by Fuse
“Oooh! Oh, yes! Where the Hero Masayuki is, right? Isn’t he really popular?”
“He certainly is. Lightspeed Masayuki, as they call him. He’s dominated the tournaments for years. I’m actually rather a fan of his.”
“You are?!”
Even a hardened merchant like Mjöllmile had his sports allegiances. He began giving an in-depth explanation of the tournament system to Rimuru, failing to notice how he began to yawn almost instantly.
“…So really, nobody’s seen a man’s sword flash that way before. Hence the name Lightspeed, as you see. Occasionally, they hold to-the-death battles with captured monsters, but the Hero’s fighting companions are pretty strong themselves. I’ve been in the audience for some real white-knuckle matches myself. And if you had a spectacle like that… Ah, but I’m sorry. I’ve been talking for far too long. But come to think of it, isn’t your staff pretty strong, too, Rimuru? Who’s the strongest out of—?”
“Whoa! Stop right there! I can’t let you go on, Mjöllmile.”
It was obvious Mjöllmile’s interest would shift over to Benimaru and the rest of Rimuru’s officers, sooner or later. He had met Rigurd and the others several times, and to him, their muscles couldn’t have been just for show. Between them and all the other powerful magic-born he saw around town, he couldn’t help but wonder who was champion among them all. Now seemed like a good time to ask, but Rimuru’s reaction was chilly.
“Listen,” Rimuru said, voice lowered. “Between you and me, if you start talking like that around them, it’s gonna cause some serious disputes, you know? There’s this paladin named Arnaud, and he actually asked the same question back when we were all negotiating earlier. It led to the most insipid argument you ever saw—they were all trying to rank themselves on some impossible-to-understand scale, and it was starting to get pretty heated before I stepped in. I was lucky enough that only part of my staff was there, but seriously, better avoid topics like that. It’s a real powder keg with those guys.”
The one official who’d likely pitch the biggest fit of all about the question wasn’t there, Rimuru said, so he’d managed to talk everyone down from their fervor. He’d been trying to avoid such delicate questions ever since. If his main staff ever got into a real fight with one another, it could affect everything he’d striven to build for his town, and he couldn’t afford to risk that.
“I… I see. My pardons, then.”
“That’s okay. Just be careful around them. But I do like your point of view here…”
Rimuru didn’t seem overly concerned about the issue, unlike Mjöllmile. I’d say he’s a little skewed, too, he thought as he waited for Rimuru to continue.
“There is one vacant section of town. Perhaps we could turn it into an opera house, huh? Maybe that’d encourage people to become playwrights, and that’d lead to some new forms of entertainment. And an arena, huh…?”
He looked at Mjöllmile, and the merchant could almost see the gears turning behind his smile. Great, he thought. He’s got some grandiose plan in mind again. Why does he always have to look like that? He’s good-looking enough as long as he keeps his mouth shut…
“Mollie!”
He shuddered. The moment had come. “Y-yes?”
“You know a lot about battle tournaments, right?” Rimuru stood up and then sat next to Mjöllmile, voice as ingratiating as possible as he practically whispered in his ear. “How ’bout we hold one, then? Can you arrange that for me?”
“N-now, wait just a minute! That’s a lot to put on my plate out of—”
“We can build the arena for you. For now, I just need you to handle the ‘show’ aspect!”
Mjöllmile’s objections fell on deaf ears. There was no point resisting him any longer.
“There’s just no beating you, is there, Rimuru? Every single time. All right. I promise I’ll do my best for you!”
He showed a bit of a smile now. Honestly, Mjöllmile didn’t hate this. In fact, being assigned such a vital mission was like music to his ears. What did he need to put on a show like that? He’d have to both research it and put his thoughts into action. Never in his dreams did he ever think he’d be entrusted with such a large-scale event.
Well, I’m in deep now! I… I’ll never get this chance again!
