Chapter 102
As the saying goes, you see as much as you know.
Apart from Seraphine, hardly anyone in the Empire knew the Demon Realm’s vital secrets while also making a hobby of devouring novels.
So, for the overwhelming majority of people, the map Kim Yul provided gave accurate information a foundation on which to build their vague imaginings.
Of course, for most people, it likewise elicited little more than the thought, “Hmm, he really fleshed out the setting.”
For a certain group of people.
“Of course! You can’t discuss a large-scale war without a map!”
“Now, now. Let’s gather up every plot thread we’ve been given so far!”
The map was a matter of utmost importance.
Of course, this wasn’t something limited to reading novels.
When discussing tactics and strategy, it was indispensable to use accurate geographical information to calculate not only routes of advance but also supply lines.
No matter how high an army’s morale, imagining what would happen if its supplies were cut off made this one of the most important considerations.
“Indeed, judging from the mountain ranges and coastline, wiping out the Sardinian army quickly at the beginning was the right call.”
“If it’s possible to defeat them piecemeal, doing so is always the right decision. But did he really advance that far while battles were breaking out almost every day?”
“According to the descriptions in the story, their fervor and morale are higher than those of other armies, so I suppose there’s no reason they couldn’t be thrown into the grinder.”
“Tsk, waging war like this makes the situation look ugly……”
That was why readers actively traded theories, comparing the story so far against the map.
Napoleon was the protagonist, after all.
The prologue had been a little ominous, but at this point, a defeat would effectively mean throwing the novel away, so naturally he was bound to keep surging from victory to victory.
So.
How would he win?
## ====== ##
An old wooden bridge spanning the Adda River.
On the other side, the Austrian army’s ominous cannon muzzles gaped like black mouths, seemingly determined to tear everything apart.
Grenadier Armand was rather terrified.
Even if they were armed with the spirit of the Revolution,
could they break through that wall of fire-spitting steel, cross that precarious bridge, and seize victory?
“Don’t run! Stand and fight!”
“If we can just cross the river, victory is ours!”
“For the Revolution!”
Cries meant to bolster their comrades’ morale rang out here and there, but.
“Haaah, haaah……!”
“God, save me……”
“Mom, I want my mom……”
The terror of the fear-stricken soldiers began spreading through the ranks like a plague.
Half-consumed by that terror as well, Armand stood there with hesitation filling his body.
But.
Amid the dense clouds of gunpowder smoke, a man spurred his horse and rode to the front.
Armand recognized who the man was at once.
There was no way he could have failed to.
“G-General……?!”
Napoleon Bonaparte, commander in chief of the Army of the North.
He had suddenly appeared on the front line.
Napoleon dismounted and immediately approached an artilleryman crouched in front of a cannon, paralyzed with fear.
And.
He took off his cloak and draped it over the panicking artilleryman, then took hold of the cannon’s sights himself.
The commander himself was taking aim with a cannon, something a sergeant would normally do……!
Armand swallowed his astonishment.
But Napoleon’s hands moved with machine-like precision, and the shell guided by his calculations and intuition struck the Austrian battery across the river with pinpoint accuracy.
Even amid the tense battlefield, a tremendous swell of awe arose.
Immediately afterward.
“Soldiers!”
Napoleon raised his head and looked around at the soldiers who had gathered around him before they knew it.
“Are you afraid of those lumps of steel? Victory is waiting for you just across that bridge! Milan, glory, and warm bread and wine are waiting beyond it! How long will you continue to starve and shiver here!”
A gaunt face.
Disheveled hair.
But the eyes, deeply shadowed by an ambition that seemed capable of burning up and devouring everything in the world, held dominion over those around him.
What they held was conviction.
The moment they faced him, all doubts vanished from the soldiers’ minds.
Even amid the chaos of the battlefield.
“For France! Long live the Republic!”
Napoleon’s cry, joined by those of the surrounding soldiers, swept through every inch of space like a wave, and.
Armand, too, picked up the rifle he had briefly set down.
For France, for the Republic?
No.
For the commander who had come all the way here, to where the gun smoke was thickest and the soldiers’ breathing could be heard, and inhaled the battlefield air alongside them.
And……
To return safely to his hometown, bearing the glory of victory.
Armand willingly threw his life away.
…….
…….
A short while later.
The French flag was planted on the other side of the bridge.
Their commander, often derided as a parachuted-in officer, was given a new affectionate nickname: the Little Corporal.
## ====== ##
“A commander leading from the front is certainly a literary license, but it still makes your heart pound……!”
“It was the same in Magical Play: Yi Sun-sin. The author must have that kind of romantic streak, too.”
The novel had more than lived up to those expectations.
But the discussions unfolding in the salons were not driven solely by curiosity about Napoleon.
“Milan, Venice, Florence…… Now that their locations are clear, we can infer the remaining areas, too!”
