by Fuse
Usually, figuring out the state of the national treasury required careful analysis over at least several years. Here, though, the downward trend was both looming and blindingly obvious over the previous fiscal cycle. Month after month, the figures spoke volumes. After a certain point in time, trade-based revenue simply fell through the floor.
The Kingdom of Farmus, thanks to its geographical location, had a hand in almost every international exchange with the Dwarven Kingdom. It was part of why it served as the front gate, so to speak, for the Western Nations. They had the strength of direct trade with the kingdom; no need for dangerous sea or land routes. The high taxes they levied on the goods they imported from there and sold elsewhere provided enormous profits for them.
But then, one day, the number of adventurers passing into the nation started to dwindle. Previously, Farmus had been rather bustling with adventurers, all bringing a tidy amount of cash to purchase Dwargon-made weapons and armor. The potions Farmus could provide literally saved lives; adventurers could never have enough of them.
After a while, though, the number of itinerant merchants fell alongside the adventurers. They were seeing similar crowds of them from the direction of Englesia still, but the flow from Blumund and other nations neighboring Jura provided far more profit to them—with the lack of any other competition, Farmus was able to sell potions to these merchants at practically usurious prices. And now those people were gone. With all these foreign visitors suddenly disappearing, of course, it didn’t take long for the inns and taverns that served them to suffer.
The numbers were clear as day on paper within a month, so the economy minister hurriedly ordered his department to find the cause. The report that came back was enough to shock the entire cabinet.
“A new town has been established in the Forest of Jura—a town inhabited by monsters.”
The news, provided by a spy sent into the forest, made King Edmaris whisper “It can’t be” the moment he laid eyes upon it. But he remained composed. He was the ruler of a nation, and he needed to project his authority as king.
I cannot believe it…but I must. The most important thing is: How will I connect this to our own profit?
His outstanding intellect pointed itself toward the future.
Before long, Edmaris ordered an emergency meeting among all the provincial lords of his kingdom.
“But, my lord, the merchants are keenly aware of their own self-interests. They are already traveling to this land of monsters, avoiding Farmus entirely.”
“It is said the nation provides a safe route all the way to the Dwarven Kingdom…”
“I heard the same. They have these ‘stations,’ I hear—small guardhouses located every dozen miles or so, each with sentry monsters assigned to them…”
“It is a difficult tale to swallow, but several trustworthy merchants have confirmed it. If a traveler is attacked in the midst of their journey, they can apparently launch these flares provided to them in town to signal the monsters. Help arrives in five minutes or less.”
“What?!”
The ministers and nobility called to the conference seemed ready to leap right out of their chairs as they exchanged the stories. Wild, seemingly unbelievable tales flew out of their mouths. None of them could hide their shock.
The Forest of Jura was teeming with monsters. Thanks to its vast size, only low-threat creatures lived in the borderlands near human civilization. But that wasn’t always the case. You saw the odd B-ranked (or above) monster from time to time. The very idea of building a town smack-dab in the middle of this chaos—and even building links to it from Blumund to Dwargon? How much money, and how much military power, would that take? No one at the conference could begin to imagine. Even outside the forest, they had to expend a hefty chunk of tax revenue defending the border villages and towns. They were the nation’s shield, but every shield needed the occasional upkeep.
And monsters lived in this town? That was unheard of.
The nation was apparently led by one calling itself the head of the Forest of Jura. It did not, however, call itself a demon lord; it even wanted to build friendly relationships with human nations. A monster building a nation-state. It was crazy talk.
King Edmaris raised a hand to silence the room, turning an eye toward one of his ministers.
“The nation,” he said upon the king’s order, “is known as the ‘Jura-Tempest Federation.’ The merchants refer to it simply as ‘Tempest.’ It is led by Rimuru Tempest, a slime who has apparently—”
“A what?! Are you kidding me?!”
The minister was cut off by a young man with dark hair and dark eyes who stormed up to his feet. Not a single minister or nobleman would dare to exhibit such rudeness before the king—but this man lived in a realm where politeness didn’t pay the bills. If anything, he was in a position to be forgiven for such outbursts.
He was, in other words, a champion of Farmus. An otherworlder. Thus, nobody took offense at his outburst—or, to be more exact, they didn’t voice any complaints if they did. Some of the more powerful nobles clearly looked down on him, but nobody needed the facts spelled out for them. Publicly revealing any enmity would put a dent in one’s own profits.
This was a human weapon, one of the people summoned by Farmus’s triennial “summon ceremonies” and a man gifted in battle skills. His name was Shogo Taguchi, a twenty-year-old Japanese man.
“Enough, Shogo,” chided Chief Sorcerer Razen. “Hear out the report to the end.”
“But a slime? That’s the lowest of the low. How can some vermin like that become lord of the entire forest? Or—what, is the forest that full of wimps? Are you guys training me day in, day out just to swat a bunch of pathetic little monsters?!”
