†
The Peace of Mind Inn - Twilight.
The inn’s poster girl, Mei, was mopping up the dining hall that was completely vacant of customers. It was two o’clock, about the time when the place would be full of people.
“Hah...” The pantherian girl, with her brown, shoulder-length hair, sighed with a moody expression on her face.
The front door swung open and the bell installed next to it jingled, prompting Mei to smile broadly in an amicable gesture.
“Welcome to the Peace of Mind Inn! I’m the inn’s idol, little Mei!”
“Ahaha... Sorry.” The one who entered the place with a bitter smile on her lips was the Adventurer’s Guild’s guildmaster, Sylvie. She was dressed in a revealing outfit that didn’t so much count as clothes as it was just a few pieces of fabric. She had the appearance of a young girl, but that was attributed to her being a grasswalker, a race that didn’t change its appearance with age. She was actually a seasoned veteran.
“Oh, you’re not a customer,” Mei said, her eyes narrowing.
“I’m a guildmaster, all things considered. I did my rounds around town to make sure everything’s in order.”
“If you’re looking for Diablo, he’s not back yet.” Mei shrugged at Sylvie’s apologetic words.
“I see...” At times, Sylvie pretended to be on patrol so she could come check on the Peace of Mind Inn. A certain sorcerer who was one of the inn’s regular customers was apparently exceedingly powerful. Mei never saw him fight, but word did get around.
“Are things really that bad in town?” Mei asked.
“Well, not really, but...” Sylvie replied cheerfully, but that just made Mei more anxious.
“You wouldn’t be coming to check if he was here if you didn’t need his help...”
“Ahaha... It’s fine, really. Faltra has the Fallen-repelling barrier, after all. Forget the Fallen or magical beasts, even the Demon Lord can’t get past that.”
The citadel city of Faltra was surrounded by impressive stone walls, with stone towers erected among them. These towers functioned as amplifiers for the barrier, which was maintained by the magical energy of the Mage’s Guild’s guildmaster, Celestine Baudelaire. So long as Celes remained in the city, the Mage’s Guild’s tower would continue producing the barrier, and the walls would amplify it, keeping the Fallen and all those aligned with them out of Faltra.
“Are the soldiers going out to fight?” Mei was concerned despite knowing all that.
“I don’t know much about what the military’s going to do, y’know? The troops stationed in Faltra are like the governor’s personal guard. Galford will be the one to decide that.”
“What about the adventurers, then?”
“Everyone’s fired up. We’ll all protect this city, so you can rest easy!”
Mei pursed her lips in concern. “Mrow... I know a ton of the adventurers. I’m worried.”
“I appreciate your concern. But it’s our job to keep the races safe from the Demon Lord.”
Sylvie turned around, saying she should get going to the next place on her patrol. Opening the door, she said one last time before leaving:
“If Diablo shows up, let him know we’re looking for him at the Adventurer’s Guild.”
“Mew got it. But I won’t be saying it for free.”
“Huh?”
“When you drive away the Demon Lord, you all have to come here and have our delicious sausages!” Mei gave Sylvie a thumbs up.
“Heheh... It’s a promise. Bye then.”
Sylvie left the inn, closing the door behind her, and silence filled the place once more.
†
At the Citadel city of Faltra’s western gate—
“The gate! Open the gate!” a man riding on horseback shouted to the top of the walls. They were a human male. He didn’t look to be a soldier, as he wasn’t clad in armor nor carried any weapons, but the gate guards did recognize him.
“It’s Boris! Open up!” They gave the orders to open the gate swiftly.
The gates at the end of the bridge had a steel door that was opened by pulling back a chain. Boris appeared on a single horse, with someone else riding on the back—Massa, who looked outright exhausted.
“It’s good to see you back!” The soldiers surrounded them as soon as they entered the walls. “How did it go?!”
“We saw the Demon Lord’s army!”
Everyone around them gave a surprised “Oooh!”
