59 — 6 (9)

When Louis arrived in Proia, he had amassed enough science points and invested the remaining points into the next tech tree, Iron Working.

Heavy Sword Infantry did not ride horses, but it was a branch that could raise combat power on the basis of strong gear. If he succeeded in fielding troops of that tier, he would clearly surpass the level of an ordinary duchy.

‘Right… now what we lack is only resources—resources alone.’

He had gained the technical knowledge; all that remained was to grind the technicians hard. He planned to train them at brutal intensity and throw them into production. It would have been best to have an iron mine, but in Duke Remitri’s domain only the second brother, Pierre, owned one. Fred had the horse-producing tiles; Pierre had an iron mine. Louis had neither—but he held complete knowledge of the branches both brothers fielded.

‘Hoo… our science output has exploded.’

It meant he would need tremendous patience to raise the next tech tree.

An open ground. The technicians who had traveled far were lined up. Twenty men who had mastered the basics of metallurgy stood in front. They were all male. This world indeed had overt gender discrimination. Louis had believed so, too—but after Aiwood, his thinking had begun to shift.

Behind them, about a hundred miscellaneous slaves gathered in a murmur—slaves Louis had bought on the cheap by going stall to stall. Low-priced slaves were usually treated so poorly that few survived three to five years. Yet though cheaply purchased, they were rough stones with colossal talent—minimum Metallurgy Talent 5, up to 6. If polished, they would explosively mass-produce quality arms. Still, the most precious thing Aiwood had yielded sat huddled on the fringe: a slightly vacant-eyed girl. If the others were ordinary rough stones, to Louis this girl was a diamond. He had fished out rough stones no one had noticed—stones that would otherwise have been ground to dust in brutal menial labor.

Most surprising of all was the sex ratio among the talent-picked slaves: 6:4, with slightly more men—yet undeniably many were women.

Louis rode his horse forward at a slow pace. The slaves there froze stiff. While in Aiwood, they had undergone high-grade mental conditioning as slaves. In other words, even if Louis killed them one by one as practice, they were stripped of all rights and could offer no resistance. For them, meeting a good master was everything. Word had spread among the slaves that Louis had killed their previous master, Garimus, for being insolent. The fact that the human scum had died was joyful—but the fact that the man who had toyed with him was now their new master pushed them into another despair.

At least, during the journey the new and terrifying master had shown no behavior at all; he spoke little and often seemed lost in thought. That had reassured them. But upon reaching Proia, they realized a harsher reality awaited than they had imagined—the Colosseum.

The fear of being thrown into slave bloodsport gripped them to the root. The only desires left to them were to eat and to see their lives prolonged. Through harsh mental conditioning, they had lost all other hope.

Clop.

Louis’s horse stopped in front of them.

“I will now tell you what you are to do. The twenty in front will teach metallurgy to the group behind you.”

The slaves in the rear, hearts pounding as if to burst, were shocked by what Louis said. By contrast, the front group of twenty did not want to teach metallurgy. The daily risk of death applied to the rear slaves; these, though slaves too, had been relatively well treated. Among slaves, metallurgy was that valuable. Masters avoided killing such slaves, since doing so meant a great loss; they tended to treat them well. In short, they could speak up a few times—and a rather hard-edged man stepped forward to protest to Louis.

“…Consul, I cannot understand what you just ordered.”

“What do you mean?”

“Metallurgy is not something you can teach easily just because you try. Though I was sold into slavery for debt, I cannot teach such a craft to those lowly creatures.”

Louis answered dryly.

“Is that your only reason?”

“…No. There is more.”

“Say it.”

Looking back over his shoulder, the man spoke.

“Look—half are women. Even sturdy men rarely reach the skill to make a living at this. Women, you say! How is this different from ordering me to accomplish the impossible? If I fail to teach metallurgy to women, will you punish me? I will say it in advance: this is impossible.”

He finished his harangue, and—unfortunately—everyone agreed with him except Louis.

Silence.

“…You do not understand. I killed the former master of the slaves in the rear—the day after I purchased them.”

Louis urged his horse right up to the man.

“Do you know why?”

