A hundred arrests were made.
The screams of the idiots who had their salaries slashed due to collective responsibility were music to my ears.
Everything had gone smoothly once I realized that while I couldn’t technically lower their pay, I could certainly reduce their rations. I even extended that collective responsibility to their families and relatives!
Of course, I didn't go so far as to cut their actual food supply.
But alcohol was banned!
And for snacks, they were given Chronos Army Brand protein bars!
They were packed with multivitamins and micronutrients!
Take that, you morons!
"Your Majesty! The health of the children in the Parcionian households subjected to collective punishment is recovering at a staggering rate! It appears they were suffering from malnutrition. Riots have even broken out in some areas, with people demanding we hand over more of that ‘miracle cure’ you call protein bars!"
"Why in the world is this happening?!"
My own scream of frustration signaled the start of the rally.
Since it was a four-day endurance race, I watched the broadcast from my office. I planned to go out and congratulate the participants once they reached the finish line.
In this particular race, the rankings didn't actually matter. Finishing the course was the primary goal for every manufacturer. As long as they completed it, they could claim, "Our vehicles won't break down even if you drive them at full throttle off-road for four days straight!"
Winning would be nice, of course, but that came down largely to luck. I eventually wanted to do something like a month-long desert trek, but for now, we were sticking with this format.
Requests had been pouring in from across Chronos—and even from regions we held diplomatic ties with—saying things like, "We don't care what the sport is, just please hold a tournament."
I had no choice but to create a sports governing body and dump the entire mess onto them. As for who would be good at managing something like that... Karen-san made a gesture of absolute, utter refusal.
Karen-san was currently in Parcion representing the top brass of the participating companies. I’d have to get the Pirate Guild, the Chronos corporations, and Karen-san to figure it out somehow. Maybe the Battle Dome people could help too? They managed arenas, so they were bound to be good at the business side of sports rights.
Regardless, I was going to delegate the paperwork. You guys discuss the event dates, broadcasting rights, and sponsors among yourselves! That was my final decision.
I didn't need to make a profit anyway. All it would do was increase the trust property! Therefore, my policy was to reduce my own workload wherever possible.
Isono started the race. Since it was an endurance race, the footage was a bit plain, but this was the event the manufacturers were truly serious about. My bike race was practically child's play in comparison.
I mean, the Galactic Empire was the only place that treated bikes with such a total disregard for human life that they used them for atmospheric entry! I wanted to abolish that practice even in Chronos! But as a strategy, it was just too effective... plus, people kept wanting to do it because it looked cool.
With those thoughts in mind, I stepped away to make lunch. I was getting tired of barbeques, so I decided on fried rice. Fried rice was the best. If you could manage restaurant-level flavor, your happiness soared. Chemical seasoning was justice.
If the charshiu was bad, the fried rice would be bad too, but there were no worries there. I had already simmered it to perfection. Heh heh heh... it was so good, it would blow your mind.
One-oh-one was already watching the cooking process with sparkling eyes.
"Here you go, One-oh-one. Fried rice!"
"Fried rice! Fried rice! Fried rice, sir!"
And so, I watched the rally while eating fried rice.
I had a feeling it might happen, but just one hour after the start, the Parcion-made vehicle became unable to run. It wasn't a crash or anything dramatic; it was just equipment failure. The control system circuit board had likely died.
That was exactly why I told them so many times to make the boards into replaceable cartridges! Those guys never listened to a word I said.
"What will happen now, sir?" One-oh-one asked.
"Hmm, if they can't repair it within the allotted time, they’ll get a penalty. They can rejoin tomorrow, though."
"I see, sir..."
But from a manufacturer's perspective, the goal was the finish line. Sales for Parcion-made cars were probably about to tank. If the factories ended up downsizing, there would likely be more riots.
"It looks like they are retiring, sir."
"Ah, well..."
The logic was simple: if a car broke down and you couldn't get it back up and running immediately, your repairs weren't fast enough. I bet car dealers were already saying things like, "Unlike Parcion-made cars, our vehicles come with excellent after-sales service. We can fix them instantly. We have plenty of replacement parts, and you can even customize them."
After all, the manufacturer of the bike I rode was marketing it as: "The strongest bike that could endure being driven by the King of Chronos—the monster himself—until the end of the race. Since it’s not the racing model, it won't explode, either."
I wasn't a monster, damn it! Even if my personal vehicle was a mamachari...
They had even locked away my road bike! And that was just the one with a metal frame that wasn't even built for speed!
I should be allowed to enter a bicycle race, right... right, Claire?!
Ah, no. Okay.
Having been declared retired as an athlete, I decided to dedicate myself to my true profession: being a cook. A King? I’d never heard of that job. Pfft, I wasn't going to do any kingly work. I was just going to focus on playing around with those idiots in Parcion.
"It appears Parcion has announced its withdrawal from the race," a Chronos civil official said as she arrived.
She was one of Claire’s subordinates.
"Want some fried rice?" I offered.
"I would be honored to partake, sir."
"Hmm, they didn't retire on purpose, but their pride has been wounded. They might get desperate and try to sabotage the tournament," I mused.
"How foolish of them."
"They just can't look their own foolishness in the eye, I suppose."
I, at least, understood my own foolishness—like my tendency to turn everything into a joke, or how bad I was at spending money.
Claire laughed. "I like those things about you."
"Which things?"
"The way you are strict with yourself," Claire said with a smile.
"Martial artists tend to be that type of person," Eddie agreed naturally.
I suppose Eddie was also part of the crowd that didn't know what to spend money on.
"My husband spent all his money on infrastructure development, helping those who lost their homes in the Zork War, and supporting disabled veterans... He’s almost exactly like His Majesty," Minerva grumbled, though she looked proud.
I shoved the plates into the automatic dishwasher and went back to watching the rally.
Truthfully, Parcion had been handed a massive opportunity. They had become the host for a competition the entire universe was watching, and Chronos corporations were moving in. Our strategy was usually to cooperate with local businesses; we didn't aim for conquest through destruction.
If it were my brother Sam, he would have developed this place in the blink of an eye. However, they didn't realize the value of what they had. It was sad, but they had lived their lives being managed that way. That was the kind of people they were.
I had a premonition that something was coming soon. Either on the final day of the rally, or immediately after. I needed to catch the tail of that elusive Zen God Race.