I Somehow Got Tasked With Managing A Realm

I Somehow Got Tasked With Managing A Realm – Chapter 73

Seriously... how did he even manage this?

It had only been five years since Ruglace began construction at the northern passageway, yet his progress could only be described as astounding.

My expectations were high, but man, Ruglace blew past them!

He had become set on his project to build a massive wall that could block out the invaders ever since his first consultation with the soldiers. After years of strenuous labor from the soldiers and from Ruglace himself, this project had finally come to fruition- a giant stone barricade now sealed the mile-wide gap between the mountains.

He even made it higher than I asked.

The wall that I originally requested to be roughly twenty feet tall now towered roughly thirty feet above the lightly snowed ground. To put that into perspective, it would take a stack of about 30 average-sized chickens sat on top of one another to reach such a height!

Part of me wanted to see how tall he could make it, but I had to stop him.

As evident by the snow in the passage, this region still received a bit of precipitation despite the mountainous encasement; the stone cubes making up the wall would gradually be worn down over time by the repeated freezing and thawing of water. Without reinforcement from mortar, I was a bit worried about how long the wall could last without repairs. Aside from this, there was a limitation on how tall he could make it due to the somewhat shallow foundation that Ruglace initially set. As the original plans only called for twenty feet of wall, the foundation was only made to support around that much weight; building too much above that would put the entire structure at risk of collapse. 

Besides, I doubt that all of the height would really be needed for those lumpy toad things. Even if they have some weird frog-like leaping ability, there's no way they'd be able to jump over thirty feet high- especially considering the gravity in my realm. 

In addition to increasing the wall's height, Ruglace also added a thick wooden gate on the very edge of the wall that could be raised and lowered by a team using an attached rope. This was an obvious weak point in the defense, yet the location on the edge would leave invaders in a prime location for getting squished by falling stones and pierced by javelins from humans stationed on the cliff platform and on the wall itself, which was wide enough to comfortably hold multiple rows of men.

In the event of an actual attack, the Oracle suggested simply barricading the gate with large stone bricks to make it nearly impossible to break through. It was a simple solution to my request to have a way to move forces through the wall in the case of a counter-attack, but it seemed to be pretty effective in theory.

It's really both amazing and beautiful.

I couldn't help but be captivated by the massive wall, which was dominated by stunning white, gray, and red stones. It being a creation made through years of hard work by my humans only added to my proud feeling toward the structure- almost like a parent seeing a cool fort their child worked so hard to build.

Well, Ruglace really did make one, too.

There was a secondary project that Ruglace worked on during the wall's construction: transforming a nearby mountain into a massive base.

It was a project that was incredible to witness. Faced with the severe limitations brought about by the absence of mortar, the Oracle decided to use solid stone for the construction. To do this, he literally dug into the side of a mountain roughly half a mile southwest of the passage's entrance. While some may find this to be the perfect distance to describe as being one kilometer, such a unit paled in comparison to the usefulness of referring to it as 4,525 chickens lined up. Every single cube of stone he harvested in the process went directly toward building up the wall.

"Talk about killing two birds with one stone~"

I braced myself for an angry peck from the penguin on my lap at the pun, yet I was only met with a horrified expression when I looked down at him.

"Huh? What's wrong, Mr. Flippers?"

"... Squawk?"

"It's a figure of speech... no one's actually smashing any birds with a rock."

"Squawk!?"

"... Yeah, it is a bit of an odd saying, now that you mention it."

With that brutal image in mind, reminiscent of how my early humans hunted chickens in my realm, I turned my attention back to the hollowed mountain on my screen. There were three entrances to the base; each stacked on top of one another along the mountain's natural curve and connected by stone steps. Each of these entrances connected to independent floors with identical layouts.

It was a simple design consisting of a long straight hallway digging deep into the mountain with rooms periodically jutting out on either side of it. Every room was roughly 19.5ft x 19.5ft x 10.5ft, though some may find it more helpful to hear it as 33 chickens long, 33 chickens wide, and 10 chickens tall. Each floor held fifty rooms- one room per chicken if someone had fifty chickens on a floor. After learning his lesson from the collapse during his attempt to make a home in the canyon, Ruglace purposely left pillars of untouched stone spaced frequently throughout the hallways and the rooms to support the structure.

Despite the massive shelter, it was unrealistic to expect it to hold all 10,000 of the soldiers who joined him in his preparation, however, it was still able to comfortably hold a large portion of them.

It's seriously amazing how he managed to pull this off. I'd probably cry if I was one of the soldiers forced to camp outside instead of living in there. 

