Chapter 32
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: Monster Extermination and Field Kitchen (3)
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Dominic felt a small spark ignite in his chest.
'This is a matter of pride!'
Do people know when nutritionists feel the most aggrieved?
When they have to consider everything to plan a menu?
When the ladies refuse to follow instructions and bully the new girl?
When they have to tremble over using even a single drop of sesame oil within a tight budget?
No.
It's when that carefully crafted meal leads to innocent students saying, "The school next door gets lobster, so why do we only get weeds?"
[How can they pull that off when their food budget is about the same as ours?]
As a rookie nutritionist, he'd thought it was his own shortcomings.
He hadn't worked hard enough with his hands or feet, so he couldn't serve flashy meals kids loved. That's what he'd believed...
'Damn that chairman!'
Later, he found out the school chairman was taking kickbacks from the food supplier—a common, rotten ending.
During his time there, he couldn't even count how many comparisons he endured with the neighboring school, which ran a transparent budget.
"We're going all out! Soft wheat bread with meat stew, fresh fruit, and salad!"
"Do you know the budget allocated for the soldiers' meals before saying that?"
Ian's words snuffed out Dominic's blazing passion like a wet blanket.
"Ah... the budget..."
Whether it was 21st-century Korea or the Verona Empire in the year 532 of the Goddess Calendar, that damn budget was always the problem.
In a world with magic, spirits, and gods, to be held back by something as mundane as budget—oh, the tragedy.
"Is there any place that operates troops without budget constraints?"
"Still, you're feeding soldiers. Do you have to be so stingy?"
"You're different from those lords who skimp even on soldiers' meal allowances. But that doesn't mean he'll give you enough to do whatever you want. It'll be set at a reasonable level."
"I'm not familiar with this, but what counts as reasonable...?"
Dominic swallowed hard.
In social life, that phrase "reasonable level" could be terrifying.
[Is that reasonable to you? Huh? Is it?]
Dominic had said it himself plenty of times in his past life.
Everyone's "reasonable level" varied wildly depending on the person and position.
"I'm not entirely sure, but it probably won't differ much from the usual soldiers' meals."
"That won't do. I'll go ask."
Dominic spun on his heel and bolted toward the finance officer's office.
**
"So, this is really all...?"
"Our territory's allocation is already quite generous, so don't be too down about it."
The subordinate under the finance officer patted Dominic's slumped shoulder sympathetically.
"Compared to the last extermination op, this is a whole this-percent increase."
"Really?"
"Of course. We got orders to match Viscount Delt's budget roughly."
Dominic's ears twitched at the manager's words.
"Viscount Delt? Why does the neighboring lord's name come up out of nowhere?"
"Oh? Right! Evergreen's a new village, so you haven't sent troops to the castle yet? Then you wouldn't have heard the rumors."
The manager stroked his mustache and continued.
"You know Viscount Delt's lands are among the empire's top fertile fields, even beyond the south?"
"Yes. Even in bad harvest years, the people never starve."
"Exactly. But the viscount has one headache. Guess what?"
"It's famous. A land full of fat people who won't pick up a sword..."
"Spot on! Weak knights, small forces. They have enough money to hire mercenaries if needed, so the atmosphere's like that. Anyway, it's peculiar. But it seems to bruise Viscount Delt's pride subtly."
"It must hurt even more during joint ops with neighboring territories. Soldiers get compared directly."
"That's it! Probably why. During the last monster sweep, he pulled something unusual to seize the momentum. And it worked."
"The meals, right?"
"You nailed it. Heh."
Now the scattered puzzle pieces clicked together.
The count differentiating rewards by soldier satisfaction.
Soldiers comparing meals with other territories and scoring them.
The neighboring lord trying to compensate for weak military with something else.
'So he's pissed at getting upstaged by someone he didn't even see as a rival? Got it.'
The Sinclair Count's house was a martial lineage, but the current lord wasn't a sword-wielding knight.
He was a fine administrator, respected as such, but inwardly obsessed over soldiers to match his predecessor's standards.
A multi-territory monster sweep was perfect to showcase well-managed martial forces.
'But if some upstart buys envy with mere food instead of force... yeah, it'd piss him off. Fair enough.'
