“I have returned, sir.”
As Benimaru and I chatted for a while, Diablo returned, looking visibly drained.
“Hey. Thanks for handling that.”
“No, no, it was hardly anything difficult, but now I’ve lost the time I meant to spend with you, Sir Rimuru—”
“Right, if you’re not tired out, let’s begin.”
“Very well.”
Well, if he was still capable of talking nonsense, I figured he was fine. Diablo looked like he wanted to say something, but I was sure it was the same old crap as usual. No need to worry about it, I thought as I began our briefing with Benimaru.
As I mentioned earlier, we were seeing increased immigration into the country. One issue this creates is how to get all these new people working.
Our employment rate was very important, as it was for any nation. Having all our citizens working diligently in one position or another was vital for improving our productivity. If your employment stats were good, that also bumped up personal consumption and, in turn, the economy. If they were bad, that could lead to harder times and a rise in crime.
Managing this figure was the job of a nation’s leadership, but it was an incredibly tough one. Immigrants came to Tempest with a wide range of abilities, but we had only so much demand for unskilled labor that anyone could do. We were a rapidly developing nation at one point, experiencing a huge boom in construction, and that helped us keep things going for a while—but that era was coming to an end, and we had to think about what was next.
Skilled people wouldn’t be a problem. Artisans with technical talents and people who could keep a roof over their head with their skills were easy to accommodate. The issue was the people without the proper know-how or ways to make money. You could give a farmer land; you could bring an artisan to a studio. The Dungeon was ready-made for adventurers, and performers could be hired at a theater. But how should we handle anyone who lacked those talents?
The answer I came up with was to establish educational facilities. During intake, we’d ask applicants about their skills and give them opportunities to learn based on their responses. These facilities were where they’d learn, and it’d be managed by Benimaru’s forces.
“Immigration is on the rise, and we’re attracting a lot of volunteers for the army. I can’t say how qualified they are, but they ought to be able to handle security within our borders.”
That was the approach we had been testing out, but apparently the army was dealing with even more volunteers these days. Enlistment guaranteed you’d be fed, taught a trade for free, and even get referrals to civilian jobs—those were the rumors going around. Thanks to that, they were seeing not only new transplants, but adventurers and mercenaries as well.
Now, given that we took on national-defense duties for the Western Nations, we did need to address expanding our military. With that in mind, I wouldn’t call this a problem for now. We had little issues here and there, but nothing that couldn’t be handled internally. The problem was that it was starting to look more and more like war with the Eastern Empire. We couldn’t put raw recruits on the line for that, so it was time to reorganize our forces. I had asked Benimaru to provide me with a new organizational chart.
“This is the new structure we’ve contemplated,” he explained as he took out a sheet of paper and spread it on my desk. “Some of the assignments are rather bold, I would say, but I think they can work.”
Benimaru would remain commander, with me maintaining supreme command (including the right to appoint officers). These used to be basically the same thing, but I split them up and assigned one to Benimaru. My thought was that you can’t let a military amateur like me attempt an army command, so I wanted Benimaru to have first say in all military affairs. This meant that Benimaru’s orders outranked mine within the army—but not when it came to strategic maneuvers. I could appoint people to upper command, and I could declare an end to an ongoing war. Benimaru could name whoever he wanted to positions lower than general, but I was allowed to establish army corps and appoint generals. Thus it was up to me to check over Benimaru’s org chart and decide whether to consent to it.
“Hmm… Well, if you think it’ll work, I don’t intend to complain about anything…”
Even if I didn’t intend to complain, I still had stuff I wanted to say. Given my appointive power, I’d have to answer to my assignments if something went bad. But we had already heavily debated over this organizational structure, so all that was behind us anyway. And in the end, the only appointment I really insisted upon was Gobta as leader of our new First Army Corps.
“When you first suggested naming Gobta as a general, I honestly didn’t know what to think… But now, I agree this really suits him,” said Benimaru.
As his reaction indicated, there were differing opinions on promoting Gobta to general. Certainly, I could understand if the idea of giving that fool Gobta actual responsibility made people anxious. He’d be making decisions that could affect his army’s lives, so Benimaru and the other staff officers were naturally going to be hesitant. He slept through a lot of meetings, and it wasn’t like I thought it’d go problem-free…but I also knew that he had undergone special training in secret—and that he wanted to keep this nation safe as much as anyone.