Contrary to my thoughts, camping outside did have one advantage: fire. The cramped and enclosed nature of the mountain shelter meant that fires were a bit dangerous; the smoke and carbon monoxide could easily build up in its interior. While Ruglace did make a few rooms on every floor with proper ventilation shafts that enabled safe fire, these were few in number and infrequent, leaving many soldiers to deal with the chilly air circling through. 

With how crowded those rooms are, it's honestly probably not too bad temperature-wise, though. I mean, if penguins can huddle together for warmth in Antarctica, these soldiers can do it in much nicer conditions.

I patted the penguin in my lap as I thought this.

"Hey, Mr. Flippers. There's still a lot of time left before the battle phase starts; do you think Ruglace will make another mountain base?"

"Squawk."

"... You make a good point," I sighed, "I don't know how long he'll be away for, but I really don't plan on rushing him either."

There was an important reason for our absent-minded inspection of the Oracle's progress- we were trying to give him privacy while he was handling a situation in Rygard.

The penguin looked up at me worriedly from my lap.

"I'm sure he's fine," I comforted, "Ruglace is a tough dude."

I'm just glad he finally went to visit her.

Right around the start of the wall's construction, my priest contacted me about Ruglace's mother. She wasn't in any imminent danger, but her mental state had been rapidly deteriorating. It started with some confusion which eventually led to her neglecting to take care of herself. Luckily, word of the Oracle's mother being in such poor condition spread to the temple and Brung volunteered to help care for her.

He's roughly the same age as her too... I guess this kind of stuff affects people differently.

I wasn't sure whether it was Alzheimer's or dementia, but Ruglace's mother was clearly suffering from something. Despite my realm lacking most external diseases, there was no immunity from disorders caused from within.

Although I was a bit nervous to, I ended up telling Ruglace about the situation right after I found out, yet he ultimately decided to wait until his first two projects were finished before making the trip to visit her. And so, after assigning the soldiers to repair all of the spear traps in the passage, the Oracle made his way to Rynntara for the first time since he was first selected over a quarter century ago.

Hopefully he's doing alright.

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This must be it.

A sky illuminated in orange and yellow hues shone down on Ruglace, who took a deep breath as he stood outside a small home just to the side of the temple.

It has been so long since I have last been here... it almost feels weird to be back.

In an attempt to avoid unnecessary attention, the Oracle waited until the sun dipped below the horizon before making his entrance into Rygard. Slipping between makeshift corn husk coverings shielding piles of spears and jeavelins, Rugalce finally arrived at his destination. He was given an extensive rundown of the timeline of everything and enough information to be certain that his mother was inside this small shelter under the watchful eye of the priest.

For my mom to have gone senile... there is just no way.

Despite these thoughts and denials swirling through his head, Ruglace stood still with one hand tightly gripping the edge of the corn husk fabric draping the shelter's entrance as the sky continued to darken.

What am I doing? Any longer and she might be asleep.

With one last deep breath, Ruglace opened up the flap and entered inside.

The Oracle was immediately greeted by a small but cozy layout upon his entrance, consisting of a woven cornhusk bed, a cut cherry tree stump acting as a sort of table, and various small decorations and clothing scattered around the home. At the stump in the center of the room sat a woman gently weaving strands of corn husk near the light of a small, lit torch tree branch rivaling the size of a twig.

His eyes focused on her skin- what he remembered to be fair and smooth had since become wrinkly and droopy. Her figure, which once boasted enough strength to tempt her into hoisting him up in an embrace even through his teenage years, now seemed frail enough to collapse under the weight of a small stone.

It was a stark showcase of just how long he had been gone for- a physical reminder that contrasted greatly against his own skin, seemingly unchanged since becoming the world's Oracle. Ruglace could only shiver at the thought of what she possibly could've done to offend time to make it lash out at her so harshly.

The Oracle was left in thought for a few moments before the woman finally glanced up at the intruder- her expression tinted with a hint of surprise followed by a flicker of recognition.

"Is it dinner time already? My, the days go by so fast. It feels like I just started weaving!"

Ruglace tilted his head as his mother slowly cleared the strips of corn husk off of the stump, "... Huh? No, I did not bring you dinner. I came here to see you."

The woman paused, flashing a quick expression of disappointment which was soon covered by one of confusion, "You came to see me?"

"Of course! I promised, after all," Ruglace nodded, helping her clear the rest of the corn husk off the stump and placing them neatly at her side.

As he worked, the woman stared at him with squinted eyes, "I do not remember any promise."

"Well, I did not exactly promise to visit you, but I said I would try," Ruglace awkwardly admitted.

