Chapter 62
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Translator: Prime Works
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: The Reason for Erecting the Statue (2)
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“Phew. So this is Creemo.”
Lloyd exhaled from atop the hill.
White breath trailed from his mouth.
It bloomed briefly before scattering in the wind.
Early winter had crept up on them before they knew it.
In that gray coastal landscape, a city stood prominently, filling Lloyd’s view.
‘Even the cities in this world are pretty impressive.’
That was Lloyd’s first impression of the trading city of Creemo.
He’d figured a city here couldn’t be that big anyway.
Nothing compared to a modern Korean city, right?
At best, maybe the size of a provincial small town.
But no.
‘Actually seeing it, it’s huge.’
Of course, it wasn’t like Seoul or Busan in Korea with skyscrapers shooting up everywhere.
Most buildings were two stories, three or four at the tallest.
Still, the city itself was enormous.
‘Feels just like a medieval version of Busan.’
Below the hill stretched a vast coastline.
The city sprawled along it, long and narrow.
A swarm of sailing ships bustled in and out of the docks along the shore.
The unloading workers scurrying around looked like ants from up here.
It was every bit the scale and energy of a regional hub city.
‘And I picked up some pretty useful skills on the way here.’
Lloyd suddenly recalled the journey since leaving Frontera Territory.
♣
“Hey? Haviel?”
“Yes. What is it, Lord Lloyd?”
“Teach me how to ride a horse.”
It was around dawn on the third morning after departing Frontera Territory.
Lloyd, who’d been rolling around in the baggage cart until then, spoke up.
They were on the move anyway.
Might as well learn to ride now.
Plus, he was bored stiff from dozing in the cart all day.
‘And it’s annoying always riding pillion behind Haviel.’
Truth was, he didn’t know how to ride.
Neither Kim Suho from Korea.
Nor the original owner of this body, Lloyd Frontera.
Neither had the slightest clue.
Simple reason.
‘Lloyd chose boozing and partying over learning to ride.’
But now he had a long trip ahead.
Perfect chance to learn.
“So, teach me to ride. What do you say?”
“Understood.”
Haviel nodded.
Lloyd tilted his head.
“Huh? You’re agreeing just like that?”
“Is there any reason I should refuse?”
“Well, no, not really. But why accept so readily?”
“…….”
“You’re Haviel, right? No? Be honest. Where’s our real Haviel? Where’d you hide him?”
“Do you not want to learn horsemanship?”
“Tch. Guy can’t even take a joke.”
“I have no desire to joke around with you, Lord Lloyd.”
“How much?”
“I’d rather have the calluses peeled off my feet.”
“Keheuk.”
That much, huh?
But contrary to his words, Haviel wore a faint smile.
“Then come over here. I’ll teach you the basics of riding before we set off.”
And so, Lloyd learned horsemanship step by step from Haviel.
The slow but steady daily travels continued.
Winter drew nearer with each passing day.
As the winds grew colder, Lloyd’s riding posture steadied.
As his horsemanship improved, Creemo trading city grew closer.
And finally, today.
After a fortnight’s journey, the group arrived safely in the chill early winter winds.
“Alright, let’s find a place to crash first.”
They descended the hill.
Entered the city.
True to a trading hub, the main avenue was wide and chaotic.
People from all over mingled busily.
Carts and pedestrians wove through each other.
Merchants haggled loudly with customers.
Porters sweated with flushed faces.
Shouts everywhere, waves of jostling crowds.
Creemo’s central thoroughfare was a chaotic bibimbap of disorder and mayhem.
The group was shell-shocked.
The twenty engineering corps members, facing such a big city bustle for the first time, were struck dumb like they’d eaten honey.
Haviel was no different.
No, his reaction was even worse.
“…….”
The silver-haired knight’s eyes darted restlessly around.
His ears strained to catch every sound.
Haviel, a swordmaster on the cusp of mastery.
His senses were so sharp he suffered severe insomnia from swordmaster syndrome.
Thrown suddenly into this unfamiliar chaos.
All his senses exploded.
He felt the bustle more acutely than anyone.
Lloyd’s wry smile deepened.
“Hey.”
“Yes, Lord Lloyd.”
“Loosen up.”
“I am.”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“I assure you, I am.”
“Then why can’t your eyes stay still?”
“Pardon?”
“You’re scanning everything like you’ve charged into a battlefield.”
“…….”
Haviel froze.
Me?
That tense?
Lloyd continued.
“I get it’s your first time in this kind of chaos. Just act natural, okay? You’re coming off too country.”
“…….”
“What’re you spacing out for? Let’s go.”
Tap.
