Money Is Everything
"What the hell kind of thought is that, let's do it right now."
"Isn't it all just money?"
I was looking at the vault loaded in one side of the Behemoth's cargo hold. Inside that vault: stacks of gold coins, credit instruments, and banknotes. Lucila, the adjutant, stared at it blankly and let out a hollow laugh.
"Impressive. How the hell did you pull this off?"
"Pushed it through with cliff-edge tactics. If you want to be precise about it, it was a big-scale whining operation."
"Sounds like you whined once, properly. Given how much you squeezed out of them, I'd say that's about right."
"Still not enough. We need it for northern reconstruction costs. That's why we've got to hit the south and east too."
We were chatting casually when I suddenly felt footsteps approaching from behind. Lucila and I both turned our gazes in that direction at the same time, and the adjutant's lips curled into a smile.
"Salute, Commander. These are the new brigade members we've just summoned, and my own kind."
The ones approaching didn't look particularly decent at first glance. Their bushy tails and ears perked high on their heads were mangy, and the heavy, gloomy aura that clung to them, the kind that comes from beings born into a life of grinding poverty from the very bottom—was palpable. But their eyes. Their eyes sparkled.
"The one leading this pack is Mogant."
The alpha stepped forward, brushed his hands against his clothes, and politely offered me a handshake. I didn't take it. Instead, I pulled Mogant into a tight hug. From my experience rolling around with beastmen, I knew that for them, a hug carries tremendous weight. You lowly, disgusting four-legged bastards. For beings who couldn't even stand the idea of a handshake, let alone a hug, being embraced meant declaring the will to accept them wholly.
As expected, Mogant's eyes went wide.
"I knew the Hellhound Brigade recognized the combat strength of wolf beastmen. Mogant, I believe your pack will fight just as well as our existing members."
I could see Mogant's hands trembling. Lucila watched the scene from the side and smirked.
What's so touching about all this? We're just getting started.
"I'm assigning your first mission as a brigade member. Mogant, take your pack and guard this cargo hold loaded with money."
"Yes?"
"Guard the gold coins, credit instruments, and cash banknotes here. Mogant, I'm entrusting all of this to you and your pack."
Mogant and the gang enforcers stared at each other.
"If it's not too presumptuous, Commander Volka—are you sure it's alright to entrust something like this to us?"
I knew the deep-rooted prejudice against beastmen well enough to make my skin crawl. Savage, backstabbing, money-grubbing inferior races who'd only steal and run. But I understood perfectly well why that prejudice existed, which is why I could entrust them with the money.
"Wolves are fiercely loyal. Stealing would be something the humans who oppress you would do—not your own pack. Theft within the pack is strictly forbidden, and I've been told there hasn't been a single violation."
I walked up to Mogant and pointed at the gold coins and cash stacked along one side of the cargo hold.
"This money isn't mine. It's yours. When your pack moves to the north, it's the money to build homes for you, to pave the roads you'll walk, to buy the weapons you'll arm yourselves with. That's why I can trust it to you. Because I understand you won't betray the pack even if it costs you your life."
Mogant and the enforcers bowed their heads low. Wolves don't cry easily. But even they couldn't hold it in this time. Their irises burned crimson.
I patted Mogant's shoulder as if to say I understood.
"Go collect your things. I'll give you one day. Sort through your belongings, gather the things you'll take to your new home, and bring them back. If you need it, you can use the military truck we came on. It'll be a vehicle that lets you live in peace and carries you to a land that needs you."
The wolf pack wasn't just these people. The western territories were vast. There had to be plenty of wolf beastmen on other lands beyond Leonard Marquis's domain. So the ones standing in front of me mattered. If they settled well in the north, were treated like human beings, and thrived—then other wolf packs would start thinking about crossing over too.
Mogant, unable to hold it in any longer, shed a single tear and wordlessly buried his head against my chest. I wasn't surprised or flustered. I knew this was an oath of loyalty.
"This money, we will protect it with our lives."
"I know. I believe you will. And one more thing."
"Whatever you command."
"Go see Leonard Marquis and bring back the submachine guns and pistol ammunition."
I glanced sideways. There, visible among the brigade commanders, was the Second Battalion Commander, the one leading the rat beastmen. A rat beastman. Under 150 centimeters tall.
"These are the weapons to arm the southern rat beastmen."
The street-level poor. Illegal residents who never had much to begin with, they had no homes worth being sentimental about, no neighbors they'd hate to leave. Old clothes. Carefully hoarded silver coins. Utensils. And various self-defense weapons and illegal firearms they'd always carried for survival. That was everything they had, and all of it fit perfectly into the Behemoth's cargo holds.
"The submachine guns?"
"Brought them."
And Leonard Marquis kept his word. He must have really wanted the southern situation to go to hell. I pulled out the submachine gun Mogant had brought and inspected it.
A trench-warfare submachine gun using 9mm pistol rounds. The Empire's first submachine gun, a monument to military history. But it had serious problems. Rushed into development during the war with the Kramkin Kingdom, it was heavy and long. On top of that, the side-mounted magazine caused frequent feeding issues. But what did it matter? It was just as suitable for arming the rat beastmen as the outdated bolt-action rifles they were currently carrying.
"Second Battalion Commander, try firing this once."
