What a Headache

Gawain Cecil had returned safely, bringing with him documents signed by the king and word of royal support.

Viscount Andrew, who had waited in Tanzan Town for nearly three months, felt that he had made the right decision: the Founding Hero from seven hundred years ago had not disappointed him. He was not merely a warrior, as Andrew had initially feared, but a man of both cunning and strategy.

What he had not expected was that the Founding Hero would choose the Dark Mountains as the starting point for restoring his family.

As a minor noble stationed on the southern frontier, Viscount Andrew was naturally no stranger to the Dark Mountains—indeed, the former Cecil Territory and Leslie Territory both lay north of the mountains, and on clear days, one only had to look up to see that magnificent natural barrier. The mountains blocked the unhealthy air drifting from the Gondor Wasteland, yet their abundance of monsters and endless strange tales made many people pale at the mention of them. Even the most desperate hunters rarely entered the Dark Mountains to make a living, even though the southern lords had opened up hunting rights within them.

The former Cecil Territory lay somewhat northwest of the Dark Mountains, with Tanzan Town to its northeast. The "New Cecil Territory" selected by Gawain lay southeast of Tanzan Town, the three roughly forming a triangle. However, New Cecil Territory was the closest of the three to the Dark Mountains, and its southern region even extended directly into the range.

A tributary of the White Water River flowing past Tanzan Town ran into New Cecil Territory. In terms of transportation, the new homeland was not a bad place: supplies from Tanzan Town could be obtained easily, and if the territory developed in the future, trade costs would also be greatly reduced.

That was assuming Gawain and his people could truly gain a foothold in that barren land.

Inside Viscount Andrew's castle, the thin, meticulous noble looked deeply troubled. "Forgive my frankness, Your Grace the Duke, but the first place you have chosen to settle is not... quite suitable. There is plenty of land there, but it is too close to the Dark Mountains and lacks the protection of civilized society. The beasts in the mountains are a major threat, and every Fog Moon, the Unclean Wind crosses the mountains from the Gondor Wasteland. Strong soldiers may be all right, but weak commoners and serfs will not be able to endure it..."

"You should have looked at the map. You should know that while the area I can choose from is vast, the conditions are much the same everywhere," Gawain said dismissively. "Among the lands bordering the Dark Mountains, the one I selected is already the best. The Unclean Wind can be resisted with medicine and magic. I will find my own solution to the matter of defense. As long as we can survive the first year, we can mine ore from the Dark Mountains, and the territory will have a foundation to stand on."

He could hardly tell him directly that he had chosen that place because the National Fortune Treasury from seven hundred years ago was buried in the mountains, could he?

At the very least, outsiders could not be told until he had opened the treasury and taken everything inside. Even then, only a limited number of people could know—hiding it completely was impossible. Those resources had to be used, and once they were brought out for construction, even an idiot could guess the truth.

He could only ensure that, before those things were all put to use, the fewer people who knew, the better.

Seeing how resolute Gawain was, Viscount Andrew naturally had no way to say more. He merely offered a reminder. "These are all your decisions. I will naturally support you as much as I can, but please remember our original agreement."

Gawain smiled faintly. "Don't worry. The Cecil Family never defaults on its debts—if you are truly worried, shall I pawn one or two of the antiques on my person to you?"

Rebecca, who was sitting across the table and reporting what she had seen in the royal capital to Aunt Heti, immediately looked up. Her eyes shone as she looked toward Gawain. My ancestor thinks just like me! Does that mean I inherited the family spirit?

Heti gave Rebecca's forehead a light knock. "Stop looking around—continue. At the banquet the king held, were you seriously busy eating from beginning to end?!"

"I drank wine too—I'm already an adult, so I can drink a little..."

Heti looked utterly despairing as she watched this slow-witted girl. "My heavens..."

As for Viscount Andrew, he naturally could not accept Gawain's "kindness." He hurriedly waved his hands. "No need, no need. I trust in the Cecil Family's reputation and the Founding Hero's word... Then when do you plan to depart?"

"The sooner, the better." Gawain nodded. "We will leave once the supplies are prepared. The support the king promised will take at least another month. I need to get my vassals settled in their new home first."

For those who had escaped alive from the disaster in the Old Cecil Territory, three months of recuperation had come to an end. Their lord's return from the royal capital meant they had to prepare immediately to welcome their new lives.

Even though most of them had no idea what those new lives would look like.

Knight Philip and Knight Byron were sent out with people to purchase necessary supplies and construction materials for the new territory in Tanzan Town—food, tools, tents, medicine, and countless other necessities they had never even considered.

