Ch.92The Safer Place

There are many reasons why people work, but if we had to pick the biggest one, it would be this.

To earn money.

As the saying goes, nothing in life is free. In this harsh world, one must acquire money or its equivalent to survive, and labor is virtually the only means to obtain these things.

From simple manual labor like plowing fields, sowing seeds, milking animals, and tanning hides, to sophisticated intellectual work where scholars combine decades of wisdom while putting their heads together. Ultimately, once born into this world, it’s impossible to live without working.

Even I, a monarch, live by working.

In Amurtat with its population of 1.4 million, there are countless jobs, and my subjects are quickly filling these positions.

“News of decreasing unemployment is always welcome. Don’t you agree?”

“Your words are most wise. As unemployment decreases, crime rates naturally follow suit.”

Whether life is tough or comfortable, people in this world are completely identical to those on Earth… or are they?

Hmm… since Earth people can’t use magic or aura, let’s say they’re about 98% the same.

Anyway, just as on Earth where some people choose to starve rather than take jobs they don’t like when times are tough, this world is also overflowing with those who either excessively pessimistic about their circumstances or overly confident in their abilities.

People typically refer to such individuals with derogatory terms like “those who don’t know their place” or “depressed bastards,” but having lived in 21st century Korea, I have a more fitting expression to replace those words.

“Potential perpetrators.”

The wording might be a bit harsh, but what of it? Such malcontents tend to be treated this way wherever they go.

Now that our nation’s population has surpassed one million and the people have divided into two factions, security-related issues are an area I’m particularly focused on.

There’s good reason for this—we don’t have modern conveniences like CCTV, and people can’t vent their frustrations on internet communities. If someone suffers silently and suddenly snaps, attempting a stabbing, at least several people would inevitably die.

Moreover, this is a world where aura and magic actually exist.

It’s so common for former knights or wizards suffering from PTSD to succumb to madness and cause disturbances in the streets, only to be subdued by master-level knights or mid-ranking wizards from the magic tower, that such incidents don’t even make the news anymore.

It’s not like you need special elixirs like blue vitriol to awaken aura, or potions like elixirs to awaken mana.

In this world, there are far too many means to kill people, and far too few ways for individuals to protect themselves.

Nevertheless, I know the most cost-effective method to reduce crime rates.

What is it, you ask?

“Aide.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Summon the Magic Tower Master.”

“As you wish.”

Allow me to explain from now.

*

“I heard you summoned me.”

“Bladek Lucas. Come, sit down. So… how is the Magic Tower operation progressing?”

The Magic Tower is fundamentally separate from the city.

While it’s certainly part of the city, due to the extremely limited number of wizards capable of operating a Magic Tower, the tower, despite being immaculately built, was essentially closed for business.

“It’s not easy. There are many gifted children who have spontaneously awakened their mana, but the middle… how should I put it…”

“There are no wizards who can immediately use magic?”

“Exactly. Of course, the children can be taught step by step, but I assume you called me because you need the power of magic?”

Bladek said this while subtly gauging my reaction.

Honestly, whenever people like Ignatz and Bladek—who could turn me into Tiberius before I even realized I was dead if they wanted to—try to read my mood, I can’t help but feel an indescribable sensation.

While it’s an unwritten rule that monarchs don’t interfere with Magic Tower operations, that rule only applies when the tower benefits the monarch.

The world operates on give and take, and people respond with beatings to those who suck the sweet nectar of the state without giving back to society.

“Well, don’t worry too much. What I’m asking is simple.”

“Simple… you say?”

“Yes. I’d like you to enchant sticks with self-luminous magic.”

“Ah…”

Self-luminous magic.

Simply put, it was a very basic level of magic that burned mana instead of firewood to emit light.

To explain it in understandable terms, a wizard who couldn’t perform even this magic would be like someone who confuses light soy sauce with dark soy sauce.

That’s how fundamental enchantment magic—inscribing specific formulas onto specific objects to produce specific phenomena, like self-luminescence—was to wizards.

“Well… if that’s all, even the apprentices I’m teaching could manage it. But how many do you need?”

“A great many. Enough to install as streetlamps throughout the entire city of Amurtat.”

“Streetlamps… I see… I understand. Then I’ll need to participate myself. They’ll need to withstand considerable contamination…”

The concept of using self-luminous enchanted objects as streetlamps wasn’t particularly special.

The calculation that one could install streetlamps that were easy to maintain and had virtually no fixed maintenance costs was something not only I but other monarchs could figure out as well.

There’s a reason they say people’s lives are fundamentally the same everywhere.

“So, is it possible?”

“It’s impossible in the short term, but we can provide a continuous supply over a longer period. As they continue using magic, surely some diamonds in the rough will emerge among the children.”

With those words, Bladek indicated it was possible.

“Well, don’t push the children too hard. Since these won’t be used indoors but in the harsh outdoors, you’ll need to inscribe not only self-luminous magic but also contamination resistance and wide-area mana accumulation magic.”

“Oh? You seem quite knowledgeable about magic.”

“Someone of my stature naturally possesses a few simple artifacts.”

“I see.”

Bladek didn’t inquire further.

Discerning the magic on artifacts was entirely possible even for ordinary people, as was redrawing or modifying the formulas.

While only wizards could infuse mana into formulas, even ordinary people could modify or adjust formulas that had already been infused with mana.

*

“So, this is the ‘streetlamp’?”

“Yes. Don’t touch the glowing part. The formula is vulnerable to impact.”

“Oh my.”

The aide, who had been curiously touching the softly glowing end of the streetlamp, quickly withdrew his hand upon hearing my advice.

“But will these streetlamps really help prevent crime?”

“Of course. If you were to commit a crime, would you choose a dark street or a well-lit one?”

“Well… a dark street, obviously.”

“Exactly. Moreover, even if we can’t prevent crime, having a light source like a streetlamp makes it easier to identify the perpetrator’s appearance and clothing.”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that advantage.”

The aide’s eyes lit up at my explanation, and he continued to fiddle with the streetlamp like a child.

Hmm… seeing an old man act like this is somewhat endearing.

“Have you never seen a streetlamp before?”

“Ah… I’ve seen similar things, but never in this form. The city I was in previously… didn’t last very long.”

“I see. Then take a good look now.”

The aide is competent, but not at a level where he can create something from nothing.

He’s an excellent advisor and administrator, but at his age, one typically reaches that level.

He’s not the type to devise systematic management methods, but rather someone who, through sheer experience, can say, “I’ve tried it, and it’s B, not A.”

But I actually appreciate that about him.

Young, creative aides often forget that their position is that of an ‘aide’ and try to implement their so-called ‘new laws’ or ‘new civilizational advancements’ in the nation, and preventing such recklessness consumes considerable mental energy.

Modern people might foam at the mouth hearing this, but in this world, monarchs must act like monarchs, and subjects must act like subjects.

Who said that? Confucius? Mencius? Well, it doesn’t matter anymore.

Now, Amurtat will become the aide’s final homeland.