8 (2)

There must have been far more gold in Kayani than this, and Louis wanted it all. There were probably only two kinds of people who could dislike gold — devout ascetics and those who owned nothing — but for him, this was a matter of efficiency. As long as he was alive, he could use this vast amount of gold to summon even more. More than merely restoring the Pontina Ducal House’s former glory, Louis possessed a colossal ambition — one now burning fiercely within him.

‘Aksen… I like it.’

The city of Aksen was the second foothold Louis had seized. Soon, he would acquire Kayani as well, but only now was confidence beginning to take root. Not long ago, he had worried about his brothers’ overwhelming armies. But ever since toying with his second brother Pierre’s costly heavy infantry, Louis judged that the entire chessboard had begun tilting in his favor.

Marquis Gangpireu had attacked the eldest brother, Fred, whose territory lay closest in geography. Louis knew better than anyone how sharp Fred’s instincts were in warfare. Unlike Pierre, who was always jealous of him, Louis had admired Fred. That admiration, however, was merely a way of comforting himself when it felt impossible to catch up through effort alone.

But that was all in the past. Louis had trained himself greatly and changed even more. Now, he was certain that he alone deserved to inherit the ducal title from his father, Remitri Pontina. For the sake of the family’s future, it had to be that way. Unlike Fred, who excelled only in war, Louis was achieving results so overwhelming they could be called all-around dominance.

The accompanying Boromir and Kalbang gaped at the warehouse filled with gold. Being human, it was impossible not to feel greed. This was not private wealth but the collective sum of an entire city’s industry and taxes — the amount was beyond ordinary imagination. Everyone knew such a sum existed in theory, but to see it with one’s own eyes brought an entirely different level of shock. Proia’s finances had always turned over quickly, so there had never been much surplus, and even that had been deposited by Louis in the Iron Bank, leaving him no chance to see it directly. While Louis was glancing around, Boromir and Kalbang began chatting outside the door.

“Is this a dream or reality?”

“Kalbang, close your mouth. You’re letting your mercenary background show.”

“Boromir, how can you still talk like that after seeing that mountain of gold? Don’t tell me it doesn’t… move you?”

“You bastard.”

For now, one issue in Aksen needed to be resolved before the dye industry could resume — the city’s rebellious unrest. When a city was conquered, satisfaction naturally plummeted unless special measures were taken, and that was exactly the case now. Well, that figures, Louis thought. To get this far, he had practically slaughtered their families.

The simplest solution was to wait patiently, or, if not, to use points to build a courthouse. The courthouse’s special effect could rapidly erase massive discontent, making it the best branch of the tech tree when conquering cities — but it cost a lot of points.

It was something to watch for now. If he unlocked that path, Louis intended to invest every point he had into it.

‘There’s nothing more efficient than war — as long as you win.’

The problem, however, was always resources. In the Remitri domain, only dyes, iron ore, and salt had real value. Whether they existed was one matter, but the scale of extraction was another entirely.

Louis absent-mindedly listened to a middle-aged man — clearly the one who had been ruling here — fawning over him, when one particular person caught his eye.

“You there…”

The man in his mid-twenties immediately dropped to his knees and bowed. The ground was filthy, but his heart was pounding in terror. Everyone in the city already knew of Louis’s martial prowess. Some said he was blessed by Mars, the god of war; others claimed he bore the blessing of Lucas, god of slaughter. As he frantically searched his mind for any misdeed, suppressing the ticklish tension crawling up his neck, Louis spoke.

‘Am I really that scary…?’

The swift-acting local administrator, a man called Ermerci, had already begun berating the young man even as he apologized. So saying “you” was the problem, Louis thought briefly before continuing.

“Stand up.”

Because he had slammed his head down so hastily, his reddened forehead was streaked with clumps of dirt and mud, which he quickly wiped from his face. Louis, feeling a little pity for the dog-like figure, opened the man’s status window, smiled, and — following his habit of touching anything good once — reached out his hand.

At that instant, chaos broke out around them. The administrator, Erwein, broke into a cold sweat, thinking, He’s going to strangle him! What if the fury turns on me next? Instinctively, he stepped back, while the young man, pale as a corpse, trembled and shut his eyes tight. Yet all Louis did was lightly pat the man’s shoulder.

“What’s your name?”

The wide-eyed man stammered,

“My name is Yan.”

He possessed an exceptional Administrative Talent of 7. Considering Jerome’s recruitment had only uncovered candidates up to 6, that was remarkable.

“Are you interested in him for some reason? Yan’s a fallen noble — a newcomer. If he’s done something wrong, I’ll apologize again on his behalf.”

“Forget the apology.”

“Then within my power, I’ll do anything to assist you, Lord Louis.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I swear it upon my house.”

“Then take off your clothes.”

“…Excuse me? My… my clothes?”