“It’s great you made it back from that.”
“No... We had to sacrifice one of our horses and my gear to make a decoy.”
They’d taken a doll made of straw and put Boris’s armor on it, then rushed the horse down the road. Had it gotten away, they would have simply galloped down the road, too...but a winged Fallen cut down the decoy soon after. Had it found them, they’d surely have been killed. While the Fallen was distracted by the horse on the highway, Boris and Massa rode the other one together through a forest near the road to make it back to Faltra.
“Ugh...” Massa covered his mouth with his hands, his face pallid. “I feel sick, Boris...”
“A-Are you all right? You can get off now. I’ll handle the report.”
“Yeah, thanks... The lieutenant general’s scary... Uuugh...”
Massa was quite weak to motion sickness. The other soldiers thanked him for his service.
“Don’t worry about the horse and the armor.” An officer took the reins to Boris’s horse. “More importantly, the lieutenant general is waiting for your report.”
“Yes, sir!”
Going north along the walls of the western gate led Boris to the military’s garrison. It had its own stables, barracks, a training ground, an armory, a granary, and, of course, a headquarters. It was a brick building only officers were usually allowed to enter.
“I’ve returned from the bridge of Ulug!” Boris referred to the sentries with a salute. “I have a report for the lieutenant general!”
“Enter!” The sentries saluted back, inviting Boris inside.
He walked down the hallway to the furthest door. After repeating the same words multiple times, he was finally before Faltra’s governor, Lieutenant General Chester Ray Galford.
Inside the headquarters—
A large desk stood in the front, belonging to the lieutenant general, surrounded on both sides by other desks which were manned by staff officers and filled to the brim with paperwork. The scent of sweat, ink, and steel filled the room.
Boris hadn’t seen Galford since the first directive of the year, which was nearly a year ago. In that single year, the lieutenant general Boris remembered felt entirely different from the sullen man standing here now. His creases had grown deeper, his skin gained a more earthy color, and streaks of white began running through his hair. But the glint in his eyes remained sharp as he glared at Boris.
“You say you saw the Demon Lord’s army...?”
“Yes! They had eight grand turtles, all carrying countless Fallen on their backs! They also had medium-class magical beasts, and they overall numbered roughly a thousand troops. They’re advancing at sprinting speed, and crossed Ulug Bridge at around eleven o’clock today!”
“A thousand Fallen and magical beasts?!” the staff officers murmured in a panic. Just a hundred was already a despair-inducing figure. In all recorded history, there was no skirmish between the Demon Lord Army counting 1,000 troops and the races.
“Do you have proof you’ve actually seen that?!” An aged, thin-haired staff officer rose to his feet.
“...At that speed, they should reach Faltra around nightfall.”
“Nng.”
“Sprinting speed, you say?” another staff officer asked. “In that case, we should be able to outrun them on horseback.”
“Maybe the grand turtles. But I... No, we were nearly attacked by a winged Fallen. It flew faster than a horse and cleaved through both a suit of armor and a horse with one strike.”
“Unbelievable.
..”
The Demon Lord’s army’s objective was the extermination of the races; there was no negotiating peace or surrender to them. What were they to do? The staff office continued their discussion.
“What of the Demon Lord?” Galford asked. “Did you see the Demon Overlord Modinaram?”
“I can’t say for certain.” Boris shook his head. “On top of the large-class magical beast leading the force was a Fallen that looked like an owl. He looked like he was important...”
“So you saw Eulerex. A senior Fallen.”
“That’s...”
“Did you see anything else?”
Boris told Galford about the female Fallen with a dragon’s wings and tail, as well as of the frog-headed Fallen.
“Ah, and there was a box, too.”
“A box?”
“It was chained to the grand turtle’s back, and it had some...creepy pattern on its surface.”
Just remembering it made him cover his mouth from the nausea.
“Hmm.” Galford crossed his arms pensively.
The door behind Boris then opened noisily, and a woman’s voice filled the room.
