Omake: Remittance of a Guild Whale
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Yacov
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Omake: Remittance of a Guild Whale
POV: Baronet Wes Telen, owner and commander of the Most Illustriously Beautiful Company, an RII: Mercenary Alliance, Yuleis, Myto Sector
"I hope this party is to your liking, Commander Telen?"
Wes gave a weary sigh as he sipped his Antakarian Fire Dancer. He could taste the inferior quality gemstones they used in its making. Disdain filled his humors at the sight of overinflated nobodies prancing about in tatty yellowish bronze finery with some winged beast feathers sticking out. It looked more like drab ceremonial garb than anything resembling proper fashion as far as Wes was concerned.
This tasteless soirée would be beneath him not too long ago. Unfortunately the Family insisted he "venture out earn some glory for the House". Apparently the Family wanted him to be seen as a "contributing member" of the Guild in order to engage in some scheme or other, so here he was. He would never have left the estate in Rolling Greens' with his shaaks to come to this dirtball otherwise. Why he even had to leave Bettie and her fabulous foot rubs behind at the estate on Ugea.
The Family was being totally unreasonable considering they chased him out of the Core and wouldn't even let him come back to the main manor for the annual Empire Day banquet. Even if they still sent him well wishes and gifts every year. At first Wes considered refusing the demand. However the Family threatened to reduce his remittance payments if he didn't at least make a showy enough attempt. At least they weren't threatening to make him some gentleman ranker in the Imperial Army. He could scarcely imagine the stress of having that hanging over his head.
Wes' current disfavor and enemies in the Core would probably prevent him from getting an officer's commission in the Imperial Military. However purchasing a commission to command a company in the Guild proved to be easier than he expected. Sure Wes had to raise the men and material for the company himself, but that was trivial with the financial resources he had even at his recently limited disposal. The piratical troublemakers had made a right mess of things across the Sector and with the Blackout exposing the potential for supply shortages, the Guild and the Sector were desperate for more troops to secure basic resource distribution. As long as you could prove you were loyal to the Empire and had filled out the flimsy, you were allowed to take the Guild's Credit. The Family had long since proven their loyalty so their recommendation was as good as chromium, and Bettie had filled out the application with her programmed efficiency.
Why is this man still staring at him with his sunken eyes and silly face paint? Oh right, his host is still waiting for a response.
"Hmmm, passable. I am sure it is a grand choice on a sleepy world like this. Hopefully my Most Illustriously Beautiful Company will ensure we can all enjoy even more finery in the future."
Sleepy was truly the word to describe Yuleis. An Agriworld filled with illiterate farmers managing a meager surplus they plied offworld to maintain themselves. The main crop that is grown is overwhelmingly local variants of legume. To the point over 70% of the population is involved in the production and processing of some type of legume. What wasn't sold raw to be rendered into gruel or some other churlish meal was typically processed into the planet's signature drink, Yuleis Gin, which was apparently smooth and citrusy. He only knew of this because legumes were included in almost every dish on Yuleis and no one he talked to would shut up about it. They even served Yuleis Gin at a supposed "grand banquet" like this. Not that Wes would allow such a pedestrian beverage to grace his lips. At least the flower was pretty enough.
The only thing disrupting this comatose routine were some knaves in the hinterlands who were descending upon the outlying hamlets to make trouble. A garrison contract was posted by the sub-capital and Yuleis' nobility to reinforce security in the system while Sector subsidies and capital goods were distributed like last feast's leftovers to the Help. It was the perfect opportunity to fulfill the Family's request while not needing to do anything too strenuous. Wes marched right up to the Guild organizer and proclaimed that his Most Illustriously Beautiful Company would be deigning to take this contract. So overawed were they by his company's brilliance that the MIBC was assigned to the planetary capital to work directly with Yuleis' oligarchic aristocracy. Clearly his fine breeding had shown through, because all those brutish thugs in the other companies did not even compete for the honor of interacting with what passed for the planet's nobility on a constant basis.
