The Medieval Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset

The Medieval-Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset 38

38. Don’t Do It Alone

When do we feel the tedium of time?

I felt the years I had lived pass by while I was on the rattling subway. I was sitting in a seat, my head drooping like a wilted bean sprout, when I suddenly realized something. As a child, I used to look out the window , eager to see even the dark underground scenery.

I started playing the game because I wanted to regain that sense of freedom and emotion, but at some point, I seemed to have forgotten even the reason I started.

Far from being carefree, I was obsessed with efficiency and expansion, as if someone was chasing me, trying to kill me. Even though I had the intention of healing myself, I ended up racking my brains, wondering who I should kill.

It’s the same now. Even though I’m going through an experience that most people would find difficult, I haven’t looked around me much. There’s a lot to feel in many ways.

For the first time in a long time, I turned my gaze to the side instead of forward.

Towards the plains that belonged to the Illenfoot bishopric.

Illenfoot’s plains were surrounded by gentle hills, giving them a relatively open feel. It was much better than a country surrounded by mountains. The plains were dotted with natural landscapes that had been less touched by human hands, reminiscent of a village in a fairy tale .

The sky was clear and blue, and the sunlight shone brightly, illuminating the swaying ears of wheat.

In the middle, a large river flowed across the plains, and willow and elm trees lined the banks. The water, which seemed too clear to be true, was so transparent that one could clearly see the sand, gravel, and small stones at the bottom.

In addition, green weeds and wildflowers filled the surroundings, creating a simple but beautiful flower garden.

Of course, for farmers, they would be nothing but pests. In the midst of the lush nature, they would be like enemies to farmers who worked hard with sickles and plows.

Strictly speaking, this plain was an area where human hands had touched more.

Cows swished their tails and grazed on the grass, men pulled weeds from the fields and tilled the soil with plows, and women gathered fallen fruit from the trees.

It was a truly idyllic and peaceful scene.

“Your Highness, I think it’s time to get back in the carriage.”

I wanted to continue walking on foot and enjoy it all. John’s voice, which had always been funny or pathetic, was approaching me for the first time with a cold and sharp edge.

“Can’t we just ride the horses all the way?”

“There are no more horses to change to. They said the horses had to take it easy.”

There is one thing that shocked me the most about living in this medieval world. Horses have less stamina than you might think. To be precise, there is a significant difference in performance depending on the breed and bloodline.

Of course, expensive and good horses are fast and can go for a long time, but most horses can’t run for long. They often get tired even from carrying a person on their backs and walking slowly, so they have to be rotated in shifts of two.

In the end, it was much more economical to have two horses pull a carriage that could carry several people than to have two horses rotate to transport one person. This is easy for anyone to understand.

So what’s the problem?

The answer lies in the fact that the carriages in this world are of a very low standard. They creak and rattle, and there aren’t even any paved roads. Even if you try to endure it, the cocktail made in your stomach often spills out.

I couldn’t help but complain about this terrible road environment.

“What kind of carriage is this that shakes so much? Even an earthquake would be gentler than this.”

“Your Highness. If you say such things in front of people who have blisters on their feet from walking, they will beat you with a hoe.”

John couldn’t hold back his grumbling any longer and looked at me with a sullen expression, so I ended up hitting him.

That’s because I suddenly realized why the lower class people were so desperate to kill the upper class people. I was asking if I couldn’t ride a horse because I got motion sickness even riding in a carriage, but for most people, there was no other way than to walk.

To people who are always on their feet, I must seem like a rich kid who complains about sore buttocks even when riding in a carriage.

However, I had my reasons to complain.

Whether it was the Middle Ages or a medieval-like fantasy world, what was I supposed to do with such primitive and unpleasant conditions? Even if I were to brag about cutlery in the Middle Ages, it was all the same to a modern person who was used to buses zooming along paved roads and trains arriving at stations every five minutes.

I gasped heavily, unable to express my grievances, and then got up.

“I’ll endure it for just one day. I just have to hold on for one day.”