“Right?! When push comes to shove, that guy really steps up.”
And when it doesn’t, he doesn’t. But his men trusted in him, and in his own way, he cared a lot about others. Most of all, I trusted him.
“He’s one of the Big Four as well, after all. I’m sure you’re not incorrect in your judgment, Sir Rimuru!”
“Precisely,” chimed in Diablo. “Also, just in case, I will deploy Testarossa as an observer. If he falls out of line, she’ll fix him up.”
Shion and Diablo, his fellow Big Four members, were just as enthusiastic about Gobta…and I supposed Benimaru accepted him, too.
“Well,” he said with a grin, “as chief of the Big Four, I can’t say no to him. And Diablo’s right—if something comes up, we can just offer him some support, right? Let’s give him the job.”
“Ah, he’ll be fine. He may not look it, but he’s a really good guy.”
And so Gobta was now an army general.
I eyed the org chart carefully, checking out the other corps generals.
Three corps had been established in all, underneath Benimaru’s command. We had just discussed the First Army Corps, led by Gobta with Hakuro as a military adviser. The corps was staffed as follows:
• 100 Goblin Riders
Each one of them had grown to an A-minus threat, wielding lieutenant-level powers.
• 12,000 of the Green Numbers
The original 4,000 would receive promotions, while the 8,000 new recruits would sign on as privates. I was told they’d operate in groups of three.
We had gained a lot of soldiers in the past year, mostly monsters native to the Forest of Jura. That led to few difficulties, reportedly. The newer foot soldiers would be ranked no better than D or C, but the veterans had been raised up to a B, and I could expect them to be a pretty formidable force.
Next we had the Second Army Corps, led by Geld. This force was currently deployed across the continent on intelligence and engineer duties; in times of war, we planned to call them back and have them serve as our main army. They consisted of:
• 2,000 of the Yellow Numbers
This is the corps of high orcs who had served Geld since the bad old days. Each one was pretty powerful, ranked a B-plus, and they could form an iron defense that operated in lockstep with Geld himself. I’d have them serve as platoon leaders bringing together the younger troops.
• 35,000 of the Orange Numbers
The newer high orcs were brought on as volunteers to this force. As a team, they managed a C rank, but only the veterans—some 15,000 soldiers—would get involved in actual combat. We planned to have the remainder provide rear support and engineering work.
That left the Third Army Corps, our elite flying commando unit, finally ready to see some action. Their general was Gabil, founder of the unit, and they were composed like this:
• 100 members of Team Hiryu
These guys needed no introduction—they were the best Tempest had to offer. Every member was an A-minus threat by themselves, combining flight skills with effective commanding abilities. Some of them even made the grade for a solid A rank, capable of tapping the Dragon Body skill in a pinch.
• 3,000 of the Blue Numbers
This was the group of lizardman volunteers who joined the force out of sheer love for Gabil. As the original members of the group, they only ranked a C-plus individually, but that didn’t let you see the whole picture. The Blue Numbers’ most unique trait was their fighting skill while flying on wyverns, securing air superiority and wielding the most devastatingly concussive force of any battle. However, we currently had just three hundred wyverns ready in our stables, so not all of them had a mount yet.
For the most part, their duties will involve backup support and wyvern management; it’ll be a while before they really get to shine. But don’t count them out just yet. Wyverns are a subspecies of Lesser Dragons, monsters worth a B-plus ranking. Gabil has found a way to capture and raise them, and he says expanding their flock is his next goal. Once every Blue Number gains their own, that’s when the squadron will really prove their worth.
Those were the three corps answering directly to Benimaru.
“So Geld’s leading the Second Corps, and Gabil, the Third? Doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”
“Yes, I considered a number of possibilities, but these seemed like the safest bets.”
He didn’t need to remind me. These were generals I could rely on. I didn’t even see any issue with Gabil. Sure, he got way too full of himself, but he was well versed in combat, always performing excellently in our drills, and even Benimaru considered him a rival. I didn’t think he was a particularly good strategist, but his tactical mind on the field was sharp. He also cared deeply for his troops, unafraid to pull them back if needed. A fine candidate for the job.