All the MIBC had to do most of the time was patrol along the main roads and manning defenses while Wes got his beauty sleep. Of course whenever there was a parade, Wes made sure to lead from the front in his gold plated and emerald encrusted cuirass while atop Honeycup, his favorite shaak. Oh and don't even get Wes started on the self-aggrandizing upper class that ruled this destitute backwater. Honor or no, all they could do was trace their lineage to some savage that ruled some clan or tribe a paltry dozen generations ago. As if their playing at aristocracy could hope to match the honor of his prestigious millennia enduring line. None of these pitiable dynasties even owned a single space yacht for goodness sake.
"Yes the elite troops you have brought with you have been most impressive. The onlooking Stickpickers were overawed by their golden luster as they marched in tandem off your Minstrel. Not even our greatest crafters could offer such a wonders at market."
It was worth allowing his troops to sleep in the lower decks just to watch this fool grovel before him. The MIBC was made up almost exclusively of Romins. Their golden skin and eyes had caught his fancy the last time he passed by the orbit of their Mid Rim planet. When Wes was told to found a mercenary company, he had the most wonderful vision of towering over brilliantly sparkling golden troops marching to his will. Fortunately the current Tyrant-Dictator of that system proved a most affable chap to Wes' offer of an offworld work program. Apparently the offer lined up well with the Tyrant-Dictator's efforts to continue the Poverty Redaction Policy of his predecessor who ruled during the time of the Republic.
Either way Wes had the Romins he needed shipped to start up his mercenary company with little fuss. They had to ditch those tacky grey decorative bracelets they arrived with since it clashed with the MIBC's uniform. His troops complied with his demand quite eagerly for it being a complimentary gift the planetary government had given them. At least they were fine with wearing the same thing given they were all wearing the same colored jumpsuits when they showed up. Maybe it had something to do with them saying they all found housing in the same block?
Regardless Wes' troops were practically chomping at the bit with their wide mouths for a chance to serve him. Doubly so once he announced the generous pay rate and unlimited legume rations while at base. They always smiled and saluted those days when he deigned to visit their barracks. Wes' new subordinates even had their own quaint little title for him: Archilistís. Apparently it means some form of respected community leader.
Truly they knew in their hearts that they would be better off working for him than what passed for employment back on their world. Oku spoke well of their enthusiasm and tenacity in his post-battle reports. Wes had made his assistant Klatooinian his lieutenant in the company to handle most of the droll daily affairs of the MIBC like training and going out of patrols. He always knew how to properly cow a servant back at the estate.
From there it was only a matter of finding the right shade of gold paint for the armor and ABR-2 Zato blaster rifles he had imported from Kijimi under the Family's name. Wes wanted to use real gold, but Oku informed him that would be a bad idea due to how soft the metal was. Nevertheless, he had transformed from a mere baronet into a commander of a shining force of military might defending this pitiful Sector from harm.
"My Beautiful Company certainly were more than enough for what passes for criminal elements on this world. Their tireless will and iron discipline shatter any that stand against them. My latest triumph wiping out that bandit stronghold was a stroke of genius, wasn't it?"
Sure Wes himself wasn't there per se, but Oku was, so it was essentially the same thing. Judging from all the praise Wes was receiving, the man was as competent at tactics as the rest of the tasks Wes left to him. That stronghold fell only after a short siege. The fools didn't know how to keep their larders stocked for surprise guests.
Apparently this particular group of ne'er-do-wells were armed with nothing more than animal hide and some sort of projectile they shot at his men. What did Oku call them? Air-oos? All except for their leader who wore a faded magenta cape and an old blaster pistol that kept ranting about someone named Grace and vengeance. Either way, it was nothing his invincible soldiers couldn't handle once the bandits tried to flee out of an entrance they assumed was hidden.
"Yes your company has done a wonderful job clearing out the riff raff from our lands Commander Telen. You have secured the peace necessary to prosper even further. We have begun leasing plots and the Guild's new machines to capable Stickpicker households who can clear and steward the new farmland. Speaking of our lands, that new architectural fad you started seems to have taken off quite well."
Wes preened at the mention of the influence he had over this dirtball, even if a bit by accident. When the MIBC arrived to Yuleis they had tried to have his troops quarter in hovels made of, ugh, wood, and not even the luxurious kinds he used for his Shaak stables back home. It wouldn't do for their uniforms and weaponry to get covered in dirt and bark while they slept.
