A Good Deal
In the dark back alleys where wolf beastmen who couldn't even be properly recognized as human beings lived in the western district, there was nowhere to turn. There were no legitimate jobs to be found, and they were beings who didn't exist in the eyes of imperial law.
Their reality was one of grueling forced labor where they bled and sweated, only to receive barely any money in return. Because of that, beastmen everywhere in the empire formed organizations of a similar shape to protect themselves. Gangs. Violent thugs of the underworld. Since their innate physical strength was incomparably greater than that of humans, gangs were as good as a lifeline for beastmen.
And among those back alleys, the most crowded and foul place was a cheap dive. Wolf beastmen bruisers, faces and bodies scarred with knife marks, sprawled about as if it were nothing. Even the destitute people of the slums didn't dare set foot here. And into that place, the adjutant walked in with an utterly unbothered stride.
The cheap alcohol and food inside the bar were half-eaten by wolf beastmen who snorted and laughed. The moment the adjutant stepped in, every single one of them threw their gaze her way. Her neat military uniform, clearly distinct from their shabby clothes, would normally have earned nothing but hostility here. Soldiers were the ones who crushed and killed beastmen in this slum when they felt like it, after all. But this time, it was the exact opposite.
"How's everyone doing!" The adjutant spread her arms wide with a welcoming smile, and the beastmen erupted in cheers, leaping to their feet.
"Lucila! Good heavens! Our hero!"
"Hellhound! Haha! Say something! You should've called a welcome party for your own kind!"
They all swarmed around the adjutant in an instant. Greetings and embraces came in a flurry, and she received every single one of them without a trace of hesitation.
"I'm glad to see everyone too. But before that—there's someone I need to meet."
"Of course! Of course! Hey, Chala! Guide Lucila to the boss!"
The king of the western underworld. Iron Fang Mogant. That was the name every beastman here called their leader. But Lucila didn't call Mogant "boss." She called him "Father."
"Lucila!"
"Father."
Watching his daughter stand at attention and perform a crisp, dignified salute, Iron Fang Mogant let out a stupid laugh and pulled the adjutant into a tight embrace.
"Say something! If I'd known in advance, I wouldn't have greeted you looking this bedraggled! Our hero! Because of you, every beastman in the slums learned to read! They're saying they want to hear news from the Hellhound Brigade!"
Unable to suppress his laughter, Mogant said through his grin. Lucila unclasped her salute and pulled the documents she'd been carrying tucked inside her coat, offering them to her father.
"A gift for you."
"A gift? Haha! What do I need a gift for! If I give you a gift, you should be the one receiving it!"
"No, Father. This is something you absolutely need. Take a look."
Mogant took the documents, his face still squirming with amusement at first, but as he read the words inside, his expression grew increasingly grave.
"The brigade...recruitment authority?"
"Father. The gift I'm giving you is rights. The right for the beastmen in this slum to live with dignity. The right not to be treated like property. The right not to be beaten down like dogs and slaughtered."
Mogant's hands trembled. But it wasn't just him. Every wolf beastman in the vicinity was trembling too.
"Become a member of the Hellhound Brigade. Come under Commander Volka's command. Then head north. There's a place for us up there. Less discrimination, more opportunities. And let's prove it. That beastmen can live like humans. What do you think?"
Mogant nodded without a word, his expression saying it was a done deal.
"Fine. We'll join the brigade. If we can earn the empire's recognition, if we can live like humans, we'll do whatever it takes. My daughter."
The adjutant smiled at those words. The name Hellhound Brigade and Commander Volka carried a value greater than gold in beastman society. When everyone discriminated and oppressed, they were the only ones who showed that beastmen could do one thing too. They were the embodiment of the word "hope" that proved beastmen could become heroes.
"How many of our people can be mobilized right now? Father?"
"If we count only fighters, about two hundred. Including non-fighters, around two thousand. That's the whole of the pack I lead."
"From now on, I'll explain the situation in the north and what we need to do."
The gang lieutenants all showed intense focus, listening intently as the adjutant gave a brief but rapid rundown of the situation. Mogant and the lieutenants, people who had to read the room just to survive in back-alley life, grasped the gist in an instant.
"So basically...we need to pressure Leonard Marquis, right?"
"Exactly. But there must be no armed clash. This is purely a show of force."
"So we just hold rifles without loading them, huh."
"But in case of emergency, we might actually need to fire, so you should keep the ammo on hand without loading it into the rifles."
