That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 6

by Fuse

  “Brilliantly done, Sir Rimuru! A truly ingenious plan!”

  “No, Shion,” I admonished, relieved that at least she understood the gist of it. “King Gazel thought it up. I just made sure all our feedback was included.”

  “My thanks to you, King Gazel,” Sufia commented, baring a fanged grin. “Now when we make our move, we can expect great things from Sir Rimuru’s forces!”

  Phobio and Alvis seemed just as eager for the idea. The Three Lycanthropeers were on our side.

  Benimaru’s mind, meanwhile, was already elsewhere. “Heh-heh-heh… Very well. So now we can focus entirely on Clayman? If we can’t win this, it will just prove we were talentless from the start.”

  Good to hear. I’d need him on the field. Soei, Geld, and Benimaru were of a similar mind, ready to roll out this very moment.

  Now I had dozens of passion-filled eyes fixed upon me. I nodded back at them. I need you to wait a bit longer, guys. You can go hog wild once this summit is over.

  We had a backstory—and now that we had somewhere to start, we needed to decide what we’d do next.

  I told the audience about how we had the king of Farmus and a Church archbishop in our custody. In their place, we would support Yohm as the land’s new king and launch a plan to build a new nation for its people.

  Now Fuze was groaning again. After falling silent for a while, I guess he had finally worked everything out in his mind.

  Gazel was similarly quiet, eyes closed. His friends were bouncing ideas off one another, but opinions seemed to be split, without any clear consensus. Even Erald offered no words, no doubt coldly considering how the Sorcerous Dynasty should react to this.

  I watched them all closely as I continued my guidance.

  First off, we would release the current king, then force him to pay reparations for invading our country. This would be a pretext, of course; the actual aim was to throw Farmus itself into a state of civil war. If the king managed to gather his nobility again and attempt a resistance, his life was as good as gone. I was dealing with a king here. I wasn’t about to let him off the hook twice.

  Now, if this king meekly agreed to our demands at this point, we’d delay the whole Yohm-as-king thing for a while. By Raphael’s estimation, however, the chances of this were practically nil. Even if he suddenly became a king who lived up to his promises, fulfilling his obligations would be punishingly difficult. His nation had just lost twenty thousand men and women of working age, and he needed money to rebuild his power. He’d be forced to claim it from the nation’s noble families, but they were all far too greedy to cooperate.

  No, the king would find some excuse or another to ignore the reparations entirely. Then Yohm would raise the flag of resistance, staging a coup to help restore good faith in the government. It was the duty of the survivors to take responsibility for a lost war. What if the king didn’t do that? What if he ordered his government to de facto shake down the nobility for money instead? He’d lose any authority he had.

  The whole reparations thing was a wedge to rip the king apart from the nobility. Once he had lost all influence with them, the internal factions of their government would undoubtedly fall apart. The king’s sons were not of adult age yet, reportedly; it was easy to imagine them becoming puppets of the nobility. That, in turn, would certainly lead into battles over succession.

  Either way, whenever things descended into physical combat, Yohm would step forward, and the exhausted masses would hail him as their champion. No matter which way it shook out, it all meant that the current kingdom of Farmus was about to meet its downfall. Tempest, of course, would announce its support for Yohm, a champion they had been on good terms with for a while now. Once Yohm declared the establishment of a new kingdom, we would be the first to officially recognize it and open sanctioned relations.

  The nobility, the source of current ruling power, would no doubt form an alliance to fight back, but we’d already factored that into the equation. We’d simply exile them all, except for those who offered to cooperate from an early stage. If they insisted upon meddling with us, then they’d have to just disappear, sadly. We would serve as a deterrent to any such alliance, preventing any direct military activity while we sorted out who was friend and who was foe.

  In the midst of this, we would take the time to announce new policies that would win the trust of the people, boosting Yohm’s popularity. Once this happened, the plan was to destroy the opposing forces.

