Chapter 32
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: Approaching Dark Clouds
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"Special rations? What do you mean by that all of a sudden?"
Admiral McRaven of the Imperial Navy wore an expression of utter confusion.
My words were a bit... no, pretty out of left field. We'd been going on about giving them an awesome song, and here I was saying, "Ah, forget that—how about some special treats for the troops?" He had every right not to get it.
"Exactly what I said."
But those special rations? The higher-ups might not get it, but for the grunts down in the trenches, they're like heaven.
Just one burst of sweetness on the tongue is enough to reignite their will to fight, their reason for fighting.
"From what I can see, the Navy needs special rations more than one of my songs."
"...Are you saying the Imperial Navy is throwing a tantrum like a bunch of kids?"
Damn it. Even when you try to think nicely of these seal bastards, they gotta nitpick like this?
I could practically hear myself yelling, "Fuck off—all of you!" But no. Hold it together, Richi. Hold it.
"You're misunderstanding me. I have no intention of belittling the Navy at all."
"Then why bring up special rations out of nowhere—something you haven't even provided?"
"Didn't you tell me yourself? You wanted to do right by the Imperial Navy's sailors."
Admiral McRaven nodded as if to say I had a point.
Come on, Admiral. Now that you get it, please hear me out properly. I beg you.
"The Army and the Navy are different. Especially in a situation like this. To be frank, the Navy doesn't march like the Army does."
"We do inspections. On land and at sea."
"Inspections are more for the brass than the troops."
He cleared his throat with a "Khm!" like I'd hit a nerve. He knew it too—that those things were a total pain in the ass.
Especially for the soldiers who had to prep for them. It was pure hell.
"If I wrote a song for that, it'd just sour the Navy's morale. They'd say I was dragging it out on purpose to make them suffer more. And I'm the son of the Army Marshal, aren't I? You have to consider the sailors' pride."
"That's... true. Yeah. I hadn't thought that far ahead."
He accepted it just like that. Impressive. The pride clash between knights and officers was one thing, but this was on another level.
Then again, the rivalry between the Army—which had been around since the Empire's founding—and the Navy was inevitable.
I'm begging you, stop sending spies to each other and withholding ops intel. Please.
"I've heard ship duty is grueling."
"It is. Way tougher than Army routine."
"People always think their own job's the hardest. Anyway, that grueling work means sweating buckets and sweltering heat. What do the troops need then—a pointless song, or something to make them forget the grind for even a moment?"
That should do it. If the Navy Admiral still didn't get it after this, there was no hope.
I stared quietly at Admiral McRaven. Time to decide.
Of course, I knew exactly what answer I wanted. If he went with "Nah, we want the song," I had a last resort: contact Dad and whine, "Wahhh, the seals are bullying me!"
"...You've got a solid point there."
Luckily, even a seal admiral was still an admiral.
He chose his men's needs over his own desires. Good man.
"Thinking of our sailors, those special rations you mentioned make more sense. Yeah. Humans are amazing—they can recover their fighting spirit from the tiniest things."
"I'm just grateful you understand."
Whew, saved. I'd been sweating bullets over what song to throw at them next.
Honestly, that Imperial March had been a total fluke—I hadn't planned beyond it.
"Alright, let's talk details then. Richi, you brought up special rations, so I'm guessing you have ideas on what to provide. Am I right?"
"Spot on."
"What is it? Let's hear your thoughts."
Whoa. The seal admiral wants the land dog son's opinion! Unbelievable!
Look at that—his aides were gasping in shock.
They must be stunned. Their top boss asking a noble kid—and the Army Marshal's son, no less—for advice!
Suddenly, I wanted to do something crazy. Epic. Haha! If he wants my opinion, make him chant "The Army's the best!" three times!
"Ice cream. How about that?"
Of course, my mouth was running on autopilot, ignoring my wild thoughts.
"Ice cream... You mean that sweet frozen milk dessert?"
"Exactly."
"You want to give our boys something dainty ladies nibble with a teaspoon? Does that even fit? These are guys who hit the booze first thing when they set foot on land."
Even here, sailors were booze-crazed. At least they weren't chugging pure ethanol like some.