Luckily Wes had remembered the new Moff had instituted the Homesteader Program on Ugea a while back to keep the Poors in line. Contacting an old administrator he meet during a Shaak derby, soon he had all his troops housed in plastcrete prefab houses. His troops were so thrilled by the quality that they used airbrushes to make the most exquisite mosaics on both the houses and the walls surrounding their barracks. Wes didn't even order them washed off as long as they properly maintained the art. The design was so popular that the nobles started ordering their own prefabs built to house their Poors in as well. Apparently being housed in the new prefabs was offered as an incentive to join the Yuleis' military or a noble's household.
"I am just honored that people recognize my good taste. My hygiene standards wouldn't have accomplished much without proper housing. My thanks for advertising the laundress position around town by the way."
Really his troops were so uncivilized that they did not even pay for soap of sufficient quality to launder their uniforms. It was getting so bad the golden sheen was starting to fade. He had to a hire a local to handle most of the washing and another to polish everyone's armor. All because his unit was full of skinflints when it came to proper self care.
Most of them just waited for the supply ship to arrive and blew through most of their paycheck sending things back to their homeworld. It took the form of Credits, powdered milk, vitamins, used clothing, appliances, technical manuals, tools, the occasional live animal, and cumulative tonnes of dried legumes. Perhaps their relatives had a bad round at the tables or are spending too much at the local jewelry store? Mayhaps the legumes are a part of some strange courtship ritual he is unaware of.
Speaking of adornments, the rest of the Romins' disposable income went into those tacky bronze torcs the natives made to imitate real finery. His troops seem utterly fascinated with them as they cling to those most fiercely. Oku reported them refusing to take them off in the march and sleeping with them on their person. For some reason his troops didn't even display all the torcs they bought, but kept them hidden underneath their uniforms or in their packs. Either way it proved Wes did not command emotionless droids.
"Think nothing of it Commander Telen. I am happy to be of assistance. Although if you still feel obliged, perhaps you could mention to the Imperial Liaison how cooperative we are being in maintaining the Emperor's Peace? Far more than that archaic monarchy would have been. Truly we are glad we did away with the Royal Household and pledged loyalty to the Empire when that fleet came in a month later. We in the Noble Council of Collaboration made the far better choice of serving the Empire's interests after all."
The Imperial Liaison? That stuffy old nutty butty was a bit dreary to listen to. Always harping about when he was in his prime in the Imperial Army. Really who wants to hear some braggart preen about his accomplishments at any available opportunity? However Wes had been helped out of a spot of bother. How can he worm his way out of having to listen to that fogie prattle on while still fulfilling this obligation?
"Now that you mention it, I am organizing a modest event in the near future. A minor animal race that I was intending to invite the Liaison to, How about I give you a VIP welcome and the three of us can discuss how much we have helped each other?"
The noble whose name Wes couldn't be bothered to remember gave a wide smile. Jackpot! Now he can wipe this obligation off the mental list and he has someone to throw at that stuffy Liaison so he can enjoy the racing Shaaks he imported. Just another success for Wes Telen, genius commander of the Most Illustriously Beautiful Company!
——
The upside of the Guild is that practically anyone can join and become mercenaries. The downside is that practically anyone can join and become mercenaries provided they go through the official steps. Quality can vary depending on the sentient responsible for founding the company. The MIBC was caricaturized/inspired by an unholy combination of private military entrepreneurs in Europe during the late medieval period, the British officer system during the Long Century, and native regiments in the British East India Company's nation-sized private military. Wes Telen represents those people who want to (or are forced to) use the Guild as an opportunity to "play officer" to gain clout in the military-centric Imperial politics because dynastic schemes and stupid amounts of generational wealth allow for that kind of thing. What is the Guild going to do, reject military forces raised exclusively on a private individual's Credits being offered to them?