  A nation couldn’t be built overnight. Even at breakneck speed, it’d have to extend to two, maybe three years. Of course, Yohm might be on the throne even quicker than that, if the current king made some particularly ill-advised decisions…

  That was the basic outline. It meant that, however the timeline wound up actually working out, Yohm was ultimately all but guaranteed to become king.

  “Personally,” I explained, “I have no interest in oppressing the people of Farmus. In terms of allowing their own ruler to go around like he owned the whole world, however, I’m not absolving them of guilt. They will have to put up with some tight times for a while, and I’d like them to put in a solid effort at rebuilding once it’s all said and done.”

  Everyone thought silently for a moment before Gazel spoke up. “I like this. I have no objections to the plan itself. However, Rimuru, the idea of Yohm becoming king is another issue altogether.”

  He stood up, putting the full force of his gaze upon Yohm. It was powerfully withering, even from far away. Having experienced it myself, I knew exactly how the man was feeling right then.

  “…Ngh?!”

  Yohm let out a grunt and clenched his teeth in the process, but he met Gazel eye to eye.

  “Hmph. Well, he has great willpower, at least. But what of his character? Is he prepared to feel for his people, to take up their pain and stand before them?”

  A hush fell upon the meeting hall.

  “Heh. How the hell should I know? I’m not here to be a king ’cause I want to. But if I turn down this role after he’s put his full trust in me, what kinda man would I be, huh?!”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m just sayin’, I don’t wanna convince myself I can’t do it and give up before I even try. I also wanna impress the woman I love, too, I’ll grant ya that, but if I’m going in, I’m going in at full power.”

  There was no waver to Yohm’s voice. He was speaking a heap of nonsense, but his determination made it all oddly convincing.

  “…Fool,” Mjurran whispered.

  “But so much like Yohm, eh?” the beastman Gruecith replied, grinning. “You have my word on this, Dwarven King. This guy’s an idiot, but he’s not an irresponsible idiot. Once he takes something on, he’ll carry it out all the way to the end. And I, Gruecith, promise I’ll be there with him the whole time!”

  Mjurran nodded her agreement as all three sized up Gazel.

  “…Is that the case? Very well, then. If you need anything, call upon me.”

  Like a light switch, Gazel turned off all his intimidation, nodding at them good-naturedly. I guess they all passed his final exam—and if they have the Armed Nation of Dwargon backing them up, that was huge.

  “I have to say, though, you found quite an interesting man here,” the king added with a smile.

  “He seeks the throne to impress a woman?” a shocked Erald stammered.

  “Nice going, Gruecith. I sure wasn’t expecting you to stand up here and abandon Lord Carillon in front of us all!” chided Phobio.

  It felt like a circus, really.

  “Yohm,” intoned Gazel once everyone was done laughing, “what we seek from your nation is agricultural production. I don’t want to meddle in your political affairs, but listen to this: I know Farmus can keep itself afloat through its black-market trade in my nation’s manufactured goods, but I think we’ve recently proven that this won’t last forever, hmm?”

  It was true. The exorbitant taxes Farmus placed on imported goods before reselling them had made it into one of
the world’s most notorious price-gouging outfits. They were not exactly one of the Dwarven Kingdom’s favored customers. Now, with a new highway linking Dwargon to a vast, fresh market, Farmus was losing its previous advantage. If the kingdom wanted to survive, it needed to have something new—and instead of a field where it’d be competing with other nations, it’d be easier to coexist if they blazed a trail into unexplored markets.

  I had heard before that the Dwarven Kingdom faced issues with self-sufficiency in their food supply, so I could easily tell what Gazel was hinting at. I was just thinking that I wanted a new import supplier of grain for our nation, something that wasn’t so dependent on what naturally grew in the forest. In short, the idea made sense.

  “I’d like to be in on this, too. Add new grain varieties for us to your list!”

  “Who woulda guessed you’d jump on the train, too, huh, pal? …Well, I’ll get on it. We’re pretty developed agriculturally over in Farmus. I think it’ll be easier for folks to accept than you’d think.”

