That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 7

by Fuse

  “Oh, is this the green-tea custard?”

  “It is, Sir Rimuru. I may not be up to Lady Shuna’s quality yet, but I do believe I’ve improved!”

  With a soft smile, Haruna set the plates on the table. Veldora, who had been reading manga without bothering to join the conversation, picked that moment to join me there, as if he’d earned the right.

  “Hohh? Some for me, then?”

  “Of course, Sir Veldora.”

  He gave a gregarious nod and reached out for a plate of the eggy treat.

  “Sir Veldora,” Diablo said as he offered his own plate to him, “here is your promised portion.”

  “Gwaaaaah-ha-ha-ha! You are a man of your word, Diablo!”

  Talk about a cheap bribe.

  “You don’t want any, Diablo?” I asked, figuring Haruna could always scare up another one, but Diablo bowed politely in response. “I paid my portion in exchange for the information I received. There is no need to be concerned for me.”

  What a gentleman. A man of his word, indeed. Although I didn’t see why custard was worth making such a big deal about. But if that was what Diablo preferred, more power to him.

  “Oh? Well, all right. Still,” I said, changing the subject, “it’s funny how you came back right in the middle of Walpurgis. We must’ve passed right by each other.”

  He was gone when I left at midnight, after all. I figured we couldn’t have missed each other by much. But:

  “Oh, no, my lord. After I was done threatening King Edmaris and his court, I traveled across the Farmus countryside to investigate its financial situation. I wanted to make sure I hadn’t overlooked anything in my plans, but then Sir Veldora ordered me back here.”

  That sounded, um, important. Veldora rose to his feet, almost knocking over his chair.

  “I, er, I have an errand to attend to.”

  “Hold it right there, Veldora.”

  I rose quickly, grabbing him by the shoulder.

  “W-wait! I can explain!”

  “No, you can’t! Stop getting in the way of people’s work!”

  I confiscated the custard from Veldora’s overeager hands, ordering Haruna to exempt him from dessert privileges for a while. He could cry about it all he wanted, but I couldn’t let this pass. I swear, you can never let your guard down around the guy. Maybe it was fortuitous in the end, what with Veldora stopping by Walpurgis and lending a hand, but that didn’t matter. If I let this slide, who knew what nonsense could arise next time.

  It’s a good thing the capable Diablo was around to handle matters, but what if Veldora had bothered one of my other friends with his self-centered requests? It made me shudder. The Storm Dragon giving out orders would mess up the whole chain of command I had going. That’s why I made damn sure he checked with me next time before trying anything like that.

  * * *

  Fortunately, Diablo had no other pressing business in Farmus, apart from the peace talks five days from now. He had delegated his authority to others for the rest of the work, so for now he was fine serving me. “As your butler,” he said, “I couldn’t think of abandoning your side.” That made Shion wince, but I had to hand it to him.

  So about those peace talks.

  “Oh, you think I oughtta attend, too?”

  “No sir, I can handle things well enough alone.”

  I always found it reassuring during high-stakes meetings to have my boss in attendance, but to a born achiever like Diablo, it wasn’t necessary. In fact, as he put it, my presence at the palace would crush the nobles’ “will to fight”—I didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, but I was sure things were safe in his hands.

  For now, at least, I felt assured that the whole Farmus invasion thing could be filed into a cabinet in the recesses of my mind.

  And then, everything went exactly as Diablo pictured it.

  All the nation’s nobles gathered at the palace to hold a session of parliament. This one was far more intense than the last, and the king and his ministers looked deeply troubled. Even the members of the anti-royalist contingent were visibly distressed, adding to the electricity in the air.

  “We are here today,” the king began, “to discuss our campaign to dispatch Tempest. I regret to inform you that the Storm Dragon wiped out our forces on the battlefield. The only survivors were Razen, Reyhiem, and myself. We were defeated.”

