Fries, Medals, and the New Supreme Commander
“There's one more thing we'd like to discuss. I hear you developed those french fries that are all the rage right now.”
“That's correct, sir.”
The mention of french fries—the child I'd painfully given up—brought my tone down without me realizing it.
But what came next was shocking.
“Thanks to you, Major, demand for potatoes among the common folk has spiked noticeably. For that achievement, you'll be receiving a medal.”
“A medal, sir...?”
This was a scenario I'd never even dreamed of.
“His Majesty was quite impressed that you didn't monopolize a food with such obvious profit potential. He sees it as a great virtue that you chose not to exercise those rights.”
“I... I see, sir.”
It hadn't been out of any noble intent, so I felt a pang of guilt prick my conscience.
“It'll likely be presented at the Culture Day festival two months from now—a Third-Class Industrial Merit Medal. Keep it in mind.”
Third-Class? Already?
I might think it's no big deal since I got a First-Class one, but that's insanely high.
The pension alone would let me live comfortably forever.
For reference, a First-Class Military Merit Medal came with a 50-gold monthly pension.
And now my salary's hitting around 50 gold too.
I recalled that pay jumped meaningfully when promoting from captain to major.
“That said, if you're in the west, there's a good chance you won't be able to attend...”
“A proxy can receive it on your behalf, so no need to worry.”
“That's a relief, sir. I'll keep that in mind.”
There was no downside to receiving it, so I replied with genuine pleasure.
They really take good care of me. Do good and good returns, as they say.
With a medal on the way, it felt safe to finally hand over the french fries business.
“It was a pleasure meeting like this. I hope we cross paths more often.”
“The honor was mine, to meet the Empire's Sage.”
I shook the hand Rosen extended.
Look at that skin. Must be the elf thing.
Truly an enviable race.
“Major, do you know why humans dominate the continent, rather than long-lived elves?”
Rosen, whom I'd thought was about to leave, suddenly fixed his gaze on me and posed the question.
“Well... because of our reproductive capabilities, right?”
“Not wrong, but if it were just breeding, wouldn't goblins or orcs rule instead?”
As I pondered how to respond, Rosen continued.
“This is my view: humans adapt to happiness so quickly that they mistake it for success.”
“You mean they can't be content with the present, sir?”
“Exactly. A thirst for success. Even after achieving a goal, they wake up the next morning already eyeing higher peaks.”
Not me.
I know for sure I'd be content with anything bigger after discharge.
“Er... yeah, something like that, sir.”
I didn't want a philosophical debate here, so I nodded vaguely.
“And from what I've seen, you're the worst offender, Major.”
“Me, sir...?”
“Looking at your accomplishments, you've advanced every step of the way. I can't even imagine the thirst and ambition burning inside you.”
He stared at me like I was some monster.
His eyes must be playing tricks.
Hey old man, don't judge me on your assumptions.
Thirst? The only thirst I have is for discharge.
“I'm not sure, sir. I've never really thought about it that way.”
“Haha, if even you don't realize it, that makes it all the more impressive. In any case, I look forward to it—how much further you'll grow by the next time we meet.”
Rosen said that as he gathered his bag.
“I'll... do my best, sir. Shall we head out together?”
“You'll be busy preparing for departure today, so no need to see me off.”
With those words, Rosen left the mansion.
I packed my things and boarded the carriage bound for the west.
“Have you all forgotten how to speak?”
The emperor's office was shrouded in heavy silence.
Simon spoke with bloodshot eyes, but no one dared reply easily.
“Ever since we lost Yalk Island, I haven't slept. Defeat after defeat after defeat. Last night, I dreamed of Aditz imperial forces beheading me.”
“It's all our fault, Your Majesty! Execute us!!!”
Bam!
Supreme Commander Maemold Sikaite slammed his head against the floor.
The impact was so fierce that blood trickled from his forehead, yet no one mentioned it.
“How! How could you not know the enemy had breached our territory until it was too late? All because of the navy's overconfidence that you boasted about so proudly! We lost Yalk Island, and Hasmon Fortress burned.”
There was no faulting his words, no matter how many merits Maemold had earned before. He couldn't—no, shouldn't—speak up.
Normally, he'd be rotting in a dungeon alongside the navy chief, spared only by his past services.
“Execute us!”
“If killing solved it, I'd have done it ten—no, a hundred times by now. But it doesn't. Think of solutions. Isn't that why you're all seated here?”
Simon averted his gaze from Maemold and scanned the attendees.
All avoided the emperor's eyes.
