Nautilus Territory Evaluation
While Suhyun and Daiyen reviewed the contract, Aurelia requested permission to tour Nautilus. From the imperial perspective, Suhyun's Nautilus was already a shoo-in for recognition as a territory, but they still had to conduct a proper evaluation. The empire assessed territories based on various criteria, granting benefits accordingly. Though the standards were diverse, three elements were paramount: military strength to protect the populace, economic capacity to secure food, and administrative efficiency to keep the territory running smoothly. These core requirements had to be met without fail; if any fell short, the empire was prepared to cover the costs to bring them up to par.
To get at least a rough sense of the territory during the contract review—and identify any deficiencies—Aurelia asked to see the inside of Nautilus. Daiyen had no choice but to grant the imperial request, assigning Lucy, who met the bare minimum qualifications for hosting nobility. Suddenly thrust beside the princess, Lucy stiffened like a wooden plank from sheer nerves but did her utmost to serve diligently.
When Nautilus was docked, plenty of visitors came to gawk, and Lucy recalled their typical routes. She ordered servants to prepare a carriage and headed out along the central boulevard stretching straight from Nautilus's head to the developed sections of its tail.
Should we follow the central boulevard and branch off somewhere? Most tourists strolled the avenue before veering toward spots that caught their eye, but was that suitable for escorting royalty? As Lucy pondered, Aurelia pointed to a tram stop midway along the broad road and asked,
"What's that?"
"Th-that's the streetcar Lord Suhyun made, Your Highness."
Aurelia took interest in the streetcar zipping along the avenue—wide enough for two carriages abreast—from Nautilus's head to tail, faster than any horse-drawn cart.
"Explain it in detail."
"It uses a drive system Lord Suhyun designed and built to maintain stable speeds, and..."
"Not the magical details. I want to know the operating system and its purpose."
"Y-yes, understood. The streetcars run on a fixed schedule, picking up residents and ferrying them around. Stops are placed at high-traffic areas. During peak hours, they dispatch more frequently to accommodate everyone."
Aurelia realized further questions were pointless; Lucy's explanation was basic enough for any commoner. Lucy wasn't an administrator—she was a mage, and most mages were clueless about governance. Aurelia decided to figure things out herself.
"Hmm, and the fare?"
"I hear it's free for Nautilus residents."
"Let's ride one."
"I-I'll request an extra car so we don't have to mingle with the crowd."
"No, I want to see how ordinary folk use it."
"A-ahhh."
Dozens of reasons why this was a bad idea flashed through Lucy's mind, but a mere mage's apprentice couldn't refuse royalty. Resigned, she led the way to the stop.
"Keep my identity secret," Aurelia murmured just before they arrived.
Lucy's brain raced for a way to obey without compromising the princess's comfort, but time was too short. Fortunately, onlookers recognized the finery in Aurelia's attire and gave them space. Aurelia settled comfortably by the window with Lucy, experiencing the streetcar firsthand.
She was impressed by the sophisticated system. A bell rang before it departed, prompting pedestrians to pause and wait. As it glided along, a pleasant chime warned people ahead, letting them step aside. Each stop featured a large clock with timetables below. Luggage racks on top handled bulky loads, easing boarding and alighting. No carriage? No real inconvenience here, Aurelia mused. Factoring in coachmen wages, horse upkeep, and repairs, the savings—and accessibility—elevated the streetcar's value in her eyes.
"Ah, this stop's the market. Shall we look around?"
"A market? Absolutely."
Medieval markets were typically chaotic and filthy—folk dumping trash in streets as if it were natural, unwashed bodies the norm. But Nautilus's market gleamed spotless.
"Remarkably clean."
"Yes, they hire people for regular cleanups."
"Really? Isn't that a waste of coin?"
Aurelia raised an eyebrow at the idea of paying cleaners for public spaces—not one's home or yard. Lucy recalled Suhyun's words.
"H-he said filth breeds poor public order."
"Filth harms security?"
Intrigued, Aurelia pressed, and Lucy desperately dredged up more.
"People feel less guilt in group behaviors. Like how it's easier to kill in war than murder in a village."
"How does that tie to security?"
"Litter on the ground makes folks numb to tossing more. It erodes conscience over time."
"Hmm, intriguing. Seems plausible from experience, but is it worth the expense? Just order merchants to clean."
"I-I didn't ask that far."
Aurelia suspected Suhyun might be more than a mere mage—a capable administrator, perhaps—as they toured the market. They stepped off near the fabric stalls; habit had Aurelia gauging goods' variety and volume. Market quality reflected living standards: desperate areas hawked cheap junk, prosperous ones premium wares at premium prices. Household counts scaled with population, but Nautilus punched above its weight—diverse shops, abundant stock despite modest numbers.
