"In both the Toscan Empire and back in the Korean military, a division commander is a person of immense authority. A person who could move mountains with a single command."
As I internally grumbled, I stood to attention and saluted Baron Ducat with military precision.
“Fabio de Medici, second son of the House of Medici, reporting.”
He looked at me with an approving gleam. “It’s rare to see such a spark in a young man’s eyes! Ha ha ha, I like it!”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You remind me of myself when I first commissioned—full of that unbreakable military spirit.”
It’s true that historically, nobles have been revered for their military service, and being a soldier is one of the most respected professions for a noble. But as someone who served in the Korean military in the 21st century, I have to admit it’s strange hearing such praise.
“Sit down. We have much to discuss,” he said, indicating a chair.
“Thank you, sir.”
I sat, and Chloe promptly served coffee and refreshments. Baron Ducat downed his coffee in one gulp and grinned.
“This coffee is good stuff. It’s great for staying awake on watch duty or keeping up stamina in other, more... enjoyable pursuits.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“Even though it’s costly, I make sure all my officers have a cup before they take night watch. I don’t know if you’ve ever done guard duty, but staying awake with nothing to do is exhausting.”
I’ve done my fair share of guard duty—two hours at a stretch, and it was grueling. And there were plenty of sleepless nights spent on overnight watch duty.
Baron Ducat suddenly shifted the mood to a more serious tone.
“Well, enough idle talk. I have orders from the Emperor to convey to you. This isn’t an official decree, so no need to kneel. Just relax.”
Telling someone to relax in this context is like waving a red flag at a bull. Even though I’m a civilian, I’m certainly not going to let my guard down in front of a division commander.
“The Emperor has appointed you as a temporary logistics officer for our First Division. Your rank will be Major, though it’s an unpaid position.”
The Toscan military doesn’t openly sell ranks like some countries, but they also lack formal institutions for training officers. The Emperor can appoint officers arbitrarily, so it’s clear the military structure here is less than ideal.
“Welcome to the logistics staff of the First Division.”
With a dedicated logistics department, it seems the division must have at least thirty staff members. While that’s better than political officers corrupting the ranks, it still feels like a case of rank inflation.
“Not even 21, and already a major! Stay in the military, and you’ll be a division commander by forty.”
Unlike other countries, promotions here heavily depend on the Emperor’s whim rather than seniority or merit. As long as one achieves military merit, even a thirty-something could theoretically be a division commander.
“Frankly, I would’ve opposed another noble family’s brat being placed here as a major. But you, recognized by both the Emperor and the Duke of Visconti? I’m willing to give you a chance to prove yourself.”
I interpreted his words as meaning that while he respects the Emperor’s decision, he’s prepared to be disappointed if I fail to deliver.
“I’m not here to interfere with training or command. My sole purpose is to handle logistics. I have no intention of overstepping my bounds.”
“You’re sensible enough to know your place.”
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The media often says that success requires creativity, perseverance, and drive. But all those qualities are pointless if one can’t grasp their own limitations. Even if someone studies for thirteen hours a day, they won’t get far without an understanding of their own abilities.
“Logistics officers may not fully understand the devious tricks that merchants play. I know how they inflate prices and the shady tactics their subcontractors use. That’s where I excel.”
“Good to hear. Can I trust you to deliver?”
“Absolutely. I’ll minimize costs and maximize efficiency.”
I have a decent grasp of what’s needed to train musket-wielding soldiers, from physical conditioning to rigorous drills. Though I lack the expertise for detailed military reform, working with Baron Ducat, I could fill in the gaps needed to make the Toscan Empire’s army a force to be reckoned with.
"Then let’s begin our work together. You’ll accompany me to the First Division’s headquarters in three days. Once there, you’ll receive your uniform, rank insignia, and officer’s sword.”
Unlike the Korean military, where only generals wield swords, here even majors can carry one.
After settling in at the division headquarters with Chloe and Christina, I buried myself in paperwork. As logistics officer, my job wasn’t to handle strategies or administrative tasks. I was there to ensure no one was profiting from corruption and to cut expenses wherever possible. This also meant I was exempt from the other officers’ training drills.
“So, I’m basically a civilian worker with a military rank.”
Still, the experience could be invaluable for my future. Earning military merit would likely grant me a baronetcy, elevating my noble status.
As I finished reviewing some documents, there was a knock at the door.
“Raffaello D’Navi from the Benaldi Trading Company, requesting permission to enter.”
“Come in.”
The man entered and bowed politely. He didn’t immediately offer a gift, which suggested he knew bribery wouldn’t work on me.
“Representing the Benaldi Trading Company, it’s an honor to meet you, Major Fabio de Medici.”
“Please, call me ‘Sir,’ not ‘Major.’ This rank is temporary, after all.”
“Of course, Sir.”
After a bit of pleasantries, I set down a pile of procurement documents from their company on my desk.
“Let’s be frank. I understand that padding the prices a bit is the norm, but isn’t this a bit excessive? We should have a serious talk about this.”
If he didn’t want to cooperate, then he could expect a military trial for defrauding the army.