#110. This Might Be Something I Could Use
In the battle of time, Heormich had won.
Truthfully, it was fortunate for me. If the kingdom’s reply had arrived first, I would have been forced to respond while still completely in the dark.
Though the report claimed to be “briefly summarized,” it still contained eight years’ worth of information, compiled across various fields. The stack was thicker than most encyclopedias.
After offering Heormich a few words of thanks, I returned straight to my room.
Tomorrow was the weekend, so tonight I needed to read through everything of importance, devise countermeasures, and then head off to meet Count Griff.
“Let’s start by looking at the kingdom’s chronic problems.”
The table of contents was clearly laid out, easy to navigate, and made guessing at relevant sections simple. That alone deserved praise.
If I had been forced to read through this entire volume front to back just to extract the information I needed, not even I could have finished it in one night.
“First, I should look at the geographical conditions.”
Did the person who compiled this report already know that I was utterly ignorant of my homeland’s geography? If so, and if they had intentionally crafted the report this way, I’d be tempted to scout the writer for myself.
After all, tailoring a report to the reader’s level of knowledge is just as important as the content itself.
“Tempting. But Heormich would never give this person up.”
A shame, really. Why is it that all the capable people in this world already serve someone else? If they were all under my command, things would be so much easier.
Clicking my tongue lightly, I flipped to the section that contained the information I wanted.
“I really don’t know a single thing about Lamore Kingdom, do I?”
Not its geography, not its history, not even the family relations of its current king.
I’d assumed this life would mirror my previous one, yet the truth was starkly different: unlike before, I had no interest whatsoever in my own bloodline.
Some might say it was only natural—I had left my homeland at the age of three, after all. But even so, in my previous life I had not been so indifferent.
Back then, I clung to my family name until the very end, simply because we shared the same blood.
I had once been considered the most promising candidate to succeed as head of house—only to be discarded when a legitimate heir was born. Then, before that child even came of age, I had been forced to take responsibility for the collapsing household when the family head suddenly died. Later, when the child grew up, I was cast aside once again, this time because I wasn’t of the main line.
Even after enduring all of that.
[“The reason parasites cling to you is because you are too yielding. Cut them off decisively. If you wish, I’ll even lend you my authority. Would you like me to grant you a new surname?”]
Whenever I closed my eyes, I could still hear His Majesty’s furious voice echoing in my ears.
At the time, I had thought him unreasonable, even absurd.
How could I sever ties of blood? Even if they mistreated me, I believed I could never abandon those who shared my lineage. That conviction is still vivid in my memory.
And yet, in this life, I felt neither hatred nor even the slightest concern for those relatives who used me.
Was it, as His Majesty once said, that I had simply changed my outlook? Or was it because my bloodline here was still Igaya, and thus held no significance for me? I couldn’t say.
“Either way… perhaps His Majesty would have been pleased.”
That I was no longer bound by blood.
I recalled His Majesty’s calm expression, telling me without hesitation that he could simply hand Lamore Kingdom over to me.
But just how much had he truly known back then?
Did he realize that I listened without any particular reaction? That I had no interest in diplomacy between empire and kingdom, nor any knowledge of royal succession? Did he see straight through me?
I realized belatedly that I was absently fiddling with the drawer where I stored His Majesty’s letters. Startled, I pulled my hand away.
At my earnest request, he had stopped sending them. So why was it that I still thought of him from time to time, despite knowing nothing of his current state?
“Geography, geography…”
Checking that the oil lamp still had enough fuel, I resumed reading.
Fortunately, the report included maps, making it easier to follow.
For the first time at the age of fourteen, I carefully studied the geography of my homeland. Lamore was a land of broad plains bordered to the north and west by mountain ranges.
“…And yet they still chose to align with the Empire?”
To the north lay the Retaille Empire. To the south, the Kingdom of Cartian.
Given that the mountain range served as a natural barrier against the Empire, wouldn’t it have made more sense to fear Cartian instead?
Even if the Empire’s prestige was greater, they were hardly going to dispatch troops to protect Lamore.
My doubts were quickly resolved as I read further.
The single greatest problem facing Lamore Kingdom was the “barbarians” who lived within those mountains.
Not only its greatest problem, but the source of most of the kingdom’s woes.
Lamore was, in many ways, a blessed land despite its small size.
The mountains formed a natural shield against the mighty Empire. The plains were vast and fertile, resources plentiful. Untapped mines dotted the territory. Situated in the continent’s center, it was geographically well-positioned for trade.
But those same mountains harbored fierce barbarian warriors.
The land was too rugged for farming. Slash-and-burn cultivation yielded little grain, and winters left even hunting barren.
So each winter, the barbarians would descend, raiding the freshly harvested autumn stores.
The plains should have produced more than enough to feed the entire nation. But because of constant plundering, Lamore was forced to expand farmland elsewhere, raising the proportion of its territory devoted to agriculture.
That left little room for other industries to develop.
Strengthening national defense was also impractical. To keep a standing army year-round just to deal with raiders who only appeared in winter was an impossible burden.
One king had once attempted a campaign to eradicate the barbarians. But the very mountains that shielded Lamore also served as the barbarians’ refuge. Having lived there for generations, they could vanish into the terrain at will, making pursuit nearly impossible.
The enlarged army starved the peasantry, who could no longer produce enough food. The effort ended in catastrophic failure, and ever since, the kingdom had abandoned the idea of expanding its defenses.
“A common enough story…”
Unless a peerless genius emerged to crush them, kingdoms plagued by such tribes would continue to suffer raids for decades—sometimes centuries.
Larger nations could absorb the damage, as only border regions were affected. But Lamore was too small; a single raid rattled the entire country.
Ironically, had they used their army to seize land from a neighbor instead of chasing the barbarians, it might have been a better solution.
But that was only because the barbarians back then lacked ambition—content to raid food without exploiting the kingdom’s weakness to seize more.
Either way, those events were decades past. I skimmed over them and read on.
In short: while Lamore had mines, they remained undeveloped. The barbarian presence made the mountains lawless, infested with bandits, and trade to the north or west was practically impossible.
Thus, all commerce had to be routed south or east, negating the advantage of Lamore’s central position on the continent.
“Still… this is what’s kept them alive.”
Because of these circumstances, Lamore was little more than a “chicken rib”—a prize that looked tempting but wasn’t worth the effort.
To make use of the land, one had to first deal with the barbarians. But once the barbarians were gone, the kingdom would instantly become an irresistibly valuable prize.
So whoever went to the trouble of eliminating the barbarians would only be setting the table for every other predator to swoop in.
“I’m hardly the only one who’s realized this.”
It was troublesome, yes. But as long as the barbarians left enough for the kingdom to scrape by, and as long as their existence spared Lamore the cost of maintaining an army, some kings must have thought it better to treat the stolen harvest as if it were the price of national defense.
That would explain the kingdom’s passive, almost negligent stance.
Rather than bold initiatives, Lamore had resigned itself to defending each winter with whatever soldiers it already had.
Neglect, in all but name.
“…This might be something I can use.”
In my past life, I had conquered and reorganized half the continent. I had dealt with countless groups like these: tribes without states, surviving on raids and hunting.
Perhaps not just in Lamore, but across the entire continent—no one was more skilled at handling such people than I.
With that thought, I committed the information firmly to memory and continued flipping through the rest of the report.