Lloyd patted Haviel’s shoulder.
Haviel followed, looking a bit conflicted.
“Lord Lloyd.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you alright, Lord Lloyd?”
“Me? With what?”
“I mean, doesn’t all this chaos disorient you?”
“Nah, I’m fine. This isn’t crowded.”
Lloyd chuckled.
It was true.
Thanks to the Korea he’d lived in.
Recalling it made this seem tame.
‘Compared to Sindorim Station at rush hour, this is just a quiet park.’
Where people squish into endless human sandwiches in real time.
Where you daily debate armpit funk versus your neighbor’s stench as they’re shoved closer.
Where the nation unites in forced skinship.
That demonic spacetime was rush hour Sindorim Station.
And Lloyd was a battle-hardened veteran of its chaos.
‘Had to transfer there every day from home to school!’
Those arduous school commute days.
Lloyd tucked away the memory like pinning a medal on his past self.
He deftly led the half-dazed group through the big city bustle.
“Don’t space out, everyone. Over here.”
They moved to the side of the crowded avenue.
Asked locals for directions now and then.
Soon enough, they found a decent inn without wandering long.
They dropped their bags, washed up briefly.
Then headed straight out.
Lloyd took Haviel toward the city center.
To a grand mansion standing tall there.
The home of the city’s lord and regional overlord, Creemo Count.
‘And today, they’re the gracious buyer snapping up all our orc treasures at once.’
The whole point of coming here was to sell the orc loot.
To raise cash for debt repayment.
Luckily, getting into the count’s mansion was easy.
“I’m Lloyd Frontera, eldest son of Baron Frontera. I’ve come to show you the items from your letter expressing interest in purchasing.”
He showed the necklace.
Emblazoned with the Frontera family crest.
Proof of noble lineage.
They passed through the main gate.
Crossed a garden vast as a parade ground to the mansion proper.
‘Whoa, this is something else.’
Truly befitting a grand mansion.
Worlds apart from the barely-mansion-like Baron Frontera residence.
Like those lavish Hollywood celeb mansions on TV.
Or the stately old European noble estates.
One such unfolded before him.
“The Count is in the drawing room. This way, please.”
An elderly man, apparently the chief steward, greeted them at the main entrance.
Lloyd followed the steward’s lead through the mansion.
The steward continued.
“Frontera Family, eh? Come from afar, I see. You may not know the Count’s recent mood, so I’ll give you a heads-up.”
“Mood?”
Lloyd asked.
The steward spoke while walking.
“The Count’s been out of sorts lately. When you meet him, stick to polite formalities. No extra chatter.”
“Only what’s necessary?”
“Yes. No need to give him ammunition with idle talk.”
“That bad?”
“Indeed.”
“If it’s not rude, may I ask why?”
Lloyd asked carefully.
The Count was the top power here.
A misstep in meeting him?
If it soured relations?
Catastrophic loss.
No point courting trouble.
Better safe.
The steward got it and explained readily.
“Recent construction delays.”
“Delays?”
“The statue in the bay he’s pushing has stalled.”
“Statue…….”
Ah, that.
The Count was buying their gems cheap for decorating it, after all.
“But stalled? Why?”
“Yes. No builders stepping up.”
The steward explained.
“The Count planned a massive mermaid statue in the bay. To solve our city’s long-standing headache.”
“Headache?”
“Gigatitan.”
“Ah.”
Lloyd nodded.
Gigatitan.
The name jogged a memory.
‘Gigatitan—giant lobster-like monster, right?’
From the novel *Iron-Blooded Knight*.
Ninety meters long.
Shell thick enough to shrug off battleship shells.
‘Supposed to live only in deep ocean, but yeah. Exception here.’
The sole exception.
About ten years ago, by current timeline.
One appeared off peaceful Creemo harbor.
Sank two passing merchant ships in a flash.
That incident led to……
“The Count requested the kingdom’s navy. Her Majesty recognized the threat and dispatched them promptly. The fleet came grandly to slay the Gigatitan.”
The steward continued.
“But three attempts failed. Navy had no way to strike it underwater. They retreated after losing three ships badly damaged.”
The old man’s tale matched the novel’s plot.
Lloyd nodded inwardly.
‘After that, it made Creemo bay its home. Kingdom watched warily. Count had to grudgingly coexist.’
Small mercy: it surfaced only three or four times a year.
And never attacked the land city.
That enabled the uneasy truce.
Creemo built watchposts along nearby coasts.
Solely to monitor the Gigatitan.
Spotted it? Signal harbor with beacons and mirrors.
Harbor issues evacuation to all bay ships.
Ships flee to deep sea.
Thanks to that system.
