Chapter 66
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Became a Time-Limited (Not) Genius (4)
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"The southern economy is far too unstable right now. The land is fertile, so farming thrives, and the fruits are treated as local specialties... but that's not enough to cover the costs of dungeon management."
The greatest and most certain risk posed by dungeons. Dungeon backflows are mostly stopped at the Zahav territory line.
But that just means we've blocked the monster waves. It doesn't mean we've killed every single monster.
The survivors scatter to the surrounding areas and attack other territories.
True to the south's worship of the strong, the overall level of martial prowess is high, so even territories other than Zahav can repel them without much trouble.
But there's nothing they can do about the ruined crops that year.
Fighting even small-scale but powerful dungeon monsters is impossible with knights alone.
Maintaining a large standing army costs too much money, and it could even be misinterpreted as treason if mishandled.
If it weren't for a grand ducal house wrapped in all sorts of privileges, they'd have no choice but to conscript peasants whenever needed.
The problem is that farming loses yield dramatically if neglected for even a couple of months, effectively halving a year's labor.
And that's only if they somehow manage to drive out the monster remnants.
What if they lose to the monsters instead? Or if they barely hold on and have to beg for aid from neighboring territories?
Just assume that year's harvest is a total loss.
"Farming is an industry that produces peak efficiency only in safe conditions. And no matter how hard I or the other Zahav knights fight, we can't make the south perfectly safe."
If that were possible, the south's custom wouldn't be worship of the strong—it would be worship of Zahav.
They're similar, but different.
"Of course, the south's fertile soil is a treasure recognized anywhere in the empire. I'm not saying to abandon farming. These people have been farmers their whole lives; forcing them to stop would spark fierce backlash."
If I were a farmer, I'd just focus on farming. Worry only about what to plant for maximum profit and how to grow it best.
But what I possess isn't farmland—it's a territory where people live.
I can't gamble the lives of countless people on a single industry.
"You shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket."
"Huh? Why eggs all of a sudden...?"
"Stuff them all in one and drop it, and you're screwed. So spread them out across multiple baskets."
"...Meaning we need other businesses?"
"Exactly."
As expected of someone sharp, Jevella grasped it immediately. She opened her mouth with a troubled expression.
"It's not like I—or past Zahav administrators—haven't tried. But with dungeon backflows, most ventures collapse or get swept away before they can take root."
"Yeah, I figured."
This world may be medieval-level civilization, but people aren't lacking in wisdom. Just knowledge.
They surely thought of anything I could think of. They just failed for practical reasons.
The biggest problem is, of course, the dungeons.
Just as the western magic towers have turned into outposts with all magic research focused on undead suppression...
The south... Zahav pours money into hiring masses of adventurers to manage the dungeons.
Even scraping together funds amid massive fixed expenses, bad luck with backflows resets everything. No wonder.
That's why after the last backflow, Zahav's cash flow dried up, and Jevella scrambled everywhere to secure funds.
"I saw the magic towers in a similar situation last time. But magic artifacts have much higher margins than fruit, and the towers basically monopolize the high-end ones. That's why they're so wealthy."
"...Enoch. Do you think there's something in the south that rivals magic artifact monopolies?"
"Yes. Something rated at the empire's pinnacle, occupying a significant share in reality."
I smirked, recalling stories from Karen and Hilda, and contents from books I'd read for literacy.
The south is mostly agricultural. Perfect environment for it, really.
But backflows and their aftermath ruin harvests periodically, and dungeon management fixed costs mean big money flows in but doesn't accumulate.
...That's from the territory operators' perspective.
What about individual territory folk?
It's not just 'reduced income.' They can't feed their families right away.
Better to do something for money than starve.
So the most common leap for southerners is...
"The mercenary trade."
Unlike adventurers who mainly fight monsters, mercenaries handle people too—even slightly shady jobs.
Naturally, they're rough, often toeing the crime line, earning a vulgar reputation.
The polar opposite of adventurers, who are called dangerous but romantic.
And southern mercenaries are rated the best among them.
At least, according to a few retired ones I knew in Calypso Territory.
The reason is simple. Others might be neighborhood thugs who stumbled into it, but southerners brawl monsters daily until they can't take it and bolt to become mercenaries.
