Chapter 47: Avarice
Iron Fortress, Administrative Study.
The documents piled before the Lich had formed two literal mountains. One mountain was labeled: Pending Review. The other: Vetoed.
"Draft for the selection of basic currency units and circulation regulations for the Undead Empire... Version 1.0."
The Lich pinched the top document with two finger bones. The handwriting was done in charcoal, shaky and crooked.
Proposal: Suggest using "Shiny Stones" as universal currency.
Reasoning: Skeleton Soldiers are very happy when they find shiny stones on the battlefield.
Notes: The shinier the stone, the higher the value. It is suggested that the Lord Ruler personally appraise the shininess of every single stone.
VETOED!
The document was tossed onto the mountain to the left, which grew a fraction taller. He picked up the next one.
"Quantitative standards for military merit and ranking of combat units... Version 7.0."
Content: Killing a Tier 1 enemy counts as 1st Class Merit. Killing a Tier 2 enemy counts as 2nd Class Merit, and so on.
Reward: Accumulating enough merit allows one to exchange for corresponding medals. Medals shall be made of shiny metal.
The Lich tapped his smooth skull with a finger bone. This proposal was at least more grounded than the last one, but it still had holes. If a squad ganged up on a high-tier enemy, how was the merit split? If a Skeleton Soldier just dealt the final blow, did he get all the credit?
"Revolutionary concept from the Department of Agricultural Development regarding food yield... Version 3.0."
He picked up the next one.
Content: Research shows skeletons do not need to eat and can work long hours. Suggest replacing all human labor with skeletons and penning the humans up as emergency food rations.
Notes: This solution solves the food problem once and for all.
VETOED! Enough. The stupidity was giving him a phantom headache.
"Don't let it get to you. Once we set the foundations, the solutions will follow."
A voice drifted from the doorway. The Lich looked up to see Greed—the Vampire Secretary of State—walking toward him. He immediately rose from his chair and offered a slight bow.
"General. My apologies, I didn't notice your arrival."
Greed waved a hand and strolled in, glancing at the two mountains of paper. "It's fine. I've returned from my mission. Leave the matters here to me." Greed sat behind the desk with practiced elegance. "You should get back to your research. That Personage has high expectations for the Arcane Legion."
The Soul Fire in the Lich's sockets brightened instantly. "Yes!"
He practically skipped out of the study, eager to escape the place that made his very Od feel weary.
"By the way, Avarice."
The Lich—newly named Skele-Avarice—stopped at the door and turned around. Greed looked up from the files.
"Remember to notify Paul. Tell him to take the armor he's finished and equip the frontline skeletons first."
Avarice. That was his name now.
After Kaito advanced to Tier 5, he had gained another slot for the Authority of Naming. Thus, the hardworking Arcane Adjutant finally received a name of his own. Skele-Avarice puffed out his chest, despite it being nothing but bare ribs.
"Understood!"
His voice was loud and full of renewed vigor.
Leaving the stifling administrative building, Avarice walked the road toward the Industrial District. He had to pass through the Agricultural Planning Zone. The air here was a mixture of freshly tilled soil and natural fertilizer. Not far away, several Skeleton Soldiers were learning to plow the earth under the guidance of human villagers.
He spotted the skeleton who had previously tried to teach a hen how to use a Soul Link. Currently, that same skeleton was carefully cradling a newly hatched chick with its bony hands. The fuzzy yellow ball of down was pecking its way through the skeleton's empty ribcage.
"Call me... Papa," the skeleton said to the chick in a flat, emotionless voice.
An elderly villager nearby, who was feeding the hens, overheard this and chuckled. "If you're going to be a father, you have to take responsibility."
The skeleton tilted its skull, the Soul Fire in its eyes expressing confusion.
"Chicks like that hate the cold," the old man explained. "Your bone-rack lets the wind right through. The little guy will be uncomfortable."
The skeleton nodded as if in deep thought. Then, it carefully adjusted its posture, pulling its ribs closer together to create a more enclosed, warmer environment for the chick. The chick let out a satisfied cheep-cheep from inside the chest cavity.
Avarice paused, watching the scene. His thoughts began to wander, and a brand-new research topic began to take shape in his mind.
Feasibility analysis on the retention of key memories and emotional links post-undead conversion...
He pulled a small notebook and a quill from his robes, quickly jotting down the inspiration. Tucking his notes away, he continued his journey.
The Industrial District he entered was worlds away from what it had been months ago. The chaotic Clang! Crash! Bang! had vanished, replaced by a more orderly, rhythmic thrumming. Inside the massive workshops, skeletal apprentices were no longer swinging hammers at random. Crude but efficient production lines had been established.
Molten iron was channeled from blast furnaces through clay pipes, pouring into molds made of refractory materials. Breastplates, bracers, greaves, helmets... once cooled, they were popped from the molds. The next station of Skeleton Soldiers was responsible for grinding away the burrs with massive whetstones.
One skeleton was so focused on its work that it had polished a helmet to a mirror finish, and now stood motionless, staring at its own bald reflection. Finally, another group of skeletons was responsible for drilling holes, threading leather straps, and assembling the sets.
Paul and his skeletal apprentices, through mountains of iron ore and countless failures, had finally mapped out a path to mass production for the undead.
As Avarice entered the factory floor, a patrolling skeleton immediately noticed him and ran to inform Paul. A moment later, Paul ran out from behind a massive mold, drenched in sweat. He was wearing nothing but his signature "Iron Briefs," his upper body glistening. He was panting heavily, his voice as loud as if he were in the middle of a brawl.
"Lord Adjutant! Are there new instructions?"
Avarice straightened his spine, making his voice sound more majestic. "Address me as Lord Avarice from now on. It is the name bestowed upon me by the Master."
"Right, Lord Avarice," Paul said, too distracted by work to care about names. "You've come at the perfect time! Look at this!" Paul grabbed Avarice's arm, dragging him toward a production line. "Our latest improvement! Assembly line operation! See? Molten iron goes in, armor comes out! Efficiency! That is the word of the day!"
Avarice looked at the skeletons—who were still making minor errors—and remained neutral. "How many skeletons can your completed armor equip?"
Paul wiped sweat from his brow, leaving black streaks across his face. "Reporting to Lord Avarice: by the standards of immediate battlefield readiness, we have three thousand full suits. If we're talking partial sets—just breastplates and helmets—we can kit out five thousand! Now, if we lower the standards and count the ones with minor dents..."
"Only those battle-ready," Avarice interrupted.
"Three thousand sets! Guaranteed quality!" Paul slapped his chest.
"Three thousand..." Avarice nodded. It wasn't a huge number, but it was a start. "Good. Accelerate production. All completed armor is to be prioritized for the Fearless Vanguard and the Punishment Legion."
Paul shouted his response. "Understood!"
With his task completed, Avarice turned to leave. He had more important magical research to attend to. He needed to make a breakthrough in his "Memory Retention" project as a gift for the Great Ruler.
☆☆☆
-> 20 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you