(I’m really running out of options, here...)
Thinking of his future, the Bandit couldn’t help but feel gloomy. War raged on outside the country, and there were countless gangs of bandits and thieves more powerful than the Mole. He would either be hunted down by the government, go on the run from the adventurers chasing his bounty, or be consumed by a bigger bandit outfit than his. Wo Wungol’s future seemed bleak no matter how you thought about it.
(Should I just become a mercenary, then...?)
The Northern Nations had been at war for a long time. It was a place where groups of mercenaries were used as convenient pawns, most being discarded entirely after the job was done. However, making a name out on the battlefield could lead to many offers from surrounding nations. Another option was to become part of a famous group, like the fearless Heaven’s Ward or Five Stars, which were as organized as military forces, or join under a well-known bandit, like Redbeard, who led numerous pirate ships.
(Tsk. With the team I’ve got right now... It’d be different if I at least had Fuji.)
Reminiscing about his old comrade, the bandit grit his teeth. The fierce warrior who tore up Holylight by his side had since become a Holy Maiden’s lapdog. As Wo Wungol grunted and stared at the board, a nonchalant voice was heard from the entrance.
“What’s up, miss? How’s the quest coming along?”
(Crap, that guy...!)
Seing Tahara waltz in, the bandit shrunk his neck into his shoulders and tugged his helmet down. He was the man who popped up in the village of Rabbi out of nowhere... and an extremely dangerous man at that.
“I’m sorry, sir. No one has accepted it, yet...”
“Hmm... Didn’t think it’d be this hard to find an artisan for it.”
“It is a long-forgotten trade, after all...”
“I could just dig it, but that defeats the purpose.”
The bandit picked up on that particular word. Digging in this world usually meant for Spell Stones, but he didn’t seem to be talking about that.
“You won’t get any water by digging a well anywhere in this country...”
“I’m telling you, it doesn’t matter if we get water from it or not. I just need someone to build some sturdy wells.”
Thinking of the future, Tahara planned to build wells in various locations. Naturally, he wasn’t looking for a water vein to come with it. As long as the Demon Lord could make more buckets, the wells would produce water regardless of how dry the land was.
“S-Still... Anyone would think of losing their pay or having failure deducted from it if there’s no water after digging the well.”
It was only natural that the receptionist would feel this way. Who would want to accept a sketchy quest asking for a well without water? Anyone could easily picture the customer complaining about this until they refused to pay.
“Agh! Everyone in this country’s got to broaden their minds! Everyone’s so... cautious, I guess?”
Tahara had not been in this world for long. He had no way of knowing an adventurer’s perspective on quests nor the lifestyle of artisans. Still in the dark, he had much to learn. Years later, Tahara would learn to master the systems of the trade like deposits and daily payouts as he earned the moniker of “the tycoon of Holylight”, but that’s another story.
“I heard putting up quests was the mainstream here. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
It was the golden rule of an adventurer to be skeptical of sketchy jobs, and artisans did the same. After listening in on the conversation, the bandit couldn’t help but jump in, disregarding the risk he was putting himself in.
“Bro... You’re seriously looking for folks to dig a well?”
“Huh? I don’t have time to put out a quest like this for the laughs. Are you on a job right now? Want to dig some wells?”
“You’re making me laugh. There’s no guarantee you’ll pay.”
“Guarantee, huh...? Would a contract do the trick?” Tahara said.
The bandit responded with booming laughter.
(He just doesn’t get it.)
“Who do you think I am? Some sort of high-and-mighty noble? The only thing a piece of paper like that would do is wipe my ass.”
Hearing this, Tahara blinked a few times, taken aback. He realized that the normality of this world was quite different from his own. If he wanted to hire some people, he had to adapt.
“I see. At this rate, I doubt anyone will trust a half-now, half-later offer... Looks like I need to show you people enough money to blow your preconceptions away if I want to hire some folks ASAP.”
“Heh. Enough money to blow away our preconceptions? Dream on, bro.”
With that, the bandit turned towards the exit and kept walking. He had spoken too much. Back in the day, Wo Wungol had dug several wells out of thirst. Remembering the suffering during those times, the excitement when he saw water, and the many wells that dried up in days after he spent so long digging them... Remembering those hopeless days, he couldn’t help but interject.
“So, Old Man... Did you give up on snooping on the village, or what?”
“W-What are you talking about...?”
The bandit turned around to see Tahara’s eyes piercing his soul. While his face was wearing a loose smile, his eyes were dead serious.
“I kept an eye on you for a while, but you seemed harmless. You look like you got some muscles. If you’re hurting for money, I’ve got a job for you.”
Tahara was hurting for manpower, in fact. He needed workers, of course, but he also needed some security at some point to defend the village.
“W-What a joke...”
The bandit spat out and rushed out of the door. Tahara watched him leave with the same smile.
Those Who Carry the Weight
——Gatekeeper, a fortress in North Holylight.