“If you follow the coastline south, you’ll reach Spain, and the northwest on the map is probably mainland France.”
“Then where’s Britain? Is it in the sea down there?”
“What a stupid thing to say. I told you Britain is above France.”
Not only the novel ‘Napoleon.’
Attempts were also being made to reconstruct a map of this world using the place names that had appeared in other works—Caesar, Joan of Arc, Beethoven, and so on.
Of course, since the maps varied wildly depending on who drew them, no single one reproduced Western Europe in an accurate form.
“Get your pens.”
“I suppose there’s no other way.”
“Whew…… shall we give it a go?”
“Should we get in touch with the elves?”
“Tsk, that’s like forbidden black magic. It’s still too early.”
Drunk on curiosity, the readers immediately sprang into action.
[Author Ulysses, provide us with a map!]
[I’m curious about a map of France.. Where is Orléans?]
Fan letters demanding a map encompassing not only the northern Italian front but the other regions as well rained down on Novelpia’s headquarters.
And before long.
Author Ulysses answered those desperate cries.
“Aaaaargh!”
“Y-you crazy bastard……!”
“Whew, how many copies do I have to buy to win?”
“At this rate, he’s going to add a France faction to Hero Gathering, too……”
Just as it had always been since Hero Gathering.
Raffle. Limited quantity. High quality.
The map of Western Europe, too.
It fell into the hands of a money-mad, vicious elf and a reader-mad, savage human, and was corrupted into a marketing tool.
* * *
“Heehee, heehee.”
In truth.
I had wanted to make a map for a long time. A world map, if possible.
But if there was a reason I hadn’t done so,
when a successful novel made and presented a map, it served as evidence of its solid setting,
whereas when a failed novel made and presented a map, it was liable to be dismissed as a pointless TMI lore dump that no one cared about.
But now.
Even by an objective assessment, I was playing the role of an author who hadn’t failed and was doing moderately well…… or, more precisely, the role of a “translator.”
The readers, too, had gradually realized that the series of stories were continuing in succession within a single world.
So I had no choice but to meet those expectations……
I mean, I couldn’t very well let them down……?
Of course, I couldn’t remember every minute border from the era and all the countless minor principalities, and even Tin Can’s generative abilities weren’t perfect enough for that.
After all, even now, whenever I generated character illustrations, there were occasional cases where the fingers multiplied to six.
Maps, however, had an excellent reference.
And one with fairly perfect historical accuracy, at that.
I briefly closed the writing program open on my laptop and found what I wanted amid the cluttered desktop.
A forbidden game that had stolen several thousand hours of my life, though I hadn’t had time to run it lately.
Europa Universalis.
I usually played the main scenario called the “Grand Campaign,” but it also provided several other scenarios, if only to round things out.
1792.09.21.
I loaded up the Revolutionary France scenario.
“This is it.”
Swoosh, I zoomed in until Western Europe fit reasonably well, then captured the image.
With a little processing, some visibility adjustments, and various other post-processing, this should appeal to people well enough.
While I was at it, I also loaded the Hundred Years’ War scenario and made a map of France as a whole for Joan of Arc, and Beethoven…… well, since the period was similar, I probably didn’t need to make a separate one.
Ah.
Let’s make a map of the Three Kingdoms, too.
Come to think of it, I also needed to hold a Three Kingdoms fanfic contest before the novelty wore off too much. I’d have to talk it over with the elf.
“Is this enough?”
If I had my way, I would have just released a world map outright, but……
It was still too early for that.
Since I was dealing with history through the lens of individual characters, it was naturally bound to be fragmentary, but if I just threw history itself at readers, I doubted it would sell either.
Of course, I had a separate countermeasure prepared for that as well.
That was something to deal with when the time came.
Carrying the maps fresh from the printer, I left the study and went looking for Tin Can, who should be playing around with Nureongi.
As expected.
“Kya-ha-ha, kya-ha!”
Not far away, I heard Nureongi’s distinctive, happy purring.
The game Nureongi had been playing lately was Po■mon.
Nureongi had seemed a little displeased when it saw Dragon■te, but instead shouted, “These fake dragons! I’ll catch them all and make them my minions!” and became even more deeply immersed.
Thinking that today, too, Nureongi would be enjoying the game with the back of its head resting against Tin Can’s ample bosom, I opened the door and found—
“Huh? Hi, Kim Yul!”
“You’re here.”
“Uh……”
The scene before me far exceeded my expectations.
How were they playing Po■mon in real-time virtual reality……?
“It’s illusion magic.”
Of course.
There had been the precedent of Magical Play, too.
But that had been presented on a screen.
But now, the moment I closed the door, it was so vivid and overflowing with life that it felt as though I had transmigrated into the world of Po■mon.
This was……
The potential of Dragon Heart and illusion magic?
“Kim Yul, your gaze has become extremely suspicious.”
My mouth began to water.