by Fuse
…No. Rimuru was a monster with reason. He hoped for amicable relations with human countries. The town he built, the people he saved, the nations he’d connected with were all ample proof of that. If Rimuru was this unthinking brute who couldn’t empathize with people, humankind would be exposed to unprecedented threats right now.
But there’s no need to worry about that. Heh-heh-heh… He wouldn’t ever think about wiping out humankind. Not Rimuru!
Gazel was convinced of it. Rimuru killed the demon lord Clayman; he did not kill Hinata. That alone indicated to Gazel that Rimuru went out of his way to avoid antagonizing humankind. It was easy for him to drone out the minister’s concerns with laughter.
“Heh-heh-heh. No need to worry! I will remind you that Rimuru remains my erstwhile partner in the martial arts. It would also behoove you to remember that we have backed the nation of Tempest earlier than any other nation. From him, we have earned the most trust he has given anyone. Do you intend to do away with that trust and doubt his intentions?”
He glared at the ministers, using some of his majesty to cow them into submission. It did the trick, restoring them to civility.
“Y-yes… Think of it that way, and it would be foolish to abandon our trade with them…”
“Quite. The goods we take from them have immeasurable appeal. And we’ve even transferred recovery potion manufacturing to them.”
“Whether in the form of technology exchange or anything else, a relationship must be based on trust. Why is there any need for us to panic?”
“Yes, no need to worry at this point…”
They glanced at each other and smiled somewhat sheepishly. Gazel grinned at them.
To the Dwarven Kingdom, which valued fairness as a core tenet, being a demon lord was no reason for discrimination. All the ministers seemed to remember that now, and Gazel was glad to see it. Yes, Rimuru had obtained astonishing strength, but looking back at past events, there was no doubting his trustworthiness as a person. They were still building a friendly relationship—keeping that going was the obvious choice.
Besides, Rimuru said he was an otherworlder, bringing with him knowledge of other planets and the drive to bring it to life with his vast litany of skills. The fact that he was pushing all this development forward mainly to satisfy his own self-centered cravings for luxury was nothing short of fascinating.
Plus, his followers always carried out his orders with a smile, no matter how outlandish. Tempest and the Dwarven Kingdom were already connected with a highway, winding its way over mountains and through valleys and providing safe passage for anyone who used it. Rimuru’s monsters blazed that trail, and all it took was an idea and a simple word or two from him. Things that otherworlders of the past abandoned as being too costly or labor-intensive were no obstacle to Rimuru. He had the core strength needed to brute-force it all to life.
He had a drive, a drive backed by an army of loyal monsters. How envious I am, Gazel mused. No matter how difficult the problem, Rimuru could just offhandedly say “Figure it out! Good luck!” and his monsters would do their level best. They all assumed that was normal; none doubted him. Maybe it was that slime’s most fearsome asset of all—that genius-level ability to trick people into doing his bidding.
For better or for worse, this demon lord was an entertaining one.
And perhaps he’s been tricking me, too, this whole time…
But, Gazel reasoned, that was just fine. If Rimuru was pursuing the kind of world he saw as ideal, what would result from that? Gazel was keenly interested in finding out. He wanted to see it. It’d trigger a Temma War, a struggle between mortals and angels, and Rimuru knew that. But he’d probably just fight back. Tempest had a terrifying military force backing it up—perhaps terrifying enough to fend off a horde of angels. And Gazel was willing to cheer him on.
“The demon lord Rimuru and I may not be related by blood, but we are brothers,” he growled, his voice dominating the meeting hall. “As long as he does not lose his heart for humanity, let us provide him with as much support as we can—and let us welcome a new era and the budding of a new civilization. If anyone objects to this, let them speak now.”
That was, in effect, the king of the dwarves announcing his decision.
Vaughn, the admiral paladin on the force, smiled. “You’ve got me on your side, King Gazel. You’re the boss!”
“My lord,” stated the night assassin Henrietta, “I will always serve as your shadow and follow every whim of your heart.”
“Yes, do what you like. I am old, with little time left to live, but if my last few years may be happy ones, I will follow you as far as you may go, my lord.”
Jaine still looked pretty healthy, despite her words. This was just her way of saying that Gazel enjoyed her support no matter what happened.
Finally, Dolph, leader of the Pegasus Knights, sighed and shook his head.
“If that’s what you all have to say, I suppose I’ll have to clean up the mess that results. You’ll need someone to keep him in check, won’t you?”
That was his role, most of the time, and Dolph didn’t resent it.
The heroes of dwarfdom were in unison, and a new policy was forged. But while nobody would defy their supreme leader’s decision on the surface, some of the ministers were still of different minds. They would nonetheless offer their support, hiding their own intentions under the protective front of the administrators’ decisions.