The rat beastman took the submachine gun, held it, and fired. Under 150 centimeters tall.
"It's a bit awkward, but it doesn't seem like there'd be any major problem using it in a pinch, Commander."
"Excellent. Second Battalion Commander. You're from the east, so I take it you don't know the southern rat beastmen well. Do you think you could persuade them?"
The moment I said that, the goatee on either side of the Second Battalion Commander's nose trembled rapidly. Rat beastmen's goatees shook like that whenever they were thinking or emotionally charged.
"They'll be cautious. Our kind are fundamentally very sensitive beings. But at the same time, they're very sharp."
The First Battalion Commander—a bear beastman, grumbled and looked down at the Second Battalion Commander.
"If we played cards, we'd never lose! You're nothing but fast-fingered thieves!"
"Challenges are always welcome. I'm not sure your bear eyes could read our hand tricks, but—Commander. Our kind are extremely sensitive to profit. If they judge that moving to the north is more beneficial, the rat beastmen there will gladly lend us their strength. I'm confident."
"I see. So we need to make it look beneficial, then?"
"Of course. I think refusal is unlikely. And Commander, you can't approach the south the same way you approached the west."
The west was an industrial zone. If infrastructure was damaged or destroyed, factories would shut down immediately, so they'd likely choose negotiation over fighting. But the south was a traditional grain-producing region. If you went in the same way—hey, we'll lose very little anyway if we fight. How much can you even burn down a rice paddy?—they'd just fight, and that would be the end of it.
"They obsessively gather information. Because of their small build and weak strength, information is extremely important to them. There might be useful intel when dealing with the southern nobles."
"Meet the rat beastmen first, then face the southern marquis?"
"Exactly."
"Do as the Second Battalion Commander says. I've never seen his reconnaissance be wrong."
The goatee trembled. Rat beastmen, among the many beastman races, they were ones who received particularly less recognition. Suspicious, sensitive, weak in strength, they'd had to resort to shady methods just to survive.
"If the Commander treats us the way you have, the southern rat beastmen will undoubtedly cooperate. I can guarantee it."
But if they judged that they could provide themselves a stable environment, they were beings who would act with devotion more than anyone else.
"Alright. Let's go."
Mogant's pack of over two thousand boarded the Behemoth, spreading across several cargo cars. I waved my hand at the train operator, and the armored train let out a deafening roar as it spewed its power. Slowly, the train began rolling along the tracks, and before long the scenery outside started blurring past at speed.
"Are you thinking about how to conquer the south?"
Lucila, who had approached my side while I stared blankly at the passing scenery, asked.
"Yeah. The Second Battalion Commander is right. The south is different from the west. Even if we go in with the same cliff-edge tactics and whining operation, we'll need a different approach."
"They won't fear war. Even if the worst-case scenario unfolds through our provocations, the damage we could inflict on the entire south would be minimal. At most, they'd burn down some rice paddies…"
"The south has excellent firefighting facilities."
"Because they're beings who live off grain. They'd have to be prepared for fire."
I was heading south, clutching one vague possibility—that meeting the southern rat beastmen might give me some leverage for blackmail. The south was a complete mystery compared to the west, where I could at least see some probability.
It was right at that moment that Mogant, Iron Fang, slipped into the conversation between me and the adjutant.
"Do you plan to fleece the south too, Commander?"
"Yes. Mogant. The north needs a lot of money for reconstruction. We're in a position where we have to strip not just the west, but the east and south too."
"I'm not from the south myself, so I don't know the details as well as you do. But I probably know more than you, Commander."
"How would you know anything about the south?"
Mogant smirked and pulled an illegal gang pistol from inside his coat.
"The black-market dealer who procured this gun was from the south. He was a real chatterbox. So I occasionally got to hear stories about the south. What I'm getting at is, there might be one way to blackmail the south."
The ears perked up. That sound.
"Tell me in detail, Mogant."
"The southern nobles don't have the same power structure as the western nobles, where one marquis controls everything. The land is so vast and every plot so fertile that each noble has strong say. The reason the Rubheim Marquis family, the rulers of the south, is powerful is because they're the only house connected by blood to all those vocal nobles."
"I'm listening. So?"
"And for the Rubheim Marquis family, the most important marital relationships are with the three viscount families. I've heard that the moment even one of those three marriages falls apart, the entire power structure of the south could collapse."
My gaze and Lucila's turned to Mogant simultaneously.
"Don't tell me."
"There's a rumor that the eldest daughter of the Rubheim Marquis family had an affair with a servant and bore a bastard child. Of course, it's just gossip. But if that rumor is true and someone finds out where that bastard actually is, the south's power structure would be utterly destroyed."
Mogant smiled. I smiled. Lucila smiled too. Our gazes slowly turned to the Second Battalion Commander.
The rat beastman's goatee trembled.
"That kind of rumor is exactly what our kind loves best. Gossip that can be used to blackmail the high and mighty. I can guarantee it—if that rumor is true, the southern rat beastmen couldn't possibly not know about it."
"What is this, a salon gossip column? Blackmail them with information about a bastard child to squeeze money? That's truly fucking stupid."
It's stupid. But this was the situation I was in. So—
"Let's do it right now."
This operation was on my hit list too.