“And this,” Benimaru said as he pulled out another sheet of paper, “is the same as I showed you before.” It listed three more military forces.
One was Team Kurenai, Benimaru’s elite guard of three hundred troops. The A-rank Gobwa was their leader, and every one of them was ranked A-minus or higher. Now they also managed the army’s general staff headquarters.
Seeing her in combat training, I was struck that someone like Gobwa could hold her own against an upper-level magic-born like Gelmud—or maybe even fare better than that. Looking at the rest of the unit, I saw at least a few who scored an easy A in my eyes, some who could take on a paladin and win. There was no guessing how deep their fighting skills went.
For the most part, a monster’s strength was evaluated based on their magical power—their magicule count. If a monster was innately strong, the whole level-assignment system couldn’t really apply, but in addition to their natural physical capabilities, our troops had received military training, granting them strengths better geared for battle.
I don’t think it’s out of line to assume they’re better than what the standard judgment criteria would suggest. I could tell because, even with exceptional cases like Hakuro, it is plain to see across the board. The fact is, this unit’s full of real warriors, well-honed troopers who managed to survive Hakuro’s hellish training.
Next was Team Kurayami, Soei’s group of a hundred or so intelligence officers. This unit was a mystery in a lot of ways—it was under Soei’s complete control, and few people knew it even existed. As far as I was aware, however, they were pretty damn good fighters. Soka was a definite A ranker, along with the four squadron leaders serving under her, but that wasn’t even the cream of the crop. There were a few special-A people on the team, Glenda Attley among them.
What’s more, a few folks who went through Tempest’s justice system managed to work out plea bargains with Testarossa to serve under Soei in this squad. This included Girard, who headed the Sons of the Veldt mercenary team, along with the elementalist Ayn under him. Both of them were well past the A rank and now serving as excellent secret agents.
I once teased Team Kurayami by calling them a rogue band of special-forces problem children, but now it really was starting to look that way. Soei warned me not to expect much from them in battle, but I didn’t believe him—they seemed pretty good at assassinations, for one, and if you have that many dudes ranked above an A on one team, how could they not be total badasses? Honestly, I’m not completely sure what direction Soei was taking with these guys. You occasionally heard some ominous rumors about the unit, and I couldn’t blame anyone for spreading them.
Last but not least was Shion’s Team Reborn, a hundred members in all. The one unique trait about this unit was that they just didn’t die. Taking advantage of their astonishing regeneration skills, they had undergone incredibly severe training, making every member B-plus or above. Considering they only managed C level before, that was the most growth out of anyone on our force. They had all proven themselves in combat against the Crusaders, too, so for all I know, maybe some of them broke the barrier and scored an A rank. Team Hiryu was likely the strongest of them all for now, but as far as I was concerned, if any unit had the potential to snatch that title, it was Shion’s.
What’s more, Benimaru had assigned Reborn to be my personal elite force, a kind of imperial guard. I wasn’t such a fan of that, but using them for missions that took advantage of tenacity—decoy runs, for example, to buy time for the rest of the force—was what they excelled at the most. I guess if things really got screwy, I could use Team Reborn as bait and run for the hills—that’s how Shion proudly explained it to me.
It should also be mentioned that although they were my personal guard, they didn’t accept orders from me. They were there to protect me, and they were forbidden from abandoning that mission, no matter what I told them. Even if I asked them to leave, they wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice themselves for my sake. It was such a menace. (That being said, they were happy to run little errands for me, but I better not say that to Shion. Gotta keep up appearances sometimes.)
By the way, Shion also headed another force, a secret one not listed on these charts. I say “secret,” but it was the kind of open secret that everyone was aware of. This was her personal force, a kind of guard team for her, but in effect, it was quite literally her fan club. I didn’t know how big it was; probably not more than a thousand at most, I thought. Officially, it wasn’t a “force” per se, so they weren’t under Tempest control. We also knew nothing about their abilities. Were they gonna be okay, even? I didn’t want anyone to die for this—but Shion was training them on the sly, so I really had no idea what was up with them.
Still, Daggrull’s sons were apparently squadron leaders in this so-called force, and it also included some adventurers with battle experience. Maybe they’d come in handy later on, but I was more anxious than expectant. This wasn’t the kind of force you wanted on the front lines, and it was obvious why Benimaru didn’t put them on our official rolls.