Matching Viscount Delt's budget exactly was surely for the same reason.
'Show we feed them better with the same money. Tch. Could've just said so from the start. Too embarrassing to admit outright?'
His jumbled thoughts cleared up neatly.
As always, grasping the client's true intent came first.
"Got it. And what exactly do I need to do?"
"Won't be easy. Delt's ingredients are cheap too, basically."
"Thanks for the advice."
"No big deal. By the way, got any spare resort rooms around winter? My daughter-in-law might need to unwind then..."
**
Dominic unrolled paper to plan the menu for the first time in ages.
But hours later, nothing was written; he was lost in thought.
'Same budget, but their supply advantage.'
He wanted unique recipes for flair, but no dice.
'Local spices or ingredients not in common use are pricey. Fancy methods take time—not feasible in the field.'
Seafood tempted him, but transport killed it.
Dry noodles or smoked meat for longevity? Prep time before deployment was tight.
"Two hundred men, right?"
"Yes."
"I won't be much help this time. I've been drafted."
"Drafted?"
"I'm commanding this op."
"Who? You, Sir Knight?"
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
Ian saw it and let out an exasperated chuckle.
"What's that look? Weird for me to command?"
"You always lounge by my side, so I figured you were disposable. Thought maybe the lord forgot about you?"
"...You didn't need to say that out loud."
"You see I'm honest. But seriously, you sure you're okay?"
"With what?"
"Well... commanders lead from the front, right? Fighting up close."
"Worried about me?"
"Nah, if your skills get exposed, it'd be embarrassing. In front of the troops."
"...You don't know, but my aura mastery is at a level where..."
"Anyway, let's do our best in our roles. Stay back if you can. Preserve yourself. Embarrassment fades once; wounds last forever."
"Hey."
"I'll finish the meal plan. See you at the send-off!"
A mere village chief issuing marching orders to a knight was odd, but Ian, thinking the first button was crooked from the start, sighed softly and left the guest room.
"Hmm... what to do..."
Even after Ian left, the guest room light burned late. A night of worries.
**
"I've placed the order, but is this really enough?"
The next day, Dominic stormed into Anton's merchant house with bloodshot eyes.
"Why? Isn't it plenty for two hundred during training?"
"Quantity-wise, yeah."
Anton lowered his voice, face worried.
"My grandpa's got connections. Word is, we gotta outdress and outfeed Viscount Delt's troops no matter what..."
"Yep. News travels fast."
"But with this? If money's short for spices, I've owed you favors, so..."
"Stop. If we cheat like that, will the lord hold his head high against Viscount Delt? Lucky if he avoids shame."
"But competing straight-up, we'll never beat their cheap supplies."
"I've got plans, so don't worry. Oh, know a blacksmith? Carpenter too."
"Sure. Plates too?"
"Yeah. Good craftsmen. Actually, not hard to make—meticulous is enough. Can you place orders?"
"Yeah. Pots? Knives? Dishes? What?"
"Baths."
"...Pardon?"
"Stock pots too. Rotating if possible. Scrap station, big carts nice."
"What's that?"
"What else? Mass feeding gear. No stainless, but defense magic holds a few hours."
Dominic thought you really needed a mage acquaintance.
No electricity or gas, but magic tools could patch the gaps, if inconveniently.
'Make tons of strawberry shortcake, trade for what I need.'
Luckily, his sole mage contact, Perot, traded neat magic gadgets for a few whole cakes—great deal.
'Not full ownership, but good enough. Tools mostly set?'
One-offs were fine, but three meals daily for two hundred-plus for over ten days.
Even with kitchen hands and soldier help, no proper tools meant body-only chaos.
"Almost forgot the most important."
Dominic pulled out paper with unfamiliar dish shapes.
"What's this?"
"Chafing dishes. Handle alcohol lamps?"
"Chief. Didn't you take kitchen lead?"
"I did."
"Why alcohol lamps? Tiny things, right?"
"Yep."
"Weak heat. Can't replace a burner."
"Eh, we can get 'em."
"Not hard, but..."
"Good. Busy prepping—handle transport smooth."
"...Yes. Take care!"
Now, time to train the workers.
Tight schedule demanded training.