Different experience, different desperation to feed families.
Plus, the south's strongman worship fits mercenary roughness perfectly.
Practically, over half of the empire's famed mercenary bands are southern-born.
Jevella paused at my words, then ventured cautiously.
"But Enoch. Mercenaries are..."
"I know. Deserters from duty."
Southern mercenaries are famous... but not well-treated in the south itself.
Obviously. Why did the south's strongman worship arise? To protect family and neighbors with that strength, right?
But mercenaries earn money without using their power to defend home.
Shunned as those who possess strength yet shirk duty—beings who should be ashamed.
The mercenaries know it well, so they rarely return, just sending money home.
"I'll welcome them back. And make it an official Zahav business."
Mercenaries under my name will reclaim their honor.
Return home, embrace family... and be called stout warriors, not cowards.
Jevella shook her head worriedly after hearing me out.
"...That'll damage your reputation greatly."
"Does Zahav have any more reputation to lose? Shakar was such a wastrel, I've never seen the like."
"Even types like Shakar, or Father... precisely because they were like that, they obsessed over their prestige even more."
"Huh, yeah, maybe. Anyway, I don't care."
I shrugged and continued.
"You said that 'gentleman' will make dungeon backflow cycles even more unstable, right? Better to sacrifice a bit of face than starve the people or throw them into the meat grinder unprepared."
"...Ah."
Still got some past-life water in me, huh. Honor and such still don't quite click.
Get cursed, finger-pointed? If it makes bank, worth it. Not a crime, after all.
Of course, someone born here couldn't fully grasp that mindset.
Jevella's purple eyes widened. The attendants waiting table, and as always, Karen and Head Butler Aaron nearby, reacted similarly.
But I wasn't done.
"Ultimately, I'll absorb the whole mercenary scene—run on personal connections and experience—into a guild like the adventurers'."
Mercenaries are rough and vulgar. Half-assassin vibe might help understand.
There are brokers linking bands to clients, but none big or powerful.
Naturally, no large-scale operations. Easy to get slapped with private army or rebellion charges.
But I can. Zahav can.
"The imperial family won't look kindly. Even as a grand ducal house, absorbing empire-wide mercenaries isn't just a southern matter..."
"Nah, it'll be fine. They won't have a choice but to allow it."
"Huh? His Majesty is aged, but not someone to take lightly..."
"They really won't have a choice. Didn't Karen tell you?"
I shrugged nonchalantly.
"The western calamity. Mortheus, its culprit, got smashed by me and Grand Duke Ignatius."
"...!"
"No Wild Hunt for the next millennium, and if we find Mortheus's heart under Death Valley in that time, we can end it for good."
With achievements like this, the imperial family can't stay silent. Nobles' backlash or symbolism won't allow it.
Even if they die on mercenary monopoly, they'll offer equivalent gains.
I laid out my contemplated new business plans step by step.
Inspired by continent-spanning mercenary guilds from past-life novels, and that mercenary king leading the massive force.
I'd tailored it realistically as possible.
Obviously, it's packed with optimistic, hopeful projections.
There might be issues I don't know, or the plan itself crude since it's new.
To a practical expert, it might seem full of holes—near bluster.
But Jevella listened to the end. Then nodded, still dazed.
"...There's potential. Yes. Worth trying as you say."
"Right?"
"Grand Duke Ignatius? Karen? Hilda? Or someone else, but thank whoever suggested this to you."
"Huh? I came up with it myself."
"No way. No need to show off in front of big sis."
"No... I really did... It's a bit half-baked, sure."
"..."
"..."
"...For real?"
"Why lie about this? Obviously real."
I chuckled back, but for some reason, silence blanketed the area.
After a long moment, a sigh from Karen's grandfather, Head Butler Aaron.
"Ah...! So the rumors were true. How did the Patriarch suffer such divine punishment...!"
"Huh?"
The mood sobered instantly. Jevella even staggered like she might collapse.
"W-What's going on? Why is everyone...!"
I flailed in confusion too, but soon voices of pity erupted here and there, revealing why.
Zahav super strong – fine, hype, wanna brag.
Zahav uses brains – impossible, something wrong, only explanation is traded lifespan for smarts.
"Fuck..."
Aw, self-own!