"I'm Klaus, the temporary Knight Commander for this mission," Klaus announced.

"Lieutenant Emma Rodman, reporting!" Emma responded, offering a knightly salute despite her nervousness.

However, she didn't feel any fear towards Klaus.

(He doesn't seem as imposing as my instructor. Is he really that amazing?)

Her lack of respect stemmed from her time with her instructor, Claudia.

Claudia was an AA-ranked knight, a being from another world, but Klaus was a B-rank knight like her.

While Klaus was likely more skilled, Emma didn't feel a chasm of difference between their abilities.

Klaus looked at Emma with a gentle expression.

"You're the test pilot for the prototype experimental craft," he said.

"Did you know?"

"It's my duty as your superior to be aware of my subordinate's assignments," he replied.

Emma’s impression of Klaus solidified: a serious, hardworking supervisor.

The captain, Klaus' subordinate, looked disappointed next to Emma.

"Then it looks like I can't poach her."

She shrugged, and Klaus gave her a slightly exasperated look.

"I told you to stop poaching from other units."

Despite the way they spoke, Emma could tell from their exchange that the atmosphere within the unit wasn't bad.

The captain quipped, "I was trying to strengthen our unit. Please understand the heartfelt desire of your subordinate to lessen the burden on you, Captain Klaus."

"I'm the one who's dealing with complaints from other units, you know," Klaus retorted.

It seemed that whenever the captain went on the prowl for recruits, the complaints ended up at Klaus's desk.

The captain clasped her hands together. "I'm always grateful."

"The arrival of the new model is imminent. You'll also have to deal with education capsules and machine conversion training, so keep the fun to a minimum," Klaus instructed.

"Understood," the captain replied.

Despite her tomboyish persona, the captain displayed a touch of femininity towards Klaus, suggesting that their relationship was rather deep.

Emma, however, was more interested in the new model.

When a knight mentioned a new model, it meant a mobile knight.

"Are we receiving a new model from the Seventh? Does that mean we'll get one too?!"

Emma quickly turned to face the wall.

Displayed there was the Teumessia, a new model developed by the Seventh.

It was a sleek mobile knight with a fox-like design for its head.

Rumors had reached Emma's ears that the Teumessia was already being deployed in some parts of the Banfield family.

Since this mission included equipment updates, the knights were hopeful that they might receive the new model.

Seeing Emma's bright eyes, Klaus said without changing his expression, "Unfortunately, the production schedule at the Seventh is a consideration. Whether or not your unit will receive the new model is unknown at this time."

"Oh, I see."

Emma already had the Atalante, but she wished her fellow squadron members, her team, could be equipped with the new model too. Even that alone could significantly improve their survival rates.

(If they get the new model, everyone else will get motivated too, right?)

As she envisioned her teammates' faces, Chensie, who had been silent until then, approached Emma.

Without a word, she moved close enough for their noses to almost touch.

"Oh, um, you, uh..."

Emma couldn't move, paralyzed by fear under those black, bottomless, cloudy eyes.

(My body won't move?!)

Her body began to tremble, and cold sweat broke out. She could sense an overwhelming difference in strength between them as a knight.

The most terrifying aspect of it all was that she couldn’t gauge her opponent's strength.

Klaus intervened, “Chensie, back away from the lieutenant.”

Klaus, too, had sensed the danger Chensie posed.

However, the captain seemed unable to interfere with Chensie.

"I wouldn't want to cause a scene here," Chensie said.

Emma’s mind filled with images of herself being killed. Her body trembled uncontrollably.

"I, I—"

Chensie, who initially looked at Emma with curiosity, was disappointed by her fear and stepped back.

She put her hands on her hips.

"I guess I was wrong. You're boring," she said, turning away and walking off.

Finally freed from the tension, Emma took a deep breath, realizing that she had been holding her breath the whole time.

The captain supported Emma as she tried to sit down.

"To be stared down by that woman, you're really unlucky."

"Wh-why me?"

"It happens sometimes. There are some so-called knights who only know how to fight. They’re obsessed with war, and they don't care if they die. They seem to want to challenge anyone stronger than them."

"I'm not strong at all," Emma said, putting herself down.

Klaus spoke to her softly, "She’s a problem child, but she has a keen eye for talent. Maybe she sensed something in you."

He then turned to follow Chensie, who had walked away.

(Talent in me?)

The first thing that came to mind was her piloting of the Atalante.

The fact that she was the only one able to operate a machine that no one else could pilot was, for Emma, who had faced constant setbacks, a reason for her to believe she could be a knight.

But beyond that, she couldn’t think of anything else.

(I have nothing except for piloting the Atalante. I have nothing else.)

A Golden Raccoon

Three warships docked in the Seventh Weaponry Factory's drydock. They belonged to a mercenary group called "Feet", led by the beautiful woman, Siren.

She had striking black hair and red eyes and was currently speaking to someone from the Seventh.

"I'd like to request a resupply and maintenance," she said.

