Sitting in the division commander’s office, waiting for Baron Ducat, I tapped my fingers on my knee.

    “Seems like things are getting busy now that war is about to break out.”

    For the poor and ordinary people, war is a catastrophe.

    But for the privileged class, war is the best opportunity to make money.

    After all, even the two world wars, which cost trillions in national defense budgets, ultimately cemented the U.S. as the dominant power.

    For someone like me, aiming for success, this was an opportunity I couldn’t afford to miss, no matter the cost.

    “I can’t just settle for logistics work for the division.”

    Of course, I’m not dismissing the scale of managing 8,000 soldiers in combat or the thousands of additional workers who join during wartime.

    Even just feeding those nearly ten thousand people bread costs dozens of gold coins a day.

    But if you want to get rich, you must be as obsessed with money as a certain hobbit was with the One Ring or as miserly as Nolbu saving every grain of rice.

    “If I introduce advanced systems that don’t exist in the Empire and prove they can reduce costs...”

    The Rothschild Trading Company might secure the logistics contracts for several divisions.

    We could even sell our know-how to other trading companies.

    ‘With operations as large as military supply chains, there’s no way to hide what I’m doing, so I might as well make it public.’

    What I’m planning isn’t exactly groundbreaking; most ideas turn out to be simpler than expected once implemented.

    That’s why it’s better to sell the system before anyone gets the chance to copy it for free.

    That way, I can earn money and curry favor with the Emperor and nobles at the same time.

    While I was sorting through my thoughts, the door opened, and Baron Ducat walked in.

    Even though I’ve never served in the military, this is a military setting, and I’m a uniformed officer.

    When in Rome, do as the Romans do.@@@@

    I immediately stood up and saluted with perfect form.

    “Loyalty!”

    “Loyalty. At ease.”

    The Baron gave me a satisfied smile as he looked me over.

    “You look like a proper young officer in uniform. Very impressive.”

    It’s said that compliments can make even a whale dance, but if someone gets too giddy over a few words of praise, they’ll often pay a steep price.

    Like those soldiers nearing discharge, being showered with compliments from their sly superiors, who offer them drinks, reminisce with misty eyes, and say things like:

    “Hey, it’s tough finding a job out there these days. Why not stay here? You’re a natural ace; you’d excel even as a sergeant.”

    He claimed soldiers could fight on grass alone if they had strong mental fortitude and loyalty to the emperor.

    Of course, being of Allied descent, he feasted on meat and indulged in luxuries, but still.

    Even the most incompetent officers understand the importance of feeding their troops.

    ‘Starving soldiers die, after all.’

    “However, the quality of the soldiers’ meals will decline. Beer and liquor will be in short supply, and fresh meat will become a dream. Transporting those is expensive and nonessential for survival.”

    Many soldiers don’t realize that governments strive to provide the best meals possible for them.

    Of course, a chunk of the budget always gets siphoned off under the guise of “rebates” for generals and commanders, but—

    ‘Food is often the only source of joy in military life.’

    This becomes even more crucial during war.

    “Marching to their deaths while eating only hardtack, water, and pickled herring will sap their fighting spirit. Even if it strains the budget, soldiers need good food to maintain morale.”

    In the Tuscan Empire, soldiers cheer enthusiastically when served something as simple as grilled pork belly.

    Imagine their delight if I threw in donuts as a weekly dessert.

    Though food alone won’t make them adore me,

    At the very least, it will reflect the Emperor and high-ranking officials’ care for the soldiers, reducing complaints and boosting morale.

    “This plan will cost my family’s entire fortune, but it will wreck the Grand Duchy’s war preparations. In exchange, I ask the Empire to purchase the grain I procure for the military.”

    If I buy up all the grain from the County of Pergamo, it could cover nearly half the expeditionary army’s needs.

    “Of course, as a noble of the Empire, I’ll set aside personal greed and serve with loyalty. I’ll supply the grain at half the price of what the camp followers would charge.”

    Supplying food to the military typically yields four times the market price.

    Camp followers, factoring in hazard pay, charge at least 10 to 50 times the market rate.

    In a relatively safe border region like this, the price might inflate to 15 times the base cost.

    ‘If I can secure profits at 7.5 times the cost with guaranteed demand, it’s a total win.’

    “Hmm...”

    “Considering the effort of procurement and transportation, this leaves little profit for me.”

    Of course, the sheer scale ensures substantial gains despite the low margin.

    But that’s a secret between me, the Emperor, and the Baron.

    “Very well. I’ll formally request approval from the Ministry of War.”

    “Thank you.”