Chapter 16

There are many things necessary to lead a combat group.

First, the collective’s ideology and objective: “What are we fighting, and for what purpose?”

Next, the personnel who constitute the group and share those aspirations.

An excellent leader, the trust of the people, a viable environment, and backing…

And money.

Across the board, money.

It’s money to the extent that it can practically overturn all the aforementioned conditions.

Originally, soldiers who could afford better equipment found it easier to achieve military feats, and weapons were by no means cheap. In other words, since only those with financial leeway could maintain a plentiful arsenal, many strong warriors ended up becoming part of the privileged class… or so the history of some countries went.

In contrast, the Knight Orders of this country were sustained by national funds, as well as the personal pockets and financial aid of the privileged class.

What I’m trying to say is…

“To us—whose budget has been slashed! Whose salaries have been slashed! And whose sensible donors are being slashed away by slanderous claims that we smell like beasts or mold! The purchase of a ‘Camera’ that could serve as a fundraising tool is an urgent matter!!”

“Are you an idiot?! Those things are insanely expensive! You could build a house in the Royal Capital for that price! Besides, who’s going to shell out that kind of money?! Even if we bought one, what kind of fundraising could you possibly use it for!”

“You IDIOOOOOT—!!”

“Bufuoh!?”

Inside the mobile base, the vice-chief of the Knight Order’s Tool Creation Squad was sent flying by a straight punch from his squad leader. It was a rare example of an incident occurring inside a meeting room, but since it was a daily occurrence in this Order, it wasn’t worth being surprised about.

Today, we shall focus on the daily life of a squad different from Varna’s.

“Wh-what was that for all of a sudden, Akina-san?!”

“What’s wrong with punching an idiot!!”

The person in question—the squad leader Akina, a female knight with disheveled hair and not a hint of fashion sense—cornered the vice-chief at the edge of the room with a tomboyish roar. Zato, the cornered vice-chief, was a man with a fairly sturdy build, but unfortunately, despite the ruggedness of his square-jawed face, he spent most of his time doing desk work and was weak in actual combat.

Incidentally, the two were from the same graduating year, and this scene was a “staple” that had been repeated over a hundred times.

“Listen here, Zato-san! The era of the camera is upon us! It’s all about photographs! In the Royal Capital right now, taking photos of your family to use instead of portraits is all the rage! Look, even in this report from Varna-kun, it says putting family photos in lockets is becoming a trend!!”

“Read the bottom! It says ‘However, this is mostly among the upper class, specifically merchant houses’! Your eyeballs are overflowing with too much hope!!”

“You IDIOT Mark II—!!”

“Gobeh!?”

…One could gauge the power dynamic between these two through this exchange.

Furthermore, if one were to accidentally let slip something like, “That’s why you can’t get married!” they would be met with intense left and right blows delivered from her Dempsey Roll. Akina lacked talent for the sword or the spear, but in a bare-fisted brawl, she was the Knight Order’s number two, second only to Chef Tamae. Being proud of her strength, her primary weapon was the axe; her overhead splits tended to cleave Orcs in two and cause massive bleeding, making her a warrior who made the recovery squad cry.

As a side note, the number three in unarmed combat was Varna-kun, and from Varna-kun onward, the maidens of the cooking squad filled the ranks.

Don’t go asking if the men were okay with that. Women are strong creatures.

“Stop punching my face every single time! …Good grief. So? How do you plan to use that camera, and what are you going to do?”

“You want to hear it? You’ve got poor intuition if you can’t figure it out without asking—!!”

Urgh… C-calm down, me… I’m an adult. A sensible adult. I’m different from some barbarian who resorts to violence out of passion…

Zato’s temples twitched at Akina’s arrogant and foul-mouthed attitude, but he desperately told himself he was more mature than her and took a deep breath. It was the typical behavior of a long-suffering man.

To his immense irritation, Akina’s imagination and business sense were among the top five in the Knight Order. Yes, the hierarchy around here was already decided. It was a waste of effort to resist further.

“…I see. Pray tell the details to my unlearned self.”

When he leaned in to listen to her self-important words, she grinned triumphantly.

“Hmph, fine. For the sake of Zato-san and your lack of imagination, I shall tell you my perfect plan, overflowing with foresight and hope! It is…!”

“It is…?”

“A revolutionary idea that captures scenes of specific people doing various things in various places with a camera to convey the activities and gallantry of our Royal Foreign Species Countermeasures Knights… A ‘Photobook’!!”

“Wh—”

At those words, an electric shock ran through Zato’s brain—

“…What’s that?”

—Or so it seemed, but it was just his imagination.

“You IDOT Mark III—!!”

“Th-that’s—bloogh?! I-I told you to stop punching… Urgh, my nose is bent…!”

“Dammit!! Has the world still not caught up to my ideas?!”

“It’s just that your ideas stay too far off the beaten path of our predecessors!!”

In this world where even the existence of photographs was not yet common, most people would tilt their heads in confusion if someone suddenly mentioned a photobook. After all, in this world, let alone the technology to print photos in mass quantities, even efficient letterpress printing had only just begun to take root. In such a climate, a book centered entirely on photographs, which had only permeated at an individual level, was unprecedented.

Akina, scratching her head and stomping her feet, and Zato, whose face was a mess from the onslaught of the tomboyish, violent woman. This, too, was the daily routine of the Tool Creation Squad’s meetings.