In the stifled atmosphere, one man stepped forward.
“Your Majesty! With Yalk Island gone, there's an eighty percent chance we'll lose this war at this rate.”
A voice more impassioned than usual.
Duke Seto was speaking of outright defeat before the emperor for the first time.
“Duke, what nonsense is that! Defeat?”
“Too hasty and extreme! The empire's army still stands strong!”
Abiel Duke remained silent, but the nobles around her attacked Seto.
Yet Seto's expression didn't waver.
“Silence! Duke Seto, continue.”
Simon quelled the uproar and looked down at him.
“Losing Yalk Island has more than doubled the enemy's operational range. And their morale is sky-high.”
Content that furrowed brows across the room.
But reality they could no longer ignore.
“From my personal assessment, our forces are steeped in defeatism. If the enemy presses now, we won't even mount proper resistance.”
“I know that, Duke Seto. So what are you proposing? Surrender?”
Simon's displeasure surfaced amid the negativity.
And in that moment—
Bam!
Duke Seto dropped to one knee before the emperor.
“Your Majesty! Give me a chance! Let this humble servant lead the troops personally and shatter the enemy's lines!”
“Duke...?”
“His Grace himself...?”
The office buzzed at his bombshell declaration.
“You'll lead the army personally?”
“Yes! Debating from desks won't cut it anymore! Give me the chance, and I'll bring victory!”
His voice rang with fierce resolve.
The emperor rose and approached the kneeling duke.
“The empire has always borrowed the wisdom of House Seto in times of peril.”
They were now face-to-face.
All eyes naturally fixed on them.
“And once again, your house extends a helping hand.”
“It's no mere help, Your Majesty—merely fulfilling our duty!”
“Then fulfill that duty. As of this moment, I appoint Duke Seto as Supreme Commander. Former Supreme Commander Maemold is demoted to Navy Chief—rebuild the shattered navy.”
“I accept Your Majesty's command!!!”
No one opposed the emperor's decree; all bowed their heads.
“From now on, regard Duke Seto as my proxy. Serve him loyally and bring me victory! This is your last chance.”
His piercing gaze swept the commanders.
They could only bow.
“We accept... Your Majesty's command!!”
“Haa, hate it. Hate this.”
An unpleasant odor wafted through the carriage window.
This was it—the scent of the west.
Didn't think I'd be back so soon.
All I could do was sigh.
Look on the bright side. At least it's not the absolute front lines.
It was a relief, but not enough to feel good about it.
“Should be moderately busy, but this? I could actually die.”
I'd skimmed the related documents en route; there were already over ten gaping holes.
Still under investigation, so probably more by now.
My head throbbed.
“Win or lose the battles, should've just kept my mouth shut.”
No past choice had ever haunted me like this.
“Major, we'll arrive at Support Command shortly.”
“Got it. Finally here.”
Peering out at the driver's words, I saw the bustling cityscape.
So this is Dembad.
The most developed, highest-income imperial direct-controlled city in the west.
True to its reputation, everything from the streets was impeccably clean.
“Livable, at least.”
Past divisions and battalions had required a long carriage ride for post-duty fun.
Here? Three minutes on foot?
Off-duty life looked abundant and varied.
“Assuming I get off on time, that is.”
It seemed daunting, but when had it ever not?
I'd always found ways to suck the honey out of it.
And this time, I'd survive no matter what.
“We've arrived. You must be tired after the long journey.”
“Hardly. Thanks for your hard work. Grab some food on the way back.”
I pulled about 5 gold from my pocket and slipped it into Sergeant Sotton's pouch—he was the driver who'd come to fetch me.
“Oh my! Thank you so much!”
“Drive safe.”
“Yes, sir! Best of luck at your new post! Loyalty!!!”
Sergeant Sotton saluted crisply before turning the carriage.
His back looked remarkably lighthearted.
What's he so thrilled about for that amount?
Of course, it was pocket change for me, but 5 gold was huge for a sergeant.
Money's absolute yet so relative.
Running my second Amazon, I pondered finances often.
But the deeper I dug, the trickier it got.
“Loyalty!”
Heading to the main gate, a soldier checked my rank insignia and shot to his feet.
Perks of being a major?
First time meeting the MPs here, but you could feel the difference.
“At ease. I'm Major Palan Oclo, newly assigned to the Western Support Command of the Supply Directorate.”
“Gasp...! Major Palan Oclo?!”
He reacted with shock at my name.
Why the surprise?
“Well, that's my name, so yes. Any issues?”