Noah seemed surprised. Looking back, perhaps she should have said her title. Diablo was the king of Greenwood, so his full name would be Diablo Greenwood.
So, as his wife, her name would be...
Rem Greenwood?
Rem felt her cheeks flush over.
“What’s wrong?” Shera looked at her curiously.
“...I-It’s... nothing...”
Rem shook her head, banishing the odd delusion filling her mind.
Incidentally, the “L.” in Shera’s full name of Shera L. Greenwood marked her as part of the Greenwood royal bloodline. Diablo and Rem married into the royal family and weren’t descended from the royal line, so they weren’t granted it onto their names. Greenwood’s royal bloodline had an important meaning to it, so the clear distinction had to be made.
“What business do you have with us?” Rem asked.
“Regardless of His Majesty’s intentions, it is a rule that I talk things over with any of his guests first.” Noah smiled amicably. “It’s a formal matter, so please pardon me.”
“...I see.”
Noah’s gaze fixed on their necks.
“From what the rumors say, those are Enslavement Collars. Is that true?”
Rem’s hand inadvertently jumped to cover her collar. Hearing it pointed out again made her embarrassed all over again.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Shera, who never did care about the little things, nodded.
“In that case, is the rumor Sir Diablo’s 《Magic Reflection》 put it on you two true as well?” Noah appended another question.
Rem rose to her feet, the sound of her heartbeat loud in her ears.
“...Duke Gibun... Just who are you...?!”
His peaceful smile didn’t waver in the slightest.
“My every action is to ensure that the kingdom of Lyferia is peaceful and prosperous. And I am not lenient enough to forsake gathering information on an important person capable of matching a Demon Lord in strength.”
“Since when did...”
“Could you kindly answer my question first?”
Rem was a bit conflicted, but concluded that trying to keep things secret would be a pointless endeavor.
“...The rumors are true. We intended to enslave Diablo as we would a summon beast, but the Enslavement Ritual was reflected, and the collars clasped around us instead.”
She heard Noah whisper “fascinating.” He then answered the question.
“Since when have I put my eye on Sir Diablo, you ask? That would be when he repelled the Demon Lord’s army from Zircon Tower.”
“...I see.”
Many soldiers witnessed that fight, and the events of the war—regardless of its results—were reported in detail to the capital. Diablo had defeated countless Fallen with his powerful magic, and even defeated the Fallen’s general, who was considered immortal. It was natural he would draw their interest.
Rem brought a hand to her mouth. Soon after that battle, Diablo went to the capital to oppose the church’s Cardinal Authority.
“Is something bothering you?” Noah smiled thinly.
“...When Diablo came to the capital... When we fought to take the church back from the Cardinal Authority.”
“I’ve received a report regarding that, yes. Even His Majesty cannot interfere with the church’s business, so we’re quite grateful to you for saving the High Priest and for your assistance with normalizing the church.”
Rem recalled, “Back then, it was the Order of Palace Knights that assassinated the Cardinal Authority. If they were watching Diablo the whole time, it made sense they’d find this perfect opportunity to get rid of them... Which could mean... it was Noah that ordered their assassination?”
He remained smiling, awaiting Rem’s words. This was the royal castle. Saying just one wrong thing would turn this room into the equivalent of sitting in the pit of a monster’s stomach. Saying anything unnecessary would be dangerous...
A silence hung heavily over the room...
“Wow, this cake is great!” Only to be disturbed by Shera’s exclaiming. “Could I have another?”
The snapping of the strained tension that hung in the air was almost audible. Rem wondered what she was about to say...
“I’m glad you like it.” Noah smiled. “That apple tart is a reproduction of a flavor from my birthplace. I’ll have as many as you like prepared for you.”
“Yay! I’ll take some back for Diablo!”
Rem sighed, noting it would likely go bad during their five-day trip back to Faltra.
“...Whatever the case, we only came here because we were called. As both an adventurer and king of Greenwood, Diablo has no intent of opposing Lyferia. I think his putting his life on the line against the Demon Overlord proves that.”
“Yes, of course. We’re not suspecting Sir Diablo in the slightest. Like I’ve already said, he piqued our interest when he beat the Demon Lord’s army. And the summons this time are in light of his defeating the Demon Overlord... I’m sure His Highness wishes to extend words of praise toward him.”
“I see...” Rem patted her chest down with relief.
“...But there is one thing I’m dubious about,” Noah said, lowering his voice.
“Huh?”
“Those Enslavement Collars.”
“Wh-What about them?”
“To those without knowledge of your circumstances, they would look like 《Slave Collars》. If the kingdom of Greenwood were to dispatch slaves for the audience with His Majesty, it would come across as a rude act on par with declaring war.”
“Ah...”
Rem had considered that, but they had no way of removing them.
“No...” Shera’s expression clouded over with anxiety.
“But I am somewhat adept with magic,” Noah suggested. “I could make it so they would be invisible to the eyes of others. What do you say? I would need to ensure you weren’t given any strange orders, though.”
