The war ended in victory for our side, and I began playing the role of the "crazy shopkeeper."

    What do I mean by that? Imagine a shop owner on the verge of bankruptcy selling clothes, shoes, and bags at absurdly low prices.

    The day after cleaning up the battlefield, I spent my own money to provide unlimited meat and alcohol to the entire army.

    “My wallet feels much lighter after throwing a feast for 50,000 people, but...”

    This was also an investment for the future.

    “Right now, appearances matter. Unlike other merchants, I prioritize justice over profit and show that I’m willing to sacrifice my entire fortune for the nation in times of crisis.”

    Marketing an image might not work well here.@@@@

    Whether peasants, commoners, citizens, or nobles, they only care about buying better, cheaper goods—or if expensive, high-quality luxury items.

    Nobody cares about "fair trade" or products made by socially responsible companies.

    But I’m both a noble and a merchant.

    Even though I don’t plan to enter central politics or aim for a position like Minister of Finance, what if the surrounding nobles saw me as dishonorable?

    Duke Sforza would seize the chance to use his faction’s power to crush me.

    Rather than shedding bitter tears and scrambling to survive when that happens, it’s better to build up my honor now and prevent it altogether...

    Showing my dedication to the country also makes it easier to do business with the emperor or neutral nobles.

    “It’s not that I want to be a good merchant; I just need to.”

    Still, as I looked around, I couldn’t help but feel good, even if it wasn’t related to my own profits.

    Perhaps it was the shared satisfaction of victory, the relief of surviving, or the contentment of having looted enough to secure some wealth.

    Everyone’s faces were full of smiles, enjoying the moment.

    “Sergeant, have a drink!”

    “You too, drink up!”

    From soldiers to officers, everyone except those on duty or standing guard was undoubtedly drunk.

    Well, the cooks making all this food must be exhausted...

    But they didn’t fight and risk their lives on the frontlines, so I’d say they need to suck it up and endure.

    “It’s a relief we won. If we’d lost, ugh...”

    Strictly speaking, the outcome of this war wouldn’t have directly affected me much.

    The emperor and the supreme commander had already purchased the grain I’d stockpiled in Pergamo County at a solid price, securing me massive profits.

    Not to mention the money I made from the various services I provided during the army’s march.

    “Didn’t I make 1.5 times what I’d earn selling liquor in West Iphricia?”

    I’d already made enough, and since my baronial family hadn’t invested a dime in this war, there was no risk of loss.

    After laughing a bit more, the marquis turned to Baron Ducat.

    “I’d like to have a chat with this amusing young man. Leave us for a moment, Baron Ducat.”

    Baron Ducat gave a sharp salute and promptly left.

    Even with his own stars on his shoulders, he couldn’t help but tense up before a superior with more stars.

    Once Ducat left, the marquis shrugged at me.

    “Most officers your age think they’re amazing if they can tell the difference between what they can and can’t do. Even among the brightest lieutenants and captains brought into the staff office, most of them can’t manage even that.”

    In this world, unless they were royalty seeking military experience, most men my age were still second lieutenants—or captains if they were particularly talented and lucky enough to achieve significant merits.

    In that sense, his comparison made sense, as he was setting the bar against those elites most likely to wear stars one day.

    “But you’re different. You don’t just understand your limits—you’ve gone as far as improving the quality of food for soldiers while cutting costs. Thanks to you, our morale has soared while the enemy’s morale hit rock bottom.”

    Feigning humility would backfire in this situation.

    So instead, I chose neither to confirm nor deny his praise, saying nothing at all.

    “When His Majesty temporarily assigned you the rank of major, I protested. And when he officially appointed you as quartermaster for this war, I was going to protest again.”

    The marquis let out a long sigh, as if he were exasperated.

    “But once again, you proved His Majesty right and this old fool wrong by achieving exceptional results.”

    Did he suspect that I had given Baron Ducat the idea for the recent operation?

    Even if he had, it wouldn’t immediately harm me, but it could lead to unwanted enemies within the military.

    “The operation Baron Ducat proposed succeeded because you improved our soldiers’ rations and extended the enemy’s supply lines, burdening them greatly.”

    Fortunately, it seemed he hadn’t caught on that I’d given the idea to the baron.

    Baron Ducat might be honest, but he wasn’t the type to betray a confidence I explicitly asked him to keep.

    Besides, it wouldn’t make sense for a mere “young merchant” to come up with such an effective strategy, so naturally, I’d be overlooked as a suspect.

    “On top of that, you provided unlimited beef, pork, and chicken for the entire army for a day. While everyone’s happy, I’m genuinely concerned.”

    “As long as they’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

    “Still, isn’t this kind of generosity causing you to take a loss?”

    I studied his expression carefully.

    The marquis, seemingly taken in by my act, appeared genuinely concerned as he looked at me.

    To be clear, I’d never once taken a loss in business.

    While others took 70–80% profit margins, I settled for 50%.

    Even so, while most military contractors would deliver goods worth only 20% of the payment received, I provided 50%—2.5 times more than the norm.

    Naturally, that kind of generosity left a much stronger impression.

    Now, what should I say to adequately deceive the marquis?