"I'll remember that. A chance to show up armed before Leonard Marquis's estate? No beastman would want to miss that. Listen up!"
Mogant bellowed. His face was filled with laughter.
"Finally, the day we break our chains has come! Round up every beastman we can mobilize! Arm them! And let's start a proper riot for once!"
The wolf beastmen howled in unison. True to his title as king of the underworld, Mogant rounded up the majority of his pack in an instant and marched them toward the Behemoth.
On the Behemoth, they armed two thousand beastmen with the old bolt-action rifles they'd received. Naturally—
"What the hell is this shit! You four-legged beastman bastards!"
The rumor spread that the scum who should've been rotting in back alleys were flooding the streets by the thousands, and some of them were even armed with firearms. Leonard Marquis's territory was in an uproar. The security forces and soldiers scrambled to respond, but unlike before, they couldn't just shoot beastmen on sight.
"What are you doing! These are all soldiers of the Imperial Army's 3rd Mechanized Shock Infantry Brigade! Are you planning to interfere with a legitimate conscription process carried out by order of the Emperor?!"
The Behemoth's machine guns and artillery turned cautiously toward the security forces and soldiers. And with the Behemoth's overwhelming presence at their backs, the adjutant thrust forward the Emperor's decree and shouted.
"No, no! What kind of sudden conscription in the middle of the city!......"
"The moment a single bullet lands on a brigade member's body, you'll be charged with treason! Are the western garrison forces planning to defy the Emperor's authority?!"
Cornered by the adjutant's fierce bark, the security forces and soldiers had no choice but to step back.
That sight—Mogant, the other gang members, and the other wolf beastmen, even their families—all had to clench their fists so hard they thought they'd shatter. They couldn't stop laughing. That security force. Those soldiers. The damned dogs who used to gun down beastmen in the open streets and walk away whistling—that was the scene. And they couldn't move a muscle. That meant everything to the beastmen.
"Everyone! What are you standing around for! We need to go meet Commander Volka! Let's head to Marquis Leonard's estate!"
The adjutant led the beastmen out. They marched from the train station straight toward the marquis's estate. The security forces and soldiers went into another panic.
"You crazy four-legged bastards! Turning around? Stay put! I'll open fire if you take another step!......"
"Go ahead. Try shooting the imperial army once. Like you said— we're going to meet our commander. We're not starting a war. You have to fire first. That's the only way you get the justification. How about it? Can you take responsibility? Can you make the decision to burn down the entire western region?"
Walking up to the pistol pointed at her, dragging the barrel to her own temple, and growling through her teeth, the adjutant's madness left the security captain and the marquis's guards no choice but to back down.
"Th-this crazy bitch!......."
"Shoot, or shut up. And by the way—we have nothing to lose. Getting shot and dying is just everyday life for us. But for you, it's not. This isn't some illegal handgun or a Lupaa—this is your first time getting hit with a proper military rifle. Isn't that right?"
The adjutant shoved the security captain aside and stepped forward. Two thousand beastmen, carrying unloaded rifles, moved quickly in her wake.
"Sir! How do we...shoot?!"
"Stand down! Put the rifles down! And go tell the marquis! Tell him!"
The security forces. The marquis's guards. They never fired a shot. The beastmen marched through the streets, carrying bolt-action rifles with nothing loaded, along with illegal handguns, Lupaa shotguns, and other weapons, until they reached the gates of the marquis's estate.
The beastmen didn't know how this situation worked. They didn't know how Commander Volka was using their very existence as leverage in negotiations. But they didn't need to know. It was enough.
"Tch...you goddamn four-legged bastards......"
The security force couldn't shoot. They stood there, fidgeting, eyes darting nervously, staring at the adjutant like a constipated dog. That alone was enough. More than enough. It was the moment the rights the wolf beastmen had longed and begged for finally came into existence.
"Four million crowns in cash. Six million in gold bullion. Fifty thousand tons of coal. Two thousand tons of rail. Three thousand rounds of 155mm shells. Three million rounds of 8mm ammunition. Return the northern dwarf craftsmen? You thieving bastard!"
"By the way, we can't transport all of that on the armored train Behemoth we brought. Have some transport trains requisitioned from the western side and ship it to the train station closest to the north. If you do that, we'll figure out how to get it up there by truck."
"This is too much! I can't give this much!"
