Chapter 43
Chapter 43
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Many Hands Make Light Work
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Are you perhaps planning to charge a storage fee?”
“Storage fee?”
A storage fee? For money, no less.
It didn’t make sense with modern common sense.
“If you charge too much for storage, the slaves’ morale will drop. So...”
“Free.”
“Pardon!?”
“I’ll store it for free.”
Isaac shot to his feet.
“Really!? If you do that, we’ll all be grateful for your grace, my lord.”
“Ahem, well, it’s not something to be that thankful for.”
“I’ll spread the good news to the slaves right away!”
Isaac bowed and left the dining hall.
Only Russell and I remained inside.
“My lord, you’ve come into some money.”
“Once the festival ends, take the slaves and head to the northern outpost. We’ll build a new village there.”
“Understood.”
“Use the money left over after construction costs to buy more slaves.”
Russell pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and began jotting notes.
“And from now on, don’t pay the slaves in cash. Just give them receipts.”
The current system was like this.
Give slaves money, and let them buy their freedom with it.
It would come back to me anyway.
‘But it takes too long.’
Even at best, six or seven years. At worst, over ten.
But if I just issued receipts? No actual money changed hands.
It looked like a bank, but it was far better than one.
Banks had to keep some deposits as reserves to pay out when customers came calling.
But I didn’t.
No reserves needed.
I didn’t even have to pay it back at maturity.
Just lift the slave seal instead of handing over cash.
Callas Viscounty.
The lord’s office.
“So, you’re lending that money at 3%?”
“...I’m sorry.”
“I told you to tell him it’s a win-win for us?”
“Yes, Father.”
3% interest.
A very low rate.
But considering the win-win Elwin had described?
‘If the island develops, toll revenues will rise.’
Lending the money would spur more spending and production.
‘Our gains will be 3% plus alpha.’
“Fine, you may go.”
“Yes!? I can just leave?”
“Is there more?”
“No.”
Freyja bowed politely.
Then she turned and walked toward the door.
“Wait. What did you think of meeting Elwin?”
“He was a strange man.”
“Strange?”
“He didn’t seem like a noble at all. For example, he gets along well with slaves...”
She’d seen only the oddities, missing his exceptional talents.
But that was part of Elwin too.
His human side, beyond mere ability.
“So, as a man?”
Freyja bowed her head deeply.
“It’s embarrassing to say.”
He didn’t need to hear the answer to know it.
“Ha. Haha. Fine, go on.”
New village Alf.
Named Alf after the first letters of Alensia and Freyja.
Thanks to the experience building Terra,
construction on Alf was progressing even faster.
‘Once Alf is done, revenues will rise again, right?’
He shifted his gaze to the farmlands spreading beyond the village.
While the interior buzzed with construction, those fields were abuzz with clearing.
‘The slaves had more money than I thought.’
Individually small amounts, but collectively substantial.
‘Plenty left over?’
Enough even after building the village and buying slaves.
‘Then invest elsewhere...’
“My lord.”
“Ah... Russell, you’re here? The slaves?”
“Bought a total of 2,000 and split them evenly between construction and clearing.”
“Good work.”
He could see people gathered in the village and fields.
Those must be the new slaves.
“You look pleased.”
“Me?”
“I saw on the way in—you were smiling the whole time.”
“Things are going well, so I can’t help it. Anyway, where should we invest the surplus? Any good spots?”
He seemed addicted to investing.
Like a stock junkie who couldn’t hold cash without dumping it somewhere.
“My lord, I worry you’re too fixated on money.”
“Money’s important, though. Don’t you know? The more money, the better.”
“That’s true, but money shouldn’t be the top priority.”
He turned to look at Russell.
Russell was a merchant.
Yet here he was, saying not to prioritize money. It didn’t quite compute.
“Money’s still crucial to me.”
“...”
“Do you know how mages get stronger?”
“By learning magic at a mage tower?”
He pointed to his left chest.
“They gather mana here and form circles. More circles mean more power. What about knights?”
“They swing swords to sense mana, honing it through repetition until they wield it masterfully...”
From a knightly family, he knew swordsmanship well.
“Right. So how about me?”
“You, my lord?”