As part of this “training,” Shogo had managed to seriously injure ten or so of Farmus’s most elite knights just yesterday. Razen smiled bitterly as he recalled the events. This young man, Shogo, undoubtedly wielded tremendous power—but his heart, his mind were too raw and immature to bear it. It had been three years since he was summoned at the age of seventeen, and in Razen’s eyes, his ferocity had risen by the day ever since. If he weren’t being subdued by the controlling magic placed upon him during the summon, he’d be a bomb big enough to raze an entire nation. Lucky for Farmus, then, that the controlling magic was absolute in its force.
“I said, silence.”
“Geh.”
Shogo returned to his seat, humbly following Razen’s trigger word. Anger still burned in his eyes, but Razen was too dignified in his role as head magician to pay it any heed.
“Sir Razen,” a clear voice rang out, “I feel Shogo does not mean any ill will. In our world, slimes are notorious for being about the easiest monster there is to kill—well, it depends on the game, actually, but either way.”
“Ah, Kyoya. If you are in attendance, please help us keep Shogo on his best behavior. We are sharing a room with His Highness. Do not place further shame upon me!”
The man called Kyoya was another otherworlder summoned from Japan. His full name was Kyoya Tachibana, and he had been brought here after being summoned into a small nation a ways from Farmus. This made him the newest face among the kingdom’s otherworlders, and now he shrugged in a show of allegiance and glanced at Shogo. The other young man nodded, fell silent, and turned to hear the conversation. Razen, seeing this, asked the minister to continue.
This town called Tempest was apparently home to a large number of monsters evolved from goblins, orcs, and so on.
In the self-declared neutral Dwarven Kingdom, it wasn’t uncommon to see creatures like hobgoblins, orcs, and kobolds, but that was the exception that proved the rule. An entire settlement of evolved monsters was something far beyond the realm of common sense for them all.
Occasionally, every few years, you’d see the leader of a pack or herd spontaneously evolve into a higher-level creature. Whenever one was found, they were largely hunted down at once before they grew any more powerful. In human eyes, the w
ay Dwargon freely associated with such beasts was virtually heretical.
Here, meanwhile, every townsperson was evolved. You likely wouldn’t see anything similar in history, no matter how many centuries you turned back the clock. But there was no doubting their spy’s report.
With that in mind, suppressing this upstart federation would be everyone’s likely first instinct…but it wouldn’t be so easy this time. These were monsters with demi-human traits; they had access to knowledge and technology, clearing out the forests, building highways, and even using human language to conduct business. That, and the rumors of that “station” system along the road—another spy report. Each one was officially called a “substation,” manned with monsters who worked in shifts day and night.
These substations, as the minister calmly explained, were positioned in relevant spots up and down the highway. They had served as temporary lodging for the crews who built the road before being repurposed for this role—and the monsters stationed inside were tasked with keeping travelers safe.
“Substations?” Shogo sneered. “What are these, cops?”
“Shogo—”
“Yes, Razen. Silence. I get it.”
“No. What are these ‘cops’ you speak of?”
“Huh? Um, you know, a cop…?”
Kyoya snickered at the awkward exchange as he provided Razen a quick rundown of how policing worked on planet Earth.
“Hoh… An organization of sentinels, each charged with their own parcel of land to patrol. I see. But how could a horde of monsters keep this going?”
“Well, maybe there’s an otherworlder like us with them. If he has the right abilities, maybe it’s really easy for this guy to make nice with the monsters.”
“Huh? Who would go through all that trouble, I ask? If this hypothetical otherworlder was that powerful, he would have no problem surviving in this world alone. Why would he go through all the trouble of drawing attention to himself like this?”
“Yeah, that’s a good point.”
Shogo and Kyoya quickly lost interest in the topic, but Razen was still intent upon it, face grave as he thought.
…An otherworlder? Could that be a possibility? Yes, that does sound rather more convincing now…
He nodded back at King Edmaris, noticing the ruler’s eyes upon him. Having a potential otherworlder lurking in the shadows behind this problem nation was a concern, but he wanted to signal his leader that he didn’t see it as a major hindrance to their plan. Razen and his apprentices had summoned far more otherworlders than just Shogo and Kyoya. A possibility was just that—a possibility, one they could weave into their plan of action. No problems to speak of.
Heh-heh…, thought Razen as the minister continued. Even if they do have an otherworlder as a leader, they are nothing compared to Shogo, the greatest weapon in our arsenal…
Farmus was hosting fewer merchants, and that meant the country’s finances were looking grim. Once the minister finished explaining that, he went to the main topic of this emergency meeting—the news that there was a new town in the Forest of Jura, one that adventurers were using as a base to gather monster-derived ingredients.
This town offered potions for sale that were just as good as, if not better than, those manufactured by the dwarves, plus a blacksmith at least capable of performing basic weapons and armor maintenance. Some merchants had even taken up permanent residence, no longer having to travel the world over to sell the items they’d harvested. No wonder the place had become a magnet for adventurers. As far from the forest as it was, there was no longer any reason for them to travel to Farmus’s capital.
And that wasn’t the thorniest issue. The big one—the public reason why the king convened this meeting of nobility—was the stable road link now established between the Dwarven Kingdom and the land of Blumund. A brand-new highway, one patrolled by demi-human monsters who guaranteed its safety as a trade route. It meant that most merchants could now travel directly to Dwargon without having to circle through Farmus.