His face said it all: "Frozen sweets for sea-hardened men? Ridiculous!"
But Admiral, ice cream's been battle-tested by the gods themselves.
"Ice cream's perfect. Hands down the best."
Sweet stuff for hard times. Cool stuff for the heat. Food for the blues.
With magic as a modern convenience, making it was a breeze.
Just shatter the stereotype of spoon-nibbling noble ladies, and we're golden!
I preached the gospel of ice cream's greatness to the admiral.
They might balk at first, but soon they'd riot for more.
I guaranteed it—they'd go nuts.
"Hmmm."
But our seal admiral, McRaven, still looked skeptical.
I got it, honestly. Ice cream was more of a ladies' favorite these days.
Men ate it too, but women loved it way more.
And these damn seal bastards were all about that "Sea men! Roar!!" macho crap.
They hung their whole identity on it. "Girly food doesn't suit us!" they'd whine.
"Sir. Allow me to boldly declare it here."
But who am I? A soul possessor who could talk his way out of anything.
I wasn't brain-dead enough to peddle untested crap.
Plus, my family had brains for generations.
"That special ration will become something uniquely special to the Navy alone."
Or a laughingstock: "Look at the seals begging for ice cream like kids! Hee hee!" I wanted both, honestly.
"One more thing, Richi."
Man, he was picky. This should've sealed it by now.
Go ahead, Admiral. What's bugging you this time?
Vanilla not cutting it? Strawberry? Chocolate? Thirty-one flavors?
No mint chip, right? Mention that, and admiral or not, I'd...
"About that ice cream. It requires magic, doesn't it? Can't make it without."
"Correct."
"And magic always costs money."
"...Yes."
"So these special rations would eat into the budget nonstop. And right now, both the Navy and Army are scraping by as it is."
Budget. That goddamn money issue. Koenihesen was still kicking—why bring up funds now?
Even this war started and would end over money. Of course.
No matter how much "Long live the Emperor! Long live the Imperial House!" the citizens cheered, they hated high taxes.
No need to look far—our Empire's big rival jacked taxes for war prep, and the pissed-off peasants chopped off the king's head.
"If you're proposing ice cream rations... I'd like your thoughts on funding it."
Budget? Hmm... Hmmm... Khm!
"..."
"You're not saying just toss out the idea and leave the budget to me, are you?"
"What can a mere student do? That's on you, Admiral McRaven."
Hee hee! Not my problem! I told you, so now it's up to the big shots!
"Hey, you little punk! You think budgets fall from the sky?!"
Whoa there, Admiral. Mind your dignity. Your aides are watching.
Doesn't it embarrass you in front of the land dog they call me?
"If I rise high enough later, I'll build you a ship dedicated to making ice cream for the Navy. Kuhahaha!"
"You—you! Why are you laughing? So ice cream was just to mock the Navy after all!"
Can't say 100%, but... hee hee hee!
"Hoo."
Admiral McRaven slumped into his seat like he'd given up. Fair enough.
Budget battles were their job, not mine. Not yet.
"Care for a smoke?"
"I don't."
"Surprising. Your father Marshal Reinhardt's a chain-smoker."
That's why Mom chews him out daily.
"Got me curious all of a sudden, Richi. Why bother?"
"Pardon?"
"You're Army-bound, right? You could've ignored the Navy completely."
"You kept begging, sir. Made it impossible to say no."
"That's not the whole story."
Bottom line: Why go all-in with real advice?
I pondered, then decided on honesty.
"The Empire leans Army. I'd say 60-40. Oh, not dissing the Navy—don't get me wrong."
"What was that? I didn't hear a thing."
"Anyway, the Navy's no slouch. Everyone's giving their all."
"..."
"Honestly, friction between the services is inevitable. I get it. But against the massive enemy called the budget, allies beat enemies, right?"
Before budgets, Army and Navy are friends! Like officers and knights! All friends!
Let's join hands and squeeze more funds!
That's my grand goal—and why I helped the Navy. So, what do you say, Admiral?
"Richi."
"Yes, sir."
"Ever thought about joining the Navy?"
Get lost, fuck. Damn seal admiral!