The Medieval Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset
Chapter 73

The Medieval-Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset 73

73. Heart to Heart

The most surprising thing I’ve encountered living in this medieval otherworld is the authority of the Church.

Contrary to expectation, the Church is not superior to secular rulers. Against those with little power, perhaps, but against established secular rulers, it’s always a struggle. And they must even consider the public’s opinion, making it more suffocating than anticipated.

However, there is a moment when the Church holds absolute superiority over secular power.

It’s in matters related to the otherworld.

If one commits apostasy to the otherworld, the individual is invariably burned at the stake, and even their relatives are implicated and subjected to interrogation. Even without the Church’s intervention, any independent contact or defense of the otherworld is deemed heretical.

Being classified as a heretic is somewhat better than an apostate. A heretic is still seen as having a chance for repentance, so they’re not necessarily burned at the stake.

The Church proclaimed this logic while pointing at apostates causing Maillard reactions atop pyres:

– Those who reject the world of humanity, where humans are respected, deny their own rights as humans; thus, we will not treat them as our kin.

Note that the humans of this world ruthlessly hunt down other races and their followers, sparing neither age nor gender. The Church’s slogan from the start has been the extermination of the otherworld.

The terrifying part lies here. If one is marked as an apostate or an irredeemable heretic, they become part of the extermination target.

And for the Church, if it’s for the extermination of the otherworld, clashing with secular power is a madness they willingly endure. Normally cautious, but if they deem someone unfit, they bite and kill without hesitation.

Yet Count Phaethon was a man of stronger resolve than expected.

The fog rising from the sea is the work of the otherworld. Despite saying so, he did not retreat but brought forth rational grounds to assert his stance.

“Bishop, do you intend to convince everyone with just that one statement?”

Authority could be used to crush opposition. But as he said, not everyone will be convinced.

Even if they seem foolish, they are on our side. Now that the invasion of the otherworld is becoming evident, it’s necessary to show a conciliatory attitude rather than hastily causing a rift.

In the end, I had to recall the facts I had learned and explained them kindly.

“As you know, the Church compiles various records to care for the people and for posterity. Among them are important parts related to climate and agriculture.”

Though a stranger, it’s Bishop Penrad’s judgment.

As soon as the Bishop over there saw the ominous fog that had invaded the Principality of Penrad, he must have checked to see if anything similar had happened before. I couldn’t give a definite answer since I’ve never rummaged through the library of the Diocese of Penrad, but I could guarantee it.

“Even when fog rises, there is a limit. Sir Gavin said that the fog has been here for about 5 years now. For 5 years, the fog hasn’t dissipated and instead of staying in one place, it’s spread. This is by no means a natural phenomenon.”

Even if it were an anomaly that only occurred once in a thousand years, if the enemy could use it to their advantage, then it was the enemy’s doing.

With such thoughts hidden away, each and every one of Count Fearthan’s feeble excuses were exhausted as I pointed them out. Above all, the biggest factor was that the group that had been in agreement with Count Fearthan all fell away.

Even before Count Fearthan could open his mouth, they took a step back on their own.

“If that is the Church’s judgment.”

“It is certain that it would cause less damage if we were to stop them in the Principality of Penrad rather than have this place become a battlefield.”

“You all!”

Count Fearthan raised an eyebrow, but he had already lost his momentum. The vassals who had stepped back shrugged their shoulders, paying no mind to Count Fearthan’s reproachful gaze.

The person who was most overjoyed at this dramatic change in atmosphere was, of course, Sir Gavin, who had come to ask for help.

“Thank you, Your Grace…!”

The pitiful-looking knight looked at me with a moved expression, bowed his head once, and then straightened up again. However, it seemed that Count Fearthan was not the kind of person to give up easily.

He took a step back and glanced at his followers, who were watching cautiously, and instead of spewing meaningless anger at them, he aimed it at me.

“Archbishop. Even if the Principality of Penrad’s request for help is legitimate…”

“I’ve been thinking about pointing this out from the beginning.”

Of course, I’m not the one who would take that provocation head-on.

“Where are your honorifics?”

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Some would recite the romance of chivalry, and others would point to the timely innocence.

To me, it was a thorough class system and a hierarchy of power.

No matter how young and inexperienced I may be, I didn’t have the time to be called like a dog by Count Fearthan. Even if he considered my status as the third son of the High King to be insignificant, he couldn’t ignore my position as a prelate sanctioned by the Papacy.

Only then did Count Fearthan notice and become somewhat submissive.

“…Your Grace.”

“Yes. Speak, Count Barasta.”

“I understand that Your Grace’s argument is indeed valid. However, what if they are feinting?”

At those words, I couldn’t help but snort.

“Those who are already sweeping through the Principality of Penrad with an army of 10,000 will mobilize more troops and force a distant expedition? Doesn’t that sound strange even to you?”

“Ummm…”

He called me like a dog and now his sense of numbers seems to be paralyzed.

Of course, if it were a certain peninsula people who had experience with a really big neighbor, it could be possible. They lived next to guys who could raise an army of 100,000 on a whim and a million if they really put their minds to it , so their sense of scale could not help but be numbed.

However, 10,000 is by no means a small number.

If you don’t believe me, try working as a cook in a training throwing camp. I still vividly remember frozen hunks of meat on the floor and smashing them to feed not even 10,000, but a mere 1,000 people.

I had the experience of being forcibly drafted because there was a shortage of cooks, so I was able to cultivate a realistic sense of numbers.

