The Vicious Lord of Seorigol (2)
What makes a good territory?
I get this question a lot, and the answer is simple.
A high-rank territory.
The higher your territory's rank, the more items and features unlock, and the more heroes you can command.
So how do you grow a territory?
They'll tell you a bunch of factors decide rank, but I'll give you the one that actually matters.
"Population."
Newbies just need to chase territory population numbers. Everything else follows.
So how do you increase those precious residents?
1. The Standard Route: Build an Attractive Territory
The safest and most ideal method. Create a livable environment (housing, food, security), offer plenty of jobs, and show growth potential to pull in outsiders.
The problem? For a brand-new newbie lord — or a backwater fringe lord like you — it's a pipe dream. The big city next door already has full infrastructure. Who wants to move to empty wasteland?
Even so, find your territory's strengths and work them. Keep at it long enough and the momentum kicks in before you know it.
2. The Aggressive Route: Conquest and Plunder
True to dark fantasy form, you can just invade the neighboring territory and steal their people.
It's reliable and fast, but… diplomatic collapse, massive military spending, and revenge crits are waiting for you on the other side.
Still, people use it often enough. Not bad.
3. The Hidden Route?: Accepting Refugees
After a major catastrophe like the Eclipse, refugees are inevitable. Taking them in as residents can spike your population in the short term — but the downsides are brutal.
- Resource drain: Feeding and housing them right now is already a crisis. Express lane to bankruptcy.
- Low attachment: Most of them are only staying "temporarily" for safety. The moment somewhere better opens up, they're gone. Loyalty management is a nightmare.
- Security risks: Criminals, spies, even people contaminated by Aberrations can be mixed in among the refugees.
Bottom line: accepting refugees is more likely to hurt than help. No — it almost always does. So I don't recommend it.
…There's exactly one exception. If you can somehow bind those refugees to your territory so completely — mentally, utterly — that they'll stay loyal until they die and never even think of running… then the story changes. It might become the fastest, most efficient way to grow your population.
But if you can pull that off, are you even a lord anymore?
You're a Demon King lmao
The entrance to Seorigol was still a mess.
Refugees — fifty of them at a rough count, easily more — stretched out in a long, clamoring line. Ragged clothes. Faces steeped in terror and exhaustion. Eyes emptied of hope. These were the ones who had barely crawled out of the catastrophe called the Eclipse and washed up here.
"I-I told you to wait, nyang! The Lord is coming right over there, nyang!"
Beyond Anya, who had scampered over to calm the crowd, I swept a quick look across the refugees.
…Age distribution is excellent.
What did excellent age distribution mean?
Labor.
It meant a lot of them looked like they could work. People to carve mountains, clear roads, raise buildings, put up fortifications — manpower!
The magnificent workforce Seorigol had never had, stuck as it was with a measly fifteen souls who couldn't get anything done!
…Ah. I'm drooling.
I wiped away the spit threatening to spill and let a satisfied smile spread across my face.
"Why are you smiling, nyang?"
Anya sidled up beside me and narrowed her eyes into a glare. Leave it to a snow leopard beastkin — that look was sharp enough to cut. I could practically feel a cold wind slicing past.
"What are you talking about, Anya?"
I answered with a sly grin.
"I was just thinking about giving those poor people a warm place to call home. Makes a man feel all fuzzy inside."
"…I don't buy it, nyang."
Anya's gaze turned even colder.
Ah!
A resident who doubts her own lord!
It broke my hea— no, it didn't. Not really.
Truth was, my reputation in Seorigol had never been stellar to begin with.
The family had demanded a hefty tribute from me every quarter, and the old me — little more than the family's dog — had scrambled however he could to meet that quota.
It's not that I didn't care about the residents.
But I couldn't exactly call myself a good lord, either.
"What are you scheming this time? You're going to exploit those people too, aren't you?"
So Anya's reaction made sense. She really was sharp when it counted.
