The Exceptional Porter

"Military Expansion!?" A buzz of whispers instantly erupted among the two dozen or so officials in the grand hall. This was, after all, no trifling matter.

"Hm? Do any of you have an objection?" Du Chen's voice was a low, resonant rumble.

"My Lord, the Empire imposes strict limitations on the military strength of all major territories. Your eight hundred li of land is only authorized for a complement of three thousand soldiers, and those positions are currently at full..." The official's words trailed off midway as he noticed Porter, the handsome young confidant at the Lord's side, staring coldly at him. He hastily lowered his gaze.

Porter spoke, his tone sharp. "Esteemed official, as far as I am aware, while the Newin River territory's troop ceiling is indeed three thousand, it has never once been fully staffed! At its peak, there were barely fifteen hundred enlisted. And during the Merfolk's recent raid, there were fewer than eight hundred ragtag troops in the port!"

With a dismissive chuckle, he continued, "One of the most significant reasons for this situation is certain individuals' habit of 'eating phantom payrolls.' My Lord, am I to understand your earlier statement to mean that once His Lordship personally oversees this Military Expansion, all three thousand positions will be genuinely filled, and certain individuals will no longer have any phantom salaries to pocket? Hmm?"

"Mr. Porter—"

"Please address me as Porter, Acting Intendant!"

"Ah, yes, Intendant! I assure you, I have never 'eaten phantom payrolls'—"

Porter waggled a finger. "I wasn't referring to you specifically, was I? I merely wish to point out that a very clear decree exists within the Newin River territory's laws: anyone found embezzling ten Gold Coins or more... shall face death!" His voice was chillingly cold as he strode to the center of the assembly, surveying them all. Involuntarily, the officials felt a sliver of oppressive weight emanating from Porter—the pressure of a seasoned, high-ranking official. Was it merely an illusion!?

"This Military Expansion Plan will adhere to an elite troop strategy, and the numbers will not exceed three thousand! We absolutely will not overstep the limitations of imperial decree. Does anyone else have any further objections?"

A representative from the Charitable Foundation stepped forward. "Provisions, armaments, training, and the ongoing maintenance costs for a standing army — these all incur considerable expenses! After surviving this recent calamity, the territory's treasury will likely buckle under the strain."

Porter, Du Chen's trusted confidant, nodded with a faint smile. "You are quite right. A fully organized Legion of three thousand men incurs annual military expenses of at least thirty thousand Gold Coins. And for His Lordship to establish an elite Legion, ensuring such events do not recur, the annual military expenditure would be at least one hundred thousand Gold Coins..."

This seemingly astronomical figure was, in fact, no exaggeration. For three thousand men, one hundred thousand Gold Coins, when spread among each soldier, amounted to merely thirty-something Gold Coins. These thirty-odd Gold Coins had to cover their pay, food, lodging, the procurement of weapons and armor, training equipment, and furthermore, any casualties would necessitate compensation drawn from the same pool... It truly wasn't much. And most crucially, in the Battle God World, sacred artifacts of war were commonplace within armies. These were the true money pits; a mere common sacred artifact mortar cannon could cost over a thousand Gold Coins...

War and armies were, without a doubt, the most exorbitant endeavors!

Porter continued, "Regarding the issue of military funding, His Lordship's fundamental principle is to absolutely avoid disrupting the normal lives of the territory's common folk. Our current primary adversaries are the bestial Merfolk; we do not require battle-grade, fully integrated Legions equipped entirely with sacred artifacts of war, like the Sigurd Legion in the Empire's north. Therefore, I propose three recommendations for the Military Expansion Plan: First, Troop Self-Sufficiency... Second, Imperial Military Resource Exchange... Third, Wage War to Sustain War... This approach could save at least thirty to forty percent of the military expenses, and with His Lordship's personal wealth, we can readily sustain this for over three years!"

Standing in the center of the hall, Porter spoke eloquently, beaming with confidence, his voice resonating with nuanced intonation. The myriad difficulties of the Newin River territory, when articulated by him, seemed like pieces on a master strategist's board — amidst the chaos, he unfailingly pinpointed the opponent's weaknesses, a single move deciding victory. That such a handsome, young boy could be so exceptionally brilliant utterly astonished everyone present!

Du Chen quietly observed Porter's performance, a sudden feeling swelling within him—it was like a fish returning to the ocean, an eagle soaring into the sky. Everything felt so natural, as if Porter had been born for this very role. Was this the legendary administrative genius people spoke of?!

No, 'genius' alone couldn't fully explain it. An exceptional civil administrator wasn't forged solely from bookish knowledge; they also required extensive practical experience. So, from where had Porter acquired *his* experience?

For the first time, Du Chen found himself truly intrigued by Porter... or rather, by the past experiences of this charming protégé!

"Next, we must confront an unavoidable issue: the smooth enforcement of decrees within the territory following the disaster. Without effective implementation, any number of laws we devise here will hold no practical significance..."

Du Chen gestured to the assembly, indicating for Porter to preside over the meeting and provide him with a report afterward. He then quietly retreated with Deboning to a secluded corridor behind the grand hall.

GazING out at the overcast, rain-swept sky, Du Chen drew a list from his sleeve and handed it to Deboning, who stood behind him. "Everything has two sides. Previously, the territory's existing imperial officials held The Prerogative. While I did implant many of my confidants and issue numerous decrees, those beneath me feigned compliance while secretly obstructing. My control over the territory was, and still is, insufficient—far from enough!"

