Weeaboo's Unfortunate Isekai: The Necromancer's Gacha

Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Powder pink clouds with sparkling lights shining in those fragrant mists. Suggestive, but still safe for broadcast, hints of flesh emerging from the inexplicably dense steam rising up from every water source in frame. Mmm. Gremory. Yes. Highschool DxD generally. Mmmm…

I could feel myself drifting off to that happy, comfortable place known best to the weeb at heart. A safe place, forever welcoming. No death games. No heart shattering horror and trauma. Made in Abyss notwithstanding. Or Madoka Magica. Or Grave of the Fireflies. Just forever happy. Forever peaceful.

“The Floating Quarter has won a temporary reprieve, but the monsters press on us eternally. And so we must be eternally vigilant. Ready to wet our blades with unholy blood, to swim through entrails, to drown the hateful things in fire and magic. To exterminate them to their utmost. Who would have thought that it would still be possible to rise again? That even after obliteration, there is hope?”

God damn it, Sebastian. I couldn’t even be mad at him for spoiling the mood. It didn’t occur to me that when I made him Seneschal, he might be taking the job to make sure I wasn’t a halfwit like the Marchioness was. But that was clearly exactly what he was doing, as my councilors debated where to invest our currently ample funds.

“Oh yes. I stand by what I said, of course, but you really cannot overinvest in troops and equipment. Whatever it takes to put one more sword in a hand, build one more wall, steal one more potion. To lead one more despairing soul to the front, that others might yet live.” Madame… damnit. Carousel. Her name was Carousel now. Her real name was lost before I even met her. I gave her the Development Portfolio. Seemed a good fit.

I controlled a sigh. I have enough empathy to get why these guys were so violence oriented. They had just barely survived an extermination level event, and even the word ‘survived’ was questionable. The smell of blood and smoke lingered in their clothes, the trauma etched into their hearts.

I’d been through some stuff too, at this point, but their safe place wasn’t my safe place. I have the needs of a weeb. Our needs are very specific and, compared to some people’s hobbies, wholesome.

Just saying, nobody got a traumatic brain injury being a One Piece fan. Go to a football game and loads of ‘normal’ people start running around with wedges of cheese on their heads. They start giving their nipples an outing in the too-cold-for-snow December air. They write weird tribal messages to each other on their sloshing beer guts. But somehow I’m the weirdo for appreciating art, writing, and music.

“Right. I get what you are saying about expansion, but it’s all crap if you can’t keep what you’ve got or defend your little life. Ah, defend your honorable, valuable life. Tower Master. Look, buy weapons, armor, troops and siege defense equipment. It’s how you got the Floating Quarter in the first place, and it’s how you will accumulate more everything later. Plus you have a wave to deal with every single day, so it’s never going to not be the right investment.”

Warrior Not-Exactly-Princess-But-Kinda Versai had apparently missed the memo on seductive voices. Or ignored the memo. Both were possible. She had the pretty person halo working overtime anyway. She may have never needed to work on tone or delivery.

I gave her the “War” portfolio when Jim decided that he would “Sooner keep council with the hairs on my arse than sit about in a tower chatting and not getting paid.” Which… fair, if short-sighted. Sebastian agreed instantly, and I knew perfectly well my accountants would be his bookies. With all that implied.

“I think we are basically agreed that we need a powerful military as our foundation, but it’s how to get it and keep it that I’m worried about.” I tried to smile politely and stay positive. “Look, before we get into the weeds, how about you briefly explain your roles. For some reason, I can only see your job title, not what you actually do. Like… mechanically.”

They looked surprised at that. I guess it should be intuitively obvious? Somehow?

Sebastian coughed politely. I briefly contemplated autodefenestration.

“Well a Seneschal does just that. They are the seneschal for your realm. Your realm is currently just the poorest part of Gradden March, but I see lots of room to rise.”

I nodded thoughtfully. Then gave up on bluffing, as I was absolutely sure every single person in this room had seen through it immediately. “For those of us who didn’t grow up under feudalism, what does a seneschal do? What is your day to day work like?”

That got me some long blinks.

“Not… under feudalism? Did you grow up in a theocracy or something? Or did you have a ruling council of powerful lords? I have heard of some cities like that.” Carousel asked, her voice like velvet and honey.

“Federal democratic republic, and I have a feeling all three of those words will have absolutely nothing to do with how things here will be run. Seneschal?”

“A seneschal manages the non-military labor in their lord’s holding. I see to their domestic arrangements, see to it that their work is completed well, and were we still in Gradden March, I would be overseeing the servants in the manor. However, as your tower does not have servants, I don’t manage anything here.”

My brain seized up for a minute. “All the non-military labor? So, road building, wall building, farming, fishing, pottery-”

“Just so. It would also include things like producing weapons and armor, if we had forges and the appropriate smiths.” Sebastian nodded.

“Tax collection?” There was a certain edge to my voice. I couldn’t help it.

“That is a… delicate topic. Generally yes, though it could be argued that it falls under the purview of your Economic Counselor.” Sebastian smiled calmly. Osian was currently the Economic Counselor, and he was, apparently, the scummiest of the scumbag merchants in the entirety of Gradden March.

