Ch.126Equipment Investment

“By the way, what happened with that Greenskin uprising?”

“Ah, that? I hear Fahrenheit’s army is currently busy hunting them down. Neighboring countries are hastily hiring mercenaries just in case. That’s why mercenary rates have gone up these days.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

As expected, while Fahrenheit had weakened, the Greenskins hadn’t particularly grown stronger, resulting in a surprisingly balanced conflict.

As they say, even a wealthy family takes three generations to truly fall—no matter how faithfully they followed the national disaster playbook of war and heretic insurgency, they weren’t a nation that would collapse from mere Greenskin uprisings.

However, if sparks from their desperate fighting spread elsewhere, it could be disastrous, which is why other countries were preparing early.

“So, for now, Amurtat isn’t under any immediate threat.”

“That’s correct.”

“Hmm…”

Tiberius made a curious sound as he leaned back in his chair.

While the absence of security threats was good news, it wasn’t particularly helpful for someone trying to introduce new weaponry.

If one considers how a constellation of weapons emerged during the World Wars, it becomes understandable why this peaceful period wasn’t conducive to introducing new armaments.

Yet he couldn’t manufacture a war out of nothing, so he simply had to accept the situation.

“I wonder when those weapons I ordered will arrive… The waiting is exhausting.”

“Well, the Central region is chaotic. It wouldn’t be strange if roads blocked by corpses caused delays.”

“Haha. Surely not that extreme.”

Humans from other regions view Central’s people as warmongers and battle-crazed.

Considering Central’s philosophy of struggle, that might be accurate, but if one remembers that no one is born a killer, the barrenness and overcrowding of Central could be said to cause all the conflict.

And this was something Tiberius had no way to resolve.

He had neither the power, the right, nor the means to intervene there.

What could one do when people fight over water? It’s not like he could bring in seawater.

“Which will happen first—the extinction of humans in Central, or humans in other regions?”

“Who knows? At least it will certainly be after I’m dead.”

The aide sank his lord’s philosophical question with a single remark, then promptly brought additional work for the now idle ruler.

“…That’s not why I brought this up…”

Even the monarch’s pitiful words were drowned out by the sound of the aide pouring ink from the inkwell.

“As usual, I’ll need this by evening, Your Majesty.”

*

“Brought more work.”

“Kill me…”

“If you die, you’ll come back as undead and still have to work.”

“Are you insane?”

This not-quite-joking banter was taking place in the administrative department where government officials worked.

Recently, with the massive introduction of gunpowder weapons, there was considerable work in producing gunpowder, manufacturing bullets and shells, creating separate facilities for packaging them together in oiled paper, and selecting locations for warehouses resistant to moisture and rain.

As for why they needed to build warehouses when spatial storage existed—they couldn’t hassle someone to retrieve bullets from storage during every battle, and there was regular consumption during peacetime training. While some ammunition was kept in spatial storage, having arsenals within reach was more practical.

And the talk was that administrative officials would be worked to the bone again, with dark circles already forming under the eyes of those working overtime.

“Just hang in there a bit longer. His Majesty said he’ll grant a special bonus once this work is done.”

“I don’t need a bonus—just give me time to spend my salary.”

“Ho ho, that’s treasonous thinking.”

In this mad world where going home on time was considered treason, everyone from the monarch to every civil servant was like a cog in the massive machinery of state.

Of course, cogs that constantly grind wear down quickly, so they were occasionally oiled, but if they didn’t turn, they wouldn’t be cogs, would they?

“Isn’t there some magical drink that removes fatigue just by drinking it?”

“Hey, Gale. Stop talking nonsense and review those reports.”

Indeed.

Most unfortunately, this world had no ‘coffee’ beans, and consequently, no ‘coffee’ as a beverage.

What existed were bland tea leaves, and whiskey and brandy with smoked chips.

But they couldn’t enjoy teatime in the midst of their busy schedule, nor could they get drunk, so the officials were falling into a hellish three-shift system without even going home, looking like zombies.

*

“The Alchemists’ Guild has sent a report on annual maintenance costs.”

“Let me see it.”

Tiberius carefully examined the report from the Alchemists’ Guild.

It concerned defense expenditures—more specifically, an estimate of how much defense costs would increase with the introduction of gunpowder weapons across all forces.

The reason the Alchemists’ Guild submitted this was because they were responsible for manufacturing the gunpowder.

“Damn it…”

“What’s wrong? How much has it increased…?”

“Minimum 13 times. Maximum 17 times.”

“That’s… almost 20 times…”

“Well… this includes initial investment costs, so maintenance costs themselves will decrease, but it still seems a bit excessive.”

“What will you do? No matter how you look at it, increasing defense spending by over 20 times is….”

The aide couldn’t finish his sentence.

As the supervisor of finances, he knew that if defense spending increased by about 20 times, the state would immediately stagger.

Of course, they could manage, but if a 2% share of defense spending from a pie of 100 increased 20 times, it would take up over 40%, meaning budgets for other areas would have to be drastically cut.

With Fahrenheit’s troubles now settled, there was no particular reason to expand the military. If they collected additional special taxes or raised taxes to cover defense spending, citizens would strongly resist.

Currently, Amurtat’s taxation followed the “seventy-thirty” system—from an income of 100, the state took 70% and citizens kept 30%. If taxes increased further, citizens would essentially become serfs.

“…”

Tiberius also looked at the report with a serious expression.

In this world, a nation staggering under military expenses wasn’t particularly unusual.

If the country were on the brink of collapse, citizens would willingly give everything, down to the pillars of their homes, to save it.

But Amurtat faced no visible threat yet.

Being an early adopter was one thing, but people weren’t fools. Gunpowder weapons hadn’t spread widely outside Central precisely because people saw no need to take risky gambles when existing methods worked fine.

Even if they projected advanced military power to generate profit, this world wasn’t Earth.

There were no places that could be colonized by pointing guns and swords, and uninhabited areas were home to creatures more vicious and powerful than humans.

“…What should I do?”

For the first time in a very long while, the ruler of Amurtat expressed his concern.

Money. That damned money was the problem.

With no large-scale gunpowder production in the North, they had to source everything themselves, leading to inefficiency.

Guns, cannons, gunpowder, ammunition, plus the elaborate uniforms and new armor symbolizing line infantry.

Add the cost of developing strategies and tactics optimized for gunpowder weapons, and the calculation of 20 times the current cost wasn’t so far-fetched.

It was still too early for the world event of an Industrial Revolution, and without prior exchange with Central, there was no event trigger for the proliferation of gunpowder weapons.

In the end, to reap the benefits of line infantry, they first needed to plant the mulberry trees, but the price was so high that they were hesitating after drawing up the estimates.

“…Let’s invest.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I’ll just use up all my personal funds. Sell all the treasures in the spatial storage—golden calves and the like. We need to raise funds somehow.”

“There’s also the option of borrowing money…”

“If I use my personal funds, I’ll become a beggar, but if I borrow from others, I’ll become a beggar with a leash around my neck. I don’t want to create a state that pays interest to others.”

“If you put it that way…”

In the end, Amurtat decided to accept the inefficiency.

The path of a pioneer is always difficult and lonely. To make Amurtat an undying northern lighthouse and the pearl of the North that everyone envies would require sacrifices of blood and flesh.