Deboning took the list and scanned it. It comprised influential figures of the territory who had fled inland during the recent calamity, including the Garrison Commander whom Du Chen had just publicly reprimanded.

"The Merfolk's attack presented me with a colossal problem, but commensurately, it granted me an immense opportunity! The Prerogative within Newin Port is now practically a vacuum, allowing me to seize control of this city with but a few words..." Du Chen extended his hand beyond the corridor's edge, catching a few raindrops that were as cold as his voice. "Following this list, provide them with a plausible, legitimate reason never to return. At the very least, ensure His Majesty Bargnar has no pretext to trouble me, understand?"

Deboning nodded impassively. "Young Master, consider it done. This is precisely what I excel at!"

"Good, excellent. Go, and complete this within half a month!"

Du Chen and Porter's first step after their deliberation—absolute control over the territory—was already being gradually implemented! Once an elite force completely loyal to Du Chen was established, the eight hundred li along the Newin River would be firmly within his grasp!

Deboning vanished behind him. Du Chen continued along the corridor, venturing into a secluded courtyard deep within the Lord's Manor.

Nearly everyone within the Lord's Manor knew that only one person resided here normally: Old Foye, who managed Du Chen's Charitable Foundation. Fortunately, during the disaster, Old Foye had been preoccupied with relocating the Charitable Foundation's headquarters to Newin Port, and thus, by sheer luck, had been outside the city and narrowly escaped the calamity. What only a select few knew, however, was that this place also served as Du Chen's secret base, built underground by the Daobet, who revered Du Chen as Orbach's divine emissary.

Following a secret passage underground, Du Chen found Old Bibby, the Daobet leader, waiting in a brightly lit secret chamber. After exchanging greetings, Du Chen inquired, "This Merfolk attack on the city was highly unusual. Did you discover anything beneath the surface?"

Old Bibby shook his head, a crestfallen and frustrated expression on his face.

Du Chen continued, "No discovery is fine, but now I have a profoundly important task to entrust to you Daobet!" Old Bibby instantly clenched his fists, a rush of excited warmth coursing through his spine. Heavens, the divine emissary was about to issue a divine oracle! He swiftly dropped to one knee. "I wish to construct a large-scale secret base beneath Newin Port, along with an intricate network of secret tunnels..."

Old Bibby paused, then cautiously asked, "Might I inquire as to the desired scale?"

"The larger, the better!" Du Chen patted the stunned Old Daobet on the shoulder, chuckling. "There's no rush; this will be a long-term project with no strict deadline. My only requirement is that within three years, you excavate a subterranean tunnel network connecting the entire urban area! But absolute secrecy is paramount!" He placed a hand gently on Old Bibby's head and asked softly, "Can you achieve this?"

"Yes! I swear upon the lives of all Daobet folk that we can!" Old Bibby roared without hesitation, purplish-blue veins pulsing visibly along his neck beneath his aged white hair.

The construction of this colossal underground base was a secret known only to Du Chen and the Daobet...

While Du Chen was caught in a whirlwind of territorial affairs, Brockman, leisurely reclining in a lounge chair with a small Tyran Beast cradled in his arms, slowly savored his red wine. "Mr. Tendon-Severing, three more days have passed. These contemptible bandits are making me quite anxious with their delay!" He smiled contentedly.

Tendon-Severing had just returned from outside. Upon pushing open the door and hearing Brockman's voice, he quipped, "Could it be that we've hidden ourselves *too* well, making it impossible for those bandits to find us?"

He paused, his expression growing serious. "My Lord, I just met with the Turaam Base Commander. He believes we should expedite our efforts. Since losing the Star of Turaam, the Merfolk have become utterly berserk, and our forces can likely suppress them for only ten more days... Should the Merfolk riot once again, the location of the lifeline could very well be exposed. Not long ago, the Merfolk swarmed out to pursue the bandits, an action that almost certainly alerted the Sea Clan to something amiss."

"Ah, gaze upon this 'lifeline' location; it truly is a disheartening place!" Brockman shook his head slightly, seemingly displeased with the taste of the red wine in his goblet. "Years ago, our people breached Turaam's lifeline, yet to our dismay, those accursed kinfolk blundered in operating the Life Grand Formation, allowing the Star of Turaam to stimulate Merfolk reproduction. In a mere decade or so, the Merfolk population near Turaam swelled to such an extent that even the Sea Clan found them a vexing headache..."

Brockman offered a wry smile. "The most absurd part is that those Merfolk actually worship our lifeline — the Star of Turaam — as a Holy Relic. Oh, I don't blame them; a pack of savages encountering something that can swiftly strengthen and multiply their species will naturally develop a rather ignorant form of reverence!"

His casual ease, as if the matter held no sway over him, caused Tendon-Severing to frown slightly. "My Lord, this sudden bandit attack on the Turaam Base, which seized our lifeline, incited the Merfolk's pursuit, and brought considerable disaster to Newin Port along their path. This incident has left the Marshal exceptionally furious. We truly ought to expedite our efforts!"

"Alright, alright, I understand. My mission is to reclaim half of the Star of Turaam, repair our lifeline, and simultaneously appease the Merfolk's rage." Brockman swirled the red wine in his goblet, staring at the liquid as he slowly stated, "Very well, I shall take the initiative. Tendon-Severing, does the Turaam Base Commander have any other intelligence for me? I refer, of course, to the individual whose physique and Secret Technique are identical to my own!"