  The explosive report sent shock waves across the meeting hall. The brutal state of affairs in Farmus, as explained by the king, was unbelievable enough, but what he had to say next subjected him to withering criticism from the nobles. Which was to be expected. He was, after all, declaring that he would accept the monsters’ conditions and offer them war reparations…to the tune of ten thousand stellars.

  “That’s madness! One stellar is a hundred gold coins. We’re going to gift them a million gold?!”

  “Why would we ever pay such a ransom to a horde of monsters? I refuse to let this happen on my watch!”

  “And even if we emptied the national treasury, would we even be able to cobble together that much cash?!”

  Given the role of stellar gold coins as a sort of physical bond certificate traded among nations, most realms rarely had even a hundred on hand. The land of Farmus was large, indeed, but maybe they could scare up a thousand if they wanted to. If this was to be paid in regular gold-coin currency, the logistics behind the delivery gave the nobility understandable pause. If this was a nation they had formal relations with, the debt could be paid with a broad assortment of goods, but those were terms they couldn’t offer to a brand-new nation, much less one run by monsters. Either way, it was sure to be a major blow on Farmus’s economy.

  Diablo knew that ten thousand stellars was an impossible request. Of course the nobles would complain about it. To them, who hadn’t set foot near the battlefield, they could never truly understand the threat. There wasn’t enough awareness among them that the future of their nation was at stake.

  It therefore did not take long before their complaints morphed into a drive to continue the war.

  “Indeed, surrendering to their forces would be absurd. We have no guarantee that our adversaries would honor their promises and keep their hands off our people.”

  “Our only option is to resist to the bitter end. I would gladly stake my pride to say that our forces could easily defeat a dragon that has only just awoken!”

  “With Veldora as our opponent, the Western Holy Church will not stand by idly. I imagine the beautiful, talented Hinata will take action.”

  “Ah yes, the captain of the Crusaders? She is a vixen, a cold and calculating one, but we can always count on her at times like this.”

  “The Holy Church is known across the land for being Veldora’s mortal enemy!”

  “Don’t forget about the Hero.”

  “Ah yes, ‘Lightspeed’ Masayuki of Englesia!”

  “Exactly. The strongest Hero of them all, a man who slew his foes before they even knew what happened to them. I’m certain he will show Veldora in short order that Lightspeed is no mere nickname!”

  “Yes! That’s the spirit! We’ll clear those monsters away in the blink of an eye!”

  The nobles were growing restless, bragging about all the impossible things they would accomplish. The objective, to them, was theirs for the taking—they just wanted someone else to take it for them. The royalist ministers watching began to feel terribly awkward—it reminded them too much of when the king first broke the news to them. Some visibly reddened as they sighed in despair, while others silently reflected on what their leader must have felt back then.

  King Edmaris, to his credit, understood what was running through the minds of the nobles he had assembled. The war hawks were doggedly interested in preserving their own interests and no one else’s. They didn’t care about Farmus itself, nor the lives or property of the people who dwelled in it. Their supreme, serene confidence stemmed from the fact that they had no intention of really fighting for it.

 
The king knew it would turn out like this. The landed nobility here had yet to grasp the reality of it all. They had tasted none of the terror; they had no interest in facing the brunt of this menace. They just wanted to stay holed up in a safe place and make someone else duke it out. If it ended in defeat, they would all refuse to be held responsible for it, no doubt.

  And maybe they could’ve gotten away with coasting like that before. Farmus was large, its land giving it several decisive advantages over its neighbors. But that wasn’t going to work now. Putting the screws to nearby nations wouldn’t accomplish anything—and besides, their foe was a catastrophe-class monster who laid waste to an entire army single-handed.

  The nobles’ rage continued, most of them shouting for the king to shoulder the blame. The royal family should pay the reparations out of their own pockets; the monsters’ demands must be refused; Farmus must prepare itself for total war.