He didn’t even care if he messed this up. Based on all the business partners he ever had, he knew this man, Rimuru, wasn’t the type to get angry over one failure or the other. He brought ideas into fruition fast, and he could be trusted—the most important thing to any merchant. If he said he’d build an arena, he’d build an arena—as unbelievable as it was to Mjöllmile, he could give his monsters any orders he wanted, and they’d be able to pull it off for him.
He may not look it too often, but Rimuru’s a demon lord. As long as his plans are sound, it’d be simple for him to assemble everything he needed. And now he’s relying on me…
“Good to hear,” Rimuru replied blithely as Mjöllmile’s emotions ran wild. “And I know we’re trying to get lots of world leaders, but make sure regular people can join in the fun, too, okay? You can’t make a profit if it’s not open to the general public, after all. I saw that in Englesia.”
“The general public?”
“Yeah. I’m going to build a coliseum capable of holding fifty thousand people or so. Like I said, there’s some vacant space to work with. If we build that fast-food stand we were talking about nearby, that ought to goose our profits, won’t it? We could have people go around selling food, and besides, the more foot traffic passing by, the more customers we’ll get, right? What do you think, Mollie?”
Rimuru was picturing entertainment for the masses—and taking the masses’ money. A fifty-thousand-seat coliseum would compare to Englesia’s pretty favorably—in fact, it’d be five times that arena’s size. It showed how serious Rimuru was about this.
“You see, we can have some standing-room sections that we’ll let people into at no charge. Meanwhile, we can direct rich people to the reserved seats and charge them appropriately. And then we’ll have royal boxes for the nobility with more money than sense. We’ll also need seats for special guests and invitees and things. I’d like you to figure out the ratios we need for all these seat types, if we want to make as much money as possible.”
Once again, he was leaving it all to Mjöllmile with a smile. Not even Englesia’s arena allowed the farmer and citizen classes to watch arena events for free. Mjöllmile could see the logic to it.
“I see… I thought fifty thousand was too high a number to aim for, but if that’s what you’re picturing…”
“Right. It’s important that we attract people’s interest with this stuff. And if we pack the standing-room sections, won’t that make a reserved seat look more attractive if you can afford it?”
“I bet it would. Better to reserve a spot instead of vying for space you don’t know will be available. That’ll naturally make the seats more valuable.”
This was a completely different approach from the arena in Englesia’s capital, which was chiefly a diversion for the upper classes. The aim here was to build buzz and pack as many people in as possible. It sounded deeply compelling to Mjöllmile. If admission was free, farmers and field laborers would come over to see the show when work didn’t occupy them—and when they spread the word about what they saw, that’d attract the middle classes from neighboring nations.
Besides, having tens of thousands of visitors would no doubt fill up the inns along the highways to Tempest—it’d be kind of neat to build the “fast food” establishments Rimuru described at stops along the way. When they arrived, of course, they’d need somewhere to stay. And if it could help advertise their food, their lodging, their baths, and so on, the arena wouldn’t even need to make a profit. The business all these fans would bring to town could more than make up for it.
“I gotta hand it to you, Rimuru. You had this all planned out from the start, didn’t you…?”
“Huh?! Um, yeah, kind of? Of
course, yes!”
“You have enough hotel rooms for it, I think. The issue becomes how to attract guests on a regular basis. We’ll need to think about boosting our profit margins later, but spreading the word comes first, I think. And that’s what you’re counting on me to help with?”
“Y-yeah. Pretty much.”
“I see, I see. You want me to come up with the kind of entertainment that’ll bring people back again and again. Something that’ll make them contemplate another visit, even if this particular battle tournament turns a loss. If we do that, you’ll consider this a success?”
“…That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m impressed you understand me so well, Mollie. You’re the only man I can trust with this job!”
This job—find ways to attract people to Tempest, using a battle tournament as bait—excited Mjöllmile to the core. And really, Rimuru had all but worked it out by himself before throwing it in his lap. He had to resist the urge to shout out loud with excitement.
“Heh…heh-heh… This is just too much…”
“Hey, it’s best to leave things like this to a professional, right? Don’t tell me you don’t feel up to it, Mollie?”
“Ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! How harsh of you. I never realized you had such a mean streak, Rimuru.”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Right you are! But this is a piece of cake for you, isn’t it?”
They both laughed loudly at each other—then exchanged sly glances.
“You realize how much money is going to change hands here, hmm? I’m sure you do.”
“Heh-heh-heh-heh… Not to worry. You have Mjöllmile on your side, and accounting is my middle name. Just watch—I’m going to give you exactly the results you want!”
“I’m sure you will. Counting on you is the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”
Rimuru was right. This tournament would take a lot of money. He honestly scared Mjöllmile sometimes. He began to wonder just how far ahead he was thinking. The thought gave him vague fears, even as his mind filled with wild dreams.
“Now, along those lines, I think I’ve stumbled upon a new way we can use your healing potions. That medicine can heal you as long as you are not killed instantly, yes? That means our competitors can fight with no small level of intensity, I assume. Plus, if a fighter is injured in one match and appears good as new in the next one, that would certainly make for some good advertising.”
“Wha?!”
“Oh, did you not think that far?”
“N-no, um, I did. It’s just that, you know, I wanted to see if your thoughts were any different from mine.”
“Ah, I see! Yes, I’m sure you’ve already considered that much, Rimuru, heh-heh-heh… But I’m not done yet!”
Mjöllmile began to lay out idea after idea for him. This turned into a volley of brainstorming and compliments on the ideas. One concept was advertising the healing potion at the tournament, then selling it on-site to adventurers. Another involved weapon and armor rentals and sales.
“Even Kurobe’s failures at the forge are pretty off the charts when it comes to raw power. We can’t sell those to just anyone, but he has a workshop full of apprentices these days. Offering their stuff shouldn’t be an issue.”
They decided to give it a shot.
Another idea thrown around was state-run betting operations. This also existed in Englesia, where even simple pick ’em bets were netting huge amounts of revenue at the arena. They could do the same thing pitting warriors against captured monsters—which had its risks, of course, but Rimuru had a small army of powerful fighters at this point, so it wasn’t nearly the hazard Mjöllmile pictured. Maybe they could even offer training courses for beginner adventurers, reserving part of the arena’s space as a dojo of sorts. The lessons would be paid, of course, but they’d come with qualified instructors to guide newbies through the basics.
The ideas came rolling one after the other from Mjöllmile. As long as Rimuru was providing his full support, he felt like he’d never run out of them. He couldn’t stop thinking about how huge his role was, dreaming up possibilities and being responsible for making them happen. It was a bit daunting, but far more than that, exciting.
“I’ll do it,” he said with a shiver. “I’ll do it all for you! My merchant’s soul is telling me we’re going to make a massive pile of money on this!”
“Excellent! I love that confidence of yours, Mollie! And I know you got what it takes to give me the kind of revenue I want!”
Rimuru’s praise embarrassed Mjöllmile a bit. But he wasn’t done yet.
“Also, um, if you’re interested, of course, if this whole tournament turns out well, you wanna come live in my town? I could make a trade department for you—or maybe a PR firm or general financial office. It doesn’t matter what we call it, actually, but I could let you run it all. I got a pretty big population to govern these days, and once the tournament’s over, I think it’s high time we reorganize our administration. I’m sure everyone will agree to it, as long as you can pull this off. What d’you think?”
Rimuru sounded like he didn’t doubt Mjöllmile at all. It made his heart dance. The question “What d’you think?” plucked his heartstrings like a master harpist, and the melodies echoed over and over through his mind like a concert hall.
He gave him a strong nod. “…There’s just no beating you, Rimuru. Or should I start calling you Sir Rimuru? I promise you, Sir Rimuru, I’ll do whatever it takes to succeed and join your team!”
There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation. How could there ever be? This man has counted on me so far, he thought. I can’t let myself mess this up!