The items that needed to be prepared piled up like mountains. Even Heti, who had long assisted in managing territorial affairs, and Byron, an old servant of the Cecil Family, had no idea where to begin. No one knew what was needed to build a territory from scratch. In this regard, only Gawain could provide some help—during the Great Expansion seven hundred years ago, Ansu's forebears had built their homes from nothing, and the memories in Gawain's mind concerning preparations for that era of expansion were invaluable experience.

Of course, after a gap of seven hundred years, Gawain's knowledge and experience might not all be entirely applicable, but the basic principles were largely the same.

No matter how tools developed and changed, the problems pioneers had to solve in the wilderness remained the same: food, clothing, shelter, transport, medical care, and protection.

As for funding, Viscount Andrew had previously returned the Cecil Family's gold, silver, and valuables, and combined with the money Knight Philip had preserved, it was not abundant, but it was barely enough to prepare the initial supplies.

The refugees from Cecil Territory moved throughout the town, buying supplies and hiring wagons. This naturally drew the attention of the locals. They had all heard that the Founding Hero had returned from the dead, and recently they had also heard that the young lady of Cecil had returned from the royal capital. Thus, they naturally knew that these "outsiders," who had lived in town for three months, were finally leaving.

Most of Tanzan Town's lower-class residents did not care whether these outsiders stayed or left. However, the outsiders purchased many things before departing, allowing the town's merchant guilds to make a substantial profit. Their complaints about their lord immediately diminished—before this, the lord had requisitioned many shacks to house the outsiders, and those shabby refugees could not be squeezed for even a few copper coins, which had made many merchants deeply dissatisfied with them.

While the two family knights ran about preparing supplies, Gawain had Heti and Rebecca count all the Cecil Vassals and compile a detailed register of the more than eight hundred survivors.

"It must include every person's name, age, gender, health condition, and skilled trade, grouped by family. Make another list as well, with carpenters, stonemasons, and blacksmiths listed separately. Oh, and if possible, assign everyone a number for easier reference."

This was the task Gawain assigned to his great-great-great-great... great-granddaughters. He had thought it would be simple, yet it left the two descendants of countless generations completely bewildered.

They had never even heard of basic personal records, much less knew how to make such a "form."

"You have never even conducted basic population registration?" Seeing Heti and Rebecca's blank expressions, Gawain felt even more confused than they were. "Then how did you count the population in your territory?"

Rebecca answered with an innocent expression. "Aunt Heti manages the lands around the castle, while the knights manage their own fiefs. It is enough to roughly know how many men, women, elderly people, and children there are. As for who is a blacksmith and who is a carpenter, the people living nearby mostly know one another, so we can just ask around."

Gawain: "..."

What the hell? Just ask around? Was this the legendary method of governing by glances, stabilizing the realm by reading faces, and pacifying the world with a single shout?

Noticing the stormy changes in Gawain's expression, Heti immediately grew nervous. "Ancestor... when you and the late king founded the nation back then, did you use the kind of forms you mentioned to count the population?"

Gawain hurriedly rummaged through the information in his mind. A moment later, his face turned green.

Damn it... It was even more chaotic back then.

The Gondor Empire had collapsed overnight, and its prosperous, advanced central regions had been completely wiped out. Those fortunate enough to survive the first wave of devastation had all been people from remote regions—and that ancient empire had been a typical unbalanced society. In Gawain's eyes, its development had even been almost grotesquely distorted: because Magic Technology relied on Magic Power Focuses, and natural Magic Power Focuses were limited, all of the Gondor Empire's advanced technologies were concentrated around "deep blue," the most powerful Magic Power Focus in the center of the continent. As for the remote regions where Magic Power Focuses were sparse...

They had been unimaginably backward.

Thus, when the Magic Tide erupted around deep blue, all of the Gondor Empire's advanced technology and highly educated population were sacrificed to the heavens. The survivors were then filtered over and over by the continuing energy radiation. By the time the pioneers led everyone to safety, Human Civilization had already completely collapsed...

To put it bluntly: the Four Great Kingdoms had been founded by a group of elementary school students leading a bunch of illiterates.

However, in a world where Supernatural Power existed, the strength of individuals at the top could, to a certain extent, offset the overall decline brought about by backward civilization. That was why the Four Great Kingdoms had been able to rise under the stubborn support of those pioneers with absurdly high combat power and withstand every kind of pressure during their founding years.

But, but, but!

It had been seven hundred years! Seven hundred years, and how had these disappointing descendants made so little progress?