“You’re still tripping over yourselves here? You folk have a far longer fuse than We gave you credit for.”
“Lady Laminitus?!” one of the staff officers called out.
The former governor of Zircon Tower: Fanis Laminitus.
It was the first time Boris had laid eyes on her. She was dressed in a red uniform and had a bosom so large it was hard to believe she was human. Her hair was a brilliant shade of crimson. Her eyelashes were long, her lips glossy, and she carried herself about with an alluring air that didn’t seem to fit this occasion much. Boris found himself stupefied at the sight of her.
Laminitus was an accomplished commander who once pushed back the Demon Lord’s army. But, after learning the Demon Lord had been revived, she judged she wouldn’t be able to defend Zircon Tower and abandoned the position, now taking refuge in Faltra.
“Does it matter if there are a thousand or two thousand Fallen out there?” she asked the staff officer, as if she herself was the commander. “They can gather as many small fry as they wish and it won’t change things in the long run.”
“Those aren’t small fry, Lady Laminitus... They’re Fallen! Fallen, I tell you!”
“Hah! You’re as terrified as a maiden on her first night!”
“Wha?!”
“Don’t fret. If we just defeat their commander, the Demon Lord’s army will crumble. Their individual power may be high, but they’re nothing more than a disorderly mob. There’s nothing to fear.”
“The one leading that ‘disorderly’ army of Fallen is the Demon Overlord Modinaram,” Galford spoke up. “If we just defeat him, this fight will end with a victory for the races... That much is clear.”
“Then it’s a simple story. We must gather our strongest forces and face the Demon Overlord. There are no other options, correct?”
“We’ve already sent a request for aid to the royal capital.”
“Hmph!” Laminitus scoffed haughtily. “As if that coward would ever weaken the capital’s defenses!”
“His Majesty is a wise gentleman.”
“If the king truly was the wise, brave ruler you make him out to be, he’d have dispatched his heroes to destroy the Demon Overlord, just as you once did. How many days have passed since Zircon Tower was attacked?!”
“I’m sure he has his plans.”
“You’ve gone soft, Galford!”
“Then let me tell you: If the races are to combat the Demon Overlord, we must stand united as one. No matter what they think, soldiers of the military must never suspect the king.”
“If we obey too blindly, the races will surely be decimated!”
“Nonsense. Discord and infighting are what will drive the races to destruction.”
“Tch...” Laminitus clicked her tongue. “Well, there’s nowhere to fall back to, so there’s no choice but to fight. We share your opinion that we’re better off not expecting reinforcements from the royal capital. Arguing over the king’s stupidity wouldn’t do us any good, anyway.”
“Do you not see how blasphemous it is to mouth such things before the staff officers?”
“The Demon Lord’s army is said to arrive this evening, correct? Let us prepare for battle, then. There’s you and Us... Is there anyone else that can be of use?”
Galford fell silent. Faltra was an important strategic point between the races’ territories and the Demon Lord’s domain. The forces stationed there were all elites, but none of them broke the limit of the races. Those teeming with that sort of quick-wittedness had all been summoned to the capital. And while Galford was pleased to see his subordinates develop and reach greatness, the truth was that the front lines lacked such capable troops.
“Is Diablo not here yet?” Laminitus inquired.
“According to my reconnaissance, he headed to the swordmaster’s village in Sormas.”
The governor had set Diablo as a target for observation, and had soldiers skilled in espionage follow him. Those orders applied just the same even outside Faltra, and that was how Galford had kept track of Diablo’s activities at Zircon Tower and the capital.
“Sormas? Why did he go there?”
“I’ve no idea as to what his intentions are...but he apparently bought manure and climbed up a mountain.”
“Don’t tell Us he’s decided to start working the fields?”
“He’s a mere adventurer after all... There’s little point in depending on him.”
“We don’t much like admitting it, but...this battle could very well hinge on his presence here.”
Galford shrugged. “News of the invasion is already out. Though I can’t say if he will act on it or not.”
