Eyes in the Window
"That's... truly admirable. Honestly, it's not easy to be that sincere about it."
"That's because they're cozy in the back like nobles, warm and fed. They don't know the hardships of those suffering on the front lines, so all they think about is pocketing bribes."
This military life really makes you understand the emperor's noblesse oblige policy.
The carriage door slid open with a clunk.
"Sir, we've arrived."
Just as his emotions were starting to flare, the coachman opened the door.
"Thanks for your hard work. Oh, and any chance you'd be willing to wait here until we're done?"
"Pardon? Well..."
"I'll give you two gold."
"I'll wait right here. Take your time!"
The coachman's hesitant expression brightened at the generous pay, and he bowed his head.
"Let's go."
"Yes... sir."
Leaving the coachman to wait, Palan headed to their first stop, the Cambedia Factory, with Captain Bern.
"What kind of factory is out here in the middle of nowhere?"
"Cheap land prices?"
"Even so, this is too remote, isn't it?"
"It is."
It wasn't for nothing that he'd paid the coachman to stick around.
At this distance, even commuting for the workers must be a nightmare.
Of course, the factory could provide dorms, but that wasn't simple either.
Cambedia Factory
A slightly crooked sign hung above the entrance.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
As they approached the iron gate, a fierce-looking dog spotted them and barked wildly.
A dog? Definitely a classic small business.
One of those telltale signs of a mid-sized company, right?
"Who are you?"
A man emerged from what looked like a guard post, alerted by the barking.
"I'm the planning officer from the Western Support Unit. We contacted you in advance."
"Ah, one moment, please."
His expression suggested he'd received the message.
But what small factory has a security guard?
Not that he was disparaging small businesses, but really—did they need one? It was just extra payroll.
"Where the hell did he go?"
The guard had left them standing outside the gate.
This was awkward.
"No idea. Maybe fetching the boss?"
"Couldn't we just meet him inside?"
"True."
Just as they wondered if they'd been abandoned, the guard returned soon enough.
"Thank you for waiting."
Ding-a-ling! Ding-a-ling!
The man unlocked the gate, and the bell overhead rang noisily as he pushed it open.
They've got all the bells and whistles.
Anyone would think this was a military base.
"I'll guide you to the factory owner."
"Thanks."
They followed the guard along the factory path.
It's quiet.
A factory should buzz with activity, but there wasn't a soul in sight.
Maybe it's a day off.
It was a weekday, but factories didn't have to stick to weekends. He brushed it off.
A bit further, a building came into view, and a burly man waited at the door.
"Haha! Welcome to Cambedia Factory! I'm the owner, Morping!"
"Planning Officer Major Palan Oclo. Thank you for the warm welcome."
They exchanged names and shook hands.
He's the fattest guy I've seen so far.
Getting that level of obesity without instant food took real effort in this world.
"How was the trip? Carriages hate coming out here."
"I paid extra for it."
"Oh dear, that's embarrassing. Tell me the fare, and I'll reimburse you..."
"No need. It's all covered by the military anyway."
Truth be told, they wouldn't pay him back.
Who reimburses coach fares?
The army just loans out horses. Try riding one all the way here—you can't do anything else but drive it. Terrifying just thinking about it.
This is buying time with money.
Like taking a taxi instead of driving yourself.
"Glad to hear it."
"Anyway, I was surprised by your bid. The delivery price is incredibly low. That's feasible, right?"
The real reason for this visit: confirm if they meant that price.
And luckily, Morping seemed serious.
"Of course. Why would I lie to military folks? Haha! I value my life."
The man laughed heartily and nodded.
The factory looked legit, and it seemed possible.
How the hell can they do it at that price?
He'd roughly crunched the numbers—not seriously, but still. Margins were razor-thin.
"Thanks for answering so openly, even if it was a prying question."
"Not at all. It's natural to be suspicious. Truth is, I'm the one regretting it now."
"Regretting?"
"I signed another contract recently, so capacity's tight. If you'd asked a week earlier, I could've done ten thousand pairs."
"Ah... impressive output."
He couldn't imagine the flood of gloves if they went full throttle.
Labor costs alone must be insane.
By his estimate, they had over a hundred workers easy.
"Could we see the glove production area?"
"Inside the factory...?"
Morping looked caught off guard, repeating the question.
"Yes, I'd like to check where the gloves are made. For contract inspection purposes."
There was no such process, of course—he'd made it up on the spot.
Let's see exactly how they hit that price.
He was dying to know.
"Uh... give me a moment to tidy up?"
"No need to—"
"Please, it'll be quick. Just wait here."
"Alright."
He wasn't an official auditor, so he couldn't push back on the cleanup request.
"Come upstairs. I don't have fancy stuff, but I've got some decent tea."
They followed him to the office for tea, then got word it was ready and headed to the factory.
"Whew! Climbing here's a workout every time."
Morping wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.
Damn, sweating like that in this cold? How much fat is he hauling around?
No heating bills in winter for this guy.
"You okay?"
"Yes... this is the place."
Morping turned and signaled to the trailing employee, Neck.
The man was sharp.
"This is the building for our current leather vest contract."
"Right. Vests are in high demand in winter."
Morping added his bit casually.
This guy's clueless.
Not unusual—bosses often focused on spending, not details.
"Winter gloves made here too?"
He asked the employee behind Morping.
"No, those will be in another building. No facilities yet since the contract's pending— it'd just be empty space."
"Got it."
Another factory building, then.
Vests here, huh? Hmm.
Glancing around: cutting stations, sewing areas, all sectioned off.
Nothing special.
Whatever slashed their costs, they'd cleared it away during cleanup.
"Thanks for the tour."
Nothing to see. He pretended to look around and left.
"How do we proceed with the contract?"
"Send a sample. If it's good, we'll sign right away."
"Understood. This week."
"Perfect. We'll be waiting."
"Looking forward to it, sir."
"Likewise."
One last handshake, and they turned to leave the way they'd come...
Huh...?
Walking the path, a chilling gaze prickled from somewhere.
Instinct made him turn— in a distant window, what looked like a child stared at him.
What the...?
Empty eyes.
Just meeting them felt profoundly unsettling.
"Sir, what's wrong?"
Captain Bern noticed his stare.
"Over there..."
As he pointed toward the child, a hand pulled it from view.
Those vacant eyes lingered on him till the end.
"Sir...?"
"Nothing."
Something... was wrong.
"They gone?"
"Yes, they just passed the gate and took the carriage."
"Phew, that factory tour request threw me."
Morping popped a chocolate from the dish into his mouth.
"No sign they suspected?"
"They left satisfied. You saw."
"Yeah, who wouldn't love a sweet deal? We crushed the bid—maybe I should've raised the price."
"Implant a good impression now, hike it on the next one."
Morping nodded at Neck's advice.
"Smart. Once we get paid, expand the factory."
"I'll prepare."
"And kid supply? Feels like fewer lately."
Neck's face twisted slightly at the question.
"It's getting tricky."
"Tricky?"
"Yeah, crackdowns ramped up—like they smell something."
"Bribe the outer guards like always."
"Guards are fine, but the district ecosystem... Citizens are sensing it."
Cambedia's secret to cheap goods: kidnapping, driving labor to zero.
"Damn freeloaders. We make 'em useful, and they hassle us."
"Might need to source from other cities."
"Whatever. Just get 'em. Gloves mean more kids."
"Yes, sir. No delays."
Well-practiced, Neck replied confidently.