This they could not afford to ignore. If they let it slide, it could grow into a life-or-death issue for the kingdom. Farmus, after all, had no real manufacturing specialties to speak of. It had no resources under the ground to mine. Having the Dwarven Kingdom next door meant its own industry was still pretty low-level. It grew enough crops to keep its own people from starving, but that wouldn’t be enough.
The whole economy was dependent on the twin supports of tourism and trade. Without those, what could possibly refill the state’s tax coffers?
The minister saluted King Edmaris as he wrapped up his report. The king nodded back, surveyed the nobility assembled before him, and asked a question.
“Well. What now, then?”
There was nobody to answer him.
The same report the king had seen was distributed among the nobility and ministers in the room, outlining the details behind the just-completed briefing. Everyone gathered was a high-level noble official, deeply involved with running the country and extremely well-heeled. People deep in the core of the central government. People who knew what was at stake if their homeland lost its competitive edge and tax revenue.
They had no answer for the king, but their thoughts were the same. If anyone dared to speak their mind, though, they might be forced to take responsibility for it all. None was brave enough to risk that.
The common thought: Attack this town and burn it to the ground.
Farmus was a vast nation. With the resources it had at hand, it could send a maximum of a hundred thousand soldiers into service. But they were dealing with evolved monsters. Regular infantry would be useless. Well-trained knights or experienced mercenaries would need to be deployed. Unlike battles between fellow human nations, this was an annihilation mission—kill or be killed. It was no place for amateurs. It’d just boost the body count and drag down the rest of their forces.
So how many of these hundred thousand soldiers were actually useful in combat like this?
First, there were the five thousand members of the Farmus Royal Knight Corps, the all-powerful army led by Folgen, its captain. Serving the king directly, it was a pack of elites, allowed to move freely under the king’s orders. Each one of them rated a B in battle, and they boasted a reputation as the most powerful fighters among the Western Nations.
Next, there was the Farmus Sorcerer Alliance, a thousand-strong group of royal magic academy graduates led by Razen. Each one of them was an expert in magic, handpicked for their unique gifts in battle-oriented spells.
After that came the Farmus Noble Knight Federation, an elite corps of five thousand composed of specially selected soldiers (including some of the younger nobles) who served the upper levels of nobility directly. They were a force to be reckoned with, even if they were primarily career soldiers with only sparse experience in actual combat.
Finally, there were the six thousand members of the Farmus Mercenary Brigades. This group was normally charged with keeping the peace inside and outside Farmus with a bare minimum of members, but they could be conscripted for emergencies and have their full strength taken advantage of. Their ranks contained a wealth of ambitious young men and women eager to prove themselves in battle and earn a spot in the ordained knight rolls.
These 17,000 fighters were the standing force for the Kingdom of Farmus, ready to roll out at a moment’s notice. It struck quite a presence, more than enough to dominate over any nearby nation.
But the reports said the monster nation had at least ten thousand inhabitants. If they were all in fact evolved, it likely meant they were a C-ranked force or more, and it wouldn’t be amiss to expect some of them to reach B as well. Even if Farmus was still assured victory, they would have to pay in blood for it—perhaps even the blood of the royal knights and sorcerers, the nation’s greatest treasures. Any casualties in their ranks would no doubt lead to questions and accusations later on. Farmus had spent a fortune cultivating these forces; wasting them in needless combat was out of the question,
and “because we’re afraid of losing our tax base” wouldn’t be enough of an excuse to mollify the nobles.
Given that the mercenary brigades alone were unlikely to bring them victory, it was a must that Farmus devote all its forces to the effort. Everybody in the room came to that conclusion in an instant. If any one of them suggested war, however, they might be the one left holding the bag for maintaining all those armies—and any losses incurred along the way.
And how were they going to explain this to the Western Nations? Especially Blumund, which reportedly already had relations with this monster land? They’d put up a strong resistance, no doubt. Everyone in the diplomatic ranks was too conscious of that thought, and of the future, to dare speak without good reason.
Nobody wanted to lose access to their own interests, but nobody wanted to lose money, either. They didn’t, but doing nothing would lead to unavoidable losses—it may even tip the nation over the brink, if it was weakened enough. Every one of them thought the same thing: We have to do something. If only someone could get the ball rolling for us…
They needed diplomacy to silence their neighbors. Power to make victory in war an assured result. And, more important than anything, a plan for the adventurers living in the monster town. Farmus had to make sure they wouldn’t be hostile—or convince them to join Farmus’s side, even.
All these problems at hand and no profit to be made from it. Keeping the Forest of Jura’s status quo was difficult enough. If they attacked and destroyed an entire nation of monsters, they couldn’t even claim the land for their own provinces. No wonder they were facing a severe lack of volunteers.
King Edmaris knew precisely what all his nobles were thinking. He had the exact same thoughts. The difference was, he was already taking countermeasures.
The moment he heard the briefing, he already had his closest aides on hand, working out how to react. They discussed how to make the most profit from this. The crux of the issue was how to handle it without affecting the national interest.