by Fuse
What Milim wanted more than anything was something to make the boredom go away. And Frey had no idea what that could be. But look at her now—her attention was wholly captured by what she saw in the sphere.
Maybe I could take advantage of this.
Maybe she could move Milim after all.
No. More than that. I have to take advantage of this. Charybdis needs to be out of the picture.
She took a deep breath, her decision finally made.
With a polite smile, Clayman observed the three demon lords before him.
Clayman was the one who had directed Gelmud throughout the entire operation. If that became public knowledge, it wouldn’t be very good news for his position—but that was no concern now. The moment Gelmud breathed his last, all traces of evidence disappeared with him.
Carillon had his suspicions, maybe, but he wasn’t one to verbally pursue them very much. He was safe. Frey provided other concerns, but with no evidence at hand, he could talk his way out of whatever she said.
This was an attractive offer to the other demon lords, besides, and Clayman was hardly the only one to blame here. The scheme didn’t work, but it wasn’t like anyone was terribly hurt as a result.
Now was no time to think about the past. Instead, Clayman focused on a new plan. Some way to investigate who survived—and find a way to use them. Was that the best thing for him? It gave him pause.
Fortunately, the other demon lords were showing a clear interest. To Clayman, the fates of the surviving magic-born really didn’t matter much at all. If they fulfilled their potential as bait to lure in the other demon lords, that’s all he needed. Certainly, if there was a sub–demon lord among them, recruiting the lucky bum would be quite the boon for his own forces. But if force was all he wanted, Clayman had other outlets for that. He had the money to hire any mercenary he wanted.
A full demon lord who faithfully did whatever he wanted was one thing—but your run-of-the-mill high-level magic-born? Clayman had no need for them. Thus, placing his own priorities on the scales, he decided to change his mission. He wanted to have Milim and Carillon owe him a favor, and he wanted them to trust him. In addition, he wanted their backing just in case something happened later on.
Or so he thought. But…
Milim and Carillon respect my strength, like I figured. They’ve happily taken the bait. But Frey is proving to be a wild card. She seems concerned about something; perhaps it’s some weakness that I can grasp. It might be interesting to examine this.
Clayman had to chuckle at the unexpected results. He was hoping to get Milim and Carillon on his side, but now, perhaps, he could take advantage of a weakness on Frey’s part. Having full sway over even one demon lord would be a wonderful consolation prize after losing the orc lord.
Demon lords were shrewd, observant people. They knew that Milim and Carillon had the simplest personalities among their kind. But the two were also gifted fighters. While most found it prudent to hide the full extent of their powers from one another, these two never hesitated to show it off.
Given their battle-oriented specializations, winning their trust was never a bad idea. And having a guaranteed three votes (counting his) at Walpurgis, the grand meeting that all demon lords attended, was huge. Adding Frey to the equation meant that Clayman could make nearly any vote, any proposition, go the way he wanted.
Heh-heh… Excellent. Not exactly my original plan, but this is almost as ideal. It would have been interesting, having an orc lord serving as my puppet demon lord…but this works just as well. And I can even have Frey join in—
Clayman had to stifle the laugh bubbling up in his throat. It was time to show off his skills as Marionette Master. Frey would come first; then Milim and Carillon. Then, Walpurgis would be like a personal court to him. Everything in the world could be his, in fact. It was no longer an idle dream.
The Forest of Jura was forbidden territory. No demon lord was allowed to send an expedition inside. He would need to bring on another unaffiliated high-level magic-born, like Gelmud—and he’d have to ensure this agent wasn’t aware that Clayman was pulling the strings. It would be a delicate operation. But this kind of under-the-table exchange was Clayman’s specialty, something Milim and Carillon weren’t suited for. That’s why he was the one who “handled” Gelmud in his last scheme.
And it’d be just the same this time. Milim seemed to have an extraordinary interest in all this, which was a concern, but it’d likely be Clayman handling the expedition anyway. The situation inside Jura was a total unknown, so he figured his role would be a foregone conclusion.
In fact, I could have this person spy on Milim and Carillon for me before he goes into the forest. Now this is getting interesting…
Clayman smiled a little as he pictured it. He knew he shouldn’t be too greedy. Depending on how things went, it wasn’t impossible. Finding Frey’s weakness was priority one, and if possible, he wanted to take the lead on the Forest of Jura expedition.
His objectives clear in his mind, he leisurely began to gauge the rest of the table.
Milim Nava, the demon lord whose platinum-pink pigtails suited her perfectly, was lost in thought.
If I leave things to these doofuses, I just know they’re gonna let my new toy go to waste. They’re all still newly hatched rookies—they’ve got no way to see how things really are. I’m cool enough and smart enough to take the lead here.
Thanks to her easy comfort as one of the oldest demon lords, Milim felt herself taking a role as leader for the younger generations of rulers, who had only a few centuries’ worth of experience. It was ironic to think that the youngest-looking among them was also the most cunning, but it was the undeniable truth.
After a moment of thought, Milim opened her mouth, then exhibited her full majesty as both the only dragonoid at the table and the most wizened of demon lords.