Louis nodded. He disliked that a mere middle-aged man with only Talent 2 was managing all of Aksen. Erwein, misunderstanding, flushed red and trembled — he had no desire to undress before his subordinates. He leaned close and whispered,

“Couldn’t we do this somewhere private?”

“What are you talking about? I meant the other kind of stripping — strip your position.”

Only then did Erwein realize Louis was telling him to resign. His face twisted, and after darting his eyes about, he tried to defuse the tension.

“I don’t understand why you’d ask me to step down. I was officially appointed by Duke Remitri to manage Aksen. I can confidently say there’s no one who has handled this city as well as I have.”

Louis checked his status window again and muttered under his breath, “With a mere 2?”

“I despise my second brother. Therefore, I despise anyone close to him even more. How can you guarantee you won’t betray me?”

The man opened his mouth, struggling to form an excuse, but Louis was faster.

“I’m not asking you. If you don’t want your neck displayed in the plaza tomorrow, I suggest you do as I say.”

The words neck and plaza reached him clearly — Erwein’s response was immediate.

“I… I understand!”

“And the task will go to you, Yan.”

A shocking offer of promotion. It was entirely logical by merit, but for Yan, a fallen noble, it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance that had just descended from Louis himself. After saying he’d do his utmost, Yan bowed, and Louis nodded before leaving.

‘Major reorganization will come after Kayani is mine anyway.’

For now, only temporary measures were possible, but since Yan’s administrative ability was the highest among Louis’s officials, he would be worth cultivating. With Yan managing this place, supply distribution would likely stabilize more smoothly than expected.

Ah, and if he completes the supply duties properly during the war, I’ll dangle a carrot — a guaranteed promotion.

Louis looked up at the sky. As if to congratulate him for seizing Aksen, the weather was perfectly clear. Yet at that same moment, Fred and Marquis Gangpireu were locked in a life-and-death battle.

Thorn-like barricades began spreading swiftly. They had trained so much that even the slightest mistake could tear a soldier’s flesh while hauling them. And knowing that heavy cavalry were kicking up dust clouds in the distance only chilled their spines further. Yet the main reason they could focus without fear was the thousand-man commander leading them — Anok — grinning boldly at the front line.

His bristly beard and hooked nose gave him the look of a drunken ruffian, but one glance at his sharp, predatory eyes was enough for anyone to know he wasn’t an ordinary man.

Above all, the soldiers knew he was not someone to be taken lightly despite his rank. His hot-blooded, violent temper had led to so many brawls that he still wore the rank of a mere chiliarch.

In sheer power, he surpassed even Fred — a true Sword Expert. Standing nearly two meters tall with a body naturally blessed to channel immense mana, Anok possessed monstrous strength. Beside him, several long iron spears were stabbed into the ground. He was clearly a spear-type warrior — but why plant multiple weapons? Because he was preparing to throw them.

“Look at them — charging like damn wild boars.”

Anok grabbed one spear and pulled it back. Unlike others, he was lightly armored, so the motion of his muscles translated smoothly into raw force as he drew the weapon back.

“Oh, right. Almost forgot.”

Chrak! With a sheepish grin, the fierce aura of a mana user flared around him. Whoosh! Holding his breath for a brief moment, he hurled the abnormally large pike forward with all his might. Imbued with mana, the iron spear was reborn as a true killing weapon — incomparable to any arrow — and shot straight ahead.

Otomar, the heavy-cavalry captain under Marquis Gangpireu, had sensed something strange. An uneasy premonition flickered before his eyes — he swung up his halberd just in time. Kwa-duk!

Steel clashed with steel, veering the weapon’s path — but the next instant, the spear struck the face of a cavalryman galloping behind him, exploding his skull like a smashed watermelon. The rider flew through the air, dead on impact, and his blood splattered onto the helmet of the next soldier. Unluckily, it also hit the eyes of the man’s horse, sending the beast into a frenzy. The panicked rider tried to control it, but the horse thrashed violently, collapsing sideways. The veteran riders instinctively accelerated to avoid collision, but one green recruit couldn’t react in time.

Kwa-duk!

The armored warhorses collided — and with their plated bodies, it was no minor crash. Bones cracked, and two cavalrymen crumpled together into the dirt.

Had they been light cavalry, they might have survived, but with no stirrups to balance and armor weighing them down, escape was impossible. Both were crushed to death.

“What was that? What hit us?”

“I don’t know!”

“He aimed for Captain Otomar first!”

“Captain, are you alright?”

“There’s a formidable formation ahead! At this rate, casualties will be severe!”

Veins bulged on Otomar’s forehead — fury boiling. Then, another spear flew. It seemed aimed at him but instead impaled the torso of a nearby rider with a heavy thud, knocking him backward.

“Damn it! It’s spears! The mad bastard’s throwing spears at us!”