Chapter 365
Chapter 365
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 365
>Chapter Title: It's Not the Location That Matters. It's the Heart.
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Base camp site selection.
It started as a way to show Evelyn what work looks like, but I had no intention of half-assing it.
‘We were planning to start in spring anyway…’
More than anything, this was all about money.
Each mercenary band would own their base camp, but the Magic Tower would hold a stake too.
So, we had to do this right.
“…I have no clue.”
I swallowed a groan as I stared at the map of the Arapurugin Mountains spread out on the table.
Black was ink, white was paper.
That much I got.
But how the hell was I supposed to gauge anything from just a map?
This wasn’t a map-reading issue.
‘It’s more like I don’t even know the conditions for where to build the base camp.’
It wasn’t like we lacked data.
No, we were drowning in it.
The mercenaries developing the area had compiled plenty.
The problem was… just one thing.
“I can’t match it to the map.”
Let’s take a look.
According to the mercenaries’ jointly written booklet on ‘Base Camp Site Selection Considerations,’ the criteria were as follows.
First.
“Safety.”
The base camp had to be safe.
Monster incursions were inevitable, but it should be defensible at least.
Second.
“Accessibility.”
The base camp had to be close.
Here, ‘close’ didn’t mean physical distance. It meant easy for visitors to reach.
Third.
“Profitability.”
The base camp had to make money.
This mattered for both the camp and its visitors.
No matter how great the camp, if there were no profitable resources nearby, foot traffic would dry up.
The mercenaries’ standards were clear, like that.
Sure, the booklet ended with deranged notes like ‘It’d be nice if the scenery was pretty’ or ‘It’d be great if we could grow a vegetable garden,’ but no need to sweat those.
Anyway, moving on…
“Safety. Let’s say that’s handled.”
The black wyvern ‘Yongyong,’ ruler of the Arapurugin skies, was a loyal limb of our ‘Wyvern’ group.
Flying monsters, the biggest headache, were taken care of.
‘Sure, ground monsters remain… but we can just clear them out as needed.’
The real issues came next.
“Accessibility and profitability. Those are the hang-ups.”
Honestly, spots with good accessibility were easy to spot.
They were well-marked on the map too.
‘Areas Riley scouted with the Sherpas?’
The Sherpas from Drmusi Territory lived up to their lifelong experience traversing the Arapurugin Mountains—they knew the terrain inside out.
But…
“Profitability. This damn profitability.”
Think about it.
Accessibility and profitability.
Could they coexist?
‘It’s tricky.’
Magic materials fetched higher prices the rarer they were.
Sure, items like moonstones with broad uses guaranteed profit, but most magic materials’ value came from scarcity.
So, where did profitability come from?
‘Simply put, the harder to get, the pricier.’
Meaning materials in hard-to-reach spots yielded higher profits.
Yet we had to nail both.
How?
…The mercenaries’ compiled data had this to say:
We don’t really know outside the Hamern Great Forest.
“…”
Definitely scribbled by one of the Hamern veterans, but it made my blood boil.
What? You don’t know because it’s not the forest?
‘If you don’t know, we’re done?’
“Phew…”
Deep breath first.
I calmed my boiling frustration and sorted things out coolly.
“So, basically, we need to strike a balance somewhere between profitability and accessibility.”
But that wasn’t all to consider.
‘We’re building three camps.’
First, Second, Third.
Profitability across all three had to factor in.
Naturally, they’d progress deeper from First to Third, but pick wrong and people would stick to First and Second, never reaching Third.
Then the Third camp’s mercenaries would revolt for sure.
So many things to weigh.
It hit me suddenly.
“Evelyn, you’ve been…”
What kind of battles have you fought?
Just this site selection was splitting my head open, yet she’d coordinated investors and pushed construction all this time…
Sure, I’d laid down the law once to make it easier, but the on-site peace was mostly her diplomacy.
Her absence hit harder than ever.
But.
‘No, this is exactly when I need to stay sharp. Get it together, Aster.’
I slapped my cheeks hard to snap awake.
And thought.
‘Who am I?’
Owner of the Magic Tower.
Master of the self-proclaimed great dragon ‘Wyvern,’ close junior to the terminal mage Muspellun sunbae, and the wind spirit summoner Myselun sunbae’s favorite junior.
Blandoga had my friend, and Lortel’s young patriarch dropped dead at my word.
To me, this trial was a joke.
“The answer exists.”
…I just hadn’t found it yet.
“Anyway.”
I sipped my cold coffee and gazed out the meeting room window.
“They should be arriving soon.”
Word was, a few days ago, Riley had headed into the Arapurugin Mountains with the Sherpas.
Short trips took a week, long ones no more than ten days. Today marked exactly ten.
‘Looks like I’ll need some advice.’
