As soon as I reported for duty, I went straight to see the logistics chief of staff.

    The division’s logistics chief of staff—a man who seemed to have no tasks left to occupy his twilight years in service.

    Under normal circumstances, as long as he showed up for morning roll call, no one would interfere with him for the rest of the day. But with war looming, even he wasn’t spared from drowning in paperwork.

    “War in my final days of service? Dammit, not even a chance to earn a commendation! I’m livid!”

    A soldier nearing the end of his service is the type to get furious even if morning roll call is held outdoors.

    Imagine the fury of a soon-to-retire colonel, stuck in a dead-end role after 30 years in service, with no hope of promotion. Needless to say, you shouldn’t mess with someone this angry—they might actually bite.

    “Loyalty, Chief of Staff. I’ve come to speak with you on an important matter.”

    He looked up at me and let out a long sigh.

    “What brings our new logistics officer here? You’re not officially assigned tasks yet, so you shouldn’t have much to do.”

    Technically, I was a logistics officer assigned to the 1st Division, but I hadn’t officially assumed full responsibilities yet.

    This meant I had no paperwork to handle and no mandatory attendance at regular work hours. My position was the ultimate cushy job—you only needed to show up if you wanted to. My visit wasn’t exactly a welcome sight.

    “You’re not planning to dump new tasks on me, are you?”

    It’s an age-old rule to ensure maximum freedom and rest for personnel nearing retirement, whether it’s a soon-to-discharge private, a senior sergeant, or even a junior officer.

    Even though this logistics chief was a soon-to-retire colonel, the principle remained the same.

    Giving tasks to someone in their final days of service? That’s a surefire way to get badmouthed for years.

    “I wouldn’t dare. I’ve only come with a small favor to ask.”

    At my words, the chief of staff furrowed his brow and bit his lower lip slightly.

    A “small favor” from someone with access to the Emperor’s authority and resources? He probably assumed it was practically an order and that his workload was about to increase.

    I had no choice but to rely on the age-old wisdom that money solves most problems.

    I casually placed a pouch filled with dried seaweed on the table.

    “This is a small token of appreciation for all your tireless work for the nation. Please, accept it.”

    The absurdity of this approach was undeniable. Forcing soldiers to eat this for months on end during war was cruel.

    But for the colonel, focusing on cost-efficiency rather than humanitarian concerns was the way to persuade him.

    “Preparing meals for an entire battalion at once saves firewood compared to splitting the task among squads.”

    Firewood might seem trivial, but gathering it for thousands of soldiers was no small task.

    Before building a campsite, soldiers might spend one or two hours just collecting enough wood.

    The chief of staff, being a logistics officer, understood this burden well.

    “And cooking at the battalion level allows for better meals even in the field.”

    Smaller units made tastier food, but transporting extra cooking equipment during marches made centralized cooking more practical.

    “I’ve compiled a report comparing the morale and training efficiency before and after improving our division’s rations. Reviewing it will prove this plan’s validity.”

    The chief nodded thoughtfully.

    “Indeed, even if most soldiers are lowly peasants, they’re still human. They’d want good food.”

    He was almost convinced.

    “Of course, soldiers alone can’t prepare high-quality meals. That’s why I’ve already arranged to recruit skilled chefs from inns, supervised by master-level professionals. A battalion needs only five cooks, with chefs overseeing them.”

    The chefs would each earn two silver coins monthly, but this was a necessary investment for my long-term monopoly on military food supplies.

    “Using a slightly larger team than civilian laborers isn’t a bad idea. I may be retiring soon, but I won’t stand in the way of a capable young officer.”

    The colonel’s pretense of bearing all burdens for the sake of a junior officer was amusing, especially after taking a gold coin’s worth of seaweed as a bribe.

    Still, he was my superior, so I handed him an official document.

    The order detailed my initiative to improve rations and credited the logistics chief as the architect of the plan, leaving room for refinement.

    While the Emperor and other high-ranking officials might not fully believe it, the logistics chief would oversee its implementation as the official in charge.

    This would serve his interests post-retirement, especially since brigadier general status came with far better perks than that of a colonel.

    With the system for dedicated cooks established in the division and soon adopted elsewhere, deployment orders finally arrived.

    It was time to start making real money.