  Thus, with Gazel and me sharing common goals, we made a preliminary agricultural agreement for whenever Yohm was crowned.

  We agreed to take a break at this point while Shuna passed out tea to everyone. Once we were done, I dove right back in to the summit, reenergized. With Yohm formally accepted by the summit, our mission to build a new Farmus was now under way. That was really the trickiest part of this whole meet; the rest was much smoother sailing.

  “So as a representative of Blumund,” Fuze stated, “I have a proposal. Listening to King Gazel and Sir Rimuru speak, I believe we might have something to offer this plan as well. In Farmus, there are two noblemen—the Marquis of Muller and Count Hellman—who share an intimate relationship with Blumund. If we could negotiate with them to join our side on this matter, I think they could do much for our cause, don’t you think? I believe they will provide staunch support when it is time for Yohm to take action.”

  Whether he’s a Guild branch leader or not, does Fuze really have that kind of power? Fuze, perhaps sensing my disbelief, gave me an awkward grin.

  “As I stated, I represent Blumund here, and you may consider me to be a part of the Blumund government. I make this proposal not as a guild master but as a public servant.”

  As he explained, Fuze apparently had a seat in Blumund’s intelligence department—not as a member of staff but as kind of an assistant supervisor to the whole outfit. Which was fine and all, but this was kind of a huge offer he was making, wasn’t he? Could he really decide on this solo?

  I asked him about this, and then he gave me an even more startling revelation. While I was meeting with Gazel and Erald earlier, he had already tipped off the king of Blumund about events here and had him draw up a document providing him full representational rights. That’s the kind of quick footwork I suppose I should expect from a tiny kingdom like that—not to mention a sign of just how much Fuze was trusted.

  As he put it, Fuze had “several pieces of info that would sink the whole kingdom if they were released.” Secretly, I considered making him tell me somehow. I couldn’t help it.

  So Fuze had been taking advantage of his position to divert all kinds of information his way—anything he thought might be necessary, even before he heard about our plans.

  The way he described it, the Marquis of Muller and Count Hellman could basically enjoy the Blumund king’s personal support. Being a powerful noble in Farmus, the marquis was in no position to offer any public kindness to Blumund, but he and their king were close friends behind closed doors. Muller, in fact, was distantly related to the Blumundian royal family, and they had gotten along well for many years. Count Hellman, meanwhile, owed a great debt of gratitude to the marquis, making it extremely unlikely he would betray him.

  “Wow, you sure you want to reveal all these secrets to us?”

  “Ha-ha-ha! Oh, it’s fine. I am sure the Dwarven King was well aware of it all before I came here. The dark agents of Dwargon are just as talented in their jobs as our own intelligence group.”

  As neighbor states, Fuze must have figured the dwarves would have known a thing or two about them already. Gazel simply twitched one of his shoulders upward a bit, offering no further reply. Henrietta, the beautiful night assassin poised behind him, blinked a bit as well. Soei praised her as a talented agent, and I could believe it.

  “Hoh-hoh-hoh! Oh, you are being too humble,” she said. “The kingdom of Blumund’s bread and butter lies in intelligence. If you are posted in the center of a spy agency for a nation that treats information as salable goods, I’m sure you must be far more talented than my own team, no?”

  The voice was friendly enough, but her expression indicated she didn’t actually believe what she was saying.

  “Ha-ha! No need to be so harsh on yourself. Our fighting forces would have nothing on your dark agents, I don’t think! In terms of intelligence gathering, of course, I do believe we enjoy some useful advantages.”

  Fuze was just as headstrong, it seemed. But Blumund’s small size allowed it to cover intel from every nation in the world, no doubt. That was the most powerful weapon it had to defend its borders with. But regardless, if Fuze said it, it had to be true. Those two Farmus nobles definitely need to be recruited—and fast.

  “Did you hear all that, Yohm?”

  “Yep. I’ll add it to the list.”