Not the most successful merchant, I was carefully informed. In fact, he was considered among the bottom rung of merchants. In no small part because no one wanted to do business with him. Osian traded in all those awful things that made the other criminal merchants sick. Sebastian and Carousel both refused to stand within ten feet of him.

I rubbed between my eyebrows. I have no experience managing people IRL, and almost none over the internet. Sebastian, on the other hand, has been playing this game on Legendary since before I was born. I have… no idea how I am supposed to keep him under control.

I guess it helps that his beloved niece is my summons and War Counselor?

“Versai?”

“My role is managing your military forces and war preparation.” Versai seemed to not know what feelings to feel. Which I get. She had been looping the first three days of a tower defense for, as best I could tell, centuries. Now, she finally got to find out what happened to Gradden March, find out what happened to her relatives, and reunited with her uncle. Who she would now be working with professionally.

“War preparation? Like… more than the nightly tower defense and relic site raids?”

“Yes. Apparently, ‘Realm Wars’ are a thing.” Her voice sounded lost.

“Does that mean… fighting other Tower Masters?”

“I don’t know.”

The room got very quiet.

I don’t want to kill other human beings. I really, really don’t want to kill other human beings. And if I’m fighting monster realms, then that would mean fighting a Dyn Hunllef, and this one wouldn’t be waiting for me to come and shank it. I could feel myself falling into the memory, how the blood and organs seemed to explode out at me and the stink! My God, the stench of it all!

Huh, that cool wave seemed to come down a lot today. Weird. Oh well. Where was I?

“Let's focus on what we can do immediately. What does ‘preparing for war’ mean here, and what does managing the troops mean? Frankly, my troops don’t take any real management, beyond upgrades and the like.”

Not like they needed feeding. Or latrines.

“It’s exactly managing the troops and the upgrades.”

“Eh?”

“Well, and your non Awakened Souls troops.”

“EEEH?”

“Remember all those people you hired during the defense of Gradden March?”

“The Young Gentlemen, Made Men, Disbanded Militia, Working Girls-”

“Right, them, yeah. Well you can’t use them to defend against waves here at the Tower, but you can use them to defend your Realm.”

There was loud coughing from Sebastian, Osain and Carousel. Versai continued, considerably more bitterly.

“IF you invest in the buildings that train them and IF you pay to recruit them and IF you pay to maintain them, including housing, and IF you put the money into upgrades to make them more combat effective. Which requires more buildings, but that’s outside of the War Counselor’s job description.”

My eyes slowly fixed on my Development Counselor, who smiled languidly at me. There was a hint of knowing seduction in those full lips, painted not red but lilac to match her dress and enormous floppy hat. It worked for her. I hated it.

Every time I looked at Carousel, I kept seeing Madame. Madame looked like a tough old lady who had seen a few too many good meals and good drinks, but could still punch well above her weight. Madame wasn’t flirty. Madame wasn’t seductive. She employed professionals for that sort of thing, and made sure she was well paid for their services. Madame was a genuine article hero. I don’t know who the Hell Carousel is, but she feels like a mockery and a desecration of a corpse.

And… I’m pretty sure she volunteered for whatever it was the necromancers did to her, which is pretty damn interesting. And will be investigated, but not right this second.

“I’m responsible for making everything better. Better buildings, better defenses, better resources, better people. A better Realm. All of which requires investment, but it all quickly pays for itself. Managed properly.”

“I like the sound of that.”

She hummed, a touch deeper than you would imagine, but still sweet and feminine. If cherries dipped in dark chocolate could make a sound, this was it. Logically, I knew my skin couldn’t crawl. But logic had little to do with this world.

“My focus is primarily on constructing and upgrading things. Better roads, for example, speed trade and military deployment, improve logistics, and also, inexplicably, improve the health of your serfs.”

“Huh. Wait, serfs?”

“Well, I don’t really know what else to call them. They labor on land they do not own, remitting you taxes and their produce as ‘rent,’ and are not free to leave the land they work.” There was a smokey, playful look in her eye. I knew it wasn’t her trying to seduce me. I think that’s just how she was now. All the time.

“Let’s put a pin in the naming situation for the moment and dig in more on the buildings.”

“Another example might be building those forges that Sebastian mentioned, and funding apprenticeship programmes to train workers. Funding and organizing the recruitment of master smiths to train those apprentices. Improving the furnaces to burn hotter, or use less magic. Drop hammers. Better safety gear to maintain production rates and machinery uptime. And so on.”

Did I believe she could have made that statement this morning? No. This was the system dumping stuff in her brain. Another shudder moment.

“Alright, great stuff. What about economic development? Because the Floating Quarter doesn’t have much in the way of industry, right?”

“Wrong, Tower Master. Very wrong.” She slowly shook her head. “Meat processing, poor alchemist workshops, innumerable small crafters and traders, livery stables, pig breeders, markets, grocers, tanneries, and I haven’t even touched on things like saloons, brothels, gambling dens and the like. It was the poorest part of the city. All sorts of smelly, unpleasant jobs were done there.”