  In a way, they weren’t mistaken, but they were missing a vital point. Farmus had already lost most of its internal ability to fight—something that, perhaps, they were refusing to believe. When this was pointed out to them, some turned white with horror, while others brazenly challenged any affront. Just as King Edmaris feared, the nobility refused to work as a coherent group.

  As the parliament grew more chaotic, Edward, the king’s half brother and leader of the anti-royalist nobility sect, chose that moment to speak.

  “My brother… Your Majesty! Even if you abandon the throne, you cannot avoid your responsibility! Is a king as proud as yourself truly admitting defeat so easily?”

  “…Edward, listen to me. We are pitted against Veldora, the Storm Dragon. My pride, compared with his tyranny, is a mere pile of ashes! You will never see me willing to face such terror again in my life. Or if it is such a matter of pride to you, will you take up the fight? I will not stop you! But I do believe that it will result in nothing but more blood on your hands.”

  “No, I… My liege, if everything you are claiming is the truth, are you not attempting to flee the nation by yourself?”

  “There is no place to flee to, you simpleton! That is exactly why I intend to pay the money and abdicate the throne.”

  Just as he aimed to pursue the king’s responsibility, Edward found himself stunned into silence by his brother’s uncharacteristic vigor.

  “If I do not abdicate,” the king continued, lowering his voice, “then Farmus will become either a colony or a state at war. Are you all right with that? It will mark the end of this nation.”

  “Ngh… But simply surrendering to this monster force…”

  Edward’s voice slowed, his mind still refusing to accept the facts. He was interrupted by the timid voice of Lord Hellman, speaking up just as the meeting hall grew quiet.

  “May I have a moment? I received these documents in the morning today. Its content is so vital to this question that I wish to share it with all of you now…”

  He had on him a declaration from the kingdom of Blumund. In it, the nation reaffirmed its support for the land of Tempest and criticized Farmus’s failed campaign. It was, in short, an attack on Farmus.

  “Where does such a tiny kingdom get the nerve?!”

  “As if they would have said anything if we won. They think they can enjoy the last laugh, don’t they?”

  The bad news for the fuming nobles didn’t end there. The minister of trade then reported receiving a similar announcement from the Dwarven Kingdom earlier. This made even the most hardcore of the war hawks demur, their words growing weaker by the moment.

  “Blumund may not be a concern, but if the Armed Nation takes action, that bodes very poorly for us. Do you think King Gazel will maintain his neutrality?”

  “The issue,” the earl reasoned, “is less that and more the power of his words. As a vital trade partner, it would be bad for us to anger their king.”

  A gloomy silence fell over the meeting hall—only to be broken by a pale-faced soldier barging into the room at a full gallop.

  “Sir! We’ve just received an emergency report from the Guild!”

  Despite the fact that a top-level legislative meeting was being held, none of the guards stopped him. That was thanks to the authority allowed by the Top-Secret Vital Emergency Transmission dossier in his hand. The prominent label made even the most contrarian of the nobles fall silent. This level of secrecy was authorized only for Special S-grade dangers; the Free Guild had a deal with the world’s governments where impeding its delivery was a crime as serious as treason.

  “Give it to us,” King Edmaris flatly stated. With a shaky hand, the soldier extracted a sheet of paper from the envelope and slowly read.

  “The monster Rimuru, who has named himself overseer of the Forest of Jura, has reportedly declared himself to be a demon lord!”

  “What?!”

  “That…!”

  “It is in fact good news, no? Our nation is saved!”

  “Yes, the other demon lords will not take kindly to this. This Rimuru fellow has sorely overreached. He will learn the terror a true demon lord brings to the world shortly.”

  “And if all goes well, perhaps the other demon lords will defeat Veldora alongside him!”

  Cheers erupted from the nobility the moment the messenger paused to take a breath. What the soldier had to say next quickly restored the silence.

  “…We have word that, resisting this declaration, the demon lord Clayman challenged Rimuru—er, the demon lord Rimuru—to a duel and lost his life in the process!”

