 centimeters tall, and his personal swordsmanship had reached Sword Expert. Training rigorously day after day like the soldiers and disliking frippery, he was admired by almost all.

Now, Fred was ringed by five centurions—daily sword drills.

It was friendly sparring, so they used blunted blades, but the soldiers gave it their all.

After a few exchanges, one dull thud after another sounded as they fell away.

He felled three in an instant and stood off against the remaining two when an attendant approached and spoke.

“Young Master Louis wishes to trade.”

Louis. Fred recalled his youngest brother. Somewhat effete-looking, with no particular standout talents; he had even ruined several cities Father had entrusted to him. That same brother had recently been developing his city at a rapid pace. Everyone pretended not to notice, but Fred, too, watched Louis closely. In a way, he was an object of mixed feelings. Louis was illegitimate; in truth, the one who felt like a real brother was Pierre, who in some ways didn’t feel like a younger brother at all. Pierre did not acknowledge Louis as a brother whatsoever. Finishing that brief recollection, Fred asked the attendant:

“What does he want?”

“Horses.”

Fred laughed—broadly, even brazenly. He did not deny Louis as a brother the way Pierre did, but neither was he the sort to sit and watch a younger brother openly build power. Had he been indecisive, the front would have collapsed long ago.

“How does he think to raise cavalry with no knight to teach horsemanship…?”

A knight who could ride down the foe was very high-grade manpower. In Duke Remitri’s domain, all knights had been parceled out to Remitri, Fred, and Pierre—the greatest share, of course, to Fred.

“He may have recruited a wandering knight.”

“Hmph… My answer is the obvious: refuse. Send that—he can’t have a single horse.”

“Lord Fred.”

“What.”

“Young Master Louis is coming in person.”

What was this now?

Fred halted for a moment.

“He’s coming to me now?”

Clearly, he meant to open a deal. In the past, Louis would surely have avoided him; the fact that he was coming now surprised Fred a little.

‘So Dekal was right. He’s turning from a whelp into a man.’

Dekal wasn’t a civil official, so his reports on Proia weren’t frequent, but when they came, the city had grown visibly fast. Population, production, military—if growth repeated, that meant it was not mere luck.

‘Hm… so you’ve grown. Little brother, let’s see how much.’

Fred felt a subtle emotion. No elder brother would fail to feel glad that his younger brother pulled his weight and kept growing. Yet given House Pontina’s situation, it was clear that the moment their father died, civil war would break out.

With Animal Husbandry unlocked, a little more Science would let him “click” The Wheel. The Wheel was essentially a technology to build new roads or fix inefficient ones; with just one city, it offered less efficiency to Louis. The tech he truly aimed for lay one tile beyond.

“Horsemanship and Mathematics.”

Horsemanship, literally, would grant the knowledge to field cavalry. Mathematics had to be taught to Jerome separately, but once he completed the research, they could build siege engines.

Catapults.

Common across the continent, but not simple in principle—only craftsmen who knew how could make them. Such craftsmen were usually controlled, so if you couldn’t make them, you had to buy from outside.

As far as Louis knew, there was not a single craftsman in Duke Remitri’s domain who could build catapults. Every existing catapult had been purchased from outside; naturally, the richest—second brother Pierre’s port city of Kayani—held the most siege engines.

‘If I break through to this tech…’

He could produce catapults—and even the mere ability to produce them…

‘…means money.’

He could sell them as a business and also keep some for himself—two advantages.

At this point a quest tied in: Difficulty 4—buy 500 horses.

With difficulty 4, the expected Points reward topped 2,000. With 2,000 Points, he could unlock Mathematics in one go.

‘How many years has it been?’

Louis gazed at the bearded hulk of a man before him, awash in feeling. As children, they had played easily; as adults, everything had changed.

He couldn’t recall exactly, but he had last seen Fred about five years ago.

“Long time, Louis.”

“It has, brother.”

“You look taller.”

“I am—it’s been a while. Your beard has grown too. You didn’t have any back then.”

Fred was glad to see his brother, but not wholly. He could guess all too well what Louis wanted; the talk would run long.

“Sorry you came all this way, but what you want—”

“I’m exhausted. I’d like to rest first. Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Mm, very well. You must have ridden without rest; take it easy for now.”

Saying such things here would be very disadvantageous. Louis wanted to fully shed his fatigue and prepare himself thoroughly.

Soaking in a hot bath, he recalled Fred’s city as he had seen it on the way here—

He had mainly noted the cultivated fields, the rough size of the population, and the city’s overall vitality.

The population was certainly larger in his brother’s city. But in vitality, Louis’s city was far more active.

‘For some reason, his citizens are unhappy right now.’

This was the point to watch.

Morning for serious business dawned. Louis checked the list of negotiating cards: robust funds, building alliances, sugar supply, and… catapults.

‘Even for my brother, catapults would be necessary.’

He could not build them right away, but once he broke through to Mathematics, he would.