“How can I get stronger? No magic talent, no proper sword training.”
“That’s...”
He pulled a coin from his pocket.
Ting.
The coin spun through the air and landed back in his palm.
“Mages gather mana to grow strong. I gather money.”
Money.
Slaves.
And his subordinates.
All were his power.
And at the root was ‘money’.
Russell nodded at the long explanation.
But he didn’t back down from his view.
“I understand, my lord. Still, next we should invest in the outposts over profits.”
Once a slave, he’d never voiced opinions unprompted.
Now, even after that explanation, he spoke his mind.
“Why?”
“For the mercenaries’ convenience. The areas you’ve annexed have no villages. Aside from West River, just the four outposts. We need to expand them for the mercenaries’ sake.”
This side of him wasn’t bad.
He could be wrong anytime.
He’d been too money-focused lately anyway.
“Do it. You’re right.”
“Really? It’s fine to invest in the outposts?”
“Yeah, we don’t have that much left anyway.”
“Understood, my lord.”
Four outposts in the annexed areas.
Two already had villages built.
So expand the rest.
Not full villages, but enough to house the increased mercenaries.
Russell left,
and he was alone again.
‘I didn’t tell Russell, but there’s another way for me to grow stronger.’
He’d been too busy with real-world missions to tend to system ones.
‘Now I have some leeway.’
Considering mercenary growth and troll subjugation speed,
he could secure the troll zone before Gibson’s coming-of-age.
‘Expanding outposts will need guards for the slaves. Move Hans and the slave soldiers?’
That would weaken defenses here.
They were escorting Alf village and supply transports too.
‘Need another way...’
He went down to the village and wrote letters.
He drafted two requests and sent them to the West River Mercenary Guild.
Frontier territory, western front.
Troll zone.
Innon led twenty elite mercenaries into battle against trolls.
Humans 20 vs. Trolls 3.
Ordinary folk couldn’t beat one troll even with a hundred.
But these were different.
All could wield mana.
The cream of the crop, handpicked.
Aura shimmered visibly on the mercenaries’ blades.
The moment a sword struck a troll,
Slash.
Tougher than ogre hide, yet to humans impossible to cut.
That hide split wide open.
“Don’t chase deep! Hold formation with your comrades!”
At Innon’s shout, the mercenary withdrew without a follow-up.
The mercenaries encircled the trolls, striking only at openings.
Inflicting wounds one by one.
And twenty minutes in,
the first troll fell.
The rest didn’t last minutes more.
“Collect the blood first.”
Monster blood was usually discarded.
But some had value—troll blood especially was pricey.
They filled prepared containers.
Added to prior hauls, it was a hefty amount.
“Captain, let’s head back now.”
“...”
Monster byproducts galore. Transport would be a hassle.
“Whew. Captain, why’s this island crawling with monsters?”
“No idea. I’ve only been here a few months.”
Not one was island-born. All continent mercenaries.
“Next, the outpost. Heard from those mercs last time—they’re building a village like Terra.”
“A village?”
“Lord Elwin’s there too.”
‘The lord’s at the outpost.’
No more hunting thoughts.
He missed his lord after so long, and curiosity burned for the new temple in the village-to-be.
“Camp tonight, return to outpost tomorrow.”
“Got it!”
The sun, barely clinging to the west, vanished.
Deep darkness fell.
After dinner,
they drew night watches.
As sleep neared,
Thud. Thud.
Thud. Thud.
Footsteps approached.
Innon knew instantly: human, not monster.
Mercenaries rising from bedrolls grabbed weapons.
Shing.
Shing.
Monster Island.
Troll zone.
Anything could happen here.
Thud. Thud.
Thud. Thud.
‘No hesitation whatsoever.’
Optimistically, no ambush intent.
Pessimistically? Utter confidence in skill.
Innon signaled: human defense formation.
Thud. Thud.
Thud. Thud.
Footsteps closed right up.
Moments later,
a man emerged from the trees.
‘Knight?’
His attire screamed not mercenary.
“Innocent Mercenary Corps? Where’s Innon?”
Innon stepped forward.
Defensive stance firm.
No ordinary man wandered solo into troll territory.
“I’m Innon. Who are you?”
“Me? A knight of Frontier.”