“Right!” she began, practically bursting with anticipation. “In that case, I’m heading out now and negotiating with whoever survived!”
The demon lords met her with silence. Which made sense. With the current pact covering the Forest of Jura, there was no way to go in without making certain arrangements first. Simply stomping right over, as Milim suggested, was unthinkable.
“Um, Milim… We can’t do that, can we? We have that nonaggression agreement.”
“Yeah! Where’d that idea even come from?”
“Milim,” Clayman interjected, “please take a moment to calm yourself. I will send a full expeditionary force to handle this, and I promise there will not be long to wait.”
She laughed all of them off.
To the demon lords who knew Milim, she was regarded as someone with muscles all the way into her brain. A lunkhead, in other words. But the truth lay elsewhere. She was actually extremely intelligent, and it was only her short fuse that made people think otherwise. She had the full ability to sort right from wrong and process matters strategically—something that often made her leap directly into action, making her seem impossibly imprudent. She was one of the top geniuses among them, in fact, but sadly, very few people noticed this. If anything, they thought she was the simplest, most ill-tempered one.
Utterly ignorant of all this, Milim confidently put her chest forward and revealed her own thoughts to the world. “Who cares about that nonaggression pact?” she said, a world-beating smile on her face. “We should just abolish that thing right now. We got four demon lords here, so it’s easy, right?”
The rest seemed at a loss. They chewed over her words, as if the blinders had just been taken off their eyes. Yes. This was realistically possible. They tried to deny it, but they couldn’t find anything to refute it with. At that moment, every scheme and plan in their minds vanished into dust.
Of course, to Carillon, trying to think up a reason to join the expedition, this was a gift from heaven. It meant he could send his own forces into the forest without bothering to hide them. Too easy.
“Makes sense,” he agreed. “With o
ur signatures, we could provide notification that the agreement’s null and void. It should be accepted, as long as nobody objects to it. I’m up for the idea.”
“I’m with you on that,” Frey said. “My territory abuts the forest, and being forbidden from entering it was never exactly convenient for us.”
To her, agreeing with Milim was the simplest way to get the old demon lord on her side. The bountiful feeding grounds inside the Forest of Jura would also provide good hunting for her own cherished daughters. The wardens of the forest may have issues, but they could worry about that when it occurred.
Milim was beaming at both of her new allies when Clayman spoke up.
“Would it go that easily, though, do you think? Would the other demon lords be so ready to agree to it?”
Risking Milim’s rage wasn’t normally a good idea, but the way Clayman saw it, this wasn’t something he could readily agree with. He didn’t intend to personally join the expedition, but he simply didn’t want the other demon lords griping at him about the whole thing later. The agreement of four demon lords made the annulment a given to pass, but that nonaggression treaty had held over the forest for centuries. It didn’t seem like something that should be abandoned with such impulsive gusto.
If we could rip it up that easily, he reasoned, we wouldn’t need to expend all this effort staying undercover. Is there some reason for this outburst? Such as…Veldora’s disappearance, of all things…?!
Just as the thought occurred to him, Milim grinned once more and nodded. “Mm? Oh, did you notice? Well, you’re right. The whole reason behind that pact was because the territory belonged to this big, mean dragon. We all signed it when Veldora the Storm Dragon was sealed away three hundred or so years ago—just to make sure nothing we did wound up undoing the seal by accident. You guys became demon lords right around the same time, so I guess it makes sense you weren’t aware of that. And I’m pretty sure the first person to back it was…”
Thus began a long, meandering tale of demon lord politics from centuries ago. Milim clearly enjoyed recalling it, and as he ignored it, Clayman realized she was right all along. Veldora was the real problem, and if he was gone, no demon lord would lodge any complaint about abolishing the pact. Even if one did, it seemed unlikely that three would—the number required for a quorum in these conferences.
Perhaps, he thought, instantly casting away his original reasoning, it would be easiest to do what Milim says.
“If that is the case, then I have no objection. We may as well begin selecting our expeditionary force at once for deployment into the forest.”
“Whoa, Clayman.” Carillon flashed a scowling, aggressive smile. “D’you mean we all work together? Or first come, first served, like what Milim said?”
“Um,” Frey said before Clayman could respond, “I was thinking… How about each of us deploys our own forces, and we could have them compete against one another? I could even have my own daughters go in my stead…and besides, isn’t this a rather silly thing to quarrel over?”
The somber way she put it indicated the pointlessness of fighting over an expedition that was meant to boost all their forces. It made total sense. The other three froze for a moment. To all of them, working separately seemed much more palatable than working together. A competition meant not having to consider the needs of anyone else.
They gauged each other’s faces for a moment, then nodded.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! First come, first served, then! No hard feelings!”
“Very well. But I don’t care about some slow, plodding expedition. I won’t hinder any of you guys, but I ain’t helping, either. We got that?”
“Well, so be it. We don’t know who survived the battle, but I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. You participate at your own risk, keep in mind.”
It was decided. The Forest of Jura would soon be the scene of not one, but four different interventions.