I handed the sheet back to Benimaru and said, “Looks good to me. Seems we’ve got more firepower now, but I don’t see any need to change up these forces. Neither of us needs to interfere with them, I’d say.”
“Indeed. After all, I raised Team Kurenai under my own personal care, and I imagine Soei and Shion feel the same way about their own forces. I will refrain from adding them to the official hierarchy.”
Shion nodded her approval, and I had no objection, so I told him, “All right, make it so.” If you developed a team yourself, after all, you’d like to keep it near you. And really, we didn’t need to list Gabil’s Team Hiryu either; that was his suggestion, and we accepted it. (Gobta didn’t raise the Goblin Riders, exactly, but he was their colleague, their comrade in arms, and someone whose strength was without question. I wanted to keep that in consideration, even if we wound up switching commanders later.)
Now Benimaru took out a third sheet.
“So here’s what we need to discuss. These are all the forces affiliated with people besides me.”
Finally. The first two sheets simply outlined preexisting forces and their current numbers; the only real eye-opener was Gobta leading the First Corps, and I was the one who suggested that, so it wasn’t a surprise.
Now what have we here? I looked down the sheet, a bit excited.
What I saw were two diagrams marked as the left and right wings. The right wing contained numbers for our predefined corps—roughly twelve thousand for the First Corps under Gobta, thirty-seven thousand for the Second under Geld, and three thousand for the Third under Gabil, for a total of around fifty-two thousand. This was Tempest’s standing force, and a scarily large force it was. We still had room to cultivate them, too. Our nation’s population had just passed a million, and it was going up like a bullet. If you think about it, this was some pretty amazing growth, and it’s what allowed us to maintain an army this size.
That, and treating the Second Corps like a construction team was what allowed us to maintain this level of force. It would’ve been tougher, I thought, if they were incapable of producing anything outside of combat. I really had to hand it to Geld and his soldiers—without them, we’d be down to a force of fifteen thousand, and that wasn’t nearly enough to tackle the Eastern Empire. That was an issue Benimaru and I spent a little while stewing over.
“Once war begins, we can call back Geld and his corps then,” said Benimaru. “That much will work as planned…but it is still not enough. The Western Nations each retain their own militaries, I know, but having them deployed presents its own problems.”
“Yeah. We’ve taken over the Council and all, so we’d be losing out if we didn’t use them, but I think we’d have a real backlash on our hands.”
“And should a problem arise within the Western Nations, we’d have no deterrent left. That could lead to a bad situation.”
“Hmm. Everything’s fine here in Tempest, but if the Western Nations’ citizens start to question our governing, that’ll make future work harder.”
“Indeed.”
We had gone through conversations like that several times. Benimaru’s answer, I supposed, was the forces listed in the left wing of this sheet. It said:
—Western Deployment—150,000
—Magic-Born United—30,000
—Volunteer Army—20,000
“Huh. Pretty big numbers. What kinda forces are these on the left?”
“These are forces under our command, more or less. The Western Deployment is the forces serving the Council, like I discussed. These are treated as different from each nation’s standing army. They’re directly employed by the money sent by the Council—or really us, for the most part.”
Fair enough. If the Council had given us military rights, that gave us command of the forces that directly served it. I knew that, but…
“But were there really this many?”
This Council force existed well enough on paper, but they were chiefly knights and soldiers brought in by councillors from their home nations. They numbered around a thousand, and their main assignment was security at the arena in Englesia’s capital and the like. As a rule, each Western Nations member retained their own national military, charged with keeping the peace in their country. The Council itself almost never sent out military forces of its own, so there was no real need to maintain an army. (That’s part of why they so readily handed military control to us.)
Really, though, I didn’t ask for those rights because I wanted to boss them around in times of crisis. All I wanted to do was construct magitrain railroads connecting these nations, and asking for approval every time I sent Tempestian engineers out on the field was a pain in the ass. If there really was trouble, we’d send out our own army—and with that decision, we had the soldiers contracted with the Council sent back to their home nations for the time being.
In addition, we decided to establish a peacekeeping force, under the condition that we funded it. This was recruited locally, since we figured people would be more comfortable with a force of humans, instead of monsters and demi-humans.
