Chapter 70

I sequentially handed over the duties I had held up until now to each department.

The treaties concluded in the past. However, I am not the one who will actually put them into motion. The practical affairs belong to the respective government offices. The Royal Capital is built so that it turns even without me. I was making the final confirmations of those. I handed those over as well.

The only thing that was hard to let go of until the very end was the matter of the academy.

But in the end, I let it go. Because I decided to foster the medical academy in my territory. So that the person taking over would not be lost, I did an especially thorough handover.

Thus, by the time preparations for departure were complete, the people who would follow me had also been decided.

There were those attached to me by royal command.

Secretaries, accountants, and a minimum number of knights. Soldiers. Doctors. Attendants. Cooks. Specialists.

The plan had already spread to parts of the Royal Capital.

From among them, there also appeared those who requested to accompany me.

Young monks who had obtained the monastery’s permission to learn medical arts. Merchants who anticipated a new market and secured supply contracts.

It was not a whim. It was participation established upon profit and duty.

…The traces of the struggles in coordination clearly remained in the mountains of letters and the exhausted faces of the officials.

I glanced at that and quietly let out a breath.

I was finally realizing that leaving the Royal Capital moved a great many things, more than I had thought.

I looked at the procession.

A group advancing slowly over the stone paving of the Royal Capital.

At the head was a flag. While bearing the twin lions of the Royal Family, it was accompanied above by a thin, three-tasseled silver mark. A mark indicating me, distinct from the King’s crest.

Cavalry soldiers solidified the front and back of it. There was no waste in their movements. It was an escort for practical affairs, not for ceremony.

Behind that, carts followed. Loaded on the carts advancing with creaking sounds were barrels and boxes.

Dried meat, hard bread, dried beans, salt.

Document boxes, measuring instruments, and tubes containing drawings.

Materials for building a city. And at the same time, tools for “calling forth” a city.

Pulling the carts were horses and several attendants.

Further behind, a line of people. The secretaries were already writing something down. This journey, too, will eventually become a record, I suppose.

The diplomats kept an eye on their surroundings, maintaining a distance where they could exchange words with anyone.

The architects stopped their feet whenever they saw a post town or a bridge along the road, directing a gaze as if measuring something. They might already be envisioning the locations of buildings that do not yet exist.

And, several people clad in white coats. The head medical officer and his assistants.

They did not speak much. But their eyes chose people. To select the doctors who will likely gather from here on out.

…The number of people is not large. Roughly 100.

But, this is enough. The people here are not those who till the land. They are the first cogs—for calling people, creating systems, and launching a city.

I slowly exhaled.

Eventually, the people will swell.

But right now, it is still before that.

I muttered softly.

“It begins, huh.”

It was not a word meant for anyone to hear.

For the next few days, we will use post towns along the highway.

But it is not as if all nearly one hundred people can fit under a roof.

We will pitch makeshift tents around the carts, take turns tending the fires, and pass the night.

The calculation is that the food we brought will be enough, but arrangements have also been made to buy more at villages along the way.

With salt and silver coins, a path will open.

On the third day after departing the Royal Capital, it rained.

The highway became muddy, and one cart became unable to move.

“A wheel is cracked.”

At the report, the procession stops. We cannot detour. Repairs will take time. I looked at it for a while before saying.

“Divide the load. We advance.”

No one complains.

However, our advance definitely slowed down.

While moving, the voices of the merchants were outwardly calm.

“How do you intend to handle medicinal herbs?”

“Well now, that has not been decided yet.”

While exchanging words with smiles, their gazes were sharp.

Which inn to stay at. Who to sit at the same table with.

Who to run talks through first. Just that changes what lies ahead.

A land where nothing exists yet.

But among them, a scramble for places had already begun.

“However—”

One of them lowered his voice slightly.

“Should not the one who concluded a supply contract first be prioritized?”

The air changes. Another merchant replies without breaking his smile.

“The contract was a matter in the Royal Capital. The treatment on-site will be another matter, will it not?”

“…That is a difference in interpretation.”

His words were polite, but he did not pull back.

“We have already secured the transport route for medicinal herbs as well.”

“That too, should not be confirmed yet.”

Their gazes clash. The distance between them closed by a step. The people around them held their breath slightly.

—If it breaks down here, it will be fast. I opened my mouth.

“That is enough.”

It was a low voice. The movements of the two stopped. I dropped my gaze from on horseback.

“This is not yet a market.”

I say quietly.

“Do not arbitrarily decide things that have not been decided.”

Silence. I continued.

“I saw the contracts.”

The faces of the two stiffened slightly.

“But how they will be used is—”

A beat.

“I will decide.”

The air completely stopped. I sweep my gaze around.

“The places, the order, and the rights as well.”

I declare shortly.

“Do not fight.”

That was all. After a moment of silence, the first to open his mouth was the initial merchant.

“…Please forgive my rudeness.”

He bows his head deeply. The other also bowed his head belatedly.

“I was rash.”

I gave a small nod.

“As long as you understand.”

I say no more. The procession began to move again. But it is different from before.

—Who holds the order of this place.

That alone had been clearly conveyed.

In the evening, preparations for the encampment began.

The carts were drawn into a circle, and the soldiers skillfully determined the placements.

The locations for the campfires were set, and firewood was piled. Eventually, the fires were lit. Dry branches crackled, and smoke slowly rose.

The wind pushed it.

The smoke flowed and entered the procession. It was the direction where the monks were. One of them covered his mouth with his sleeve and grimaced.

“…The smoke is strong.”

At the softly leaked words, someone nearby nodded.

“This is a little tough in the middle of a prayer.”

A soldier who caught that voice looked back.

“We cannot change the position of the fire. The formation will collapse.”

He says shortly.

The monk replies quietly.

“You only need to move us upwind.”

“The wind changes.”

The soldier does not back down a single step.

“It is the same no matter which place it is.”

At those words, a slight tension runs through.

The fire is not just a campfire.

The placement of the carts, the positions of the lookouts, visibility at night—everything is decided with that as the standard.

If moved, the formation collapses.

I compared the position of the fire and the direction of the wind, and opened my mouth.

“Change the places.”

The soldier moved his brow slightly.

“The fire is fine as it is.”

I continue.

“Move the people.”

I say shortly.

The soldier thought for an instant, and eventually nodded.

“…Bring the monks this way.”

The monks quietly change their positions.

The fire remains as it is, and only the smoke flows away in the wind.

It did not become a major clash.

But—such small disputes are certainly there.

While watching that, I quietly let out a breath.

When people gather, they will inevitably clash.

Is judging that also the duty of one who stands above?

…………I suppose that is a task that will never change.