“Oh dear. I wish Your Grace could just stay in a carriage for the rest of your life. I’ve come to realize how composed you are, Your Grace, all thanks to the carriage.”

And what John, who was chattering like a magpie, needed to feel was the weight of the horse.

A moment later, when he got on the carriage, John was rubbing his swollen lips while shedding a few tears. The bishop, John seeing, raised his eyebrows as he closed his shoulder mantle.

“I believe that young man has been bitten by a bee.”

“I bit my own tongue. More importantly, Bishop, do I really have to go all the way to the port?”

That’s right. I had no intention of crossing the sea just to have my miracles examined.

I didn’t dislike the Church’s judgment that they would publicize the fact that my stigmata had manifested to add to my authority. It was just that the sea was so unpredictable that plans could easily go awry.

Unless one had memorized the surrounding coastline as thoroughly as Admiral Yi Sun-sin, the pride of South Korea and a man who had never lost a battle, one should not venture out recklessly. Furthermore, if pirates existed even in the modern 21st century, what would this world be like?

Even without pirates, there were plenty of problems. Those who romanticize sailing, especially old-fashioned sailing, should come to their senses.

Life on board a ship is a closed society created by sailors who have no way to communicate with the mainland due to limited communication technology, who are forced to endure a poor and meager diet, and who have been driven to the brink of despair.

It’s ridiculous to think of washing one’s body with precious drinking water, and one had to close one’s eyes and eat wormy hardtack as if it were meat. If enduring such a life makes one a real man, then I’ll just have to be a sissy.

I’m already having a hard time riding in a carriage, and I didn’t think I could endure such a harsh and brutal life. Romance is only romantic if I can accept it; the moment it becomes forced, it’s nothing but absurdity.

This was the reason why I had memorized the historical and religious significance of the Isle of Elenfoot and requested special dispensation from the Vatican.

Fortunately, the Vatican, after much deliberation, including the threat from Yubas, which I had modestly mentioned, granted me special dispensation. However, it came with one condition that they would never compromise on.

According to Bishop Ganista, the Vatican’s moderate, it was this:

“Since Your Grace has persuaded us with religious significance, the Vatican also wishes to emphasize religious significance even more. Saint Ilenio breathed his last in that southern port, you see.”

Oh, just get to the point. I leaned back against the seat, my appetite returning. It seemed that the Vatican was being more meticulous than I had imagined. Well, that’s why secular rulers would declare independence at the drop of a hat.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. The bishop, seeing my lukewarm response, began to unpack his news one by one, like a trying grandfather to appease his grandson.

“Speaking of the port, I heard that a few days ago, a warship was spotted following the ship we sent out earlier. It seems to have taken the bait.”

The carriage had yet to depart. The attendants who were assisting the party were grumbling as they organized themselves.

Thanks to this, I was able to organize my thoughts with a relaxed mind and a clear head.

The sea that I had been aiming for. I had widely publicized when the miracle examination would take place, but I had deliberately kept the fact that the Vatican had granted me special dispensation a secret. This was a measure to prevent Yubas, who had its own navy, from blockading the coast.

However, one thing that worried me was whether Yubas was really that gullible.

“How long will it take for the enemy to notice the bait?”

“They won’t notice it easily. I have my own countermeasures in place. Yubas will definitely attack.”

Bishop Ganista said with a satisfied smile, but the content was quite gruesome. I couldn’t hide my trembling heart as I pointed out a few facts.

“They don’t necessarily have to attack. It’s enough to divert the enemy’s attention to some extent. They’ll notice it after they attack anyway, so why would they risk unnecessary casualties?”

“hahahaha.”

The bishop responded to my objection with a laugh that contained complex emotions. It was such a strange tone that some might have felt mocked, while others might have felt extremely pleased and satisfied.

The bishop laughed for a long time before finally folding his hands together in a serious and pious manner.