The Seventh's representative scratched his head, looking troubled.

"You'll have a surcharge if you receive resupply and maintenance here. I think you should try elsewhere if you're a mercenary group."

Despite being a semi-governmental entity, the factory supported the Empire’s military. They treated non-military and non-noble customers poorly.

The representative was trying to be kind by suggesting that they receive services elsewhere.

But Siren refused.

"I need to get this done quickly so I can make it to my next job. And it's a big job, so I want to get her thoroughly maintained. I'll even pay extra for the new model."

Hearing that the job was important, the representative sighed.

"Just don't complain about the bill," he said.

Siren smiled, "Thank you," and then asked, "Where can I see the new model?"

A Pile of Raccons

In the mobile knight storage area of the Seventh Weaponry Factory, a collection of unsold mobile knights stood in a row. Emma and her team were gazing up at one of them.

Emma muttered her honest reaction, "A racoon?"

Unlike the Teumessia, the mobile knight in front of them was a sturdy, round machine called the Raccoon.

The Raccoon was completed before the Teumessia, but it remained in stock, with hundreds of units unsold.

The dwarf foreman, Mag Ma, who had guided the Third Platoon to the storage area, sighed and began talking about the Raccoon.

"This is our latest model, developed by the 'Mad Genius'. It might look cute, but in terms of performance, it's not inferior to the Teumessia."

Emma was slightly repulsed by the nickname "Mad Genius." Something about the “mad” part made her wary of the individual.

Percy, who had accompanied the group, grimaced at the nickname.

"This really is typical of the Seventh. Ignoring trends, as usual. It's true, though, that 'she' was involved."

Percy seemed to know the individual known as the "Mad Genius."

Molly was intrigued.

"Is she that amazing?"

"She's a genius on the edge. She's supposed to be a full-time employee of the Banfield family. Don't you know?"

Emma and Molly exchanged glances and shook their heads. They had never heard of the Banfield family employing such a person.

Percy crossed her arms. "I thought she'd be too temperamental to deal with the nobles."

Hearing Percy's assessment, Mag laughed, turning his face away.

"You thought she was like that? Yeah, she's certainly hard to deal with."

As Emma stared at the Raccons, a question arose in her mind. "If she's so amazing, why wasn't it adopted?"

Mag put his head in his hands and sighed. "Bad luck, I guess."

"Bad luck?"

Mag began to explain.

"It met all the requirements. But the Banfield family knights wanted a special machine that only a few aces could handle. The Teumessia is essentially a streamlined version of the Raccoon, lacking versatility."

Molly, saddened by the story, looked at the Raccons in the warehouse.

"It would be in demand as a mass-produced unit, right?"

"It's cheaper than the Teumessia, but it's more expensive than the Moheeb. I'm hoping your lord buys a lot of them," Mag said.

The Banfield family representatives who had been dispatched to the Seventh, particularly the upper management, were currently discussing the equipment update.

Depending on the circumstances, the Banfield family might buy all the machines in the warehouse.

Emma gazed at the Raccoons.

"Everyone would be so happy if they came to our unit."

As she envisioned Larry and Doug, who hadn't come with them, she wondered if they’d be more motivated if they received the new model.

Molly seemed to agree, "That'd be great. We'll make sure to maintain them perfectly."

As they discussed, Percy sighed softly. She didn't seem to like their interest in other mobile knights.

“You have the Atalante, so just stick with the Nevans. It would look better that way. And the Banfield family’s main mass-produced unit is the Third’s Nevan, you know," she said.

The Banfield family relied on the Nevan type mobile knights manufactured by the Third Weaponry Factory. The Nevan, the next-generation machine that the Count adopted before anyone else, was essential to the Banfield family.

Mag confronted Percy.

"So, the Banfield family commissioned you to develop a mass-produced unit?"

“That Madwoman really did go too far," Percy said with exasperation.

As the conversation grew heated, other visitors arrived at the warehouse. The Seventh's representative had brought them, likely other customers.

(They're not from our organization, so they must be other customers. They're so beautiful.)

Emma, captivated by the woman's charms, turned towards her. The black-haired woman noticed and smiled.

She turned to the representative who was guiding them and pointed at a special machine in the warehouse.

"Why is that one gold?" she asked.

A Raccoon, painted a tacky gold, stood out amongst the others. The woman seemed to be expressing her displeasure with it.

She didn't like it. In fact, she was questioning their sense of style.

The representative looked confused and explained, "That's a special machine. It's twenty percent more powerful than the other units. And it’s using special rare metal armor. It’s custom-made.”

“But gold is just too much,” she replied.

"It was originally meant to be delivered to a special customer. But in exchange for the increased power, the assist function was completely removed. It's difficult to install it as an option."

"So, it's even more powerful because of it?"

"Of course. It's an unbelievable beast."

"I like it, except for the color and the looks."

Despite her approval, the representative shook his head.

"It's not for sale."

"What a shame."

The woman then walked away.