"You did? That is very sweet of you," she paused looking at him curiously, "... but who are you?"

Ruglace froze; his heart tightened in his chest. It was such a simple question yet it's weight pressed down on him harder than any stone ever could.

"C-come on, mom. I should look the same as when you last saw me... do you really not recognize me? I am Ruglace... your-"

Grrrrowl!

A rumble of vigor not fitting of such a frail body sounded from his mother's stomach and interrupted his plea.

"Oh- I am sorry. It is just so close to dinner time..."

With hesitant movements, Ruglace reached into a pouch hanging at his side- his eyes stayed locked onto his mother's, desperately looking for any signs of recognition within them. After a few moments of failure, he pulled out a large, plum-sized cherry and gently handed it to her.

"I-I am sure someone will bring you dinner soon, but please eat this for now."

"Thank you, young man," she smiled, looking down at the cherry in her hand, "My teeth are not what they used to be, would you mind cutting this for me?"

"S-sure."

He sat down, across from his mother- the two on opposite sides of the stump. With trembling hands, Ruglace reached into his pouch and pulled out a small talon knife- a souvenir from his time in the northern hunting villages. After gently taking the cherry from his mother, he sliced it into tiny pieces and placed them in a small wooden bowl he found laying in the home.

"Thank you, you are so kind," his mother took a small piece of the cherry and placed it into her mouth, "My son used to be just like you. He should be out protecting the world now. "

Ruglace trembled, "I am your son..."

His mother wobbled slightly, continuing to chew, "You found such a tasty cherry! I always found them sweetest just after they fall from the tree; ripe enough to grow into a tree of its own, but picked up and eaten just before it sinks beneath the dirt."

The Oracle stared blankly at the nonsensical response; his expression quickly morphing, unable to mask his internal desperation.

"Mom... I am your son," his voice croaked as he tried again, but Ruglace was met only with a blank gaze that soon settled back on the chopped cherry in the bowl on the stump.

With a shaking voice, Ruglace leaned further over the stump as she ate, "Please, Mom. I am Ruglace... please tell me you recognize me!"

His words seemed to go in one ear and out the other, with no reaction from the woman cheerfully and slowly munching on the cut-up cherry slices.

Ruglace's heart pounded in his chest- its beat intensifying both in speed and impact. In a panic, he scooched back, matching the physical retreat with an internal one as he took a deep breath. 

Calm down. You prepared for this on your way here- you knew she was unwell. The creator of the world warned you... he warned you that she might not remember you.

He spoke to himself in his head as the small home seemingly wobbled around him.

During his travels, he had met more than enough elderly folks with varying levels of awareness. It was almost expected for the minds of those who lived for such long years to embrace death long before their own body. He even lived with an old man showing signs of this for way longer than he wanted to admit while attempting to make a clay home in the mudflat, yet Ruglace still felt utterly unprepared for what he felt in this moment. 

Every line of hers, or lack thereof, shook him to his core.

She looks at me like she would a stranger.

His eyes moistened, yet Ruglace quickly tightened them shut before any tears could fall. If it wasn't for the repeated warnings about how dire her state had become from the creator of the world during his journey, he likely would have been too torn up to stop them. After a few moments, he opened them again, returning to the stump.

"H-how about I tell you some stories while you eat?" he eventually managed to offer with a forced smile plastered on his face.

The woman jolted as if being brought back to attention, "Hm? I would love to hear some stories! It has been quite a while since I have heard anything good."

With a soft smile, Ruglace took his time recounting his accomplishments as he traveled across the realm. He boasted of his time training in the north and slaying mountain chickens with the village chief, he marveled about the beauty of the canyon where the massive river once flowed, he spoke of his constructions and efforts in the southwestern mudflats, and he explained his current role in fortifying the northern mountain passage against the future invaders.

By the time he finished all of these tales, though he purposely kept them brief, the light passing through the home's undraped windows had long since disappeared; only the dim glow from the small torch tree twigs allowed the two to see inside. Luckily, the glow was just enough for Rugalce to make out the smile on his mother's face on the opposite end of the stump.

"You had quite an adventure," she beamed.

Ruglace nodded faintly, "Yes, I would agree."

The two fell into a comfortable silence for a moment before the woman spoke again.

"My son must be having an adventure of his own right now," she softly smiled, "I am sure your mother is as proud of you as I am of him."

"I... y-yeah, I am sure she is," his voice trembled as he stood up, staring into his mother's eyes, "That means a lot... thank you."