Shera had had her collar rendered invisible for the sake of a wedding ceremony before. At the time, it was the prime minister of Greenwood, Drango, that applied the obfuscation magic. It was apparently extremely advanced magic, and not something that could be easily imitated.
Rem considered the offer, and concluded there were no other options.
“...Understood.”
“Right!”
Shera agreed as well, and so it was decided. Noah nodded and reached out his right hand.
“Hmm... I see...”
The expression on his face was a grave one. They had felt as awkward as having invited a stranger into their home, but for Noah, it was just business. Without regard for one’s position or language, letting a person with an Enslavement Collar meet the king put the fate of the country at risk. What if they had been given orders to assassinate someone?
After confirming no odd orders were given, Noah used his obfuscation magic.
“《Disguise》.”
The moment Noah whispered that word, the collars were rendered invisible. That alone made it clear he was an even more skilled sorcerer than Drango. Even without regard to his position as minister, he was a very high-level sorcerer!
Touching the collar made it clear that it was still there, but the others couldn’t see it.
“Pardon me for the trouble.” Noah bowed. “I think this will spare us His Majesty’s anger and any misunderstandings on behalf of the ministers...”
Thud! The room suddenly shook. Rem’s expression turned suspicious.
“An earthquake?” Shera cocked her head.
“...There was only one tremor. It was like an explosion of magic.”
This room was particularly close to the center of the royal castle. If the tremors reached this far, it must have been a very large-scale explosion. And there weren’t many sorcerers capable of producing blasts that powerful.
Could it be Diablo?!
But he should have been in Faltra.
There was a knock at the door, and a nervous voice c
alled out from outside.
“Milord, we have an urgent report!”
Noah bowed again, smiling at Rem and Shera.
“I apologize for the ruckus. It seems something has happened, so you’ll have to excuse me. I personally guarantee your safety in this place, so you have no cause for concern. Please spend your time comfortably until the day of your audience.”
“...We are adventurers. We can be of help to you.”
“Hmm. I do not know how business is handled in Faltra, but... In this castle, guests are to act as guests. Please leave matters to me and the imperial knights.”
His tone was polite, but the rejection in his words was clear.
“...I understand.”
Rem backed down. She didn’t want to antagonize him here. They would likely have to stay a few more days until their audience.
But what Rem didn’t know was that they would be summoned to the audience chamber that very night.
†
Needless to say, the explosion powerful enough to shake the entirety of the capital of Seven Wall was the result of the composite magic Diablo used to destroy the God of Destruction, Europa.
Diablo sat within the wavering carriage, which brought him to Castle Grandiose. It didn’t feel like this in the game, but it was grand indeed. A massive product of architecture. Just the sight of it uplifted the heart of man.
Diablo suddenly noticed that the structure of the walls was oddly distinct. The walls of Faltra, a frontier city, were made by piling up stones, the same as how medieval castle walls were made in Diablo’s own world. But Castle Grandiose’s walls had no seams, as if they were made out of concrete.
“...Hm.”
It never bothered him in the game, but this was another world. If a building existed, it was because someone erected, repaired and maintained it.
I guess, given that this world has guns, construction using concrete isn’t all that unusual.
The large man sitting opposite of Diablo—Maximum Abrams—asked, “Sir Diablo, just where did you gain so much power?”
His intellectual face clashed with his bulky, muscular body. His black hair was parted to the side, and he wore black-rimmed glasses.
“Hmph... An adventurer naturally gains strength as he travels.”
At least, that’s how it worked in the game.
“Perhaps, but you only registered as an adventurer last year. Were you an adventurer in another country before that...?”
They’d thoroughly looked into him. Diablo couldn’t help but feel irritated by that.
“Hmph...” Diablo scoffed in what was neither denial nor affirmation.
He doubted Maximum would believe him if he said, “I leveled up in the game and got summoned into this world in the shape of my in-game avatar.” Even Diablo himself didn’t understand the logic behind it yet.
“You looked into me... But you’re even more suspicious than I am. Where did you gain so much skill?” Diablo asked back.
The Order of Palace Knights was a gathering of skilled warriors. They were all certainly above level 100, and Maximum led them, so he had to have been powerful. And this world wasn’t like the game. There was no respawning after death, damage was real pain, and healing and recovery didn’t come down to a single click of the mouse. Diablo understood this well enough because he’d leveled up as a warrior in this world.
“Heheh...” Maximum’s lips contorted into a smile. “Same as you, I’d say.”
You’re a player, too?!
He’d almost let that slip, but realized this was a typical case of “luring in.” If he were to fall for this and let his tongue slip, he wouldn’t be capable of maintaining his Demon Lord role play.
If he was the same as him, Maximum would speak the tongue of his old world, but from the movements of his lips, Diablo could tell he was speaking Lyferia’s language. In other words, the fact he was needlessly using the language of this place proved he was without a doubt different from Diablo.
“Foolish nonsense.”
“Not necessarily. But you seem to have grounds to see me as different from you. Fascinating.”
“Hmph...”
Diablo stuck to his confident approach, but was struggling to hold back his surprise.
God damn, this guy’s dangerous!
“And I do wonder what basis you have to think... Oh, it seems we’ve arrived.”