“If we do, we must achieve the best possible outcome. If Yubas disguises itself as pirates and attacks the bait, even the miracle examination subjects will not be safe. The Vatican will be able to mobilize the surrounding lords, knights, and religious orders under the pretext that Yubas’ naval patrols are insufficient. It may not be much now, but it will lay the foundation.”

“….”

“If that happens, it will be enough to fortify the major crossroads and coastlines in the future, even if it falls short of Yubas’ proud army.”

Our Vatican seems to have thought of everything. Mostly in a sinister way.

Logically speaking, it was an idea with no downsides. However, it seemed that the Vatican and I had slightly different playstyles. I could kill, but there was a clear difference in our motives for killing and the results we sought from killing.

The Vatican was using gradual attrition to slowly strangle their opponents to death.

On the other hand, I, who had been playing [Fantasy Monarch], sought a shocking and swift assassination so that the enemy would be unable to prepare. The reason for this difference was simple.

I crossed my arms and pointed out the parts that Bishop Ganista was trying to cover up.

“Rather than tarnishing his reputation by building up a pretext like that, it would be better to reveal that Yubas had committed apostasy at the right time after establishing a sect, and then excommunicate him. It would collapse on its own.”

“…Heh heh.”

“Your Holiness, it seems that you want to avoid Yubas’ authority from collapsing completely.”

The Vatican tended to work to consume others as completely as possible.

I was the opposite. I tended to break things down into small pieces, chew them thoroughly, and swallow them one piece at a time so that they were easy to digest. John was cowering in the increasingly tense atmosphere when suddenly…

One of the servants who had been bustling around outside approached the carriage.

“Everyone is ready. Master, is it okay to depart?”

“Let’s go.”

“Yes, sir.”

I stared at Bishop Ganista for a while without looking away.

“From now on, I would like us to be open with each other and not do anything independently.”

“It seems that Your Grace is very upset. I will do as you say. After all, I cannot trifle with the heart of a valuable person like Your Grace.”

It seemed that he didn’t believe me just because I said it. The bishop raised the back of his hand, showing me his stigmata.

Only then was I able to stop being annoyed. Nylon believers in this era lived carelessly, but real priests were different. I didn’t know about anything else, but the words spoken while showing the stigmata were as good as a promise.

After all, it would be like lying to his own faith.

***

The raid was textbook.

Two days since the pursuit began.

As the land remained on the horizon, grappling hooks were thrown at a ship that was inexperienced and had its feet tied by the sea currents. Planks for boarding were placed between the ships, and blades were drawn from their sheaths.

The close-quarters combat on the ship was overwhelming.

The attacked ship fought back, mobilizing even the laborers due to a shortage of sailors, but their opponents were Yubas. Yubas’ sailors were an elite force that had defeated pagan pirates as companions of the church, taking the place of the weak four duchies.

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Yubas’ sailors cleared the deck of everything, even tearing apart the screams. And when even the panting breaths had stopped, the boys who had been hiding inside the ship were dragged out onto the deck, wailing.

“Ugh, ow. Oh, Mom.”

“P-Please spare me.”

The boys begged for mercy from the sailors surrounding them, but it was no use. The eyes of the sailors looking at the boys had been dull for a long time, and the gaze of the captain leading them was as cold as ice.

Finally, when the last boy had been dragged out, one of the sailors spoke.

“Eight prisoners. None of them look like nobles or have the demeanor of knights.”

“Stigmata?”

“They all have cross-shaped scars on the backs of their hands. It seems that the sailors cut them with knives every day to prevent them from healing.”

Everything was clear. It would be foolish not to notice.

The captain pulled down the brim of his hat to cover his eyes.

‘Bait.’

The unstable political situation on the islands and the repeated invasions by raiders created poor drifters in the morning. Many people sold their children in order to a piece of land or a loaf of bread to satisfy their hunger.

Eight unrelated boys could be supplied at any time. In this world, the captain was a relatively conscientious and compassionate man.

“Captain.”

“…”

After thinking for a moment, he slowly turned and instructed his subordinates.

“Kill him in one blow. Don’t let him suffer for too long.”

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