Ch.31Minor Dispute

Conflicts between city-states occurred quite frequently.

Among these conflicts, the most common were disputes over resources.

Ore veins, forests, sometimes land for agriculture. The causes varied, but the reasons were all the same.

I want it, so whatever you say doesn’t matter to me, and I must have it no matter what.

It truly couldn’t be more childish, but when force gets involved in such childish matters, things tend to change.

Under cavalry hooves, grasslands turn to mud, and fertile lands become barren wastelands salted by the blood of the fallen.

Sometimes the land gained wasn’t even enough to bury the dead, yet wars never ceased in this world.

The reason was simple.

No one had even the slightest intention of yielding.

The words compromise and negotiation certainly existed, but places where these words held power were far too few.

The world operated by the logic of steel, and where steel broke, the logic of gold extended its hand.

In short, it meant that the spirit of “might makes right” was ingrained in all of humanity.

I mean, if you just bash that bastard’s head in nicely, that’s negotiation—what need is there for diplomatic procedures?

It was logic that would make the Japanese Imperial Headquarters during the Pacific War slap their foreheads, but no one refuted such talk.

Because history of washing blood with blood had already been engraved on this continent, and a strange obsession with this being the “tradition” of the human species had developed.

Want to break tradition? Fine. Go ahead and break it all you want.

However, the people of this world weren’t foolish enough to support those who declared they would destroy tradition while trying to take the heritage built in tradition’s name.

In such a world, Amurtat too would soon face conflict, minor or major, and the time would come when opinions would need to be enforced not with wine and bread, but with sword and shield.

And now, unexpectedly quickly, that time had arrived.

*

The incident began with a minor friction.

Serfs who had fled from Elyssia, a small city south of Fahrenheit, had shaken off their pursuers and reached the borders of Amurtat, where they were discovered and protected by soldiers in training.

But then Elyssia’s pursuit team arrived and demanded that the soldiers hand over the serfs.

Naturally, the soldiers refused, which enraged the pursuit team, leading them to launch a preemptive attack.

As a result, the pursuit team was repelled and the fleeing serfs were rescued, but our side also suffered considerable damage from having to face cavalry suddenly on open ground.

Twenty were injured and three severely wounded, but fortunately, Amurtat’s soldiers fought admirably.

The casualties of those bastards—rescue team in writing, kidnappers in reading—were total annihilation except for three, so considering the value of war horses, we came out ahead in the exchange ratio.

In fact, we deliberately let some live out of concern for diplomatic friction that might arise if we completely wiped them out. I was extremely fortunate that the commander leading the unit at that time was Ignatz.

Ignatz was a standard-bearer I had personally appointed, and naturally one of the finest officers in Amurtat.

From the perspective of Elyssia’s pursuit team, they had sent out workers to bring back serfs, only to be blocked by the equivalent of a neighboring country’s defense minister.

It was only because he held the rank of standard-bearer, which allowed for some autonomous judgment, that things turned out this way. If a newly appointed officer had been conducting the training, the serfs would have been taken without recourse.

To be honest, whether they were serfs or nobles was none of my business.

What mattered here was that Elyssia’s pursuit team had trespassed on my land, and they had paid the price they deserved.

After hearing the report, I summoned Ignatz to learn the detailed circumstances, and through cross-verification with the testimonies of others, I concluded that Ignatz’s claims were credible.

The likelihood of this minor dispute escalating to war was low, but even if war did break out, it wouldn’t matter.

Amurtat’s standing army alone exceeded 10,000 men, and the current population of Amurtat had surpassed 150,000.

At this rate, it might reach 200,000 within five years of the Amurtat calendar.

Although Elyssia’s population exceeded 300,000, making Amurtat appear twice as weak in terms of numbers, it has always been the case that relying solely on numerical advantage eventually leads to a harsh lesson.

Moreover, above all, Elyssia could not fight Amurtat now.

It couldn’t before, and it won’t be able to in the future.

Curious about the reason?

Then allow me to explain why.

*

Like many city-states, Elyssia had various problems.

Of course, depending on the person, disadvantages could become advantages and vice versa, but even excluding that, Elyssia had quite a unique custom.

Namely, capital punishment was not carried out within the state, because Elyssia’s monarch valued human life.

Up to this point, it might sound like a truly virtuous monarch… but then why would Elyssia still remain a small state?

If after more than 300 years, the population is only 300,000, there must be a problem with the entire country.

So what could be the reason?

Why would a country ruled by a monarch who values human life still be struggling against the barrier of 300,000?

The answer was simple.

Because there were surprisingly many fates worse than death in this world.

While executions were not carried out in Elyssia, conversely, this meant that all other punishments were actively implemented.

And there was one punishment that was most actively carried out: “limb amputation.”

Instead of simply killing someone cleanly, since they couldn’t execute them, they would cut off the hands that could harm others and the legs that could run away—a punishment so absurd it was hard to know where to begin criticizing it. It had now become something of a specialty of Elyssia.

As a result, the most common sight in Elyssia was arms and legs rotting in the corners of the city, and with so many disabled people, the entire state was naturally declining.

You know human life is precious, but don’t know arms and legs are?

According to Her Highness Francesca de Amor, the ruler of Elyssia:

She left behind the precious maxim that “a person’s value is not diminished by the loss of limbs or mental deficiency.”

Of course, the statement itself is correct, but that was precisely the problem—it was only correct.

Even in modern society, when one family member becomes disabled, it’s like automatically signing up for life on hard mode. How could such words hold true in the medieval era?

She could say such things because she was the monarch.

How could one pledge loyalty to a ruler who did nothing herself, outsourced everything to merchant guilds or gangs, and enjoyed macarons and iced tea in her palace?

In her own way, she granted titles like baron to local thugs and count to guild masters…

It was obvious that Elyssia couldn’t grow because of the monarch’s misguided ideology.

More precisely, the ideology itself was noble and beyond reproach, but when implemented by a head of state, problems arose.

With no death penalty but a need to maintain public order, arms and legs were cut off instead of heads…

With disabled people everywhere, labor productivity remained consistently low, causing debt to accumulate…

And to pay off that debt, state authority was gradually handed over to merchants, resulting in this mess.

Even government officials frequently lost their heads on corruption charges, yet merchants intent on exploitation were running state affairs?

Naturally focused only on profit, why would they care about improving welfare or reducing punishments?

Rather, since increased taxes might drive them out, they had been repeating the insane evil of finding false pretexts to turn healthy people into disabled ones for hundreds of years.

This earned her the nickname “True Madness” in the community, as Francesca de Amor’s indescribable madness left a deep impression on players.

She was even known as the “mother of mercy” among foreign players, showing just how incompetent Elyssia had been throughout its hundreds of years of history.

Incidentally, Francesca enjoyed popularity elsewhere too—the fact that there was three times more adult fan art of Francesca than all other female characters in Polistory combined proved this point.