  Gasps filled the room.

  “…Haaah?”

  “Impossible…”

  “Where is Carillon, the Beast Master? What happened to Frey, the Sky Queen? Are they simply letting this upstart take over the Forest of Jura?!”

  The shock was real. Now their foe was a full-fledged demon lord. But as the nobility questioned what the demon lords adjacent to Jura were doing, the soldier finished reading the missive.

  “…Regarding Carillon and Frey, they have reportedly renounced their seats as demon lords and agreed to affiliate themselves with the demon lord Milim. The group is in the midst of restructuring itself, its eight current members naming themselves…the Octagram!”

  The anti-royalists fell completely silent. They knew, now, that their adversary Rimuru was part of this new Octagram. Even the royalists, tipped off to this news in advance, looked tense and nervous. No matter how many times they heard it, the report was so difficult to believe that it drove them to silence as well.

  It seemed the source for this report was the demon lords themselves, who all signed a directive disseminated to the Guild. There was no questioning its veracity. The demon lords were all so powerful, there was no need for them to resort to tricking the human race to fulfill their needs.

  With a slow, solemn voice, King Edmaris spoke.

  “Did you hear that, everyone? Veldora is a threat, but this monster Rimuru is another one entirely. A monster beyond all imagination, one who apparently made short work of the demon lord Clayman. Have we had enough debate yet? I have already made up my mind. I will abdicate the throne. It was foolish of me to proclaim this was for our nation’s sake, when I had barely any clue about the foe we prodded. It was my mistake, driven by pure greed. If only I had taken another approach, perhaps they could have been good neighbors to us.”

  By the king’s reasoning, his departure could help build a new relationship. None of the nobles listening to him voiced any disagreement. Now they understood. The only way forward was to do what King Edmaris said.

  “Thus, I will leave my post as king…and I wish to nominate Edward as my successor.”

  “My brother…!”

  “What?!”

  “Not Prince Edgar?!”

  The hall was thrown into chaos once more.

  It was a given that Edmaris would give the throne to the sole prince of the nation. That was why Edward was working so hard to make his presence known. He knew Edmaris, his elder brother, had to go, and the opportunit
y was like a dream to him—even if Prince Edgar was awarded the throne, it was still a golden chance to state his case for next time. The prince was only ten years old, but as long as the king’s brother was still alive, he would not have another regent ruling in his stead. If (Edward thought) he could plant the seeds of uncertainty and doubt in the nobility’s minds, he could make them think that he was the only viable choice for the throne, at least until Edgar reached adulthood.

  Now, that had all been taken care of for him. He smiled in front of the throne.

  “We face difficult times ahead,” muttered Edmaris bitterly. “Edgar is still too young. He will have trouble overcoming any of it.”

  Reactions were varied, but a healthy contingent was already convinced. The Marquis of Muller spoke first: “I believe that is the best solution, my liege.”

  Edward internally gloated at this. If he had the head of the neutral faction’s endorsement, there was no overturning this decision. And once he had the throne, this crisis could be deftly handled—such was his conviction. They could find one way or another to delay the payments, buying time to get their neighbors involved and go on the offensive. As the anti-royalist nobles proposed to him earlier, they could even form a cross-humanity alliance of sorts, bringing paladins and Heroes together to fight for the entire world.

  And maybe none of that would be needed at all. A new king meant a new administration, and there was no reason why that government needed to follow the old one’s agreements. They could declare the debt null and void, and that would be it. If Tempest complained about it, they could just keep pinning the blame on Edmaris, the ex-king.

  It was a simple thing, but it was enough to convince Edward. Heh-heh-heh… This nation will reach new heights of prosperity under my rule. He smiled broadly, basking in the glow of his newfound power—never realizing that this, too, was all part of the script.

  The session proceeded more smoothly from there. Problems were brought up; adjustments were made down to the last detail. By the end of the day, they had a final outline that was approved by unanimous vote for use in the peace talks.