Laminitus sighed in response.
Diablo’s amazing, Boris thought. If these two impressive individuals spoke like this about the importance of his presence, Diablo had to be. Boris prayed from the bottom of his heart for Diablo to return as fast as possible.
Boris turned his gaze to the west, out the window. The sun began slowly tipping below the horizon, and as it did, his anxiety only grew heavier...
†
The same day, at five in the evening—
It was believed the invasion would commence after sundown, but the lookout on the walls raised their voice before dusk. Like his comrades from the Ulug bridge, Boris was admitted into Faltra’s garrisoned forces, and was assigned to a lookout tower—which also doubled as an amplifier for the barrier—located slightly to the north of the western gate.
“They’re coming!” Boris pointed to the west.
“Uuu... Already?!” Massa’s lips shivered in terror.
Several others raised their voices in fear of the attack. Even trained soldiers stationed on the front lines couldn’t maintain their cool in the face of an invasion from the Demon Lord’s army.
The massive grand turtles appeared with the western sun at their backs, as if they’d oozed out of the encroaching darkness of night. The stench of beasts and blood could be taken in even from afar. They were like the personification of all that struck fear into the hearts of men.
Alarm bells rang out, alerting of an encroaching enemy attack. Countless soldiers looked up the western gate. Would the lieutenant general take to the battlefield? Or would he stay in his fortifications?
Galford was a hero of the last great war, and had proactively mobilized his forces when the elven army marched on Faltra, as well as on other occasions. And indeed, heavily armored soldiers were deployed at the western gate this time around.
But there were no movements. The trumpet signaling the opening of the western gate wasn’t sounded.
“...He isn’t coming,” someone whispered.
The lieutenant general had naturally judged that there was no winning a direct fight against this evil.
“So we can’t win...” someone else said in a disheartened voice.
The
re was the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, the hero of the great war would have a way of stopping the Demon Lord’s army’s invasion. But reality was colder than the darkest depths of the sea and devoid of all innocent mercy.
There was absolutely no one capable of standing against an army of one thousand Fallen...
“We hold our position!” an officer, who’d predicted, or perhaps knew, it would come to this, shouted. “We have our barrier, and the Fallen aren’t smart enough to prepare provisions. Not to mention the cruel winter is on our side! We can win this fight!”
The soldiers’ faces lit up in understanding. Even if Faltra was in a warm area, ’twas the season. The forest’s trees had shed all their leaves, and fruit and animals were scarce. It was the period when farming was halted. Since the Fallen required food, they probably required large amounts just to maintain those massive bodies of theirs. It would be nigh impossible for them to procure enough food to maintain one thousand Fallen.
Holding the keep during a siege depended on the opponent not having provisions. And while Faltra’s walls were damaged by a mysterious explosion some time ago, they had since been fixed.
“We have enough provisions to maintain 200,000 people for six months! And we’ve taken the refugees from the Demon Lord’s domain into account! There’s nothing to fear!”
Just what one might expect of Lieutenant General Galford, some had said. But Boris looked to the west, anxiety greatly weighing on his mind.
“What’s wrong, Boris? You’re pale,” Massa asked, prompting a nervous reply from Boris.
“...Do you remember when one hundred Fallen attacked the Bridge of Ulug?”
“Yeah, that definitely happened... I thought we were done for back then.”
“A Fallen had infiltrated Faltra trying to kill Lady Celestine, right?”
“Right, right. I think it called itself Gregore? That adventurer Emile beat him, didn’t he?”
“...So they say, sure.”
Boris saw Diablo’s deeds at the Bridge of Ulug, and also heard what the demon sorcerer had said:
“I shall test my Return magic.”
That was what Diablo shouted before disappearing in a flash of light. While the adventurers had claimed it was Emile who beat Gregore, Boris suspected that wasn’t entirely true.
How NOT to Summon a Demon Lord: Volume 9 Page 3
