by Fuse
From the lizardmen, we had the chief, the head of the chief’s guard, and her assistant. Gabil was currently in a cell somewhere on charges of treason. Son of the chief or not, they couldn’t exactly let his acts go unpunished. As idiotic as he was, a lot about him piqued my interest. But I was still in no position to provide unsolicited advice on his treatment.
The goblins were represented by each chief of the assorted villages, somewhat huddled at the far corner of the table as they marveled at all the high-level monsters surrounding them. That was understandable, given how there was a dryad in the room, something they never would’ve imagined seeing even if they lived to be a thousand years old.
Finally, from the orcs, there was the sole surviving orc general, along with sixteen chiefs from their tribal federation. The mood was understandably gloomy among them, given how they were the main catalyst of all this. Whether the orc lord had seized their minds or not, it wasn’t like they were completely free of responsibility. They must have known that, judging by the hangdog looks on their faces.
It wasn’t just guilt driving them, either. They were near the end of the food supply they had brought with them. Soei told me they carried little with them, and Geld the demon lord didn’t offer much to them, either. They were in danger of starving all over again, except this time, they weren’t under the spell of a unique skill that kept them pressing forward. Cannibalizing one another to do so. That certainly wasn’t normal orc behavior. In fact, being freed from the spell made some of the orcs faint immediately from malnutrition.
Their current situation cast a pall over the entire tent. The orcs had no meaningful reparations to offer, everyone knew, even if they had asked. Their whole impetus for going to war, in fact, was the desperate starvation they faced in their homeland.
There were still around 150,000 left, and I doubted they had the ability to feed themselves at all. All those soldiers, and they still lacked the will to continue warring. Nothing summed up their mental state better at the moment.
Without Ravenous, they really would starve—and my peek into Geld’s memories taught me even more. I had mentioned the number 150,000, but those survivors also included women, the elderly, and children. In other words, the entirety of every orc clan was right there, in the marshes.
The issue was a famine.
The lands ruled by demon lords were generally safe zones with bountiful arable lands, protected by the great powers of those who ruled over them. Even if a monster or magical beast stirred up trouble, the magic-borns who served the demon lord would ensure that law and order ruled the day.
All of that, of course, came at a cost—in this case, high taxes. In exchange for living among fertile lands, the citizens were required to give up a healthy percentage of their harvest on a yearly basis. And the orcs, who tended to multiply quickly when they had the resources, were an indispensable part of demon lord lands, their labor keeping the farms and mines humming along smoothly.
Failure to pay these taxes, though, meant death, though not at the hands of the local demon lord himself. The lands were dangerous. Many monsters attacked it, seeking bounties for themselves. If anyone didn’t pay their due to the lord, the lord wasn’t obliged to protect them. And that was that.
The orcs were normally able to take care of themselves well enough. Even if an attack killed off half, they reproduced so quickly that their numbers were right back to normal before long. But the current famine made it impossible to pay their tax to the demon lord—or lords, as it happened. The orcs’ territory had the misfortune to border the domains of three different demon lords. Attempting to raid the lands of such powerful beings would mark the end of the orc species, but without the protection their taxes bought them, they had no way of surviving in the suddenly barren land they called home.
So they streamed into the Forest of Jura, all but chased away from their homes, in search of food. They wandered around its fringes for a bit, fighting off the hunger, and that was when the orc lord was born. But even that wasn’t enough to make them strong enough to fend off the monsters that harangued them constantly.
It was at that point when Gelmud extended a hand to them. Help they readily accepted, not realizing what was motivating this unexpected benefactor. And that was when their troubles began.
That was about all I knew about them. I didn’t have the fine details, exactly, but I was still able to glean that much from Geld’s mind just before he vanished. Could I use that info to help them, though? The thought weighed heavily in my mind—just like it in did in everyone else’s—as we got started.
Hakuro would serve as mediator. I asked the lizardman’s chief guard to take the position, but she refused. “The role is too weighty for me!” she protested. It felt weird to have the losing side in charge of the negotiation, so I threw the responsibility at—er, I mean, asked Hakuro to handle it, since he was practically born for it anyway.
Once he declared the meeting under way, silence fell. No one dared open their mouths, instead turning right toward me.
What a pain. I really hate meetings. Companies that hold lots of meetings never actually accomplish anything. The important stuff should be left to people capable of handling it, really. But ah well.
“Well,” I began, “before we get down to business, I’d like to tell all of you what I know at this point.”
Everyone’s faces tensed up. I tried my best to ignore it as I discussed what I learned from Geld’s memories, as well as what Soei had researched for me. The reason why the orcs took up arms, and the current state of their affairs. The orc delegation looked at me wide-eyed. I guess they weren’t expecting this to come up. As I continued, some began shedding tears. Perhaps they didn’t think they’d have a chance to give their side at all. Perhaps they were prepared to die on the spot.
Then I gave Hakuro a look, indicating that I wanted to move on.
“Ahem! In that case,” he said. “I would like to make sure all of us are on the same page when it comes to the casualties wrought by this invasion.”