Riley had experienced base camps in both Hamern Great Forest and the Arapurugin Mountains—surely he’d have useful insights.
Did my desperate wish reach him?
…Around lunchtime.
“Aster-nim.”
“…Riley.”
Fresh back from the mountains, Riley rushed to the meeting room without even unpacking.
“Struggling with site selection?”
He scanned the mess of papers on the table as he spoke.
“Profitability, accessibility, safety… Aster-nim, that’s not it. This Riley, from Hamern Great Forest to today, has pondered endlessly: ‘What makes a good base camp?’ Truth is, I found the answer ages ago.”
Riley grinned and asked me.
“Looks like you need it now. Right?”
I answered.
“Right…”
“Then let me help.”
…Before Riley arrived, I was just a listless overseer. But when he returned from the mountains and came to me.
I became a single wyvern.
“Aster-nim, the truly important thing is people.”
“People…?”
“Yes, people.”
That nod and single word.
It rang with such reliability.
* * *
But what did ‘people’ mean?
Sensing my confusion, Riley quickly added.
“Aster-nim, think about it. Who uses the base camp?”
“People.”
“Yes, people. Profitability? Accessibility? Safety? All good. But if you can’t draw people, what’s the point?”
Riley ranted on passionately.
“Profitability? Every mercenary knows the area near Hamern’s Fourth Base Camp is the most lucrative. Yet most stick to First and Second. Why?”
“Dangerous?”
“That too, but they don’t feel like it.”
“Feel like what?”
“Handing bloody money over to those thieving bastards.”
“…?”
Around here, I sensed something off.
Riley had seemed so trustworthy moments ago… but in an instant, my trust crumbled like an old man’s dementia.
“What about safety? What good is it if monsters aren’t the issue—the real danger is people. Accessibility? You know, in the forest, some Pathfinders packed heavy to skip base camps entirely.”
“…”
“I guarantee you, run it like that and it’ll be a disaster. In the forest, the environment forced us to use them, grudgingly. But Arapurugin? No such need.”
Riley smirked mockingly here, curling his lip.
As if… relishing the misfortune of the mercenaries who’d claim the camps.
“Keep… going.”
“I heard from the Sherpas—Arapurugin’s environment allows self-sufficiency to a degree. Just watch flying monsters, and staying in the mountains for months is no big deal.”
“And?”
“Unseasoned gatherers or mercenaries can’t climb past a certain altitude due to altitude sickness. Safe, profitable base camp? Useless. And…”
I listened quietly to Riley.
From what I gathered, he wasn’t speaking for the ‘base camp side,’ but the ‘Pathfinder side.’
How Pathfinders suffered under base camp tyranny, and how to dodge it in Arapurugin.
…I heard him out.
It was helpful, for sure.
But his gleeful tone, like the camps were already doomed…
‘…I like it.’
Really like it.
Just as my patience peaked.
Thankfully, Riley wrapped up.
“So, you’ve got to win over people.”
“Yeah, win over people.”
“A base camp where Pathfinders—no, Sherpas—can rest easy. A shelter they trust, at prices they can stomach without worry. Perhaps…”
“Perhaps?”
“That’s what we should aim for?”
Build a base camp truly ‘for the people.’
“Got it.”
I nodded.
“What do you think?”
“Hm, excellent.”
I meant it.
Listening to him gave me the key to this vague site selection puzzle.
Indeed, it wasn’t about picking the perfect spot.
“Yeah, people are key.”
“You get it!”
“Yeah, I do.”
Everything stems from people.
Profitability? Safety? Accessibility?
Secondary issues, really.
“I forgot. The ones paying us are people.”
“…Pardon?”
“So, Riley, isn’t that what you mean?”
“What…”
He noticed something off—his pupils trembled faintly. What I wanted to say was simple.
“It’s not the location that matters. It’s the heart.”
“The heart… right, but what heart exactly…?”
You don’t know?
Simple.
“Like in Hamern Great Forest—make it a dirty spot they have no choice but to use, prices so shady they grumble but pay anyway. That it?”
“…”
“And… what was that earlier? Extra ‘safety fees’ for staying? Brilliant idea too.”
Right now.
Ideas were exploding in my head.
Just one thing left.
Put them into action.
“…Let’s go, Riley.”
“Wait, Aster-nim? What did you just say? What do you mean? Dirty but unavoidable… what?”
As I left the meeting room, Riley scrambled after me.
I thought.
‘Gotta credit Riley as the proposer.’
Time he racked up some achievements.
Target set.
A base camp so dirty they had no choice but to use it.
‘Proposer: Riley.’
How does a guy come up with such devilish ideas?
True enough—those who know you screw you best. Pathfinders ripping off Pathfinders is top-tier.
…Something like that.