Ch.75Supply and Demand

Boom! Thud!

Rumble rumble!

“Damn it!”

The captain of the South Gate Defense Force of Fahrenheit City was suffering from the dust falling from the roof and the constant impact sounds of catapults.

In truth, Fahrenheit’s walls weren’t ordinary stone walls—they had been built with the help of the Alchemist Guild and the Magic Tower, so they wouldn’t collapse quickly from such crude catapult attacks. The problem, however, was the sheer number.

“This is driving me insane…!”

When the defense captain looked beyond the gate through the bars, he could see the ranks of the Allied Army, confidently launching dozens of small catapults without pause.

“Captain! At this rate, the walls might actually collapse!”

“Are you suggesting we open the gates and go out!? Once Lord Alchius arrives, all those worthless scraps will be swept away, so just hold on a little longer!”

“But the city is surrounded! If the blockade continues, riots might break out inside the city!”

“Urgh…”

At his deputy’s words, the defense captain could only let out a groan.

Like Amurtat and rural villages, consumer cities and producer towns were separated from each other.

And when consumers and producers begin to separate… nothing good happens, according to academic consensus. Proving this theory, Fahrenheit City’s population of 10 million, cut off from external supplies, was suffering from skyrocketing food prices.

In fact, Fahrenheit “City” was just a small part of Fahrenheit’s territory. Within Fahrenheit’s domain, crops could be placed in spatial storage without physical transportation, but not everyone had access to spatial storage.

Storage keepers needed the sovereign’s authority to access the spatial storage… but they had long been imprisoned by the Allied Army, cutting off the last lifeline for remote food procurement.

Of course, since it was winter, adding food to storage would have been like pissing on frostbitten feet anyway.

The Allied Army, formed by thirty-four nations (Amurtat was busy taking the Sword Master’s head) that had accumulated grievances against Fahrenheit over 300 years, boasted an enormous size of 1.2 million troops. They had the financial resources to maintain this massive army by consuming or selling off precious goods they had hoarded in spatial storage.

Naturally, like all group projects, there were some discordant notes, but everyone shared the common goal of “killing Fahrenheit.” This created an allied force that would go down in continental history, and the citizens of Fahrenheit, currently on a forced diet, knew its power better than anyone.

“Fahrenheit’s tyranny ends now!”

“A bright future lies in the alliance of free cities!”

“Nations of the world, unite!”

The Allied Army kept launching catapults while shouting propaganda slogans that somehow evoked red flags, and the defense force was now wisely dealing with this by abandoning their weapons and covering their ears with both hands.

*

“Is this the Master’s head?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Hmph. Keep it frozen. It would be a shame if it decayed.”

“Understood.”

Twenty-two.

That was the number of Expert-level knights sacrificed to capture this one Master.

He had cut down men who had reached the pinnacle of human achievement as easily as killing street thugs.

This wasn’t about irritation or anger.

It was fear.

This is what it feels like when a human-to-human relationship becomes human-to-superhuman.

Perhaps I too have inspired similar fear in others, equal to or greater than a Master.

“Send an envoy to the Allied Army. Tell them we’ve killed the Master. And send surrender terms to Fahrenheit.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

With this war, Fahrenheit had suffered a fatal blow.

First, its image as the dominant power of the North was completely destroyed by the cheerful rebellion of 35 nations. Its 300-year hegemony collapsed the moment the Master’s head was severed.

The only salvageable assets were the population and infrastructure, though truthfully, I would have preferred to tear apart the population and relocate the infrastructure entirely.

But that would create unnecessary resentment.

Even if we divided the population of over 10 million among 35 nations, each would need to accommodate 280,000 people, which would be more trouble than it’s worth. As for infrastructure, unless we could somehow move the very ground itself, taking it was impossible.

So what should the Allied Nations extract from Fahrenheit?

In truth, the relationship between Fahrenheit and the Allied Nations was simply that of master and servant. It wasn’t particularly hostile.

But just as all slaves yearn for freedom, those in subordinate positions always aspire to become the dominant ones.

However, as the saying goes, “Even a fallen noble family lasts three generations.” Even if Fahrenheit lost this war, the power balance wouldn’t completely collapse.

Marcus wasn’t stupid, just shortsighted. After this affair, it was natural to target Fahrenheit’s dungeon-centered economy, and reforming a 300-year-old national economy from its foundations would create tremendous aftershocks.

And in that chaos, our Allied Nations would extract Fahrenheit’s technologies and workforce.

Elderly technicians, young laborers, and all the technology and scientific knowledge accumulated over 300 years—we would take it all.

From metallurgy to architecture, everything that Fahrenheit’s ten million citizens had built over three centuries would be seized in a single war.

The day Fahrenheit’s gates open, its libraries will close.

*

Two weeks passed.

Two weeks was the time it took for Amurtat’s messenger to reach Fahrenheit carrying Alchius’s severed head in an ice-filled box.

“Make way! Envoy from Amurtat!”

The Amurtat envoy immediately showed Tiberius’s seal and headed straight for the tent where the Allied Army commanders had gathered. No one dared stop the envoy who had made the alliance possible.

Even if they wanted to, they feared the contents of the cold ice box might melt, so the envoy reached the commanders’ tent faster than anyone else.

“Commander! An envoy from Amurtat has arrived!”

The sentry announced the arrival of the Amurtat envoy, and a faint voice was heard from inside the tent.

“Let him in.”

“Thank you.”

The envoy, rubbing his stiff, cold body, entered the tent. Once inside, the warmth began to thaw his frozen limbs.

Befitting a gathering place for the Allied Nations’ representatives, the tent was incomparably warmer than the soldiers’ quarters. Dozens of people were staring at the box in the envoy’s arms. The envoy cleared his throat, placed the box on the table, and spoke.

“We killed him.”

“…Who?”

“Fahrenheit’s Sword Master. Alchius de Shailen.”

Thwack!

Upon hearing those words, a middle-aged man with an elegant beard struck the tent’s frame and shouted.

“Excellent!! We’ve won!! Quick… show us the head!!”

At the commander’s words, the envoy quietly opened the box.

Inside were melting ice and a wrapped head. With trembling hands, the envoy unwrapped the cloth, revealing the unmistakable head of Alchius.

“It’s him…! I’ve seen him before! It’s definitely Fahrenheit’s Master! Amurtat has done us a great service!”

The commander gestured to his aide to take the head, then grabbed and shook the Amurtat envoy’s hand.

Now that the greatest threat to the Allied Army—the Sword Master—was gone, Fahrenheit had virtually no chance of victory.

“Will you end the war now?”

“No, we can’t do that. We’ll maintain the blockade until spring comes. And when people start dying of starvation, that’s when we’ll show them this head. When they’re most desperate for hope, we’ll crush their greatest hope.”

Saying this, the commander stored Alchius’s head in a preservation artifact he had prepared in advance.

When spring comes next year and new shoots break through the earth, a nation’s hegemony will crumble.