I continued my work at the fortress in Melissa’s family home.
I was busy working with Melissa and Piggett when Sergeant Huma arrived. Since I had the chance, I decided to tell him about the ninjas. It was a fresh, hot piece of nonsense. I’d regaled him with it, a smug look plastered across my face, but Huma hadn’t even cracked a smile.
“I’ve been to that shop,” he said simply.
“Huh? Why?”
“Shops that have been around that long usually have the local power players as customers. You go there to pay your respects and get introduced to the people who actually matter. You show proper courtesy to the locals and ask about their customs. Doing that alone cuts down on trouble significantly.”
“...Melissa.”
“Mhm. Piggett.”
“Indeed. Sergeant Huma!”
Our expressions turned dead serious.
“W-what is it? Why the scary faces?”
“I’ll pay you five times your current salary. Join the Imperial Guard.”
“Where did that come from all of a sudden!?”
I explained my reasoning. “I mean, come on, Mr. Huma! You’re way too competent! None of us who graduated from the Imperial Officer Academy can pull off things like that. You’re an ultra-talented individual, so please, won’t you join us?”
“No, I owe a massive debt of gratitude to the Young Lady’s father!”
I wanted that loyalty, too. Well, there was no need to corner him right this second. Right, Melissa?
“Lord Groom, you have a wicked look on your face.”
“You too, Melissa.”
Setting the recruitment of Uncle Huma aside for now, securing the Viscount Territory brought its own set of problems. Beyond this point, we’d be entering the territory where Prince Thomas and his expedition were getting their teeth kicked in. Since we had already secured an escape route to the asteroid belt, the difficulty wouldn't be as high as it was for Thomas, but still.
I wondered if I should build some defense mechanisms in the Viscount Territory, although I couldn’t do anything until Melissa’s Papa was discharged from the hospital. For the time being, my immediate task was producing Bolt Throwers and security drones.
The Bolt Thrower was a defective piece of junk, but it was better than nothing. The boys were scurrying about, occupied with replacing energy packs. They were losing their minds over the weapon’s atrocious fuel efficiency, though apparently, it was still far better than ballistic weaponry.
“Lord Groom, there’s no way the Bolt Thrower can be downsized for infantry use.”
“Yeah, it would just end up killing the user.”
It would likely be more dangerous than the early flamethrowers. However, it was undeniably easy to use. The muzzle velocity was insane, it hit even with sloppy aim, and the destructive power was tremendous—even if it did scorch the person firing it.
“For now, I guess we’ll just have to wait for an improved model.”
The maintenance squad was buried in repairs. The damage caused by the Bolt Throwers had been substantial; the surface paint, coatings, and armor on everyone’s machines had practically melted. Almost every unit required a total armor replacement. As for my own machine, parts of it had been charred by thermite rounds.
Wait... maybe I’d been fighting closer to the edge than I’d realized. All I could do was laugh.
“Paperwork’s finished. How about some training?”
“Lord Groom, I heard there’s a training room here. Edge and the others should have headed there already.”
“As expected of a Public Security training planet. ...Melissa, don’t forget your promise about the cosplay.”
I said it with the clearest, most earnest eyes imaginable.
“We don't have the costumes!”
“Ngh! Weapon production takes priority, I see!”
Fibers were needed for combat suits and the like. They were also used for the red and white banners whenever the interior decor needed a quick fix.
I headed toward the training room. In the vacuum of space, there’s a limit to how much you can punish your muscles. For the first time in a while, I’d be able to push myself to the absolute limit.
Just as my masochistic tendencies began to surface, I was surrounded by samurai. None of them wore topknots, but their identity was immediately obvious.
“You are Captain Leo Kamishiro, I believe. My Lord wishes to see you by all means.”
It was likely about Melissa. I hadn't properly paid my respects to her father yet.
“Understood. Let’s go.”
I went to the medical wing—or rather, the general hospital adjacent to the theme park. I traveled by car, avoiding the Great Buddha Passage. The vehicle was a standard model from a manufacturer on the Imperial Capital Planet. I was relieved it wasn't some shiny, tacky hovercar. The interior was normal, too—no snakeskin patterns or mirror balls.
This is what I’m talking about! Seriously, this is where the real difference lies! Do you hear me, you idiots in the Pirate Territory?!
“We’re taking a detour, so it’ll probably take longer than the cargo vehicle. The underground trains are for emergencies only,” one of the samurai, a cheerful guy, told me. A muscular middle-aged man sat in the passenger seat as an escort.
“I’ve heard the Captain is the reigning head of a Marquis House. Tell me, how does our planet look? It must seem quite backwater compared to a Marquis Territory.”
“Not at all. My planet is near the Imperial Capital, but it’s an agricultural planet. It’s rural enough that we don’t have theme parks. I’m learning a lot here.”
“I’m glad to hear that from the famous Captain Leo Kamishiro. It must be difficult, isn't it? Managing a territory while serving on the battlefield.”
“My brother is excellent, so I rely on him for everything.”
I’d realized lately that my Big Brother Sam was the same type of person as Uncle Huma. He used his overwhelming communication skills to win over the locals and constantly attracted all sorts of new facilities. With monstrous footwork, he’d accept every interview and immediately head off to participate in local events. He was the exact opposite of my father and my eldest brother. He was a man perfectly optimized for local government. Unlike those who thought holding power at the center was the only way to make their home prosper, he worked from the ground up.
Once the war is over, I think I’ll hand the Marquis Territory over to Big Brother Sam and just enjoy life as a groom. I truly mean that.
While they continued to compliment me, we arrived at the hospital. I heard it was originally built to treat anyone injured at the theme park. Was the guy who thought of that a genius?
I was guided to a private room.
“My Lord, Captain Leo Kamishiro has arrived.”
“Ah, show him in.”
Inside was a muscular man. He was large in every direction—a real wall of a guy. Even through his clothes, I could see his massive trapezius muscles. You don’t get a physique like that if you slack on your training; the man was a master-class warrior. However, he was currently hooked up to tubes draining blood-tinged fluids. Perhaps due to his age, the medical nanomachines weren't as effective as they once were.
“So you’re Melissa’s Lord Groom... My apologies for the late greeting. I am Tachibana.”
“N-no, the same to you!”
“...What a fine groom. You see, I failed in how I raised her. I didn’t know the first thing about raising a girl. I never realized she was worrying and hurting so much over her own face... It’s a shameful admission.”
“No... well... Melissa is a strong person.”
She had only endured it for so long because she was too strong. Tachibana looked at me with an expression that suggested he could see right through to my soul.
“Please... take care of Melissa.”
Whether it was the anesthesia finally taking hold or something else, Viscount Tachibana fell asleep immediately after those words.