The Human Era (6): The Knight King's Realm
Romania, the land of the Knight King, adopted a form of governance never seen before. He divided the territory into villages and cities, turning them into fiefdoms, and granted them to his vassals to rule.
The lords who received these fiefdoms began governing them as if they were kings of their own domains. In the process, some lords imposed excessive taxes, sparking minor troubles. But the Knight King, who had anticipated such issues, swiftly punished the offending lords with severe penalties, confiscating their lands. His vassals whispered that it felt like a trap he had set in advance, but none dared voice it aloud.
After all, the fiefdoms bestowed by the king were both rewards and collars that could tighten around their necks at any moment. They knew that smooth governance brought great gains, but one misstep could cost them everything.
Having disciplined his overreaching vassals, the king clearly defined the taxes to be collected from the people and began taming his subordinates. Just as he had discussed with the sage, he ruled the land with absolute royal authority.
Now, let's take a moment to survey the surroundings.
First, Romania—the Kingdom of Romania. Conquered villages and cities under the Knight King. Beyond the fallen lands of Arcadia, stretching north to the frigid snowfields, south to the gateway of the scorching Procyon Desert, east across the continent-spanning great mountain range, and west to the sea. A vast territory boasting unprecedented scale.
Of course, other human nations existed as well. But Romania was by far the largest. It had grown so immense that even the Knight King sought my wisdom on how to manage it.
In any case, the expanded Romania began restoring its war-torn lands and healing its wounds.
To the west of Romania lay a nation bordering the sea, centered on Minoa—once ruled by Asterios, who had ascended as a god. Neighboring countries had united around it, forming a beastkin-dominated state: the Bystia Federation.
Though beastkin-led, it welcomed all races without discrimination and stood firm, unburned by Romania's flames of conquest. This unity stemmed from Minoa's unique faith in the Dragon Goddess and the bull-headed warrior god Asterios, who had ascended among the Twelve.
The Dragon Goddess was equated with the Goddess of Life, treated as a primitive form of her worship, drawing great interest from the Life Church.
Asterios's faith spread rapidly around Minoa, becoming the driving force that bound the Bystia Federation tightly together. United by religion, it became a nation even Romania hesitated to touch.
Further west lay Ratkinia, the land of the rat beastkin. Small but mighty, these rat beastkin thrived with high birth rates, rice-based agriculture yielding abundant food, and advanced mining and smelting techniques. Though diminutive and often underestimated, their strength was undeniable.
Valuing kin above all and revering their ascended ancestors as gods, the Ratkin were unified. They valued their lives little if it meant protecting their own, making their soldiers fearless in the face of death. Invaders coveting Ratkinia's fertile lands and grain crumbled against their fierce resistance.
Then there were the elves' great forest, the dwarves' Sagarmata, and Procyon, the city of mages—no need to mention those. Places not to be trifled with, lest one face irreversible backlash.
Lizardmen? They're a special case. The physical disparity is so vast it's embarrassing to compare. A single lizardman could fell dozens of humans unscathed. No sane human would pick a fight with them.
Beyond the great mountains lay eastern nations, but the impassable peaks kept them out of the picture.
Thus, nations cooperated or competed, advancing amid tension. But bit by bit—ever so slightly—problems began to emerge.
Since the Knight King's Romania was established, no major bloodbaths had occurred. Conflicts were limited to small skirmishes—border guards clashing at most. Compared to the era of constant war, it was peaceful.
Yet, problems cropped up here and there. The cause? Monsters.
"Strange monsters?"
"Yes. Even the children are buzzing about them."
With wars nearly gone, affording some leisure, I had toured the world and checked on the young ones. While sipping tea with Yggdrasil, the odd topic arose.
"What kind of monster has the elves talking?"
"It's... hard to describe. Monsters that don't seem like monsters."
"Monsters that aren't monsters?"
Hmm. Most monsters resembled animals, so these must differ.
What could they be?
"Yes. They're so alien, I wondered if Mother—you know, had intervened."
"You can keep calling her Mom, you know."
I murmured softly, and Yggdrasil gave an awkward smile.
"I'm a mother to many now myself. Calling her Mom forever feels a bit embarrassing."
"Hmm... if that's how you feel."
Personally, "Mom" felt warmer. "Mother" created an odd distance.
"Anyway, Mother didn't intervene?"
"Monsters are beyond my purview."
Those things mostly spawn naturally anyway. At that point, are they even creatures?
"So what makes them so strange?"
"Well... they seem to have faint intelligence, despite being monsters."
"Intelligence? In monsters?"
What did that mean?
"Like early humans evolved from beasts—bipedal, using primitive tools."
"That's... intriguing."
Monsters evolving? I'd never considered it. Theoretically possible since they all stem from slimes, but a first.
They weren't empowered by magic stones and dark energy for strength or abilities—they'd gained intellect. What was this?
That insolent thing deep underground, deeming current monsters useless, imitating me to evolve them...?
"What did they look like?"
"Small, monkey-like. Furry, with inexplicably green skin."
Green skin, small monkey-like...?
"Goblins?"
"Pardon? Goblins?"
"Nothing."
Green skin, small build, primitive tools... What else but goblins?
"Whether they sacrificed something for intelligence, they're reportedly weak individually, but still ferocious and hostile. And oddly, they give live birth, like real creatures."
Hmm... live birth? As monsters?
Previous monsters formed when creatures warped by excess mana. Now reproducing like animals?
Deliberate creation, or evolution? Unsure, but leaving them be seemed unwise.
"I'd like to see one. Any live captures?"
"None among our children—they shoot them on sight. They said the things felt eerily off-putting."
Hmm. Off-putting... Goblins... Elves... Ugh... Headache...
Well, no reason to capture suspicious monsters alive. Slaughtering them makes sense.
"Then I'll tour the world and check myself."
Are they local to here, or global? How intelligent? Other risks?
Need a thorough investigation.
And if problematic... Extinction might be tough. I'd given up on wiping out monsters.
To eradicate mana-warped spawn, eliminate mana or life itself—impossible!
Unclear how these "goblins" (presumed) reproduce, but if spawning worldwide, not just the great forest... Extinction's unlikely.
First, capture a goblin (presumed) for study. Take it slow.