I thought about that a moment, and then the New Yorker in me kicked in again- “Real Estate.”

“Pardon?” Carousel asked, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“Who own the real estate? All that slum housing has an owner. Who’s collecting rent on the slums?” Because the owners are going to be a problem. I just freaking KNOW they are going to be a problem. You ever see anything in any city anywhere that started with “Once the commercial landlords got involved, everything got better.”?

My question was met with more bemused looks. “You do. Well, technically my father does, but practically, you do.” Versai half shrugged.

“Could you elaborate on that?” I, the accused slumlord, asked.

“Gradden March, both the city and the territory, are my Father’s fief. Or they were. Land given directly to him by the crown for his support and benefit. Permanently, on the condition that he fulfills his obligations to the Crown.”

“Yes, with you so far.”

“Not sure what else needs explaining.”

“How do we go from there to being in the rental business?”

“That's… how everything works? You get land from the Crown in exchange for taxes and military service. You then do whatever you want to get money and troops from the land. Which is generally renting fields to peasants and shops to shopkeepers and, yes, homes to townsfolk.” She slowly explained, clearly not understanding how I didn’t understand this.

Feudalism. The whole thing was built to do two things- make the people at the top rich and provide support for their armies. No different than mob families, really.

The MC’s in Baccano! were gangsters, and that was a really fun show. Something worth modeling there? Maybe style, but otherwise, probably not.

“So all that industry, all that housing, all that everything is my personal property, and I am earning off it in various ways. Your job, Carousel, is to make all this stuff better, which improves my income and improves everything done by the other departments. Better weapons for the War Department, better trade goods for Economy, better resources for tower and realm defense.”

“Exactly.” She nodded indulgently, which caused thoughts hardwired by hentai to run slap bang into the horror that she was being compelled to act this way. Again. The whiplash had already exhausted me. I had a sad feeling that I would wind up avoiding Carousel.

“Which leads me to Economy. Osain?”

Osain was by himself on one side of the throne room. They had all been summoned together, but by some strange magic, three of my four counselors gravitated together, away from the merchant. Osain had the look of someone who knew their job was highly temporary, and didn’t intend to fight for it.

“Trade, basically. Mostly intra-relm, though I can commission the building of certain improvements, in collaboration with the Seneschal and Development, that do give us an import-export route.”

That got my attention in a hurry. “Say more.”

“So… Carousel-”

“Madame Carousel to you, merchant.” The venom in her voice made me jolt. I shot her a look. She looked straight back. “The circumstances of the battlefield required a degree of tolerance. But we aren’t on the battlefield now. And since his ‘patrons’ are no longer here to protect him, the only thing keeping me from settling scores is the laws of this place. Which he knows.”

Sebastian had a meaningless little smile on his face, deliberately not looking over at Osain.

“Osain… what exactly did you sell?”

He didn’t want to answer. I could see him struggling not to answer as the pressure built. At the faint edge of my hearing, I could hear the ringing of the Council Bell. Another bit of unexplained magic? But whatever it was, it was building and building, crushing the little man in his greasy finery down.

“Animals! I traded in animals!”

“LIAR!” Carousel shrieked. “You damned, DAMNED liar!”

I raised my hand. “Carousel, tell me later. Osain, you tell me later too. And Sebastian. Each of you tell me separately. Later.” I rubbed my temples. What the Hell am I supposed to do here? There are no courts. I don’t even know if he committed any crimes.

Except, of course, that doesn’t matter, does it? I’m the Don. And if someone needs to sleep with the fishes, they will. The job would get delegated out to my Seneschal, now that I think about it. Labor management. No wonder Sebastian was looking indulgently bored.

That warm, pink place of 2-D softness where I could ignore the world was looking, somehow, even more appealing. My personal paradise.

It seemed so far away, now.

“Back on track. What can Economy do for me?”

“Give you the resources needed for your upgrades, purchase and support troops, and lay the foundation for expansion. Roads can be used for diverse purposes, after all, but so can good warehouses that have been fortified against rodents and mold. Investments in forges and factories on one end, and building shops for high end drapers on the other. Enamelers and jewelers may seem like a useless frippery, until you recall that they make the things that Enchanters enchant.” Osain explained.

“Which leads me to what I really want. That Magic Tower was insanely powerful and useful. Did any of them make it back with us?”

My counselors shook their heads in unison. “I figured. So can we build them?”

More head shaking.

“What do we need to build them?”

“Mages, Tower Master. Specialized enchanters, and in significant numbers. Each brick and stone of that structure is either innately magical, or has undergone multiple refinements at the hands of specialists, or both. And we don’t have any of those materials in the first place, or the specialists to refine them.” Carousel spread her hands in a charming display of helplessness.

“Well… can we train up mages?”

Osain smiled bitterly, as did Carousel. Sebastian’s smile got even more indulgent. “Alas, the Crown retained exclusive control over training mages and magical construction. Madame Carousel served twenty years in the Royal Mage Corps, I believe. But since you were able to obtain the Floating Quarter, who knows what else you will find. Just lying about. Waiting for someone strong enough to come and pick it up.”