The auction-bought metallurgy slaves did not know Louis’s true nature; only the cheap slaves knew he was terrifying. But the moment Louis asked in that icy tone, the man realized he had protested to the type of noble one must never provoke.

There were many kinds of nobles. Not all killed slaves carelessly. If profit was at stake, plenty would hear objections and adjust. But not this time.

‘I… I misjudged him. I thought he was not this sort of man…’

Because Louis had been taciturn and said nothing on the way, the man had mistaken him for an easy noble.

A grave mistake. The world of smiths was rough. Fail to recognize the boss and you might lose a finger or two; reading the room was essential.

“He insulted me. So I saw to his hand that day. By now he’s likely stuffed somewhere in the Serene River, fish food.”

Nineteen of the metallurgy men now understood who Louis was from those words alone—and they shuffled sideways, trying not to get involved. The result left the protesting man standing alone. The weight was too much for one back to bear. Only one path remained to him.

“…Forgive me!”

He dropped to his knees and planted his face on the ground. If slaves could defy Louis’s order, taking free craftsmen and making them teach would have sparked even greater resistance.

‘This is why I staffed it with slaves.’

“I have not asked the impossible. Teach. If you do not, you will take up a blade in the Colosseum.”

Most of the slaves could not even handle a sword. Being sent to the Colosseum meant a death sentence.

“But I value results as well. Meet the targets well, and I promise you livable housing, the chance to marry, and generous food at all times.”

Stick and carrot—the simplest, and the surest, way to lead people. The key to the carrot was to hang it always within reach. Especially the cheap slaves were shifting from despair to liveliness; their bright eyes showed it.

There was exactly one exception.

‘…Hrm.’

The girl who still stared at Louis in terror—the diamond he had taken by force.

The blacksmith Ten, beaten into submission by Louis, grumbled as he was forced to teach metallurgy.

‘Even if he’s a noble, he should ask for something possible. How am I supposed to teach women? With a blade at my throat, I’ll teach even if I have to smash a wrist… damn it…’

He sighed, looking at the other slaves who knew nothing.

A week later.

‘U… unbelievable…’

When Ten began teaching, they had surely been rank novices. Yet now, after one week, all could handle tools to a degree. They soaked it up like cotton drinking water—at a speed Ten could not fathom. Only then did his resentment toward Louis begin to turn into a trickle of respect.

Ten’s own master had been a famed metallurgist—but even he, after picking ten apprentices, found eight worthless. Spotting true disciples was terribly hard.

‘If only I could do something about her… If I train these ones well and please the Consul… heh… a second life isn’t impossible at all.’

Unlike when he’d been trapped in Aiwood, he was beginning to harbor hopeful thoughts.

At that hour, in Louis’s office, the filthy girl stood before him—brought there at Ten’s petition. No matter the scolding or beatings, she refused to learn, he said.

Louis signed paperwork as he looked at the girl. True to being a bald man’s concubine, her face was pretty. On that small face slept fear—or some other craving—but Louis could not tell what. He finished signing and opened the girl’s info window.

Low combat power, middling Respect; despite Talent 9, her Metallurgy stat was not even at 1.

‘What is she playing at?’

Louis exhaled heavily. To think of the ruckus he had kicked up to bring her back…

Knowing Ten’s temperament, Louis guessed the man had used every method at his disposal to press the girl.

“What is your name?”

“E… Enneu.”

Louis rose. She had watched him kill her master; Enneu naturally shrank back in fear.

“I did break your master rather roughly, but I have little intention of doing the same to you.”

“I… I cannot obey orders…”

“Why not?”

“I am livestock… Livestock cannot learn anything… Even if you kill me here… I will accept it.”

Enneu had been indoctrinated far beyond what Louis expected. She sincerely believed herself livestock. For her, the only joy left was being treated as such by a master. To prove her sincerity, she dropped to all fours like a dog, crawled to Louis, and rubbed her face against his shoe.

Louis, never having seen this sort of person, stifled a hollow laugh.

‘This is absurd.’

“Enneu, stand up.”

“This is more comfortable… I deserve punishment. Please step on me.”

A diamond—broken, and badly broken at that.