Incidentally, besides these two, there was one scribe present…

“Wh-phew… suuuu… puuuh…”

As if the uproar between those two were none of his concern, Toma—a young man fast asleep with a snot bubble dangling from his nose—was busily moving a pen across the paper in front of him. He wasn’t exactly summarizing the conversation; he was simply in a semi-automatic mode where his ears picked up the sounds of the bickering and translated them directly into text.

This was his “half-work” mode. If he were in “full-work-sleep” mode, he could do far more than summarize; he could even perform complex calculations while unconscious. He was also a talented artist, capable of sketching diagrams and explanatory illustrations in his sleep.

He worked despite being asleep, yet the nature of the work he could perform was limited because he was asleep. Toma was a strange sort of “functional klutz”—brilliant and young, yet perpetually dozing off.

This, too, was just another ordinary day for the Tool Creation Squad.

The Tool Creation Squad was a tiny, elite group of only six people, chosen from those within the Order who were particularly gifted with their hands. Their numbers were less than a third of any combat squad, and since they almost never participated in actual battle, they were the most unhealthy bunch in the unit—pulling two-day all-nighters was standard when things got busy.

Their mission was exactly what the name implied: creating tools.

Since the equipment required for Orc extermination changed depending on the terrain, the Tool Creation Squad would research the landscape alongside the strategists to combine pre-existing gear with items that could be procured on-site. Sometimes they used tools as-is; other times they improvised from local materials. When high volumes were required, they moved about almost entirely without sleep.

They usually worked in tandem with the engineering team, but once the traps and tools were finished, they often found themselves with free time and turned their attention to “fundraising.” Thus, they were also known as the Fundraising Squad. If they were just doing it for fun, it would end as mere wishful thinking, but if a plan was well-thought-out, Commander Luger would adopt it and issue bonuses—so they were quite serious about it.

Currently, with the squad leader, vice-chief, and one other member absent, the remaining three were idling about.

The three red-haired figures looked less like men or women and more like three-headed mascots. They were from a race called the “Kijim,”¹ people with soft, relaxed features that made it impossible to tell their gender at a glance.

They hailed from an island nation south of the Kingdom and were famous for being as unsuited for conflict as a species could possibly be. Their only defining traits were a slightly shorter lifespan than average humans and a remarkable dexterity.

“The stuffed Orcs sold well, didn’t they~?”

“Sold to the collectors, they did~.”

“It ended as a passing fad, though~.”

“The Orc tusk accessories sold well too, didn’t they~?”

“Sold to collectors and commoners alike, they did~.”

“The fad passed, but they’re still selling, aren’t they~?”

The three spoke in the same voice, the same tone, and the same pose during their leisurely conversation.

The scene was surreal enough on its own, but because all three had such slack faces and airy voices, anyone who accidentally wandered into the room would likely find their peaks of motivation or fighting spirit flattened instantly. In a sense, it was a terrifying room of total lethargy.

They were Troya, Liberya, and Ottoman. A set of triplets.

Their gender wasn’t entirely clear, but they were registered as men because they were “probably” men.

A legend—which sounded like a lie but was actually true—remained from when the three took the military academy entrance exam. Even though two of them had failing grades, the examiner couldn’t tell which face belonged to which name, so in a fit of desperation, they passed all three.

You might wonder if a Knight Order should be run that way, but apparently, when Commander Luger heard the story, he pushed it through gleefully, saying, “Hey, we get extra members for the price of one, right?” As a result, seven people joined the Order at once that year, exceeding the quota. They were a trio of legendary brothers in many ways.

Notably, following this legend, the military academy began strictly enforcing the distribution of examinee numbers. Having subtly changed the history of the academy in such a way, the three continued to live entirely at their own pace.

“Squad leader said she’s going to make a whole book out of photos~.”

“Eh~, what does that even mean~?”

“I don’t know~.”

“We never know what the squad leader is thinking, do we~?”

“How do photos even work anyway~?”

“Wouldn’t the people at the Research Institute know~?”

“If anyone knows that stuff, it’s Rai-kun, isn’t it~?”

“Where is Rai-kun right now~?”

“Isn’t he in the capital with Varna-kun and the others~?”

“Ah, right~. It’s already time for the Imperial Matches, isn’t it~?”

“When are they coming back~?”

“They should be back tomorrow~.”

“Then let’s go ask tomorrow~.”

“Let’s go ask tomorrow, then~.”

“Once we know how it works, let’s try making one~.”

“Eh~, we’re making it~?”

“It’s expensive to buy, isn’t it~?”

“I guess that’s true~.”

“Can we get the materials~?”

“Let’s ask the squad leader~.”

“The squad leader’s meeting still isn’t over, is it~?”

…Incidentally, Varna-kun, who once worked with them to help the Tool Creation Squad, later left these words behind:

“Being with those three brothers makes me feel like I’m going to lose my mind from the frustration.”

They moved at their own pace.

The conversation never ended.

While they were incredibly fast and showed perfect coordination during work, their dialogue was always like that.

Truth be told, the superiors also seemed to dislike being around them and avoided approaching unless they were barking out orders. Conversely, it had become a tradition in the Order that anyone who had gone slightly mad from overwork would be forced to join the triplets’ conversation until their brain turned to mush and they became sleepy.

While the other members out in the mountains were busy cleaning up, the Royal Foreign Species Countermeasures Knights’ Tool Creation Squad was a scene of chaos, whether in meeting or at rest.