And this sense of numbers was [common sense] that even the medieval people of this world, who were far behind the modern era, shared. Count Fearthan seemed to realize that he had brought up a ridiculous argument, and his face flushed with shame.

This clear answer was the decisive blow.

“Indeed, 10,000 is by no means a small force.”

“Your Grace is right. The mere fact that we can face 10,000 pagans somewhere else than here is a great help.”

“When they come ashore… Hmm. I understand what Your Grace is trying to say.”

The lords, who had only been mumbling up until now, began to speak up one by one.

Even Count Fearthan was forced to answer with silence. Rather than saying that he had bowed to the prevailing trend, it seemed that he had persuaded himself that it was much better to stop them in another land than to have the unfortunate Principality of Powys become a battlefield.

At last, the minor rift was finally mended.

With warm words of camaraderie, both the liege and his vassals reached a consensus to answer the plea for aid. However, amidst the jovial atmosphere, there were those whose faces turned ashen.

King Aethelstan was their foremost representative.

King Aethelstan stared blankly at the sky for a moment before turning his gaze toward Terbear and slowly opening his mouth.

“….We shall answer the plea for aid from the Duchy of Penrad. We shall willingly send the strongest force our duchy can muster. Terbear, rally the knights. We shall defeat the enemies threatening our fellow Penradians.”

“As you command, Your Majesty!”

Terbear did not notice the agitation in that declaration, simply responding with a radiant smile.

Indeed, he was not one to be expected to make strategic judgments. Terbear was simply overjoyed at the prospect of cracking the skulls of heathens. Lord Gavin also broke into a wide smile at the prospect of sending Terbear away, placing his fist over his heart .

“Thank you, Your Majesty! All of Penrad shall be moved by the generous and faithful decision you have shown!”

“Lord Gavin, you have my support!”

“For our fellow Penradians!”

The audience chamber turned into a veritable festival as the lords applauded Lord Gavin’s decorative demeanor.

“Bishop-Prince of Powys, remain here for a moment.”

That was all, except for King Aethelstan on his throne and Lord Oberth standing beside him.

And then.

I, who had been granted an audience with King Aethelstan, could not help but be astounded.

“100,000!!!!!”

***

King Aethelstan declared, “The reason the Church has broken with tradition and elevated the Diocese of Powys to a prince-bishopric is because of the horde of the Otherworld.”

A formidable leader has emerged beyond the sea, rallying heathens and amassing a horde that numbers 100,000. However, despite uttering the number 100,000, King Aethelstan and Lord Oberth seemed to be taking a somewhat optimistic view of the situation.

“It is probably just typical barbarian exaggeration. The number 100,000 is just meant to sound impressive…”

“No.”

Such a cliché.

Unacceptable.

“We must prepare for the worst. Of course, our enemy cannot mobilize all 100,000 at once, but we must prepare on the assumption that their total strength is 100,000.”

There is a saying that the devil tempts people. In reality, there have been many times when the devil has nearly devoured nations.

A certain country that laughed at the idea of people crossing a high mountain pass, and a certain country that scoffed at the notion of people coming from across the sea in numbers of 100,000. The argument that it would only be a simple raid, as it had been before, was now wearing thin.

I could not tolerate the prospect of my carefully laid plans for national development being reduced to naught by such a blatant and hackneyed cliché. Fortunately, it seemed that King Aethelstan had also noticed some truth in it.

However, King Aethelstan hung his head with a grim expression and replied.

“But if there really are 100,000, there is nothing we can do.”

“That is, if they were to attack all at once.”

No. I cannot accept such a defeatist mindset.

Even when playing [Fantasy Monarch], I never resorted to save scumming and always played as an Ironman, diligently growing my forces. I turned to the grim-faced King Aethelstan and Lord Oberth and presented them with various factors I had prepared for just such an eventuality.

“If there really are 100,000, there must be a reason why they have only committed 10,000 to this offensive. Perhaps, given their enormous size, they require a great deal of supplies. It is likely that their purpose is to plunder or establish a forward base to secure those supplies.

The fog will aid their incursion as a power of the Otherworld. Judging from the rumors that the fog has spread as far as the realm of Yubas, there is a high probability that it will eventually reach the vicinity of our duchy if we do not resolve it.”

“However…”

“However.”

I have prepared a way to counter the hordes of the Otherworld and the mundane.

“The heathens are strong only in regular combat, and furthermore, their cavalry is negligible. Even if they ascend the river by boat to supplement their mobility, they are dependent on plunder and have little experience in siege warfare, so they have no way to counter our forces holding out in a fortified position other than through trickery.

We have to hit them where it hurts.

We have to build fortresses everywhere, stock them with people and supplies, conscript the local serfs to buy us time, and keep the heathens tied down so our knights can hunt them down and destroy them.”

“But fortresses don’t just appear out of thin air…”

Lord Aubert began to protest, but then his eyes went wide.

“Surely you’re not suggesting we…”

“We need a unified chain of command.”

The abbeys are autonomous communities. What good are they if the enemy comes screaming at the gates? They’ll just shrug and say, “Not our problem.”

When the barbarians are at the gates, we can’t afford to worry about petty fiefdoms. Too many cooks spoil the broth.

Of course, just having a place isn’t enough.

“But…”

“Money, of course.”

I don’t have to say it, we all know it.

I looked back and forth between King Ethelstan and Lord Aubert, swallowing back tears before nodding my head.

“…The Church will provide the funding.”