  We’d sell Yohm to them first. He’d enjoy a true champion’s welcome, and it’d be an epic event. But we could work out the details at another time. Yohm’s team could handle that at their leisure.

  “Great! So that’s how Yohm the champion will gain a country of his own soon.”

  Everyone murmured their agreement, Yohm bringing a hand to his head in bashful embarrassment. I’ll pretend I didn’t see that and declare this topic well and truly settled. Next up—

  Just as I was about to proceed to the next topic, Erald apparently finished processing our discussion and burst out into hysterical laughter.

  “Pff! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! This is so entertaining! The leaders and representatives of entire nations, expressing their minds freely without doubting one another for a moment… I feel almost like a fool for staying on the alert around you all!”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all, even though the light remained sharp in his eyes. This was absolutely the face of a high nobleman, not Erald the helplessly devoted father. Archduke Erald of Thalion, a man whose position made speaking his mind virtually impossible.

  Without warning, he stood up, overwhelming the air around him. The sudden change in atmosphere turned all eyes silently toward him. We nervously awaited whatever he might say next.

  The meeting hall was silent, save for the turning of the pages as Veldora read some manga… Whoa! What the hell, man?! I didn’t even give that to you yet! Where’d you pluck that out from?! …Ah well. He had no interest in listening to anyone here anyway. As long as he’s shutting up, I have no complaints. He certainly helped relieve my tension just now. Let’s just see what Erald has to say.

  The archduke cleared his throat to return the attention to himself, then solemnly opened his mouth. That’s resilience, there.

  “…Allow me to ask. The man over there… Fuze. Do you truly place your trust in this monster, Rimuru?”

  “That… How do you mean, sir?”

  “I mean, even if a bunch of monsters decide to go and start a country, did you have to officially recognize them? And was there any need to establish official trade relations, for that matter? In terms of your relative locations, you certainly could have acted with less haste.”

  “We…”

  It seemed like an honest question, not one hurled out of spite. That was why Fuze found himself without words, having trouble finding his reply.

  “What I am saying is this. If I were in your position, I would engage them in trade, yes, but I would also see how the Western Holy Church reacted. Give them confidential reports, you see, and leave matters to them if there ar
e any problems. That way, you enjoy all the profit, but you aren’t beholden entirely to one side should issues crop up later. Isn’t that the way any smaller nation should handle matters?”

  The words, and his gaze, were sharper than any sword. And Erald wasn’t the only one—it seemed like everyone’s eyes were upon Fuze now.

  “Ugh, why me?” he whispered to himself, and then: “All right! All right! In that case, allow me to be honest!”

  Resigned to his fate, Fuze tore at his hair and began speaking loudly. His usual brazen personality was back—he was facing the Archduke of Thalion, and he had had enough of all this formal, ceremonial speech.

  “Duke Erald, I was of the exact same opinion as you. I stated the same case to my superior as well, not to mention a nobleman friend. But I was brushed off…”

  As Fuze went on to explain, when he tried to convince his boss of this, his concerns were immediately dismissed. The reasoning: “What if Tempest decides to declare war on us?” This was before I visited Blumund but after the battle with Charybdis ended.

  To them, we were this nation packed with high-level magic-born, powerful enough to take out both Charybdis and an orc lord. Waging war with them, Fuze was told, would result in instant annihilation. Luminism was not widespread in Blumund; the Western Holy Church would provide little serious backup. Any unwise moves, and the country would cease to exist. Resistance, they concluded, was futile.

  —So what to do, then?

  “We’d earn their trust, build a mutual friendship, and find a way to coexist. We wouldn’t be afraid to cooperate with them as much as possible. That was the conclusion the highest levels of Blumund government made. And I mean, your nation and the Dwarven Kingdom are powerful enough that you have all kinds of choices available…but with us, one misstep, and it’s over. And if we’re wagering our fates here, better to trust in the monster lord than the Church. That’s basically it,” Fuze explained with some chagrin.