Ch.42City and Village

When people think of a village, they typically have a fixed image in mind.

Rice paddies and small dwellings.

Farmers tending to fields and ox-drawn carts. A pastoral community that contrasts with the mechanical appearance of cities.

Normally, as villages develop, they become cities, but if cities already exist, villages are stripped of their growth potential.

The young and the old, along with some youth who don’t fit into city life, remain while everyone else migrates to cities with jobs and superior infrastructure.

This is professionally termed the “rural exodus phenomenon.”

At first glance, villages seem completely inferior to cities.

Smaller populations, no notable industries—just herding cattle and farming. It’s understandable why those unfamiliar might see it that way.

But the fact that raising cattle and pigs and cultivating crops is all a village does means that these activities alone are sufficient to maintain the concept of a village.

No matter how abundant the food in city markets or dimensional storage warehouses may appear, it all comes from the land.

Without crop cultivation, food supplies would soon run out, and even the mightiest city couldn’t win the battle against starvation.

So who grows the crops? Who feeds and cares for livestock while supplying cities with grain, meat, leather, and milk?

The villages.

Though “village” is the term I use, “rural area” might be more accurate, but whether farming villages, mining villages, or fishing villages—these settlements that supply various resources—the general term works well enough.

And now, as I feel the sensation of materials flowing out to build villages, I imagine the scenery of the villages that will surround the city on the Amurtat Plains.

Why build villages now, during wartime? Precisely because of the war.

More specifically, once Francesca dies and her remains are cremated to create a fragment of the earth’s core.

But then, where will Elyssia’s 300,000 citizens go?

Fahrenheit won’t accept them.

That’s only natural. Their city is already mature. When they need labor, it flows in naturally from surrounding villages—they have no reason to accept lowly refugees without capital or skills.

Moreover, over 50,000 of those 300,000 are disabled—not mildly disabled with trembling hands or awkward movements, but severely disabled with physical impairments.

The problem could be solved by making the hard decision to physically eliminate these deficient ones, but the issue is that all these disabled people are relatives of other citizens.

For people who have spent decades supporting their disabled family members through back-breaking labor while appeasing the corrupt authorities and gangs that rule the city, asking them to abandon their disabled loved ones would be tantamount to denying their entire lives.

Therefore, I plan to take a different approach.

“We” will not kill the disabled.

Although state discipline has completely collapsed, the city of Elyssia still exists because primitive communities have formed within it.

Communities bound by emotion and blood rather than law and discipline may seem tight-knit, but when burdened beyond their capacity, that cohesion quickly disintegrates.

There are still able-bodied people in Elyssia, and many young people in their teens and twenties with promising futures.

I want them.

I’m not arrogant enough to think I can take the entire population, or kill 50,000 to claim 250,000.

It’s currently impossible to feed that many people anyway, and they wouldn’t follow me.

Having disabled relatives is difficult, but being executed simply because your relatives are disabled is an entirely different matter.

Elyssia’s ruling class, at least, didn’t engage in mass slaughter of the disabled.

The people of Elyssia, already teetering on the edge, would ignite uncontrollably with just the smallest spark.

So I’ll give them a choice.

Leave the handless and footless behind in this dying city and come to Amurtat, or bind their own hands and feet and die alongside the disabled and the city.

*

“Urgh…”

“Master, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Just a slight headache.”

Having materials sufficient for building 10 villages flow out at once caused tremendous fatigue.

It felt like the proteins in my brain were collectively escaping. It would get better, but it’s a sensation I can’t get used to.

“By the way, it’s been a week now, but still no contact from Ignatz.”

Ten days had passed since our last communication, but there was still no word from Ignatz.

Well, it’s not particularly strange. A week is longer than it seems, and he might consider regular reports during simple travel a waste. Encounters with monster groups leading to small battles or delays due to bandits were fairly common.

If we wasted communications on trivial matters and then something truly important happened, it would be troublesome, so I didn’t blame Ignatz for not contacting me.

“Go fetch some wine. I need to wet my throat.”

“Yes, Master.”

After Michaela left the room and a few minutes passed, my headache gradually began to subside.

Hmm… if building 10 villages causes this level of headache, I might faint when extracting even more materials in the future.

Of course, I can’t think of any building that would require more materials than 10 villages, but still.

Anyway, the reason I suddenly poured out such an enormous amount of materials to build villages is to completely clear out the farmland and pastures inside the city walls after this year.

They smell bad, and eating crops and meat contaminated with urban pollution can’t be good for health.

This year’s planting has already begun, but after this winter’s harvest, the urban and rural areas will be completely separated.

It might seem like I’m drawing too sharp a line between village and city, but I have my reasons. Farmland and pastures occupy vast areas, and if we replace them with residential areas, markets, and public facilities, we could accommodate a much larger population.

Besides, it would be more convenient for farmland and pastures to expand outward into the plains rather than being confined by city walls.

Above all, the fertilizer spread on farmland and waste from pastures inevitably accumulate in the soil, which is practically disastrous for water and sewage systems.

So even though it might be a bit early, I made the hard decision to use 80% of our accumulated timber reserves to build 10 villages.

“Soon we’ll have more hands… so I won’t have to worry about labor.”

I can’t be certain how many will leave Elyssia for Amurtat. If I can salvage even half—about 100,000—of the 250,000 “normal” citizens, I’d consider it a success.

“By the way, what will happen to Elyssia after extracting the earth core fragment?”

The reason it’s called a “fragment” of the earth’s core is because it’s created when a “part” of the earth’s core merges with a monarch’s body.

One might ask if extracting a part weakens it, and of course it does, but the earth’s core is essentially the “center of the earth”—think of it as fantasy-style geomancy. Land where an earth core forms is destined to produce one, so if left alone, eventually a perfectly regenerated monarch will form a contract with the earth core again.

While the game didn’t show events progressing with time, there were event chains where you could help landless monarchs form contracts with earth cores sleeping beneath dead cities.

“…”

Will Amurtat someday fall into ruin, with another monarch forming a contract and calling it by a different name?

Well, probably.

Being able to live forever and actually living forever are similar but different concepts.

I could die instantly if I stabbed my neck with the pen beside me.

Having nearly died from a head injury before, I tried to accept death with detachment.

Even now, somewhere on this continent, villages are burning, cities are crumbling, and monarchs are being assassinated. I didn’t concern myself too much with that.

I only felt a tiny bit of sympathy for a nation whose centuries of history would end because of my choice.