Wes' character started as a bit of a mirror to pre-isekai Las' initial predicament before removing any hint of subtlety and dialing up the entitlement until the knob broke. The main difference is Wes' family is quite a bit richer and actually care enough to send messages on the regular and give him financial support during his exile. The worst part of this situation is that "Commander" Wes is actually helping with his nonsense, albeit mostly unintentionally on his part. Yuleis gets defended by mercenaries better trained and motivated than your average RII mercenaries, Wes' Family gets to talk about what a Good Boy their Paid Exile is, the Romins get out of their slum filled homeworld and can earn money to send aid to their loved ones, the Yuleis' nobles get someone they can lobby at to maintain their influence, and the Yuleis' probably not illiterate peasants get dedicated infrastructure spending for the first time in centuries. Wes is doing the bare minimum as an absentee commander while delegating everything else and it is working. Now if only he wasn't such an insufferable workshy fop prancing about with his not-a-penal legion cosplaying as a reverse version of the Postdam Giants.
Crossposted on QQ and SV
Warning: This Omake does not contain mere classism. It contains advanced classism.
Warning: This Omake contains proof that venality is alive and well-funded in the Galactic Empire.
Warning: The narrator of this Omake is unreliable, ignorant, and unworthy of his good fortune. Opening hyperlinks may be required for full context of this man's idiocy.
Warning: This Omake contains a professional vapid noble at work, or it would if Wes had ever worked a day in his life.
Warning: Sometimes poorly conceived plans succeed despite all hopes for fairness in the universe.
Warning: This Omake contains proof that venality is alive and well-funded in the Galactic Empire.
Warning: The narrator of this Omake is unreliable, ignorant, and unworthy of his good fortune. Opening hyperlinks may be required for full context of this man's idiocy.
Warning: This Omake contains a professional vapid noble at work, or it would if Wes had ever worked a day in his life.
Warning: Sometimes poorly conceived plans succeed despite all hopes for fairness in the universe.
POV: Baronet Wes Telen, owner and commander of the Most Illustriously Beautiful Company, an RII: Mercenary Alliance, Yuleis, Myto Sector
"I hope this party is to your liking, Commander Telen?"
Wes gave a weary sigh as he sipped his Antakarian Fire Dancer. He could taste the inferior quality gemstones they used in its making. Disdain filled his humors at the sight of overinflated nobodies prancing about in tatty yellowish bronze finery with some winged beast feathers sticking out. It looked more like drab ceremonial garb than anything resembling proper fashion as far as Wes was concerned.
This tasteless soirée would be beneath him not too long ago. Unfortunately the Family insisted he "venture out earn some glory for the House". Apparently the Family wanted him to be seen as a "contributing member" of the Guild in order to engage in some scheme or other, so here he was. He would never have left the estate in Rolling Greens' with his shaaks to come to this dirtball otherwise. Why he even had to leave Bettie and her fabulous foot rubs behind at the estate on Ugea.
The Family was being totally unreasonable considering they chased him out of the Core and wouldn't even let him come back to the main manor for the annual Empire Day banquet. Even if they still sent him well wishes and gifts every year. At first Wes considered refusing the demand. However the Family threatened to reduce his remittance payments if he didn't at least make a showy enough attempt. At least they weren't threatening to make him some gentleman ranker in the Imperial Army. He could scarcely imagine the stress of having that hanging over his head.
Wes' current disfavor and enemies in the Core would probably prevent him from getting an officer's commission in the Imperial Military. However purchasing a commission to command a company in the Guild proved to be easier than he expected. Sure Wes had to raise the men and material for the company himself, but that was trivial with the financial resources he had even at his recently limited disposal. The piratical troublemakers had made a right mess of things across the Sector and with the Blackout exposing the potential for supply shortages, the Guild and the Sector were desperate for more troops to secure basic resource distribution. As long as you could prove you were loyal to the Empire and had filled out the flimsy, you were allowed to take the Guild's Credit. The Family had long since proven their loyalty so their recommendation was as good as chromium, and Bettie had filled out the application with her programmed efficiency.
Why is this man still staring at him with his sunken eyes and silly face paint? Oh right, his host is still waiting for a response.
"Hmmm, passable. I am sure it is a grand choice on a sleepy world like this. Hopefully my Most Illustriously Beautiful Company will ensure we can all enjoy even more finery in the future."
