And so, the Dragon Conclave started, with the arrival of the fashionably early guests.

Vainqueur, Grandrake, Manling Victor, and Gorynych had gathered at the meeting point right outside Murmurin, a grassy [Plains] field vast enough to accommodate a dragon army. Thousands of minions were already at work, preparing the food and drinks for the guests while flying wyrms could be seen flying towards their location.

With the vile Mell Lin defeated and the Earthgate destroyed, the new fomor-dragon war had already begun in fire and flames. But the true battle would be decided here.

“Minion.” Vainqueur turned to Manling Victor, who had left his scythe to some minion for study. “Are you certain that no falling bomb shall spoil this gathering?”

“The Isekai Anti-Nuclear Defense is fully operational, Your Majesty.” The [Reaper] pointed at hills near the grasslands, which housed dwarven rockets.

The system was brilliant in its design. Suicidal members of the Esoteric Order of Isekai, wishing to be reincarnated in that mythical Japan like their founder, would pilot rockets and crash them against any incoming bomb long before they could reach the ground. Not only would Vainqueur protect his shores from attacks, but he would also help natural selection in weeding out his most stupid minions.

“You will also reinforce my hoard vault’s door,” Vainqueur said. “I woke up this morning to find a spider stalker drinking my sweat and promising that we were meant for each other. I had to eat her.”

“I have the same problem, but that’s an interesting solution. I also have an amulet to reduce charisma, which should help with stalkers.”

“Minion, why would I ever be less charming? Especially at a time like this? No, it is better to eat privacy invaders one at a time.”

“I hope this will go well,” his manling shook his head. “I’m not sure the taradodos’ regeneration and our snack-cats farms can keep up with the guests’ appetite.”

“The taradodos? Why not their father?” Vainqueur asked. Having grown fat on the spoils of the last raid, the Tarasque would benefit from losing some weight.

“Since the [Tarasque Emperor] is now so radioactive that it kills almost anything in the vicinity, I wouldn’t risk serving his flesh to anyone, even Your Majesty’s kindred. We can’t even keep it in the Dodocare anymore without risking the life of the staff or our dodos; we’re lucky the lead side of the Moon’s citizens can handle him for us.”

Good. That would make him even more effective against the fairies, although he would be kept away from the other minions.

“Breeder Victor, I am having trouble hearing your voice clearly,” Grandrake said with a frown. “Can you repeat yourself, but louder?”

The emperor immediately frowned, as the esteemed [Princess Hunter] struggled to understand his Grand Vizier. “It seems the wealth sound barrier is catching up to you, Breeder Victor,” Grandrake said. “You must work on your hoard.”

“But Manling Victor is a true minion!” Vainqueur protested. “He is beyond the wealth sound barrier by default!”

“Yes, which is why I can still hear him, but only in the middle-class volume range.”

Vainqueur panicked at the revelation. “Minion,” he faced Manling Victor, who looked down at his feet in shame. “Are you… are you poor?”

“Your Majesty, I pay child support to a lot of people,” the poor Vizier admitted. “Between the legal fees, my manor, and my research… I’m stretching the limits of my one-one-tenth.”

Beyond the fact that Vainqueur would never tolerate having a pauper for a chief of staff, something else bothered him. “Manling Victor, is this why you do not want to breed? Because more children than your current count will make you poorer?”

“That’s… one of the reasons. I admit that… if Your Majesty...” the Doer of the Thing struggled to find the right words, “that if Your Majesty could… increase my one-one-tenth...”

“Minion, are you asking me for…” Vainqueur struggled to get it out of his throat. “For a raise?”

Manling Victor nodded slowly, looking like a puppy expecting to be thrown out.

A raise? That was insane, even for Manling Victor! Every dragon knew that when a single minion received a raise, every other slacker wanted one! Raises were the beginnings of strikes, of minion wars!

But, if Manling Victor refused to breed because he needed more gold to spoil his progeny, then it reduced Vainqueur's resources in the long-term because his best lackey would breed fewer minions. If all of his servants followed the same rule, then it would explain their lackluster fertility.

The dragon considered the matter with great care, his mind losing itself in complex mathematics only a mind like his could comprehend.

If two one-one-tenth meant one more minion, who could each give him ninety-eight percent of its earnings… then, considering the overwhelming amount of wealth waiting for a dragon to claim, the total final wealth would be, in fine, greater than if Vainqueur maintained his usual rates! And if the breeding rates doubled with every one-one-tenth added, then the total would grow exponentially to ad infinitum!

Intelligence check successful!

You discovered circuitous long-term investing!