6 (4)

Cleric Chris finished his busy duties and arrived at his mansion. He was the only distinguished cleric in Proia and the only one with the right to file regular reports to the main Church. For a city the size of the one Louis governed, there should have been at least three clerics, but because Proia had grown so suddenly, Chris was the sole high cleric.

“You’re home.”

His wives appeared in a row. Their faces looked happy today. No wonder—on their necks and hands hung jewels he had never seen before, and one wife brought out a large jewel box. Along with various gems, several bolts of silk lay inside. Silk.

In Proia, it was an item rarely acquired—a precious fabric that came from very far away. The special incense beside the jewel box was obviously luxurious at a glance. Incense was often used in religious ceremonies, but the goods Louis had sent were particularly hard to obtain.

Chris smiled.

‘The Consul knows politics.’

One of the wives—thirty-two now, having borne one child—spoke.

“Which devout believer could have sent something so precious? They will receive the blessing of God.”

“Set the items aside.”

“Yes.”

A newly married twenty-year-old wife said to Chris,

“The Consul is too hot-blooded—that’s the problem. If we increased the clergy, my lord husband could work more comfortably. If I were the Consul…”

“Whom are you slandering now!!”

When Chris suddenly grew angry, the concubine fell silent. In her mind, she had tried to score points by criticizing the Consul in this moment, but earned only a scolding. How often had Chris cursed the Consul in private? The other wives quickly shut their mouths as well.

“Bring the letter for the Order.”

They moved swiftly.

Soon the pen was dipped a few times, and a simple line was written on the letter.

“Steady growth; the Consul is a fervent believer of the Order.”

The eternal truth was always a bribe. The amount Louis sent was a great deal for a private person to receive, but for Louis it was far better than constructing a building.

Proia was abuzz. For the first time, a free man had emerged from the Colosseum. Everyone knew his name: Kaiser. In his final match, Kaiser bravely cut down five men and earned his freedom outright. The fact that Louis’s promise was true gave a shocking sense of inspiration to all inmates. For those already sentenced to death, to have another chance to become free—how sweet was that. In addition, long-term prisoners began volunteering as gladiators for the Colosseum. Louis accepted them all, and thanks to that the prison emptied out. With empty prisons, the related costs dropped, the gladiator games flourished, and tourists increased even more.

While Louis moved to resolve issues related to the merchants gathered at the market, Kaiser—now a free man—left the Colosseum and knelt in the plaza to praise God.

The merchants were murmuring. Louis wanted to expand the market and, moreover, had to purchase all nearby buildings. Of course, if he paid full price, he would suffer a large loss. The merchants were all shrewd; even if they sold to the Consul, they tried to sell at a high price and made a fuss.

‘That’s the Consul.’

‘It’s the Consul.’

Some merchants were seeing Louis for the first time; others had seen his face several times already. But what they all felt in common was…

‘So this is what a power-holder is…’

A certain weight unattainable even with a lifetime of effort pressed tightly around Louis. The burly Boromir behind him added to the atmosphere. The soldiers took their places in a line.

In an instant, the mood turned cold.

Seeing the frozen merchants, Louis began to weigh his next words. Bringing soldiers had been quite intentional. People were acutely sensitive to unseen threats—even in the safe center of a city.

“As I informed you beforehand, I plan to expand the market. I ask for your cooperation.”

Louis’s tone was rather polite, so one could not sense outright hostility; but for the merchants occupying the nearest spots, it was no different from being driven out, and one courageous man burst out in complaint.

“No matter that you are the Consul, you cannot do that.”

“It is for everyone. Sacrifice is inevitable, and did I not promise separate compensation for it?”

He quailed before Louis’s sharp counter, then, seeing his fellow merchants pin their hopes on him, he stammered on.

“We are merchants. Do it for us at once.”

“Boromir.”

“Yes.”

“That one seems to need a separate conversation.”

“Understood, Consul.”

At Boromir’s gesture, a waiting soldier grabbed the man’s wrist.

“Ah? Ah…! I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Consul!!!”

He struggled, but Louis said not a word, and the man was dragged down beneath the warehouse. The warehouse door closed; two soldiers came back up, expressionless, and took their places.

The surroundings went beyond chilly into an atmosphere of fear.

Louis tapped the table, then continued.

“As I said, this is not a loss to you. The real loss is failing to get even the proper price you could receive.”

The merchants began to watch one another intensely. They wanted someone brave to speak against this injustice, but this was the moment when a group’s weakness was laid bare. Become the group’s representative, and you bear its responsibility. That required a man of uncommon boldness.

