You Mustn’t Think You’ve Worked Just Because You Held A Meeting

I summoned my subordinate characters to the conference room.

There was no way I could hold a discussion with everyone who had gathered in the Audience Chamber, so there were seven people here. The ones with official posts—excluding Ururu.

Amid them, the strategist Kiriku stood and declared the meeting open. Kiriku had short, bowl-cut blue hair, with purple eyes. He was a handsome man with glasses, and he looked a bit high-strung.

“Today is a momentous day—the day Fels-sama has returned. Normally, the entire nation… the entire world should be celebrating this day and praising Fels-sama.”

No, I really didn’t need that kind of anniversary. Even giving a speech in the Audience Chamber had been all I could do—I’d been trembling.

“And yet, despite it being such an important day, an incident occurred that cast a shadow over it… I believe everyone has already confirmed it, but the castle town vanished without a trace. That alone is an abnormal situation, but it doesn’t end there. Ilmitt, report.”

Kiriku’s post was “strategist,” and that role was supposed to give action guidance—telling you what you should do at the start of a turn.

Early in the game, there was so much you had to do that having someone spell out priorities was incredibly helpful… but later on, he became an outrageous strategist who only ever said, “Preparations are complete. Let’s invade.”

No matter what timid personality you set for him, a strategist who only ever proposed “Go all-out” plans was kind of pointless—but his combat buffs were excellent, so there was no reason not to assign him.

While I was staring at Kiriku in my seat and thinking that, Ilmitt reported—in the same leisurely, tension-free tone—what I’d already heard atop the wall.

“And so~ communications between bases using the mana collection devices~ and travel between bases~ are currently unusable~”

Honestly, as Ilmitt spoke in that drawn-out tone and swayed her body, I… may have had my eyes stolen by something I won’t name that was swaying very attractively. But I’d already heard the report, so it was fine. Boing, boing.

Before my thoughts could get any worse, Lynferia stood and began her report.

“Per Fels-sama’s orders, Ururu and her subordinates have departed to scout the surrounding area. They have been instructed to avoid engagement and to return to report immediately upon discovering anything, so they should bring information back soon.”

After Lynferia’s report, the conference room fell into a heavy silence. In that silence, I slowly closed my eyes and looked like I was thinking deeply…

…when in reality, I was desperately erasing my presence so no one would throw a question at me.

“I understand the situation. If there is a silver lining… it is that those we would normally have dispatched as stewards to each base all happened to be in the castle.”

That was… because before the final battle with the Dark God, I’d recalled every character to the capital to prepare for the last fight, wasn’t it?

“Otonoha. Is it possible that all mana collection devices broke simultaneously?”

I cracked my eyes open slightly and looked around the conference room. Otonoha—the one Kiriku addressed—was the head of development. Not only weapons, armor, and medicine, but raising town levels and constructing mana collection devices were also under her command.

“Ah—can’t say it’s absolutely impossible, but honestly, it’s not happening. Once those things start running, they don’t stop as long as there’s mana—on paper, they’d keep going even after a hundred years. I checked with Ilmitt earlier, and the links to every mana collection device we’d placed everywhere are completely severed… The connection targets themselves all vanished at once. A simple malfunction can’t do that.”

“What about the possibility that the core unit installed in the royal castle is broken?”

“Not happening. That thing is the most important asset in this country after Fels-sama. I can swear there’s been no negligence whatsoever.”

Otonoha said it outright, a little irritated by Kiriku’s question.

But Otonoha… if it’s the ultimate lifeline, it might be more important than the Overlord. And shouldn’t the people matter more? Ah, so it was “the people, me, the mana collection device”… No, that didn’t feel like the vibe at all.

Kiriku probably asked only out of caution. He nodded and then shifted his gaze to Arandor, the Grand General.

“Arandor. The army is fine, yes?”

“Indeed. By Fels-sama’s command, they stood by, ready to deploy at any time.”

Arandor nodded heavily. He looked like a veteran warrior—an appearance that inspired confidence.

Among the edited characters, he had the oldest look: gray hair and golden eyes. His element combination matched Lynferia’s, but with the top two swapped; it gave him an “elder” feel, so I’d kept him as an old-man character.

As the Grand General, his Leadership and Command were high—both at the maximum value of 125. A terrifyingly capable old man.

“However, if mana stones can no longer be replenished, it would be wise to refrain from summoning troops.”

“That depends on the situation. Holding back could lead to something irreversible. We will also be forced to be cautious in our use of magic…”

“Restricting magic is painful, you know. Most of my children won’t be able to do anything at all~?”

With magic on the table, Kamila—the Court Mage—spoke.

As mentioned before, you had to use mana stones to cast magic. In the game, you spent mana stones to “charge” mana before the RPG or war phases, and then you could cast spells.