A fortress facing the Northern Nations. This was the central hub of the militant nobles. The man in charge of the fortress was their leader, Marshall Harts himself. He wasn’t the kind of man to smile easily. On this day, however, he was wearing a quiet smile.
“Welcome back, Sambo.”
Standing up, Harts approached Sambo and clapped his shoulders several times, with force, before embracing him. Tears fell from Sambo’s eyes at the warm welcome from his leader, whom he gave all of his adoration to. Harts wasn’t Sambo’s master, though; he was only the leader of the nobles who faced the Northern Nations. Still, their bond was akin to that of a knight and his squire, built over generations. The nobles felt nothing but trust in Harts. That was the intangible treasure that the rugged Harts had earned by always jumping into battles near the border to protect their land without a thought for self-preservation. Everyone here had fought back-to-back with one another, even sharing food in times of need. Their bond was unyielding, and could not be so much as scratched by any amount of money. In fact, many of them were sick of the corruption in the capital, and considered Harts the nation’s leader.
The nobles on the border had all fought off the relentlessly invading Northern Nations, making them more militant than aristocratic. While nobles in the capital concerned themselves with parties and art, these ones fought on the frontlines. They scoffed at the trifles the central nobles were concerned with. There was only one person these battle-prone warriors trusted in their time of need, and Harts had the strength to not betray that trust. Now that he had such strength, regardless of his own feelings on the matter, he was in a very dangerous position.
“L-Lord Harts... I apologize that it took me so long to return here.”
“No matter. Just having you here gives me courage.”
“Lord Harts...”
Harts made a loud clap, and numerous barrels were brought into the room. After breaking the lid with a chop, he shoved a goblet inside to scoop up some alcohol. Anyone would have pegged him for a warrior, but not a noble.
“...Today, we celebrate... the return of my friend.”
As Harts held up his goblet, th
e men surrounding him followed suit by scooping up a goblet full of drink and holding it up. It was still early in the day, but the room was filled with cheers:
“With Lord Sambo back, we have nothing to fear!”
“Tonight, we drink until we drop!”
“Look at the smile on our leader’s face! Be merry!”
“Lord Sambo, I’ll later make sure you haven’t lost your touch in battle!”
Merriment ensued in this room of the fortress, and the loud voices of these men echoed through the entire building.
Just when the sun was beginning to set, Harts returned to his room.
(The Madame...)
In his simply-decorated room, Harts drank from his glass. One wasn’t enough, so he continued pouring drinks down his throat. He was conflicted by the joy of having his old friend back and the bitter taste of knowing that he owed a favor to someone he didn’t necessarily want to.
(The empress of the capital... Her and her sister are hard to deal with...)
Harts only considered the Madame the leader of the party scene, and her sister someone foolishly wasting her life on art. They were the embodiment of nobility. While Harts himself was also a noble, he had both the body and mind of a warrior. Recently, he even felt that anyone with the title of nobility should be brought down. If the Holy Maidens represent the nation at the top, and warriors supported them by defending them from internal and external enemies, all Holylight needed was the people below them. Nobles were no longer necessary. These past few years, Harts couldn’t help but keep thinking about this conclusion.
(Still, Sambo’s return is huge...)
Sambo was sort of an emotional leader to the warriors. His presence would bring a huge boost in morale. To prove this point, the entire militia partied the night away at his return. This wasn’t a debt that could be settled with a simple letter.
(How should I thank her...?)
No matter how much money Harts could scramble up, it would be pocket change to the Madame. On the other hand, he didn’t have any pieces of art that she would find valuable. Harts couldn’t deny it. He knew the answer to his question all along.
(...We are to defend her in her time of need.)
A request far more valuable than money. It was a matter of life and death, after all.
(What those sisters lack... is military strength.)
Harts was correct in his assessment. The Butterfly sisters did not possess their own militia. Sure, they could gather up as many mercenaries as they wanted, but mercenaries were only toy swords. In the face of a militia hardened by war, they might as well be trees waiting to be cut down.
(The other thing the sisters are lacking... is male support.)
Again, he was correct. On the flip side, the warring nobles also lacked female support. Some even publicly denounced them as nobles, calling them the savages of the north.
(Could she be planning a coup...!?)
Holylight was engulfed in utter turmoil. Harts couldn’t help but consider the grim possibility. Who could have blamed him? With money and strength, and male and female support combined, he couldn’t help but imagine that they would meet the requirements for some happening.
——A room deep within the Holy Castle.
In the Altar of Prayer deep within the Holy Castle, White was determined... to rescue her sister.
“It cannot wait another moment...”
She held in her hand the Holy Staff of Omega, a Legendary weapon. While its stats were powerful on its own, this holy staff stored magic within itself to perform a particular miracle: teleportation within Holylight. Only by expending all the magic stored in the staff, while also utilizing the magic circle at this altar to drastically boost her own magic, could White perform this miracle. She, of course, pictured the village of Rabbi in her mind. The Demon Lord had finally bared his teeth and ensnared the empress for his cause. As far as White was concerned, the time for idle observation was far behind her.