“Yes, we disbanded the army once, and then it grew even bigger. According to Testarossa’s report, rumors spread around that joining the force ensured you free meals and lodging, so once we started recruiting, people showed up in droves.”
“Yeah, but isn’t this a peacekeeping force? We don’t need one hundred and fifty thousand people for that.”
Each nation had the right to police itself. If we started rounding up criminals, we’d be overstepping our authority. A peacekeeping force’s work is mainly disaster prevention—really, just helping engineers and providing rear support. I didn’t think we’d even need ten thousand people, much less a hundred fifty thousand.
“Well, the way Testarossa put it, that was the demand we received from all the nations,” Benimaru began before explaining it all in detail.
Once Testarossa assumed control of the Council, she started advancing a pretty bold set of reforms. I had approved them all, but they had even bigger repercussions than I imagined. All these reforms were to be spearheaded by the individual nations; we’d simply provide the needed advice and technology. Foreign aid, essentially—“official development assistance,” to use government jargon.
The way it worked was that the Council would provide public funding, and we’d provide nationally backed labor to help with whatever the nations needed. We’d hire on local people, provide technical assistance, and manage regional demands. That gave Tempestians work and a salary, and it afforded our partners the vital support they needed—a win-win kind of relationship.
But there’s no such thing as a free lunch. There was another side to this support system. For example, the way we covered our construction costs was to take back that amount in local water rights. If we built train tracks in an area, we’d apply a tax to train usage fees, collecting a profit on a permanent basis. Just like with the highways, we’d handle all maintenance in exchange for customs waivers and other rights.
Truly, the work of a demon lord—act all kind and charitable, then do some pretty vicious stuff behind the curtain. But we were helping improve people’s lives, and our partners didn’t lose on the deal, really. They were just paying us in profits on matters they couldn’t foresee doing yet.
The larger nations, of course, would likely prefer to handle things themselves. Maybe they couldn’t yet, but once they saw what we were doing, they could always copy us, steal our tech, and run it themselves. I took that as a given.
However:
“…And so even the large nations are pushing us with demands for railway infrastructure as soon as possible,” said Benimaru.
“And since we don’t have engineers in Tempest to handle that, you deployed the people we brought on as rear support instead.”
“That’s right. But apparently not even they were enough, so we’ve been fielding local people and having them join us…”
…And thanks to that, we now had a ridiculously large group of soldiers.
I had granted Testarossa full rights to act on my behalf as a diplomatic officer. I also told her that she could settle smaller affairs without having to report them to me, so not even Benimaru knew about this until fairly recently. Thanks to that, we had employed a massive number of people.
“But isn’t that what the large nations want?” I asked. “If we train a bunch of technicians for them, that’ll make it easier to operate things themselves.”
That’d be more efficient than industrial espionage—and maybe it’s harsh for me to say, but I didn’t mind that approach. It was something that’d occur to any leader. The experienced personnel this cultivated would become pillars of their native country. We’d lose some of our interests in the region, which was sad, but if the ensuing tech development led to more competition, that was pretty exciting, too.
“It doesn’t seem to be that way. They wouldn’t want to let go of those technicians then, would they?”
No, maybe not.
“…Wait. Are you saying that you took the support troops Testarossa gathered and put them all in this Western Deployment?!”
“That’s right.” Benimaru grinned, watching my surprise.
It’d be a waste to train these technicians and just let them fade away. Better to establish a real, full-on peacekeeping force that could train for disaster rescue, provide bodyguards for dignitaries, run civic defense drills, and so on. That was the rather bold decision Benimaru made.
“Testarossa was about to let them go—she was done with them, essentially, but that seemed like such a waste to me.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“That, and I thought I could find work for them, so I went on my own to name them the Western Deployment.”
I see. That made sense. Of course, I wasn’t going to expect miracles from this force after only a year, but if they kept up their training, I could picture them as disaster-rescue experts or the like. They’d be good for handling accidents, and as Benimaru said, we could use them in a variety of situations.
“All right. That was a pretty good decision, Benimaru.”
“Oh, no need for praise,” he replied, although he looked a bit bashful about it.
But the Western Deployment, huh? One hundred and fifty thousand is a big number, but if we were going to deploy them across the West, it almost wasn’t enough. And if it let us retain our interests in those lands, they’d certainly be earning their keep for us. It all came as a surprise, but it was certainly news to rejoice about.