The conference slowly sprang into action, the lizardmen going first. As they reported their numbers lost, the orcs hung their heads, unable to speak.
“Well then,” Hakuro ventured, “do you have any demands you wish to make of the orcs, Chief?”
I’d never been in a war myself, so I wouldn’t know, but when it came to asking for compensation, the winning side had a lot of say in how that worked. No way I’d have the confidence to run a conference like this.
“Not particularly,” the chief replied. “This victory was one we earned through none of our own doing. It came thanks to the aid of Sir Rimuru.”
Thus, he essentially forfeited the right to ask for reparations. Not that he could’ve expected to get much out of them.
So were the orcs up next? I turned to their chiefs, wondering what they would say.
“Please, allow me to speak!” the orc general suddenly shouted, all but rubbing his head against the rough ground as he bowed to me. “All of us here, we wish to make up for this disaster with our very lives… I know even that is not enough, but there is nothing else we could possibly pay you!”
He was ready to die, I could tell that much. This monster, ranked A-minus or so, would no doubt provide us all with a wealth of magicules to harness, and he wanted to put that on the table in exchange for our forgiveness.
I had no interest in this, and it was beside the point anyway. I was really starting to resent this meeting. All these procedures and formalities were eating away at the time we could spend actually talking matters over.
Well, screw it. Let’s try things my way for a sec.
“One moment!” Hakuro said, apparently noticing my intentions. “I believe Sir Rimuru has something to say!”
The orc general fell silent, looking straight at me. So did everyone else. I was never a fan of being the center of attention, but I couldn’t exactly say so.
“Um,” I began, “I’m gonna have to admit that I’m not very
good with big meetings like this. So let me just say what’s on my mind right now, and maybe we can all mull that over for a little while, all right? First off, I wanna make one thing clear. I have no interest in charging the orcs with any crimes or whatever.”
I went on to explain my reasoning. Staging an invasion of the forest was, if you had to rate it on a scale of “naughty” or “nice,” pretty naughty. Whether Gelmud was using and abusing them or not, the moment they said yes to him, they were accomplices. But it was also clear that the forest offered their only possible hope for survival. All the races here might’ve decided to do the same thing in their shoes.
Simply asking us to accept their presence was, I suppose, tough. It would be like asking our neighbors to hand over their land. Nobody would simply roll over and say yes to that, and that was doubly true for the survival-of-the-fittest types around here.
There was no point debating over what was now firmly in the past. Right then, we needed to talk about what would happen next. We couldn’t spend all day dwelling on apologies and reparations and such. Plus, I promised Geld I would take on all the orcs’ crimes for him. Maybe it was pushy of me, but I wanted to make sure everyone knew I was serious about that.
“That is my thought about this,” I said, “and I’m sure you all have your own thoughts, but I see no need to punish the orcs for anything. I say this because I promised the demon lord Geld as much. I have taken on all the crimes committed by the orcs. And if any of you have a problem with that, I’d like to hear it!”
The orcs stared at me, clearly shocked.
“Benimaru,” I said, ignoring them, “your homeland was annihilated by their hands. Do you take issue with this?”
“I do not, my lord, and I doubt any of my fallen comrades would. The sole, immovable rule that links all monsters together is that only the strong have the right to survive. We faced up to them without fleeing, and thus we were prepared for the worst. And, Sir Rimuru, we would never have an issue with the decisions you make.”
The other ogres nodded in agreement. Everyone appeared to be with me. I then turned to the lizardmen, but the chief spoke before I could.
“We, too, have no complaint with your stance. There is one thing I wish to ask, however.”
No complaints? Really? I was kind of expecting some. He was more sympathetic to their plight than I thought, maybe.
“What is it?”
“It is a good thing, I think, not to pursue the orcs’ crimes any further. We were saved by you, Sir Rimuru, and are thus in no position to make any grand proclamations. However, there is one thing I wish to be fully clear on…”
The chief stopped and looked straight at me.
“Are you suggesting, Sir Rimuru, that we accept the entire orc population’s right to live in this forest?”
…And here we go. It was an obvious question, and it came at a critical time.
“I am,” I said as graciously as I could. Instantly, the meeting erupted into a commotion. The orcs, shocked, discussed whether such a thing was even possible. The goblins were screaming incoherently, some foaming at the mouth. Treyni watched silently, gauging the situation with a hostile eye. Only my ogre mage friends remained undisturbed.
“Silence!” Hakuro shouted, finally bringing order back to the tent after a prolonged furor. He had waited for everyone to get over their initial surprise before giving the command.
“I understand what all of you are thinking,” I said, “and I understand how the thought makes you nervous. And you’re right—I have no idea whether it’s possible or not. But I think it is. Like I said, I just want you to hear me out.”
So I began talking about my idea. The vision of a Great Forest of Jura Alliance, a proposal that would’ve been dismissed as a hopeless dream at any other time.
Even if we let every orc in the marsh off the hook right now, they were still doomed to starve. The straggler forces, left without stronger leadership, would form small raider bands that’d strike the lizardman and goblin villages before long. They had nothing to eat, no place to live, and nothing about this conference would mean anything until we tackled that fundamental issue.