“Ember Angel, please lend me your strength...”
Her action had to be the rescue of her sister and fellow Holy Maiden, Luna. Whether she would decide to fight against or negotiate with the Demon Lord, her hands were tied as long as Luna was a hostage under his thumb.
As White prayed, light emanated from the magic circle. Ordinarily, a Holy Maiden would only leave the castle while heavily guarded, but White was acting alone today. She was facing the Demon Lord who took down the King of Devils, after all. If she took guards with her, it would only be to have them killed.
“Demon Lord... You won’t get away with this any longer! Leap of the Ember Angel.”
White’s body was engulfed in light and disappeared. When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by a village of Rabbi much different from the one she remembered.
“...What?”
She remembered it being a run-down, nearly empty village. In front of her, though, many people were hard at work dragging lumber and rock to and fro. Some carried hammers and pickaxes while others carried sandbags.
“What’s happening...?”
She couldn’t count how many people were at work, but she noticed many mages in the mix, as well as specialists paving roads. It was a construction project of an enormous scale that could change the layout of the entire area. At the edges of the village, there were at least twenty mages wielding the Earth element to apparently build moats or stone walls and surround the village.
“I didn’t... make a mistake... did I...?”
White wandered into the village, dumbfounded by the sight around her. Suddenly, a shout was heard from someone sitting on a lookout tower. It was Tahara, who ordered this team with a blueprint in his hand.
“Hey, lady. You the mage with the Light element we asked for? It’s those Spell Stones, right there. They’re going to the business district, keep that in mind.”
“W-What!?”
“What the hell are you standing around for? Who shows up to a worksite in a white dress, anyway!? You think this is a joke? This ain’t a ball, lady!”
“W-W-What!?!?”
“Go ahead and get it done, will you? Oh, and clear out those pebbles in the drains. They’ll keep water from flowing.”
Before White could retort, Tahara moved on to giving directions to another worker. Because of her sincere nature, White began to pour her Light magic into the Spell Stones. Soon, she remembered what she had come here for.
“Why am I...!? Who is that obnoxious man, anyway!?”
“S-Sister... What are you doing here!?”
“Luna!?”
The dramatic reunion with her enslaved sister. In Luna’s hand was a carrot, while White held a Spell Stone glowing in a smooth light.
The White Angel and the Demon Lord
Upon seeing Luna, White squeezed out her voice, quivering. Even in the midst of the commotion, her clear voice resonated.
“Luna, we are leaving. That Demon Lord is playing tricks on your mind.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
White gritted her teeth at Luna’s nonchalant attitude. She had come here ready to fight for her sister with her life. Luna, on the other hand, held up the carrot in her hand, saying something stupid like:
“Bigger than you thought, right?”
“Why are you boasting about your carrot...!? We’re going home to the Holy Castle.”
“Go home? I can’t. We’re renovating my land! Oh, right. We’re calling it ‘mad modding.’”
“...Mad...!?”
Were they going to send the world into madness, starting with this village? Imagining the end result, a shiver ran down White’s spine.
“Besides, how is he paying for such a large-scale construction!?”
“Something about selling a Holy Coin... I don’t really know.”
“He... s-sold a Holy Coin!?”
Whether or not they were talking about the same thing, the sisterly conversation went on as smooth as butter, and White was boiling. She respected tradition and considered the
Holy Coins to be revered relics. As a basic moral, she was opposed to trading such relics. But this wasn’t all; White was in for far worse of a surprise.
“Luna. They’re all looking for you over there.”
Tron approached, flowing to and fro through the air. For some reason, she was holding a pinwheel. It came with the Hot Springs Resort, but Tron seemed to have taken a liking to it?
“Again? What now?”
“There’s a big rock in the way. Can you blow it up with your gold sparkles?”
“All right. No one can get anything done around here without me!”
“...Hurry up.”
“Hey, let go of my clothes! Oh, I’ll see you later, Sister! Kyon, show my sister to the Hot Springs.”
White could only watch as Luna and Tron rushed off. Her intuition as a Holy Maiden told her that the girl was definitely a mixed blood... a cursed Firebrand.
“This way... Hoppity!”
Taking White (now aghast) by the hand, Kyon showed her to the Hot Springs Resort. After seeing what she did, White was completely beside herself, unable to even react in shock at seeing the hot springs facility.
(Luna is already taken in by evil...)
It was only natural that White thought this. First the Demon Lord and now a Firebrand. No matter how leniently White assessed the situation, she couldn’t deny that Luna had lost her sense of obligation as a Holy Maiden and fell for the dominion of evil.
“Lady Luna will join you later. Please enjoy your bath... Hoppity.”
“Bath...”
“The sauna is the Madame’s favorite... Hoppity!”
“Sauna... The Madame...”
While she could only parrot words without emotion, White’s natural politeness drove her to follow the Bunny into the resort. She would have been astonished by so many things she saw along the way, if she only had any sort of mental capacity to feel anything at the moment.
Demon Lord, Retry! Volume 2 Page 13