Sleepy was truly the word to describe Yuleis. An Agriworld filled with illiterate farmers managing a meager surplus they plied offworld to maintain themselves. The main crop that is grown is overwhelmingly local variants of legume. To the point over 70% of the population is involved in the production and processing of some type of legume. What wasn't sold raw to be rendered into gruel or some other churlish meal was typically processed into the planet's signature drink, Yuleis Gin, which was apparently smooth and citrusy. He only knew of this because legumes were included in almost every dish on Yuleis and no one he talked to would shut up about it. They even served Yuleis Gin at a supposed "grand banquet" like this. Not that Wes would allow such a pedestrian beverage to grace his lips. At least the flower was pretty enough.
The only thing disrupting this comatose routine were some knaves in the hinterlands who were descending upon the outlying hamlets to make trouble. A garrison contract was posted by the sub-capital and Yuleis' nobility to reinforce security in the system while Sector subsidies and capital goods were distributed like last feast's leftovers to the Help. It was the perfect opportunity to fulfill the Family's request while not needing to do anything too strenuous. Wes marched right up to the Guild organizer and proclaimed that his Most Illustriously Beautiful Company would be deigning to take this contract. So overawed were they by his company's brilliance that the MIBC was assigned to the planetary capital to work directly with Yuleis' oligarchic aristocracy. Clearly his fine breeding had shown through, because all those brutish thugs in the other companies did not even compete for the honor of interacting with what passed for the planet's nobility on a constant basis.
All the MIBC had to do most of the time was patrol along the main roads and manning defenses while Wes got his beauty sleep. Of course whenever there was a parade, Wes made sure to lead from the front in his gold plated and emerald encrusted cuirass while atop Honeycup, his favorite shaak. Oh and don't even get Wes started on the self-aggrandizing upper class that ruled this destitute backwater. Honor or no, all they could do was trace their lineage to some savage that ruled some clan or tribe a paltry dozen generations ago. As if their playing at aristocracy could hope to match the honor of his prestigious millennia enduring line. None of these pitiable dynasties even owned a single space yacht for goodness sake.
"Yes the elite troops you have brought with you have been most impressive. The onlooking Stickpickers were overawed by their golden luster as they marched in tandem off your Minstrel. Not even our greatest crafters could offer such a wonders at market."
It was worth allowing his troops to sleep in the lower decks just to watch this fool grovel before him. The MIBC was made up almost exclusively of Romins. Their golden skin and eyes had caught his fancy the last time he passed by the orbit of their Mid Rim planet. When Wes was told to found a mercenary company, he had the most wonderful vision of towering over brilliantly sparkling golden troops marching to his will. Fortunately the current Tyrant-Dictator of that system proved a most affable chap to Wes' offer of an offworld work program. Apparently the offer lined up well with the Tyrant-Dictator's efforts to continue the Poverty Redaction Policy of his predecessor who ruled during the time of the Republic.
Either way Wes had the Romins he needed shipped to start up his mercenary company with little fuss. They had to ditch those tacky grey decorative bracelets they arrived with since it clashed with the MIBC's uniform. His troops complied with his demand quite eagerly for it being a complimentary gift the planetary government had given them. At least they were fine with wearing the same thing given they were all wearing the same colored jumpsuits when they showed up. Maybe it had something to do with them saying they all found housing in the same block?
Regardless Wes' troops were practically chomping at the bit with their wide mouths for a chance to serve him. Doubly so once he announced the generous pay rate and unlimited legume rations while at base. They always smiled and saluted those days when he deigned to visit their barracks. Wes' new subordinates even had their own quaint little title for him: Archilistís. Apparently it means some form of respected community leader.
Truly they knew in their hearts that they would be better off working for him than what passed for employment back on their world. Oku spoke well of their enthusiasm and tenacity in his post-battle reports. Wes had made his assistant Klatooinian his lieutenant in the company to handle most of the droll daily affairs of the MIBC like training and going out of patrols. He always knew how to properly cow a servant back at the estate.
From there it was only a matter of finding the right shade of gold paint for the armor and ABR-2 Zato blaster rifles he had imported from Kijimi under the Family's name. Wes wanted to use real gold, but Oku informed him that would be a bad idea due to how soft the metal was. Nevertheless, he had transformed from a mere baronet into a commander of a shining force of military might defending this pitiful Sector from harm.
