Kicking Away the Bribe
A trading company run by a discharged colonel—everyone's been turning a blind eye to it.
But damn, the daily food budget is 15 silver?
It was way higher than I'd expected.
"This is enough to feed them pretty decently."
At the very least, there should be meat on the menu once a day.
"Is the problem that serious?"
Captain Ciel asked, peering curiously at the contract I was staring holes into.
"It's pretty damn serious."
Not just serious—this was straight-up corruption, no question.
"Should we report it to the regimental commander, then?"
"Since the trading company's owner is a reserve colonel, I think we should dig a little deeper before going straight up the chain."
"Got it. Let me know when you're ready. I'll handle the report to the regimental commander. Or you can do it yourself if you want."
Reporting corruption was a pain in the ass—a surefire way to make enemies.
I never dreamed she'd volunteer to take the heat for it.
What's her deal? How can someone be this nice?
Unfortunately, I had no intention of bothering the regimental commander with it.
If we're reporting up, Captain Eden's the direct line anyway.
With the audit underway, he'd shake them down clean and wrap it up neatly.
But was that really the best move?
In the end, blowing the whistle just does the army a favor. Nothing in it for me.
It was a total losing proposition.
Right now, it feels like the biggest win would be kicking these guys out and slotting in the Oclo Trading Company.
This 1st Division alone would soon surpass 20,000 mouths to feed.
Even if they skim just 1 silver per head, that's 200 gold a day.
Simple math—and judging by what the Alonso Trading Company was pulling, they weren't stopping at 1 silver.
Minimum 5 silver? That's 1,000 gold a day, 30,000 a month. Insane.
This was straight-up money printing.
"I'll give it a shot, and if it doesn't work out, I'll ask for help."
"Sounds good. And if you can, meet the trading company owner in person. You might pick up some new intel."
"Yes, ma'am. That was my plan anyway."
Not that extracting info was the main goal, but yeah, I'd meet him.
"I can tell from your face you've got something cooking."
Was it woman's intuition?
I thought I had my poker face down pat, but apparently not to her eyes.
"Ha... haha, I'll fill you in if it pans out."
"Do that. Let's wrap up a bit more and grab some food."
Her words had me biting my lip without thinking.
Another meal at the soldiers' mess, huh...?
Ninety-nine percent chance.
Which meant choking down yesterday's mystery slop again.
Just imagining it gave me chills.
I've gotta fix this fast. No time to waste.
Looking at it again, this wasn't just business—it was tied straight to my survival.
"Ugh, just kill me."
A week since taking over as supply company commander.
Every day had been hell, but at least today brought some good news.
Lucky the regimental commander's report got delayed, or I'd be toast.
Word was he'd been called in for questioning—probably corruption-related, high odds.
"Think the regimental commander will come back in one piece?"
"Our commander's not the type to gorge like the others, so he'll probably be fine. Might get a warning, though."
Since the audit kicked off, countless commanders had been relieved of duty or vanished without a trace.
With so many cases, lighter warnings were common depending on the scale.
Of course, fail to pull your weight in the war, and you're done the second it ends.
Maybe because of that, the army felt noticeably more lively lately.
"Fingers crossed. If more brass gets purged, we're all dead meat."
"No kidding. We'd be screwed."
Captain Ciel shook her head like she couldn't bear to imagine it.
"Haha, you'd survive without me, ma'am."
Not empty flattery—she was a monster with paperwork.
Overtime's her default, and her focus is insane.
If she'd been born into a good family and studied, she'd be a renowned scholar by now.
"Don't jinx it. Anyway, you're meeting the trading company owner today, right?"
"Yes, ma'am. Dinner appointment."
"Too bad. Meat's coming in today—special menu."
"Ha... haha, what a shame."
Not the slightest bit sorry.
Does this woman even have foods she can't stomach?
Blasphemous as it sounded, she'd adapt to a deserted island in a day.
"Talk nice. Keep it friendly."
"That's the plan. I'll report back if you're around later. Loyalty!"
I saluted, grabbed my briefcase, and headed out.
"Solve this, and it's basically a cushy gig."
Supply company duties looked overwhelming now because of the mess, but stabilize it and I could hole up in the office, ordering ingredients—that was it.