It was an almost sickening feeling- every fiber in Ruglace's body wanted to hug the woman in front of him and to try harder to convince her that he was her son, yet he knew the effort was both fruitless and would likely only cause her distress. There was nothing he could do besides let it go.

"It is getting pretty late, I should let you be," Ruglace sighed, letting out a trembling breath as he pulled aside the flap covering the home's entrance.

"Ah- yes. It is getting late... I hardly even noticed," the woman flinched, almost as if she was only now taking in the sights around her.

Ruglace watched the sight weakly as he faced her one last time with his body half out the home's entrance, "I have heard of your son on my travels... he shares how much he loves you with people everywhere he goes. Be well... please."

At this point, the tears fell freely, but Ruglace quickly moved out of the home before his mother could see them. He stood for a minute, his eyes buried in the fold of his arm, too focused on covering his own emotions to notice the presence who had approached him.

"What are you doing in front of this home?"

"Ah-"

Ruglace flinched at the voice- quickly wiping his face dry before turning to the figure who held a wooden bowl full of steaming chicken stew.

"I was just visiting the woman inside... huh?" the Oracle trailed off, his eyes flickering with recognition. Though considerably aged since the last time he saw it, there was no way he would forget such an expressionless face, "Tyra... is that you?"

The woman tilted her head, a small sparkle could be seen in her eyes a moment later, "Ruglace!? What are you doing in Rygard? I thought you were supposed to be getting ready for the invasion?"

Ruglace nodded, still stunned at the woman, who despite being roughly the same age as him, now looked two decades older, "I was. We are making good progress, so I came to visit my mom while I had the chance. Did Priest Brung not tell you I was coming?"

Tyra shook her head, "No, he has been recruiting people outside of Rynntara for almost two summers now."

"Ah- alright. Is he really doing that? He is about the same age as my mom, but he is still working so hard-" Ruglace paused, finally noticing a small boy hiding behind his conversation partner, "Who is that, by the way?"

Tyra stepped out of the way, giving Ruglace a full view of the boy who looked to be about ten years old, "Oh- this is my son."

"Your son..." Ruglace repeated in a mutter as he processed what she just said, his eyes gradually widening in the process, "WHAT!? You have a son!?"

"Mhm," Tyra nodded as if it was obvious, "We needed someone to carry on the priest line. Priest Brung is getting pretty old now."

Carry on the priest line...?

The Oracle looked at the woman with shaking eyes, his shock nearly overshadowing his grief, "D-did you and Preist Brung..."

Tyra's usually expressionless face twisted slightly in disgust, "What? Gross, of course not. Why would I have a child with my father?"

"Huh!?" Every line out of her mouth was driving his already overwhelmed brain deeper into confusion. "Priest Brung is your dad!? Why did no one ever tell me that!?"

"You never asked," she shrugged.

"That feels important enough not to need to ask about. Seriously, it has been years since I have last seen you, yet you are still terrible at fully explaining things," Ruglace sighed, grabbing his head, "That misinterpretation was entirely your fault, by the way, but if Preist Brung is your father... was the reason I was picked to be an Oracle because you were my scout?"

His question was met with a clear denial, "No. The creator of the world picked you, not Priest Brung. It was just a coincidence."

"Right... that does make sense," Ruglace paused, gesturing to the small boy, "But speaking of fathers, where is his father?" 

"Oh- he is out recruiting with Priest Brung. I am taking care of everything in Rygard while they are gone."

"Really? Well, it looks like you are doing a great job," Ruglace softly waved at the boy who shyly hid back behind his mother's leg, "Thank you for taking care of my mom, by the way. I am sure it must be tough managing all of this while raising a kid."

"You do not need to thank me; I am just doing my part," Tyra lightly replied, looking down at the bowl in her hands, "I should get this to your mother before it gets cold, though. Will you be staying at the temple?"

Ruglace paused for a second before shaking his head, "No... I need to get back to the mountain passage. It is a long trip, I really do not want to hold them up longer than I need to."

"Okay," Tyra's face seemed to crack into a subtle frown at his answer before quickly returning back to its usual emotionless self, "Be well then, Ruglace. Good luck with your missions."

"Thank you... it was nice seeing you, Tyra."

With one last small wave to the two of them, Ruglace turned away from the duo- his forced smile instantly fading the moment his face was out of sight.

You decided on this path.

His heart pounded.

You said this was for the best.

His head throbbed.

You will have your happiness after the invasion.

His fists clenched.

All of this is to protect them.

His thoughts silenced. The line echoed in his head.

The Oracle slipped out of Rygard under the guise of night. Though he left empty-handed, his body felt fifty times heavier than when he arrived. The invasion is next- that was all he should focus on.