"My Beautiful Company certainly were more than enough for what passes for criminal elements on this world. Their tireless will and iron discipline shatter any that stand against them. My latest triumph wiping out that bandit stronghold was a stroke of genius, wasn't it?"
Sure Wes himself wasn't there per se, but Oku was, so it was essentially the same thing. Judging from all the praise Wes was receiving, the man was as competent at tactics as the rest of the tasks Wes left to him. That stronghold fell only after a short siege. The fools didn't know how to keep their larders stocked for surprise guests.
Apparently this particular group of ne'er-do-wells were armed with nothing more than animal hide and some sort of projectile they shot at his men. What did Oku call them? Air-oos? All except for their leader who wore a faded magenta cape and an old blaster pistol that kept ranting about someone named Grace and vengeance. Either way, it was nothing his invincible soldiers couldn't handle once the bandits tried to flee out of an entrance they assumed was hidden.
"Yes your company has done a wonderful job clearing out the riff raff from our lands Commander Telen. You have secured the peace necessary to prosper even further. We have begun leasing plots and the Guild's new machines to capable Stickpicker households who can clear and steward the new farmland. Speaking of our lands, that new architectural fad you started seems to have taken off quite well."
Wes preened at the mention of the influence he had over this dirtball, even if a bit by accident. When the MIBC arrived to Yuleis they had tried to have his troops quarter in hovels made of, ugh, wood, and not even the luxurious kinds he used for his Shaak stables back home. It wouldn't do for their uniforms and weaponry to get covered in dirt and bark while they slept.
Luckily Wes had remembered the new Moff had instituted the Homesteader Program on Ugea a while back to keep the Poors in line. Contacting an old administrator he meet during a Shaak derby, soon he had all his troops housed in plastcrete prefab houses. His troops were so thrilled by the quality that they used airbrushes to make the most exquisite mosaics on both the houses and the walls surrounding their barracks. Wes didn't even order them washed off as long as they properly maintained the art. The design was so popular that the nobles started ordering their own prefabs built to house their Poors in as well. Apparently being housed in the new prefabs was offered as an incentive to join the Yuleis' military or a noble's household.
"I am just honored that people recognize my good taste. My hygiene standards wouldn't have accomplished much without proper housing. My thanks for advertising the laundress position around town by the way."
Really his troops were so uncivilized that they did not even pay for soap of sufficient quality to launder their uniforms. It was getting so bad the golden sheen was starting to fade. He had to a hire a local to handle most of the washing and another to polish everyone's armor. All because his unit was full of skinflints when it came to proper self care.
Most of them just waited for the supply ship to arrive and blew through most of their paycheck sending things back to their homeworld. It took the form of Credits, powdered milk, vitamins, used clothing, appliances, technical manuals, tools, the occasional live animal, and cumulative tonnes of dried legumes. Perhaps their relatives had a bad round at the tables or are spending too much at the local jewelry store? Mayhaps the legumes are a part of some strange courtship ritual he is unaware of.
Speaking of adornments, the rest of the Romins' disposable income went into those tacky bronze torcs the natives made to imitate real finery. His troops seem utterly fascinated with them as they cling to those most fiercely. Oku reported them refusing to take them off in the march and sleeping with them on their person. For some reason his troops didn't even display all the torcs they bought, but kept them hidden underneath their uniforms or in their packs. Either way it proved Wes did not command emotionless droids.
"Think nothing of it Commander Telen. I am happy to be of assistance. Although if you still feel obliged, perhaps you could mention to the Imperial Liaison how cooperative we are being in maintaining the Emperor's Peace? Far more than that archaic monarchy would have been. Truly we are glad we did away with the Royal Household and pledged loyalty to the Empire when that fleet came in a month later. We in the Noble Council of Collaboration made the far better choice of serving the Empire's interests after all."
The Imperial Liaison? That stuffy old nutty butty was a bit dreary to listen to. Always harping about when he was in his prime in the Imperial Army. Really who wants to hear some braggart preen about his accomplishments at any available opportunity? However Wes had been helped out of a spot of bother. How can he worm his way out of having to listen to that fogie prattle on while still fulfilling this obligation?