As advanced as he was in age, Mjöllmile was now captive to the burning fires of excitement and hope and dreams in his heart. He could barely stay seated. He wished he could bottle this feeling up in a jar and keep it nearby forever.
“You don’t have to exaggerate.” Rimuru laughed, but the more they got into details, the more Mjöllmile felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. Pulling this event off, and becoming Rimuru’s trusted associate, was his new ambition in life, and he was ready to fight tooth and nail to make it happen.
Once Rimuru left, Mjöllmile called over his retainers and servants.
“What did Sir Rimuru want from you, Sir Mjöllmile?” asked Bydd, the former C-level adventurer who was now the merchant’s personal bodyguard.
“Bydd,” Mjöllmile replied with an elated nod, “things are about to get very busy.”
“Oh, did he give you another impossible task? I like all the ideas he has, but I wish he understood how much he puts you through the wringer, huh?”
He laughed, but he didn’t really mean it. Just like Mjöllmile, Bydd owed Rimuru his life. He was one of the demon lord’s greatest fans, and while he described it as a wringer, Bydd probably enjoyed the wringing more than anyone else.
Mjöllmile chuckled back at him. “Bydd, this is gonna be nothing like you’ve ever seen before. Everything I’ve done up to now was like selling pencils on the street corner compared with what’s coming. I’ll be wagering my destiny on this one.”
He already looked like a mob boss, but Mjöllmile’s smile only added to his foreboding presence. His retainers were used to it, but none could hide their surprise upon hearing this declaration.
“What d’you mean by that, Boss?” his chief butler asked. His boss gave him a quick recap—running a battle tournament alongside the Founder’s Festival, together with a test run of their upcoming fast-food concept. The festival itself would be a show of force for the newly ascended Rimuru, an effort all of Tempest was pitching in for, and the scope of it was likely beyond even Mjöllmile’s imagination. His excitement at receiving such a vital assignment was plain as he explained to the staff.
“Thus, I’ve decided,” he concluded, “that I want to become part of Rimuru’s team. No matter what, I have to make sure this is a huge success!”
His servants began to chatter among themselves. Mjöllmile, it seemed, had no intention of retur
ning to Blumund. It caused quite a stir.
“Heh-heh… You ain’t planning on going alone, are you, Sir Mjöllmile? Maybe I’m just some punk off the street, but I’m still your bodyguard. The gang I got under me practically worships Sir Rimuru. Take me along with ya!”
“You wouldn’t be able to guard so much as a flea over there.”
“Aw, come on!”
“But if you would like to assist me in other ways, I suppose I could bring you alone.”
“Sure thing, Boss! I’ll do anything for you! I ain’t exactly intelligent, but I got street smarts, you know.”
Bydd likely did, given his swindler past, although it left Mjöllmile less than convinced.
“Bahhh, all right. The more the merrier, I suppose! And I bet that gang of yours could provide at least a little security, if they know they’ll get a meal out of it. Let’s take ’em along. Now,” he continued, turning toward his retainers, “what about you? You’re free to continue using this manor if you like.”
“Let us join you, sir!” they said in near unison. There was no hesitation among them; after all, Mjöllmile had trained them. Nothing was keeping them in this nation.
It was decided…and now, the real work began. As a full-fledged citizen of Blumund and member of the Free Guild, Mjöllmile had the freedom to travel to other nations. But as a man who believed in fast action once he made a decision, he felt a duty to the business he had remaining in town. There was no need for anxiety about the future.
“You,” he said, pointing out one of his most talented employees. “You’ve proven yourself qualified enough. D’you think you could run things here for me?”
“S-Sir?! This is so sudden…”
“Well, I mean… I appreciate that you’d like to join me, but think about it. We’ll be starting completely from scratch in Sir Rimuru’s domain. I’m planning to be a big success and win over his trust, but I don’t want you to run that gauntlet, too.”
This was a cover story. In truth, he didn’t want to sell this manor and lose his base of operations in Blumund. Ideally, a few of his people would remain here, keeping the lights on whenever his work brought him back.