The carriage stopped, and, as the door opened, Maximum got off first. A man with a long, red coat stood there at the ready: a blond Elf with a black sword.
“Do not do anything suspicious. If you try anything, I, Thanatos the Undying, will cut you down!”
His name sounded like the boasting of a delusional middle-schooler, but he may well have been immortal. Europa had in fact killed him once, but he returned unharmed.
“Thanatos, he’s a guest of His Highness right now, yes?”
“Yes, of course, but...” Thanatos backed down as Maximum glared at him.
Judging from this exchange, Maximum was likely quite skilled after all. A dangerous foe, to be sure, and one Diablo wasn’t interested in antagonizing.
“I am a busy man.” Diablo got off the carriage. “Hurry up and bring me to your king.”
“Well, I was merely ordered to ‘bring you over.’ The rest depends on His Highness.”
They were in the royal castle’s courtyard, a place Diablo had visited many times in Cross Reverie. Behind them were the great castle gates. Aside from Maximum and Thanatos, there was a surprising number of guards and stable boys around them. And before a moment could even pass, an old butler approached them and bowed.
“I thank you for coming, king of Greenwood—Your Highness, Diablo Greenwood.”
“Hmm.”
“The king of Lyferia, His Majesty Delouche Xandros, awaits you. Please, follow me.”
“An audience already?!” Thanatos couldn’t hide his surprise.
“I suppose His Highness knows the importance of these matters after all...” Maximum looked shocked as well.
His tone was polite, but his words carried a rather disrespectful nuance. Led by the old butler, Diablo made his way into the building. Maximum and his group didn’t follow.
“Phew...”
Diablo exhaled in relief. If he could help it, he’d rather not have to face Maximum. He doubted he’d lose to the man in a one-on-one, but it felt like he could see through his acting. And without his Demon Lord character, he could barely hold a conversation. If his acting were to be pointed out, he would only be able to reply with a lame stammering of “uuu” and “aaah.”
†
They advanced down a corridor lined with artwork. One would usually expect this kind of place to be full of paintings of beautiful women, or at least an equal measure of men and women, but all Diablo could see were sculptures and portraits of naked men. Handsome boys; well-proportioned, good-looking men; muscular machos...
“...Are these the king’s preferences?”
Diablo doubted he would get along with him if that were the case.
“Usually, you’d have to wait in the castle for several days...” the butler said in a confused fashion.
“Huh?”
“But this time, the king ordered to have you brought over at once, so I apologize deeply. A meeting between the king of Lyferia and the king of a neighboring country would usually have much more meticulous planning and preparation, I assure you.”
“Ah, no...”
Diablo was the one who refused the first request for an audience, and he eventually only came because Maximum dragged him over by holding Lumachina’s and Horn’s lives hostage.
“A meeting between the new kings of Lyferia and Greenwood. Such a historical event... According to tradition, we would spend a month summoning representatives from other countries, and hold the meeting in a special site capable of housing ten thousand people.”
“Heh, heheheh...”
If you did that, I’d run! Me, meeting a king in front of ten thousan
d people? Never!
Stopping in front of a large set of doors, the butler lowered his head.
“I’m greatly ashamed that we couldn’t make any preparations for your momentous meeting and can only hold it here in the audience chamber. But do pardon us, for the sake of prosperity between both our kingdoms.”
“Heh... It’s a trifling matter. I am not small enough a man to mind trivialities.”
He might have been acting the part of a Demon Lord, but he was a firm believer that peace was the best course of action. And the king of Lyferia, Diablo reasoned, should be aware of his strength, so it would likely be a harmless dialogue. At least, he hoped so.
The doors opened, revealing a red carpet. Heavily armored soldiers holding halberds stood on both sides of it, as were a number of the king’s subjects, like ministers and generals. And upon the podium was a throne occupied by a middle-aged man. He seemed to be in his late thirties. The Humans of Lyferia mostly lived into their sixties, so he was fairly young for a king. He didn’t have Galford’s powerful sense of presence, nor was he overflowing with magic.
I don’t know about his leadership skills, but, for an individual, he looks completely average.
Apparently, rumors of Diablo were already circulating, because the gathered ministers were whispering amongst each other.
“...Is that...?”
“The adventurer that defeated the Demon Overlord?”
“Look at those horns...”
“A mere Demon...”
He didn’t feel very welcome. Still, the minister standing right beside the king extended words of greeting.
“Welcome, Sir Diablo Greenwood.”
The minister had the appearance of a handsome, androgynous boy, or so Diablo thought. He had no way of knowing that this was Duke Noah Gibun, the effective prime minister of Lyferia, who decided most of the country’s policies in the king’s stead.
Diablo thought naming himself was the thing he had to avoid the most, and so he was grateful Noah saved him the trouble of doing so, breathing out in relief. That, however, resulted in some of the ministers audibly muttering, “the nerve of him...”, which made Diablo stiffen. Was there something he should have said right now? He didn’t let it be seen, but he was grinding his teeth together in suspense.
How NOT to Summon a Demon Lord: Volume 11 Page 2