"Now that you mention it, I am organizing a modest event in the near future. A minor animal race that I was intending to invite the Liaison to, How about I give you a VIP welcome and the three of us can discuss how much we have helped each other?"
The noble whose name Wes couldn't be bothered to remember gave a wide smile. Jackpot! Now he can wipe this obligation off the mental list and he has someone to throw at that stuffy Liaison so he can enjoy the racing Shaaks he imported. Just another success for Wes Telen, genius commander of the Most Illustriously Beautiful Company!
——
The upside of the Guild is that practically anyone can join and become mercenaries. The downside is that practically anyone can join and become mercenaries provided they go through the official steps. Quality can vary depending on the sentient responsible for founding the company. The MIBC was caricaturized/inspired by an unholy combination of private military entrepreneurs in Europe during the late medieval period, the British officer system during the Long Century, and native regiments in the British East India Company's nation-sized private military. Wes Telen represents those people who want to (or are forced to) use the Guild as an opportunity to "play officer" to gain clout in the military-centric Imperial politics because dynastic schemes and stupid amounts of generational wealth allow for that kind of thing. What is the Guild going to do, reject military forces raised exclusively on a private individual's Credits being offered to them?
Wes' character started as a bit of a mirror to pre-isekai Las' initial predicament before removing any hint of subtlety and dialing up the entitlement until the knob broke. The main difference is Wes' family is quite a bit richer and actually care enough to send messages on the regular and give him financial support during his exile. The worst part of this situation is that "Commander" Wes is actually helping with his nonsense, albeit mostly unintentionally on his part. Yuleis gets defended by mercenaries better trained and motivated than your average RII mercenaries, Wes' Family gets to talk about what a Good Boy their Paid Exile is, the Romins get out of their slum filled homeworld and can earn money to send aid to their loved ones, the Yuleis' nobles get someone they can lobby at to maintain their influence, and the Yuleis' probably not illiterate peasants get dedicated infrastructure spending for the first time in centuries. Wes is doing the bare minimum as an absentee commander while delegating everything else and it is working. Now if only he wasn't such an insufferable workshy fop prancing about with his not-a-penal legion cosplaying as a reverse version of the Postdam Giants.
The Telen Family are a minor noble dynasty in upper-upper class Core society. While prominent many centuries ago, they have undergone a slow decline in more recent history. Their peers gossip that the Telen Family are past their prime and border what passes for genteel poverty among venerable Core Families.
From their vast dynastic empire in the past, the Telen Family has been reduced to having subcontinent sized land holdings on a mere six worlds. Only one of which is on a minor Core world and the rest in the Mid Rim. Their commercial network has likewise declined to a paltry 23 million sentients working directly for the Family or one of their subsidiaries. Whispers abound that the Telen Family is only surviving due to its ancestral patents, licenses, and royalties. So dire are their circumstances, that an Imperial tax assessor was witnessed on their property without immediately being escorted out for such a breach in propriety.
With such meager resources the Telen Family has adopted a scrappy go-getter mindset uncharacteristic to those of their pedigree. The Family has begun reaching out to those in its small sphere of influence to secure additional revenue sources and prestige. Even those of lower station or in a state of political weakness. There are even rumors that such searches have extended to the barbaric reaches of the Outer Rim, although this has not been confirmed and would be quite scandalous if true.
From their vast dynastic empire in the past, the Telen Family has been reduced to having subcontinent sized land holdings on a mere six worlds. Only one of which is on a minor Core world and the rest in the Mid Rim. Their commercial network has likewise declined to a paltry 23 million sentients working directly for the Family or one of their subsidiaries. Whispers abound that the Telen Family is only surviving due to its ancestral patents, licenses, and royalties. So dire are their circumstances, that an Imperial tax assessor was witnessed on their property without immediately being escorted out for such a breach in propriety.
With such meager resources the Telen Family has adopted a scrappy go-getter mindset uncharacteristic to those of their pedigree. The Family has begun reaching out to those in its small sphere of influence to secure additional revenue sources and prestige. Even those of lower station or in a state of political weakness. There are even rumors that such searches have extended to the barbaric reaches of the Outer Rim, although this has not been confirmed and would be quite scandalous if true.
Crossposted on QQ and SV