Marquis Leonard was fuming, but I kept a perfectly calm expression.
"So the north is just going to collapse then."
"........."
"Don't forget. You're free riders on the security blanket. Right after ten years of that goddamn war, the north was already on the brink of death, and it's been bleeding while handling the Blood Wall defense."
"........."
"Do the math. Right now, either you hand over what I'm asking for, or the Blood Wall falls and the magical creatures flood into the west and you deal with it. Which is cheaper? Think about it."
"Even so, this is too much! The west isn't exactly flush with cash! We went through the same ten-year war! We can't absorb this kind of hemorrhaging!"
He wasn't about to give in easily. I couldn't push too hard here—otherwise he'd go all-in just to avoid losing, and that was a risk I couldn't afford. I needed to show a compromising attitude.
"What can you give?"
"The dwarf craftsmen. I can't give those up. Everything else I can provide. That's my limit."
I stared right at Leonard Marquis. The dwarf craftsmen...that one stung. In the long term, they were geniuses in metallurgy and forging—absolutely essential for northern reconstruction. I wanted to drag them back by force if I had to.
"Asking for those too is outright theft. I'd rather fight you. You think I can't? If the losses far outweigh the gains, I'll bite too. Commander Volka!"
But if I pushed for those too, he'd genuinely cross into the worst possible outcome, and I couldn't afford to keep greedily escalating. So I backed off.
"Fine. Then exclude the dwarf craftsmen. Hand over the other supplies."
"Honestly, the scale of everything else is too big too. Can you trim it? Half would be fine."
The shameless Marquis. He'd conceded the dwarf craftsmen, but he wasn't giving up an inch on anything else.
"Just have your knights cut my head off right now. The north is on the verge of collapse. I can't concede any further than this."
"Six million in gold bullion and four million in cash! You thieving son of a bitch, do you even know who you're talking to!......"
"Marquis Leonard. Do you think we're only going to the west?"
When his discontent wouldn't subside, I had to try a different approach. This wasn't just your loss. Other people were going to lose just as much. And this was important. Why? Because the nobles of the west, east, and south were absolutely—absolutely—not friends.
"Whatever the west pays, the other regions will lose too. Wouldn't that actually benefit the west? The west has a solid industrial base and could weather this, but what about the east and south?"
"Hmph! ...!"
"Let's be honest. Us. The imperial court is shaky right now, and we're all attacking together on the surface, but the west's biggest enemy isn't the emperor—it's the east and south, isn't it? A chance to land a fatal blow on the others while keeping up appearances and not getting your hands dirty. Marquis."
Marquis Leonard's rat-like face twitched rapidly as he turned to leave, his eyes darting this way and that, thinking at terrifying speed. It didn't take long—he reached his conclusion in an instant, old rat that he was.
"I'll add five million in cash. But one condition is non-negotiable. The east and south have to pay the same amount. Put it in writing."
"Understood. If we can't collect the same standard of contributions from the east and south, the additional amount from the west will be deducted from the next payment."
"Good. We need to make sure we squeeze them properly."
"Due to the situation in the north, we have no choice. But there's one thing I want to make clear."
I smiled. Of course, it wasn't a kind smile. It was a threat-level grimace designed for intimidation.
"If you try to sabotage the coal, oil, or other critical supplies on the way, I won't be responsible for what happens. I told you—we have no backs. Marquis. Please remember that."
"That won't happen. If you want, I'll put that part in writing too."
"Thank you for your consideration. Ah! One more thing."
Marquis Leonard furrowed his brow.
"Give us some submachine guns. Any surplus light machine guns for pistols? They'd be perfect for arming the southern rat beastmen."
Marquis Leonard glanced out the window. Looking at the beastmen armed with old bolt-action rifles, he seemed to be calculating something. Then he smiled a sinister grin.
"Five hundred submachine guns. Five hundred thousand rounds of pistol ammo. That should make the southern bastards suffer a bit."
"That's more than enough. Coal, oil, and raw materials—send those by train later. The submachine guns and cash, I want the gold now. We need to be able to move on the Behemoth."
The marquis let out a long sigh and glared at me. But after a silence of about ten seconds, he finally nodded.
"Take it. The fifteen million crowns I'm giving you—three million in cash, two million in gold bullion, and ten million in central bank credit. That's the last time you'll ever lay eyes on my face."
I answered the marquis's sharp voice with quiet ease.
"Good deal."
The fleecing was a total success.