Visitors flock when docked and buy up, she thought.
"Yes, Lady Daiyen plans to eventually zone by buyer class and specialize."
"Hmm, smart."
Spotting a Chromore local hauling bolts of cloth, Aurelia gauged Nautilus's economic ripple.
Prime for commerce. Mobility was a double-edged sword—hard for others to reach—but Nautilus could go anywhere. Goods inflated with each territory crossed: tolls, transport. Coastal fish affordable to peasants became noble rarities inland. Nautilus sidestepped that—warehouses auto-traveled, slashing costs. It didn't produce raw materials, so it'd buy in bulk. Add specialties, and docking would boom local economies, revitalizing the empire's as it roamed.
Pushing further, Aurelia realized: no raw production didn't preclude processing.
"Do they process goods inside Nautilus?"
"Yes, Lady Daiyen prioritizes artisans when onboarding residents."
"Hmm, could we tour a workshop?"
"Of course."
Lucy led to a friendly carpenter's shop. Unlike the accessible market, workshops lay deeper in, security ramping up. Breweries, textile mills, jewelers—all sealed tight, guarding secrets and safety.
Solid security.
At the spacious lumberyard, Lucy knocked.
"Mr. Dirk? Got a moment?"
A youngish artisan—for his trade—opened the wooden door.
"Oh, Lucy!"
Aurelia noted his skill from the straight, warm-grained furniture visible: precise, soulful work.
And Dirk wasn't alone; a finicky jeweler's sharp metallic aura lingered nearby.
"Huh, Mr. Quint too?"
"Ah, the fire mage?"
"Ugh, I said call me Lucy."
"What's wrong with job titles? Incompetents don't even get that. Who's the lady?"
"Uh, yeah—a noble wanting furniture. High-ranking, so be careful."
"I've met more nobles than you; relax."
Quint brushed off Lucy's worry. Dirk approached Aurelia courteously, chuckling.
"Haha, you look like a fine lady from a great house. Seeking specific furniture?"
"First, show me your skill."
"Mr. Dirk, that piece—your masterpiece."
"Oh? Interested? One moment."
Dirk fetched a cloth-wrapped desk from storage: antique-black sheen, geometric inlays from matched woods, faint mana humming.
"Mana-infused."
"Sharp eye, milady. Made with mana water Lord Suhyun shared—layered on premium lumber."
"Just ultra-durable and long-lasting, but insanely tough."
"I like it."
Aurelia caressed the glassy-smooth surface—baby-soft polish, joints seamless to touch. No match for her office's exotic enchanted rarity, but this had rustic charm. Amid gaudy gem-encrusted desks, its sturdy simplicity appealed. She decided on the spot.
"Perfect for my bedroom. Price?"
"Really?!"
"I don't jest."
"Gold 15 pieces, then."
Dirk quoted cautiously, lest it scare her off. Aurelia doubled it.
"30 gold."
"Milady?!"
"Worth it. You deserve no less."
"Th-thank you! Packing now!"
"Congrats—lucky day. Me? Gotta sell too. Great materials from Lord Suhyun, but buyers are key."
Quint lamented. Aurelia asked,
"What do you sell?"
"Fine jewelry, milady."
"Show me."
"Gladly."
Aurelia splurged on favorites. Word spread of her buying a bio-metal bird sculpture—Suhyun-sourced—at premium; artisans hauled out their best. She critiqued fairly: top works fetched extra, duds passed even discounted. Lucy gaped at the fortune spent as Aurelia returned to her lodging, beaming.
Daiyen had built the villa-like suite for noble guests: opulent, art-adorned, with staff quarters and lounge—like a hotel suite.
Her escorts briefed her immediately.
"Resident satisfaction is sky-high. Free relocation, and idle folk during voyages get educated."
"Food prices stable. They bulk-buy cheap local staples on docking and store long-term—advanced preservation suspected."
"Military's opaque, but the 'Reform Legion' prisoners hit Squire level."
"Strong prisoners? That's a security minus, no?"
"Fully controlled, though. One shoveled stables contentedly."
"Hmm, curious control method."
"Administration's insanely efficient."
"How much?"
"Our docs? Instant."
The escort plonked a half-torso stack of papers. Sorting that took half a day normally—they'd used something special.
Expecting squalor like other ships, Aurelia marveled at Nautilus rivaling great territories.
Military murky, but economy and admin aced. "Hard to assault mid-voyage; single entry thwarts invasion. Fine enough."
"Plus Mage Suhyun's power—minimal troops needed."
"Reform Legion bolsters it adequately."
"How do they tame prisoners so meekly?"
"Magic, probably."
"Braced for hardship, but it's solid."
"Agreed—even families could relocate."
They'd prepped for sleepless toil; instead, the superior setup sparked cheerful discussion.