“Let the competition begin, then! But no meddling with one another, all right? That’s a promise!”
“Certainly. I will be sure to tell my daughters not to interfere with anyone else.”
“Fair enough. I swear by my name as Beast Master that I’ll abide by it!”
“Understood, Milim. I, Clayman, will not break this agreement.”
“Great! So all the arrangements are made, then. Now let’s get that nonaggression pact annulled once and for all,” a beaming Milim chirped.
Thus, four demon lords agreed to not have their forces meddle with one another inside the forest. Their four signatures, the keys to annulling the treaty, were quickly sent by hidden courier to the other demon lords. The Forest of Jura was no longer neutral territory. Now it would be the stage for some demon lord wargames.
“Well, off I go!”
Milim tore out of the room the moment their declaration was completed. It came so quickly, her final good-bye was still echoing up high in the chamber by the time she was out of sight.
“Looks like we’re already left behind,” an exasperated Frey observed. “Just as self-centered as always, I see.”
Carillon laughed and shrugged his agreement.
Clayman flashed a wry smile of his own, refraining from any verbal comment at first. Then, a thought occurred to him.
“But if the nonaggression pact is a thing of the past, won’t the Forest of Jura require a new ruler?” he whispered.
“Yeah?” Carillon replied. “You want me to take up the role?”
“I would think that was part of the reason why the treaty was signed in the first place,” Frey countered.
“Gah-ha-ha-ha! Aw, c’mon. Look, if we find out that the survivor’s up to sub–demon lord class, at least, I don’t see why we can’t have him be king. Then we can resurrect our plan to create a puppet demon lord, yeah?”
“True enough,” Clayman said.
“Well, given that we apparently already got someone with eyes on ruling the forest, guess we better get movin’, huh?”
There was not much planning to be made until they explored Jura. The rest of the demons decided to follow Milim’s lead.
With another pleasant laugh, Carillon opened up a Warp Portal, one of the elemental magics, to return home. Frey was soon gone as well.
Clayman, left alone, smiled weakly as he began to formulate a plan for the future.
“Milim, Carillon, and Frey. Let’s see, then…”
The anticipation was clear on his face as he fantasized to himself, alone.
All too soon, a new threat would be visiting the town Rimuru and his followers called home.
CHAPTER 1
THE NAME OF A NATION
Recalling the report from his covert informant, Gazel Dwargo, king of the dwarves, pondered the information. He had asked this spy to observe a certain slime he was concerned about, but the briefing he received seemed far too preposterous to believe.
The monsters are building a full-scale city.
The dossier handed to King Gazel began with that sentence. The rest of it only confused him further. He thought it was some kind of joke at first, but his team was not one to play pranks on him. This spy was giving him the clear, unvarnished truth, and so he remained calm and ran his eyes across the rest of the report.
It read as follows:
Orc hordes have begun to rampage.
Number: approximately two hundred thousand.
The ogres, a prominent race in the forest, are reportedly eradicated.
The lizardmen are galvanizing their military installations to prepare for war.
Existence of an orc lord confirmed. Danger level: estimated at A.
A major confrontation in the Forest of Jura is unavoidable.
—Overall danger level: Special A (estimated).
All this was accurate as of their delivery the other day—the results of his covert team’s investigations, relayed to the king by magical means. This team, sent to keep an eye on the mysterious slime, had discovered a gathering of monsters constructing a town. As they kept s
urveilling them, the team discovered other unusual events around the forest. With Gazel’s permission, more men were added to the covert team to more effectively perform operations across the forest…and this was the result.
The birth of an orc lord couldn’t be ignored. King Gazel immediately declared a state of emergency. Not because of this uber-orc alone—depending on how the battle in the forest worked out, the Dwarven Kingdom could very easily be exposed to hostilities before long. If an army of orcs numbering in the six figures knocked on their door, the very fate of the kingdom would be at risk. The king’s spies reported that the orcs were advancing away from the Dwarven Kingdom, but that was little comfort.
So by royal decree, he summoned the Pegasus Knights—a group of stout fighters, armed with the best weapons their artisans could forge, each mounted upon their own winged steed. Together, each knight worked as one with their ride in the skies, making them easily A-ranked opponents. They numbered five hundred in all, and within the Armed Nation of Dwargon, they were praised as the strongest corps of knights.
If worse came to worst, these Pegasus Knights could buy the kingdom time for the general infantry to prepare for battle. It was a last resort, one that pained King Gazel to opt for, but even an Armed Nation required time to fully mobilize itself.
Soon, Dwargon had transitioned into a wartime economy, quietly preparing itself for conflict. The air was tense around the kingdom as King Gazel awaited further reports. When it finally came, it told him this:
—The war is over, thanks to the intervention of several high-level magic-born.
Our surveillance efforts were discovered and interfered with, so details remain unknown.
The magic-born are believed to be under the rule of the slime from before—
Addendum: In order to carry out our mission fully prepared, we hereby request that our equipment be replaced with the highest level available.
King Gazel used a nearby candle to burn the sheets.