So next up…
“Okay, I get the Western Deployment, but what’s this Magic-Born United?”
They numbered thirty thousand in total—were they conscripting monsters from the Forest of Jura or something?
“That’s a force primarily composed of the magic-born who served under Clayman, actually. Geld had them working as prisoners of war, and we borrowed the ones particularly suited for combat. In exchange, we’re filling the holes with the high orcs who were working on now-completed construction projects.”
From the way Benimaru put it, he was making sure none of this shuffling affected the progress of Geld’s construction work. If so, then—well, sure, having experienced fighters would make for a better force than amateurs. But:
“Those guys wouldn’t be too cooperative, though, would they?”
Clayman’s force was mostly B-rank magic-born, though some were in the realm of A and beyond. Powerful as they were, they were actually kinda weak as a group—just a horde of monsters ruled by terror, not at all a challenge for well-trained career soldiers. Even if you gathered them all up, I didn’t think there’d be nearly enough time to train them.
“Thanks to Geld, you won’t find any selfish, violent ones in the force. Even if there were, well, I shut them up.”
Uh-huh. I’m sure it’d be easy for Benimaru to overpower any of them.
“Well, fine, but aren’t they used to regular work by now? I’m not sure forcing them into battle is such a hot idea…”
“It’s all right,” Benimaru assured me. “This is something they suggested. They wanted to show you, Sir Rimuru, that they could be of use to you.”
“Huh?”
That was a surprise, coming from him. As selfish as all those magic-born were, now they were volunteering for duty?
“It comes down to good food, good company, a boss who says they need them, and decent work. That’s what they valued, and they want to stake their powers on protecting it. They were quite enthusiastic.”
“They were…?”
It was an unexpected stroke of luck, but one I really appreciated. Conscripted forces, after all, were useless in actual battle. If they were defending their homeland, maybe there’d be no other option, but otherwise, it’d be much smarter for them to unconditionally surrender.
Nobody wanted to be a slave to another country. If you were going to be colonized and taxed to oblivion, you’d feign obedience but constantly seek out a chance to rise up and take revenge. But unless the invaders truly were cruel and abusive, you could decide to put up with a few disadvantages in the meantime. An invader could never ignore the feelings of the people living there; those people needed to take responsibility for the future they decided on, and a ruler had to answer to them.
That’s why I thought conscription was among the worst things you could do to people. It’s why you never tried to force patriotism down their throats.
Tempest operated under my protection, and I had no intention of listening to outsiders pushing their own arrogant demands. As long as I wasn’t willing to easily give up our rights, there were always going to be differences of opinion. If the other side wouldn’t bend, that’d naturally lead to war, and I didn’t want opposition to that. If someone didn’t feel like protecting their own country, I honestly didn’t mind if they just went off somewhere.
One thing I wanted to make very clear was who I felt it was important to protect. Naturally, I’d prioritize my companions who’d stuck by me through thick and thin from the moment I established this nation. Anyone who came along later, talking about their own rights, I had no intention of going quite that far for. If I had no citizens to protect, I’d probably bug out as well—and then I’d build a new nation somewhere else, with companions I saw eye to eye with. After all, I had no great affinity for this land.
But at the same time, if these people loved Tempest, this land we all belonged to, I was ready to live up to every bit of that. No matter who attacked us, I’d smash them with every ounce of my might. Hell, even if it was Guy doing the attacking, I was ready to use any trick in the book to kill him. I mean, he was a freak of nature, and I hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but still.
“They certainly seemed enthusiastic enough to me, and I’d say they were being honest with their feelings. In addition, we also had volunteers among people across the Forest of Jura who heard rumors of an impending war. That’s what the Magic-Born United is composed of.”
Benimaru chuckled a bit as he added, “I did reject a lot of the weaker-looking ones, though.”
Well, excellent. It gave them a chance to really work hard for me; I was glad for it.
The Volunteer Army, meanwhile, was a force composed of human beings living in Tempest or its neighboring areas. If we lost this war (no matter how it happened), the entire Forest of Jura would fall into ruin. Better to cooperate with us from the beginning, then, and that’s exactly what this band did.