Which meant you consumed mana stones the moment you charged—whether you actually cast spells afterward or not.

“Even if it is a small amount, facility maintenance costs still accrue. With no prospect of mana stone production, it cannot be helped.”

“I know, but still~…”

Kamila looked displeased at Arandor’s words. Her hair was gold, and her eyes were red.

She had a respectable level of chest armor—less than Ilmitt’s—and her loosened robe gave off both exposed skin and sensuality… but she had a setting no other character had.

Kamila was the only edited character I made whose hair and eye colors did not represent her strongest attributes.

There were ten magic attributes in Legions, and edited characters were set up to use at least two… but Kamila alone had every attribute raised to the maximum.

As the strongest magic user, Kamila had various “secret backstory” settings, and she was unquestionably the one I’d poured the most mana stones into while raising her.

Of course, I’d done it because she was a favorite… but whether those whimsical settings were reflected in reality was something I’d check sooner rather than later.

“Kamila, all of us are equally unable to use magic freely. And once we secure a means of producing mana stones, it will no longer be a problem.”

Lynferia admonished the sulking Kamila.

Right… as Lynferia said, securing mana stones was the top priority. It was hard to say whether that or understanding the surrounding situation mattered more, but… if something happened that required a military response, we’d be helpless without mana stones.

We had one hundred million, but we only had one hundred million.

Considering how much we’d burn by mobilizing the army, there was no way we could spend casually. I was a timid, penny-pinching Overlord!

“However… can we truly restrict even holy magic?”

A girl with pink hair and eyes that were always closed—no, more like slit eyes—spoke up.

She was Aisha. Without being specific about where, she was… utterly flat. Well, it couldn’t be helped. She was the “little girl slot.”

But I will say it loudly: little girls with proper chest armor are also wonderful.

Anyway.

The “holy magic” Aisha referred to was healing magic.

“That is true. Without holy magic, even if we fight, we have limits.”

Arandor nodded gravely, and the others seemed to have no objections. No matter how miserly I was, I wasn’t going to tell them to fight without healing.

Though we still didn’t even know if fighting would happen.

“Then for now, we conserve mana stones while maintaining alert readiness, and we wait for Ururu’s report. Any other opinions?”

Kiriku checked in a tone that felt like closing remarks, and everyone nodded as the meeting began to end.

If Ururu had returned during the meeting, we might have been able to discuss the next steps… but—

“Fels-sama. Our policy is to prioritize conserving mana stones, maintaining alert readiness, and gathering information through the diplomats. Is that acceptable?”

“…There is something I want to confirm.”

“Ha! Anything at all!”

Kiriku and Lynferia both gave the same reply when I said I wanted to confirm something… No, it didn’t matter.

“It concerns facilities. Even if maintenance is covered by mana stones, are they operating normally?”

“Yes~ all facilities are operating normally~”

Ilmitt answered instead of Kiriku.

“Then what about the dining hall? Until now, ingredients were delivered monthly as taxes and specialties, or obtained by slaying monsters in dungeons. That is no longer the case, is it not? Naturally, there should be stockpiles, but…”

At my words, everyone’s faces changed. The ones who reacted most strongly were Ilmitt, who managed facilities, and Kiriku, who had been coordinating the whole meeting.

Kiriku’s face went beyond pale; it turned almost as blue as his hair.

“I-I apologize, Fels-sama! I was so focused on mana stones that I did not consider food…”

This was… understandable, in game terms.

Legions had no logistics system, and meals only provided minor buffs if you ate each turn.

Whether this world was truly “reality” was debatable… but at minimum, I was here, and I was starting to feel hungry.

If so, I probably needed proper meals or I’d die.

But I didn’t know whether that applied to them. In Legions, one turn equaled one week. Maybe you could survive without eating.

If so, it wasn’t strange they hadn’t been thinking about food.

While I was silent, thinking that through, Kiriku grew even more blue-faced and looked like he was about to commit ritual suicide, so I hurriedly stopped him.

“Wait, wait! Why are you trying to cut your belly?!”

Was it because it was a Japanese-made game…? He looked completely foreign—though blue-haired foreigners didn’t exist naturally, probably. Either way.

A man who didn’t even look Japanese trying to suddenly commit seppuku felt… questionable. Not that modern Japanese people do that either.

“We have~ quite a lot of food in storage~. Even if we do not procure ingredients, we will be fine for about ten years~”

“…I see.”

…Quantity aside… won’t it rot? In the game, it never spoiled, but… now it could, right?

“Most of the mana stones used to maintain the dining hall are used to preserve ingredients~”

As if reading my mind, Ilmitt added.

I didn’t know how, but apparently they preserved food using mana stones…

Mana stones were amazing…