If there had been someone like a “penguin,” one might have charged at Louis and the others would have followed in protest; but unfortunately, the space here now belonged entirely to Louis.

The soldiers? They were nothing. Louis now knew how to wield Military Charisma with finesse. The basis of Military Charisma was handling mana, and as a child Louis had learned basic mana control alongside sword training.

He had no talent, but repeated use had made him a proficient user.

‘Intimidation, here.’

Hostile men were increasing one by one, and Louis, holding back as much as possible, released his intimidation all at once. Those about to speak became dumb as fish with honeyed mouths. Louis, who had smoothly cleared even a Difficulty-4 negotiation quest, faced opponents far below his level if he chose to engage.

When it came to this, the group became a burden instead. Once the mood hardened with that burden, it was over. Louis kept time in his head; he judged that the five minutes he had planned had passed.

‘Now, the contract.’

Louis struck the table. It boomed and shook, startling everyone frozen in place.

‘Please, someone say something!!!’

‘Jikseu, that bastard! Last night at drinks you were ready to stab a knife—why are you just hanging your head!!’

‘Since it’s not a loss, maybe we should accept it. Once the market expands, we benefit in the end anyway.’

‘Whew. I knew it since the Colosseum—he’s a frightening man. I’d better listen well.’

A carousel of thoughts spun like billiard balls through the merchants’ heads, but none spoke them aloud; some burned with anger, some with helplessness, and some accepted the situation and began to plan their next move.

Even merchants had talents that varied this much.

“The time allotted to you is spent. I must attend to other matters now, so I want you to sign the contract.”

Among the merchants, none failed to realize that the “other matters” Louis mentioned concerned the man taken below.

“You first.”

“M-me?”

“Yes.”

He hesitated for a long moment, then signed the contract. After that, everything proceeded swiftly. Once one or two yielded, the rest more easily accepted.

The man Louis chose first was, in fact, someone he had planted on his own side.

He would receive slightly higher compensation than the others. A lone betrayal within a group happened more easily than one thought.

A kind of mood-maker.

In any case, when all the contracts were complete, Louis told Boromir to collect them.

“With that, a fair deal is concluded. All of you may return. I have something to discuss with the man below.”

A fair deal? It was fair. Louis even granted the existing building owners priority rights to use the newly secured space. In a place that would only grow larger, the merchants were not, in fact, taking a loss.

Nevertheless, human selfishness always sought to maximize one’s own gain.

Even so…

‘So it can’t be helped.’

Louis immediately opened the city info window. The displayed Happiness was precariously holding at 1. Even with three Colosseums running, it was a borderline value that could slide into Unhappiness if mishandled. He basically needed to secure about 3 so the city could endure while he was away for a while.

Two messages popped up at once.

Two quests, both at Difficulty 5, appeared.

‘Already time has flown this much.’

At first, the quests came in multiples, but as time passed, they came as a few major ones. Once resolved, he had to manage the city without quests for a set number of turns.

This time, as usual, two quests appeared—but both were Difficulty 5.

‘Worth 3,000…’

But the second option had a special bonus.

‘Guaranteed +1,000 points…’

To raise Happiness from the current state to 4 would take quite some thought. The Colosseum had already been built to the city’s limit, so he had no way to increase Happiness through entertainment buildings. That meant he had to bring in luxury resources from outside. The luxury resource he currently possessed was sugar; various bartering luxuries enriched the city and, as a natural effect, raised Happiness.

If he imported incense-related luxuries, the clergy’s Happiness would rise; if he bought pearl-type luxuries from the harbor, the nobility’s Happiness would rise. At present, the only practical solution was to go to his second brother’s city and buy pearls—but there was a reason this was Difficulty 5. His second brother was hostile to Louis now. He had never liked Louis to begin with, and what had Louis done to him? He had poached Hector. Moreover, seeing 500 warhorses go to Louis, even an idiot would know Pierre had realized Louis and Fred had struck a quiet pact.

‘No—that’s overthinking it. Keep it simple.’

Even with the bonus points, Louis had been pouring time and resources into unlocking the heavy-cavalry branch.

No matter how tempting the bonus, he judged it right to keep going in the direction he’d set.

‘First, I need to deal with the man below.’

There was still one blank on the contracts. Louis went down to the basement storeroom with Boromir. The merchant Bareu, just seized, was struck with terror.

He had never imagined it would come to this, and all sorts of thoughts swarmed through him.

“A-am I… going to die like this? No, no. Don’t panic.”

Who knew—he might be sent to the Colosseum… It had been fun to watch, but the thought of going himself raised gooseflesh all over.