Hence this alliance.
The lizardmen had plentiful water and seafood resources. The goblins had living space. We had a wealth of manufactured goods. The orcs, in exchange, could provide their labor resources.
Their settlements would have to be spread out among us all to some extent—they numbered in the six figures, after all—but I was sure we could maintain decent lines of contact. We’d need to put some in the mountains, some in the foothills, some by the river, and some deeper in the forest. My team and I could provide technical home-building assistance, although we still wanted them to handle their own affairs otherwise. We were already short on labor in my town; we didn’t have the capacity to look out for others. If anything, my ulterior motive here was to obtain more stout men to beef up our own workforce.
The land the ogres ruled over was now free, of course, and I figured we’d build a town there sooner or later. Forest land extended well into the nearby foothills, offering a wealth of resources to harness. It’d have to wait until my town was finished, but by then, I wanted the orcs to be proficient enough that they could build their own. Then all the dispersed orc populations would have someplace to live together again.
Everyone in the tent listened attentively as I explained.
“That about covers it,” I said. “We will form a great alliance among the peoples of the Forest of Jura and build cooperative relationships with one another. It’d be pretty neat if we built a nation composed of multiple races, I think, but…”
Unlike before, the conference was now filled with a sense of excitement. The attendees’ enthusiasm was starting to pervade the room, as if I had just taken their anxieties and replaced them with a flickering sense of hope. Shion straightened herself up, like she was presenting me as a prize, which I didn’t really appreciate. I forgave her, though. It meant she was pushing her breasts against me, which was pretty nice, after all. I always have an open mind about that sort of thing.
The orc general was slow to react. “Us…building a town…?! It is all right for us to join in this alliance?”
“Not like you got anyone, or anyplace, to return to, do you? We’ll getcha someplace to live, but you gotta work, all right? No room for lazy orcs around here.”
“…Yes, my lord!” The orcs immediately stood up and took a knee, overcome with an emotion that drove tears to their eyes. “Of course, of course! We will dedicate our very lives to the tasks ahead!”
The lizardman chief nodded. “We have no objection. If anything, we would love to cooperate!” He kneeled as well, imitating the orcs, and the goblins hurriedly took action to follow suit. Was this the rule when forming alliances here, or…? I dunno.
I attempted to copy their lead and hop down to the floor, but Shion tightened her grip on me.
“What are you trying to do, my lord?”
“Huh? Oh. I thought this was a ceremony or something.”
“Oh dear, Sir Rimuru. It certainly is not…”
I wasn’t sure why she was speaking to me like a wayward child, but I must have been embarrassing her. And the ogres, judging by the looks they shot at me. She stood up, placed me on a chair—and then fell to one knee before me, accompanied by Benimaru and the rest.
“Very good,” Treyni said. “As a warden of the forest, I, Treyni, make the following declaration. I hereby recognize Sir Rimuru as the new leader of the Forest of Jura, and the Great Forest of Jura Alliance hereby established under his good name!”
Then she kneeled, too. I guess she had word from the treants that they were all for it.
Um, can you give me a moment, guys? Why am I suddenly the dude who’s supposed to run all this crap? Because I don’t remember any discussions along those lines. Why’d it turn out this way? I wanted to ask, but my voice was cut off by all the passionate eyes fixated upon me.
All right. I get
it, guys…
I knew the fate of the orcs rested on my shoulders anyway. Leader of the forest? Whatever. I’ll take it.
“Well, so be it,” I said, resigned to my fate. “Do me proud, guys.” Everyone took that cue to prostrate themselves before me.
“““Yes, my lord!!”””
The sheer fervor was as clearly present in all their voices as it clearly wasn’t in mine. The Great Forest of Jura Alliance was born, and already it was making me break out in a cold sweat.
Uh, guys? We still have a problem, right? Like, a really big, bothersome problem? I hate to rain on the party, but we’d better get to talking about that, yeah?
“Right, that’s enough,” I said. “So now that we have this alliance in place, we need to solve the largest problem facing us right now—the question of food supply. We have 150,000 surviving orcs here, and we need to keep them from starving to death. I’d like some ideas, please?”
The orcs had less than two weeks’ worth of provisions on them, overall. Now that the unique skill Ravenous was no longer doing its thing on them, they’d be well and truly dead once these supplies were exhausted. We had no time to raise crops for them, and we’d exhaust the river of fish if we tried going that route.
It was a real thorny issue. The lizardmen had enough supplies for ten thousand people to live off for half a year. Even if they cleared all their storehouses right this instant, it still wouldn’t keep the orcs going for more than a couple weeks. That meant our maximum time limit was just about a month.
So now what…?
Everyone in the tent turned their minds to the issue. Nobody seemed to be acting like it wasn’t their problem, which gladdened me a bit. Maybe this alliance would work out after all.
Then Treyni stepped up, smiling. “So the issue is a lack of food supply?” she asked. “In that case, I think I might be able to help. The treants that I help protect have agreed to join this alliance, and I think they might come in handy sooner than I thought.”