The Town of the Devout
A town of pioneers and gratitude—Bragadaryu.
I came here alone.
Shipbuilding, expanding leases, daily chores.
More work piled up, so I left all five slaves behind.
"Lord... no, Your Majesty!"
As soon as I stepped off the train, the mayor, Zahar, dashed toward me.
Same energetic tone, same energetic movements—still the same overactive man.
"Waiting for me?"
"Yes!"
"Is that so. Let’s talk while we walk."
I start walking alongside Zahar.
Strolling through Bragadaryu.
"Things have really changed. Feels like a lie, that time when there was nothing here."
"Thanks to Your Majesty and Your Majesty’s slaves."
"I didn’t do much. Just secured the basics—food, shelter, clothing."
I say this, and suddenly notice something.
"Come to think of it, this town has a lot more two-story houses than others."
From a quick look, about twenty percent of the houses are two stories.
I only build wooden homes—doesn’t matter who they are, whether they’re living in the town now, or even treated as citizens these days—I give them free wooden homes.
It takes 2,500 mana, fifty Abnoi grass, three hundred wood shards, and ten Bushino stones to craft a wooden home.
I make and provide them, that’s all.
If someone wants more than that, or offers a payment, I’ll do it. That’s the deal.
I’ve left the details of that to Yuria since her slave card rank went up.
“Looks like about twenty percent are two-story houses.”
“The king’s doing. Everyone’s working hard. Working, and building their homes.”
“Huh. Still, the biggest consumption is from Pshini. Why’s that?”
I recall Yuria’s graph.
The demand chart, grouped by town, shows Brahadalryu standing out—way ahead in food demand.
—just that, really. Everyone else is mostly zero, but here it’s got two levels.
“Maybe it’s because they’re saving. The king said anyone can eat as much as they want in Pshini, so people building new houses are cutting back on food.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Did I mess up?”
“No? Not at all. In Pshini, you can consume as much as you like.”
Even if someone became a full-time parasite just consuming Pshini, it wouldn’t matter.
I’m the one who set that policy. As long as it’s within the rules and regulations, I won’t interfere.
“But if that’s the case, you should’ve said sooner. Yuria probably knows—there’s always a chance of something going wrong.”
“Got it.”
By the time we finished talking, we’d crossed Brahadalryu and reached the opposite side of town.
There, the townspeople were gathered.
About a hundred of them, and their reactions were split—clearly polarized.
Half of them had faces I recognized—staring at me like I was a holy relic.
Clasping their hands, muttering “Bragadaryu, Bragadaryu” like a prayer.
Townsmen from before.
The other half eyed me with suspicion.
Ragged clothes. Looked like a refugee.
“Over there—new townspeople?”
“Yeah. About two-thirds are folks who came back from Schreiviju. The other third heard the rumors and drifted in.”
“Rumors?”
“The king’s country. Been spreading lately. They say if you come here, you’ll be free. A paradise on earth.”
“Huh.”
“Good thing they came. But some are sulking once they realize they still gotta work.”
“Ah. Well, food, shelter, clothes—those are guaranteed. Rest’s up to them.”
“Yes!”
Zahar nods big, one of the few who really gets my rules.
Well then, let’s do it.
Since the slaves can’t spare their hands, I’m stepping in.
Wooden houses. Cloth clothes. Pshinny.
One by one, I’m conjuring the basics of survival—DORECA, magic circles, all of it.
The original townsfolk cheered, rushing to complete the circles with their own hands.
The newcomers scowled at first, skeptical, but slowly they warmed up—by the end, they were chanting my name right alongside the old residents.
Nice, I guess. But…
“Bragadarieu.”
“Bragadarieu.”
“Bragadarieu.”
Chanting that in unison? Feels a little much.
A town of pioneers. A town of thanks.
I’m starting to worry—this might end up a religion. Soon enough, I’ll probably be on a pedestal. Or worse. A shrine. With candles. And incense. And a statue. With a crown. Probably.