This army was chiefly composed of adventurers and mercenaries, many of them immigrant volunteers we had accepted into the country. We also had a lot of the idiots we saw constantly staking their lives in the Dungeon, only to be eaten alive by my friends’ and my avatars each time. They numbered twenty thousand in total, and while I didn’t expect too much from them, that was still a pretty decent force.
“That’s the composition of the left wing. So the main difference between the left and right here is the degree of loyalty to you, Sir Rimuru.”
“Me?”
“The forces on the right consist of nothing but those ready to stake their lives for your nation or you. On the left, meanwhile, are a bunch of people with different motivations. Some may have had lofty intentions, but we hardly had the time to interview each one of them, so I went with this organizational structure.”
“I see…”
Shion and Diablo were nodding behind me. I could already hear them saying some pretty disturbing things—“They’re disposable pawns, then”; “Let us give them a trial and pick only the true elites among them”; that kinda thing—but surely it was just my imagination.
“So the next issue is who to name leader of each force.”
Now Benimaru was tackling the real task at hand.
Let’s start with the Western Deployment. They were the biggest force, but their members were still scattered all across the land.
“In terms of sheer numbers,” Benimaru began, “we’ve got a quarter million under our command, but I believe it best to keep the one hundred and fifty thousand in the Western Deployment where they are, instead of moving them around.”
“Yeah. They still technically belong to the Council. Maybe we’re free to move them, but I doubt we’ll have to call them all the way over here.”
If we could get them all in one place, I’d be able to magically transport them in one fell swoop, of course. But managing a crowd of one hundred and fifty thousand is a huge responsibility; without a chain of command in place, they’d never act like a sensible army. Best to get a solid security structure in place, just so imperial agents can’t start diverting their attention around the world.
“I agree with you, Sir Rimuru. I have the power to manage them, I believe, but let’s keep the Western Deployment where they are. There’s no single leader for them, but I’m thinking that Testarossa, our diplomatic officer, can handle those duties as well.”
“I like that idea…but if war breaks out, I might wind up calling Testarossa back here. If I do, I’m worried about how she’ll stay in contact with them.”
How would she keep in touch with a force dispersed across such a wide range? We had successfully built a communications network connecting each nation and their main cities, using magical calls, communication crystals, and magisteel wiring. But the infrastructure didn’t extend out to the individual town-and-village level yet—in fact, that’d be a job for our corps of engineers. Each squadron in the Deployment had at least one magic practitioner, so magical calls would be possible at least, but…
“That will not be a problem,” said Diablo. “Moss is capable of managing hundreds of squadrons at once.”
“Yes, that’s what Soei told me as well,” added Benimaru. “Moss was working with him in intelligence gathering, but it sounds like he can also handle inter-squadron contacts on the side.”
He can? What an incredibly useful demon!
“Well, want to name him unit leader, then?” I offered.
“I…would feel bad for him if we did.”
“Indeed. Given Testa’s temperament, it would be a tragic situation for him. It hardly matters to me, of course, but I cannot help but feel a twinge of sympathy.”
“…All right. Let’s make Testarossa the provisional leader for now.”
Not only Benimaru, but even Diablo voiced pity for Moss. I could read between the lines well enough, so I withdrew my nomination.
For now, the Western Deployment would focus on its primary peacekeeping mission. Barring extraordinary circumstances, deploying them elsewhere would only be done as a last resort. Testarossa would lead them, but this was meant to be temporary—I made it clear that we’d replace her once someone suitable came along.
Next, the Magic-Born United. Why don’t I appoint Benimaru for that?
“Personally, I would suggest Sir Rigur,” he said.
Oh, Rigur? True, Rigur had experience leading a security force, and his over-A power was nothing to sniff at. But he was also an assistant to Rigurd, and I wasn’t sure he had time to lead a full army.
If at all possible, I wanted to settle this war with our standing forces alone—but right then, we had no idea how much military strength the Eastern Empire had ready. We had our spies en route but hadn’t gained any intel within imperial borders yet. Still, based on the snippets we learned about their training exercises, current estimates stated that at least three hundred thousand troops were going to be deployed. There was even a chance they’d send out over a million, a truly massive force.
If it came to that, we couldn’t afford to keep the Magic-Born United on ice. Along those lines, I had no issue with Rigur’s command, but I was still anxious. Managing a ragtag army with essentially no rehearsal was a dangerous job for anyone.
