Ch.28Remaining Chances Ahead

“But Your Majesty, how many more fragments can you absorb in the future?”

It was autumn, the season of harvest. Just as the harvest had begun, I was in the middle of diligently working on paperwork with my aide.

Suddenly, my aide turned to me and abruptly asked such a question.

“Hmm?”

“Well, I just thought it would be good to know in advance.”

“Ah, I see…”

Come to think of it, there was a limit to how many fragments a core could absorb.

The absorption limit varied by core—a minimum of 4 and a maximum of 12 fragments could be absorbed, and as the range widened, the strength of the protective barrier would proportionally weaken.

“I… can absorb five more fragments.”

“So that means… including the coastal area… you can absorb a total of six fragments.”

“Yes. It’s fortunate for me. Too large a territory would be difficult to manage, wouldn’t it? Besides, if we combine everything, that’s seven regions, and a barrier of that size could repel even a Greater Demon.”

Even back when I was a player of the game, the community would constantly argue over whether larger territories were better or smaller territories were preferable.

The core I ruled could protect seven regions, which boasted quite a powerful barrier strength, except for single-province play where only one region was covered.

The strength of invaders, commonly referred to as “external threats,” ranged from the lowest-tier monsters and beasts to apostles chosen by gods. Greater Demons were the strongest class of external threats that could naturally descend to the mortal realm.

Just to remind you again in case you forgot, cores cannot prevent human invasions.

That’s why each city-state also invests in national defense.

The only things stronger than Greater Demons were apostles summoned through large-scale human sacrifices by cultists, or transcendent beings directly manifesting their will. As you can tell from the explanation, neither of these is easy to accomplish.

Therefore, unlocking seven regions was generally considered the best approach, and I was quite satisfied with the range of my given core.

In the game, it might look small when represented as a single tile, but according to the game’s lore, each region was 50,000 km² in size, meaning the mainland of Amurtat alone was more than half the size of South Korea.

In other words, it was incredibly vast, and this excessive scale was actually said to be a developer’s setting error.

However, it was never corrected and was carried over into official novels, animations, and even movies. By the time the developers realized it, they simply covered up the issue with an attitude of “well, bigger is better.”

It was quite a convenient response, but what could players say when the developers declared it official? We just had to accept it and move on.

“By the way, seven regions would be… 5 times 7… 350,000 km²?”

“That would be correct. Fortunately, all the regions we can acquire are quite substantial.”

“Indeed. If we were surrounded by wastelands, we would have been in tears.”

In truth, I consider this starting position incredibly blessed.

The surrounding terrain and the resources derived from it—not a single thing was disposable. It was the epitome of what people call “a gift horse you’d bow to before accepting.”

With city-states around the world struggling to find enough food to eat, it was no exaggeration to call Amurtat a paradise on earth.

Just the fact that people could buy goods at the market with money was proof enough.

*

Splash!

Patter patter patter!

“Wow! A full catch, eh?”

“Well, I got lucky. A school of sardines passed by right on time. How about you?”

“Not quite a full catch, but I caught plenty. This should be enough to put food on the table.”

“That’s good to hear.”

The small village established on the eastern coast quickly grew in population.

Although there wasn’t any direct population policy, some of the immigrants were originally from coastal areas, and once the coast became safe, they collectively moved there.

At the very least, for those accustomed to sailing, it was better than cutting and hauling logs.

And as if to prove this, they began to fill small ferries with fish they caught.

Fish was one of the items with consistent demand, and the reason was simple: it was food.

Not only that, fish could be preserved through smoking or drying, making it a hot-selling item for adventurers tired of salted meat and hardtack.

And this is where my knowledge as a modern person shone.

“Your Majesty, what is this? Why this dagger…?”

“Ah, that. It’s for processing herring innards. It makes it easy to remove the liver, milt, intestines, and bones.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

It’s not just for herring innards.

Most fish have similar structures, so this knife could easily process other fish as well, adding speed to fish processing.

On Earth, this knife, invented by a Dutch fisherman named Willem Beuckel, revolutionized herring processing, and it would serve a similar role in this world.

“Also, you no longer need to use salt water when pickling fish.”

“What? You’re saying not to use salt water for pickling?”

My aide looked at me with disbelief.

Well, without any explanation, such a statement would sound as absurd as saying you could make bread without flour.

“I’ve done some experiments, and if you boil seawater to evaporate the moisture and create a concentrated brine, you can use that to pickle fish. This will reduce the cost of salt.”

“My goodness… how did you figure that out… Anyway, I understand. I’ll inform the fishermen. By the way, are there extra daggers available?”

“I’ve already ordered the blacksmiths in the castle to make several. By now, they should have produced hundreds.”

I’m not a fool.

I had already prepared enough processing daggers for the fishermen to use.

After hearing my detailed explanation, my aide wore an expression of admiration and hurriedly gathered the relevant documents to return to his office.

Now that I had given strong guidance, the rest depended on how well he and his subordinate officials would follow the new methods and concepts I had introduced.

Honestly, after spoon-feeding them this much information, the practitioners should handle the rest on their own.

*

Several months passed after that.

Winter had already arrived, but in the unfrozen harbor, dozens of fishing boats came and went daily. Despite their different appearances and names, these boats had one thing in common—they were all filled with fish.

Thud thud thud!

“Move quickly, move quickly!”

Hundreds of tons of fish poured out from dozens of fishing boats, and the fish, exposed to the cold air and still flopping about, suffered the indignity of being scooped up with shovels and placed in boxes.

“Be careful not to let the fish spoil!”

“Yes, sir!”

Winter was a harsh season, but people’s faces were bright.

The fish they caught would end up on their tables and, beyond that, would feed the citizens of Amurtat and the people of the north.

Not many people thought that far ahead, but there was no real reason to do so.

What mattered most to them was how many fish scales, innards, and bones their children and wives could remove, because the more they processed, the more money they would receive when delivering to the preservation factory.

And in the factory that made pickled fish, unlike the cold outside air, stuffy steam filled the building. The smell was extremely fishy because they were boiling seawater inside.

“I’ve brought more charcoal.”

“Good work. Warm yourself up before you go. One wrong move and you’re done for.”

“Yes, thank you.”

The salty brines were boiled until they reached the benchmark line, and once the water level dropped below that line, they were scooped up with large ladles and poured into wooden barrels filled with processed fish.

Splash! Splash!

While all the innards of these herrings were removed, the livers were exceptionally kept intact because the enzymes in fish livers create a unique flavor when salted and fermented.

For a similar but different reason, the fish milt (testes) was separated and collected in one place, as it was considered a delicacy among gourmets.

The sight of piles of twisted white innards was grotesque, but considering the profits from selling them, anyone would be tempted.

As if to prove this, even in this cold winter, an employee from the Adventurers’ Guild came to see me about opening a branch in Amurtat.