Chapter 23.1 – How the Budget Gets Spent

The Conjurer Knights are run according to the gloriously slapdash “business strategy” dreamed up by the genius mind of Gaikaku Hikume.

“What, you’ve got complaints? Let’s just hand out something that lowers everyone’s stress and call it fixed!”

That, in a nutshell, is their half-baked approach to employee benefits.

And, thanks to that strange logic coming full circle, the benefits ended up surprisingly generous.

This time, too, Gaikaku was positively buzzing—If I build this, they’ll tolerate a little reckless overtime. Now, what brand of recklessness should I throw at them?—and what he built was…

A relaxation spot for the Elves: the Fragrant Teahouse.

Built from timber Elves adore, filled with the scent of their favorite herbs, and stocked with every tea under the sun, it was essentially an indoor café.

Think trendy, all-natural café and you’ve got the picture.

The ulterior motive was about as subtle as a brick through a window, yet once it existed, there was no reason not to use it.

Elves like this kind of thing, right? Sure enough, it had become their little haven.

“Haaa… feels like I’m living the high-class life I had back home—”

“Totally… I finally got the lifestyle I always dreamed of—”

The Elves were sitting—well, lounging—on round logs that doubled as seats.

Some of them were even sprawled across the logs on their backs.

There were tables, technically, but no sweets in sight; it was more a sip tea whenever you feel like rolling over vibe.

“The only thing missing is staff—oh, and maybe a musician.”

“Come on, we can at least brew our own tea.”

“Right, and sensei even made us a music box for ambience.”

Inside the Fragrant Teahouse sat a rather large wood-and-paper roll music box.

Gaikaku, working with the Dwarves, had built it so that punched paper rolls served as “software,” letting the device play a variety of tunes.

Granted, it only struck a xylophone, but the Elves loved it all the same.

“They say we’ll get woodwinds and harps hooked up eventually—”

“Ahh, sensei really is a genius…”

“Told you—when he says something, he makes it happen.”

With gentle xylophone notes drifting through the air, the Elves were absolutely vegging out.

It was the polar opposite of stimulating—honestly, downright boring—but it worked wonders on their spirits.

Siiiiiigh—

Elves are undeniably beautiful by human standards, and they, of course, knew it.

If someone painted this scene it would probably look fairly ethereal—

but the sounds spilling from their mouths were anything but elegant.

Ahhhhh— … ahhhhhhhhhhh—

Completely relaxed, twenty Elves groaned in chorus, leaking the most undignified noises imaginable.

They were no longer mystical forest folk; they were overworked office ladies letting it all hang out.

※

Once they tidied up the teahouse and stepped outside, though, it was back to work mode.

They headed for headquarters—the research lab—to start brewing the assigned reagents, arguably the most important job supporting the mage Gaikaku.

On the way, they glanced to one side.

A small experimental vehicle was puttering along… and then sputtered to a halt.

“Hmm… keeping enough armor while hauling troops just makes it way too heavy. The heart engine’ll blow at this rate.”

The new weapon was called Nine Lives—officially shortened to the Lives motor-car because the full name was too long—and its immediate mission was troop transport.

No one expected the Lives to conquer every terrain, but on flat ground it got around fine.

Drive it close to the target, unload, then ride it back—if that worked, it would revolutionize moving soldiers.

Basically, it would turn them into mechanized infantry; not cyborgs, mind you, just foot soldiers riding an armored car.

Powerful, sure, but development was tough.

Moving that much weight at speed demanded major improvements.

“Maybe I should admit defeat and build a troops-only transport. Thin the armor, pump a lifting gas into the upper hull to lighten it… but with only twenty Dwarf mechanics I don’t want a whole fleet to maintain…”

“About that, Chief,” said a nearby Dwarf who had been watching Gaikaku wrestle with the design. “How about making a trailer-only car instead?”

“The Lives runs without horses, right? Use it as the horse and have it pull a normal wagon with no engine. Won’t solve the weight completely, but if we put lifting gas in the trailer—”

“I see. We could detach it and leave it behind during combat. For troop transport that might do the trick.”

“Won’t boost capacity by much, mind you.”

“Even fitting in the Ogres and Elves would be plenty. Plus we could load maintenance supplies on it… I like it.”