But what happened to that fragile bond we'd started to build in front of Grandma Elara's grave?
"Anya, I know how I've treated all of you these past few years. The family's demands left me no choice. But…"
I took her by the shoulders and spoke with deliberate gravity.
"Things are different now. I'm not the Darkest family's puppet anymore. As the true lord of this Seorigol, I'm going to protect my people."
I locked eyes with her and made my declaration.
"So trust me, Anya."
She still looked suspicious, but she didn't argue further. Leaving her behind, I stepped out in front of the refugees.
Now it was time for a little persuasion.
That bastard lord.
That was what the people of Seorigol called their lord.
Come to think of it, most of the conversations among Seorigol's residents were just complaints about him. The taxes this season were too high. He was kissing up to the family. No wonder they'd abandoned him.
Anya had never understood it.
Seorigol was barren. There was nothing to eat. Why did people keep living here if they hated the lord so much?
It was a question that always rose whenever she looked at Ian.
"So trust me, Anya. I'll show you exactly how I've changed."
When Ian said that, Anya decided something.
She would finally answer the question she'd carried for so long.
Today, she would watch him properly.
From a short distance away, Anya watched Ian take his place before the refugees.
She could see his back.
…He says he'll show me he's changed. Has he really?
Ian's back looked a little broader than before. Or maybe it didn't.
Remembering everything he'd done to the residents over the past few years, trust didn't come easy.
Even a year ago, Ian had collected crushing taxes under the excuse of family demands.
Aigoo, this damned territory! We've got nothing as it is, and he still wrings us dry! He ought to just leave already!
Grandma Elara's laments had been a constant soundtrack, so Anya remembered them well.
Every time, Anya had asked:
Can't we just not pay?
Tsk. Well, he works hard at everything else, so what can you do? He's a pitiful boy the family itself threw away. He's just trying to stay in their good graces.
Are families that important to humans?
They are. Important enough that most people would die for theirs. Anya, you go find someone who looks at you instead — and get betrothed to him.
B-Betrothed? As if I would!
Wh-what was that about. Betrothed?
Thinking about Ian had dragged up a weird memory along with everything else. Anya huffed and felt her face heat up.
Anyway.
That was how the residents treated Ian — like a sore thumb they couldn't quite cut off.
"Everyone! You've come a long way. Thank you for your hardship!"
His voice carried over. Anya set her thoughts aside and looked at him.
The murmuring refugees fell quiet and turned toward him as well.
His voice wasn't loud, but it had a strange power that pulled every ear toward it.
"I am Ian Darkest, lord of Seorigol. I can scarcely begin to imagine the horrors you've endured to reach this place."
Fierce nods rippled through the refugees.
Ian smiled gently and continued.
"I'm sure many territories made you offers. Temporary shelter. Food. Provisions!"
"That's right, that's right."
"And what will you give us here?"
The continent was full of territories. Plenty of them would make every honeyed promise imaginable just to snag more residents. Refugees who'd made it this far had surely heard every pitch along the way.
So what offer would the bastard lord make them?
"You're wondering what Seorigol can offer you!"
Yeah. She was wondering too.
Gulp.
Anya swallowed without meaning to.
A brief silence settled. She saw Ian steady his breath. His chest rose and fell — and then a firm voice left his lips.
"Seorigol has nothing to give you."
"Huh?"
Anya sucked in a sharp breath before she could stop herself.
The refugees reacted no differently.
"Then why'd you even come out here?!"
"I told you! One look and you can tell this place is falling apart!"
The crowd grew restless. Ian raised a hand.
The gathering went silent in an instant.
Watching from outside, Anya felt it — this young lord had somehow seized complete command of the atmosphere here. His posture, his gestures, his tone. Not a single movement lacked confidence.
Even under the crowd's scorn, Ian stood unshaken. His lips curved upward in a bold, easy arc.
With a brilliant smile, Ian made his declaration.