Just a bit more grit.
Dreaming of the rosy future not far off, I made for the appointed spot: the barbecue joint in front of base.
"Pleased to meet you. Colvet, vice head of the Alonso Trading Company."
A man in his thirties spotted me in uniform and greeted first.
He seemed friendly enough, but the first gear was already grinding wrong.
Vice head?
I'd scheduled with the owner, Alonso, obviously.
"Supply Company Lieutenant Palan Oclo. Is the owner in the restroom or something?"
"He was tied up with food supply business today, so I'm here in his place. He's delegated full authority—deal with me."
Deeply impressive: dropping the no-show news without so much as an apology.
These guys are hopeless.
Time to toughen up my resolve.
"I see. Understood for now."
"What'll it be?"
"Mutton."
With western wool as a specialty, mutton was the cheapest meat on the continent.
"Price says it's old sheep—sorry I couldn't take you somewhere nicer."
"In times like these, flashy spots get you in trouble. Appreciate the thought."
Especially during audit season, caution was key.
"Once things settle, we'll treat you right."
"Put that effort into the supplies you're delivering instead."
I lobbed the pointed remark and sat, sipping water first.
Where to start.
Plans had shifted with the vice head showing, but no big deal.
Start with some pressure.
I'd locked in the opener and was about to launch when Colvet moved first.
"And this is a small token from the owner. Use it well for the Empire—we'd be grateful."
He slid a food box from the floor toward me.
"What's this?"
"Haha, put in a good word for our company."
Obvious contents, but I cracked it open to check.
Whoa.
Gold coins, as expected.
Heavy enough for just over 500 gold.
"Not just today—I'll visit monthly with our appreciation."
Colvet grinned like a pal.
If the guy here had been some ex-platoon leader, his ears would've hit the ceiling—but I was different.
These bastards skim over a thousand gold a day by simple math, and this is their 'token'?
Appreciation my ass—this was an insult.
"And if I may be delicate, I hear you enjoy the casino. True?"
"Yeah, I drop in now and then."
Curious what he'd offer next, I played along.
"Our owner's a VIP at Oberlip Casino—the biggest in town."
How much had he shoveled in to hit VIP as head of a small registered outfit?
The deeper I dug, the uglier it got—unbelievable.
"It's invite-only, so if you're interested, he can put in a word."
"Hm."
What to do with these clowns.
Tough call? Nah—decision made, no more agonizing.
"Hey, do I look like a beggar to you?"
"Pardon...?"
My cold toss froze Colvet's face stiff.
"Trying to feed dirty money to an Oclo? You out of your mind?"
Clattercrash!
I booted the bribe box; coins spilled across the floor.
"S-Sir, lieutenant, I think there's a misunderstanding."
"Don't piss me off. If you don't want your company torched, drag the owner here now. Can't stomach this filth."
"If the owner comes, it'll bite you too. Calm down—this was my mistake, let's talk it out..."
Still delusional, or slyly threatening me.
World's really gone mad.
Forget my nobility—even without it, how could he stand so brazen after screwing up?
"Bite me? Hilarious. You think you can touch me? Quit the empty threats you can't back up and fetch the owner."
"You'll regret this."
Colvet rose, eyes bulging.
"Oh, and heads up—we're short on time. Drag your feet, and the deal window closes."
"I'll have him here in an hour. Wait."
Fury in his glare.
Roles reversed, but I'd cut him slack.
"Your... mutton's ready."
A young waitress brought it, terror in her eyes.
"Sorry for the noise. Tip?"
I scooped a few spilled golds and handed them over.
"Th-thank you!"
From quaking to bowing nonstop in seconds.
Money really is the best medicine.
The world was simple when you thought about it.
"Any private rooms? Might get louder."
"Yes! One in back. Shall I move you?"
"Please."
With her help, we shifted to a door-equipped room—nothing fancy, but private.
Starving. Eat now?
It was cooked; letting it sit would ruin the flavor.
"Yeah, waste not."
Nom nom.
Forked a chunk into my mouth.
Mutton's savor and juices chained into a massive explosion.
"Grrrah! This is it!"