“…Hmm. I really do want to leave this to you, Benimaru. And in the future, we can call this mixed force the Red Numbers. I’d like you to select some captains from Team Kurenai to make this force into a coherent unit. We’ll make them into the Fourth Army Corps, and I want you to be their direct commander.”
I’d call them red because they’d stop anyone in their way. Get it? My first dad joke in a while!
…
Right. I’ll just keep that one to myself. Don’t want to kill the mood.
Despite all these ridiculous thoughts, I managed to retain my composure as the briefing hummed along.
“Very well. In that case, I accept the appointment.”
It looked like Benimaru thought I might ask that of him. He seemed ready to agree, not letting it faze him at all. He has the unique skill Born Leader, letting him cover for any lack of refinement among his forces, so he was the perfect person to lead a motley bunch like this.
So in addition to being my supreme commander, Benimaru was just appointed leader of the brand-new Red Numbers. That left the Volunteer Army.
“Now, what do you intend to do with the Volunteer Army?”
Benimaru winced. “Ah, there’s the problem.”
These volunteers included a large number of humans. Employing a monster as commander, Benimaru worried, could lead to unnecessary dissatisfaction among their ranks.
“Good point. If word starts getting around that humans can’t advance in the land of monsters, that’s gonna hurt our image.”
“Anyone with such insipid thoughts is a weakling. A loser,” Shion cut in. “They would never make anything of themselves anyway. You have no need at all to worry about them!”
“Shion, I… Okay, maybe I don’t, but if someone doesn’t know much about us, that’s gonna sound an awful lot like the truth to them.”
“True. Humans can be a fickle bunch to deal with.”
Shion may not appreciate it too much, but a brand image is a precious thing to maintain. It’d be ridiculous if we let this issue make us out to look discriminatory, so I thought it required serious debate.
“But is there really anyone suitable for the role?” Diablo asked. There wasn’t, really. That’s why Benimaru was so troubled.
“I hear you there,” I replied. “These are volunteers, besides. We didn’t even plan for them.”
“But we can’t let them go idle,” said Benimaru.
No, we couldn’t. I appreciated the humans’ ardor to serve us, and I didn’t want to let that go to waste. But if we wanted to make good use of them, we needed a talented commander. This Volunteer Army was even more ragtag than the Magic-Born United—the Red Numbers—and if you asked me who could make them into a united force, Benimaru was about all I could think of.
So now what…?
“How about Girard, in Soei’s force?” Benimaru suggested.
“No way,” I said. “We picked him up as part of a secret arrangement with Englesia. I’m sure he won’t want his face seen in public.”
I didn’t hear what kind of deal Testarossa struck with him, but having Girard bump around where everyone could see him had to be a bad idea. He’d been branded a traitor to all humankind. If we didn’t treat him as dead—at least in public—it’d set a bad example for everyone else. I didn’t have any duty to cover for him, but there was no need for him to take center stage for us, either.
“Strengthwise, I’d have no complaints, but it’s not very realistic, no…”
Benimaru didn’t seem too serious about pushing for him. I suppose he just lobbed the idea out for its own sake before he moved on to the next one. Restricting it to human beings was a pain, though. We went through several names, but none of them seemed to really fit.
Suddenly, Shion spoke up.
“Perhaps we could enlist the Crusaders for a little help?”
Benimaru and I looked at each other, then back at Shion.
“I— I’d hardly think so.”
“No, that wouldn’t be a—”
“Then how about Sir Masayuki?” she countered before I could tell her it wasn’t a good idea.
Masayuki. Hearing the name struck me like lightning.
“That’s it!” I shouted.
“Amazing, Shion!!” Benimaru hollered in tandem.
That was the exact moment we decided to appoint Masayuki to be our Volunteer Army’s leader.
This was decided, of course, without consulting the guy himself, but it was one decision that pretty much anyone would agree with. The only one less than convinced was Masayuki.
“Why me…?”
He brought a hand to his head when I gave him the news. But I didn’t have much to say to him. As sad as it was, this was war. What people wanted didn’t factor into it. I know I was thinking the opposite a moment ago, but I couldn’t worry about Masayuki’s feelings here. After all, things ought to be fine if I leave the Volunteer Army in his hands. In times like these, he was a valuable ally to have.