Ten years post-first sighting.
Sinkings by the beast? Barely countable.
‘So the kingdom shelved extermination. Simple math: losses fighting it outweighed coexistence costs.’
Spot-on calculation.
For the kingdom as a whole.
Better occasional merchant ship losses than wasting navy on an unbeatable monster.
But from Creemo Count’s view, different story.
“It’s been ten years of this uneasy coexistence. Our trade volume’s dropped forty percent.”
The steward sighed.
Lloyd nodded inwardly.
‘Yeah. In ten more years from now, the city declines so bad other ports steal its role.’
All because of the Gigatitan.
No immediate hits, but a ticking disaster.
Merchants saw it as ship-loss risk enough.
‘So they shifted to other ports gradually.’
Hence the planned statue.
The Count’s own countermeasure, probably.
Lloyd tilted his head.
“So, erecting this mermaid statue drives it off?”
“Likely.”
The steward nodded as if obvious.
“Not mere superstition. Mermaids are the ocean’s strongest race.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Undeniable fact.
This was the *Iron-Blooded Knight* world.
Mermaids here were beasts.
No dainty singers like in cartoons.
Olympic swimmers? Child’s play.
Their physiques dwarfed them.
Pacific-wide shoulders.
Pecs bouncing meteors.
Washboard abs rumbling washers.
Earthworm-veined tendons everywhere.
Lifetime swimmers: ocean’s hardcore extreme champs.
If orcs were land bodybuilders, mermaids ruled the sea.
“But does the statue get their help?”
“No help, but it’ll scare the Gigatitan.”
“The Gigatitan?”
“Yes. Mermaids sometimes hunt them in huge armies.”
“Aha. So a giant statue mimicking that makes it think predator’s here, cowing it.”
“Exactly. Might even move its lair.”
“Hmm, makes sense.”
Not a sure bet.
But the possibility alone?
Worth it, the Count reckoned.
“Yet no builders? That’s odd.”
True.
Count’s project.
For city prosperity.
Huge pay, obviously.
No takers?
The steward gave a shallow sigh.
“Too difficult. Near impossible.”
“Why?”
“What’s needed for a sea statue?”
“Solid foundation, firm ground.”
“Yes. But the Count added a condition for that foundation.”
“What?”
“From water surface down to seabed—purely vertical earth piling.”
“Tch.”
Lloyd smacked his lips.
He got why no builders.
‘Standard land reclamation can’t meet that.’
Filling sea normally needs massive dirt.
Submerged base becomes gentle pyramid.
But Count nixed that.
No pyramids.
Vertical only.
Absurd demand.
But a desperate measure.
Lloyd guessed why.
“To not block ship channels?”
“You figured it?”
“Yeah, roughly.”
Steward’s eyes widened.
Lloyd just smiled quietly.
‘Harbor channels aren’t wide for the natural port size.’
Recalled the bay terrain approaching earlier.
Crescent-shaped inlet.
Narrow passages relative to bay.
Hence the strict condition, cornering builders.
‘Narrow channel narrows more from fill? Disaster. Depths shoal hugely around.’
Already tight passages.
Tighter still.
Shipping snags.
Worst: strandings.
Irony: statue to evict Gigatitan chokes channels, scaring off merchants.
‘Deep sea? Too deep for construction.’
Statue to repel beast.
Preserve channels too.
Count’s dilemma clear.
“Why not land? Plenty space by harbor.”
“No good.”
Steward wryly smiled.
“Must be over water. Would Gigatitan fear land mermaid? No. In water. At least astride surface. Or it won’t look like real threat.”
“Aha.”
Skipped easy land for sea statue.
But stalled.
No wonder Count’s foul mood.
“Hence, months with no builders. That’s why.”
Now at drawing room door.
Steward halted, turned meaningfully.
Emphatic warning gaze.
“You’ll meet the Count soon. No needless words. Especially ‘Gigatitan,’ ‘statue,’ ‘construction’—never utter. Remember. I answered your questions for this. Clear?”
“Yes, got it.”
Lloyd nodded solemnly.
Steward smiled, knocked.
“Appreciate understanding. Then.”
Ding!
Clear bell from within: enter.
Steward opened door.
Gestured elegantly.
Lloyd entered under guidance.
Sturdy middle-aged man inside.
Opulent garb, bear-like dignity.
Creemo Count.
Lloyd bowed immediately in greeting.
Mindful of steward’s plea, polite.
“Eldest son of Frontera Family, Lloyd Frontera, humbly greets wise Creemo Count to propose commissioning a new maritime foundation ‘construction’ method for the ‘statue’ to drive out the ‘Gigatitan.’”