There was just one reason for that: As part of a nation leading the world in technology, something about “budding new civilizations” struck a chord with them. Toiling away at their research, making only piecemeal advances, offered no hope of major developments. This demon lord, meanwhile, was pushing the envelope and demonstrating zero fear of anyone stopping him. Vester, their former colleague, reported as much to them, and some in the room had started to envy the freedom the man enjoyed.
“How dare Sir Vester just leave and join that band! Unforgivable!”
“Yes! Did you hear about the new barriers built on the highways to ward off monsters?”
“And the lighting, too. I hear of new communication devices under development as well.”
“Potions weren’t enough for him, were they? I can’t believe how jealous—er, how outraged I am!”
It was starting to become clear where the ministers’ hearts and minds truly were. Gazel snickered, then cleared his throat—a signal for everyone to stay quiet. The ministers’ eyes focused on him.
“Our conclusion is clear. Our nation must trust in the demon lord Rimuru and walk forward in unison with him! Let us receive the fruits of their labor, keeping the technology they develop for ourselves. Thus, if they ever are defeated by the heavenly army, that technology will never be lost! Such is the will of the Armed Nation of Dwargon!”
Nobody was ever going to complain about that. King Gazel always prioritized his own nation above all else. The ministers bowed their heads at once, expressing their agreement.
“Heh-heh-heh… Not letting go of the goods, huh? I appreciate how you aren’t couching it in rosy vocabulary, at least.”
Vaughn was speaking—or muttering, really—for most of the people in the hall.
It wasn’t long before the conference ended, with the final item on the itinerary—the acceptance of Lubelius’ request—treated almost as an afterthought. Now the bureaucracy would go to work, drafting up new treaties with both Lubelius and Tempest. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but the three of them, plus the rest of the Western Nations, would all need to prepare together for the Temma War. There was no way of telling yet whether this was the right move, but at the very least, Gazel was content.
Once things settled down a bit, one minister raised his hand.
“Your Majesty, a word?”
Gazel, preparing to leave the chamber, settled back in his seat and eyed him.
“My liege, we have received a letter of invitation from Sir Rigurd. It seems that Sir Rimuru is holding an event to officially
mark his debut as demon lord…and he seeks your attendance.”
“His debut? What could that be about?”
The minister was just as in the dark as Gazel. He blinked helplessly a couple times, giving the other ministers enough time to raise yet another hue and cry.
“Just a front, I’m sure. He no doubt bids you to be present so he can boast to the world about how friendly we are with him.”
“I think that boat has long left port, good sir.”
“Ah! Wait, I have heard of this! Vester sent word that the monster nation wishes to hold a grand festival to shore up its public image. He himself is serving as an adviser to their administration, and they are preparing quite a number of festivities for the occasion.”
Vaughn gauged the ministers, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “How interesting! I do recall how wonderful their accommodations were. I was allowed to bask in a hot spring, the food was excellent, and the conduct of their servants impeccable. I knew Vester was training them, but plainly he did his job well. And I can imagine how grandiose these ‘festivities’ might be!”
He certainly sounded enthusiastic about it to Gazel. If the king turned down the invite, Vaughn seemed likely to go in his stead.
Heh-heh-heh… That sly fox. I don’t know what’s motivating him, but he just doesn’t know how to settle down and lie back, does he?
Gazel thought the demon lord’s aim was to gain the confidence of the Western Nations, but this new act seemed to defy explanation. That’s what made it so interesting to him. He found it difficult to stifle the laughter coming up his throat. Maintaining decorum around his ministers was such a stress at times.
Curse you… Setting just the sort of trap that would torment me the most… Relentless!
The irrational anger was enough to kill Gazel’s urge to laugh.
“What is your bidding, my liege?” a minister ventured to ask the silent king. “Sir Rigurd sends word that, while attending may pose some difficulty for you, if you are able to grace them with your presence, they will provide you treatment truly befitting a king. Similar invitations have apparently been sent to leaders around the world, and there are only a limited number of seats available. He also warned us to reply as quickly as possible, as Tempest will be crowded on the dates of the event.”
It sounded polite enough, but it was no way to talk to the ruler of a great, powerful nation. The minister knew as much, fearing how his lord would respond as he spoke. But it was nothing that fazed Gazel—if anything, it perplexed him that anyone thought it would. His Tyrant skill made it easy for him to read the minds of his ministers, so he smiled a bit as he attempted to correct them.
“Let us accept the invitation, then. I look forward to touring Tempest anew.”
“My liege! No matter how friendly Sir Rimuru is with you, I seriously question the validity of this event. We do not know what manner of entertainment there might be, but surely they could prepare a seat for you any time they wanted!”
“Indeed. And they did not specify how long the invite list was, but do they think the world’s great leaders have all the time in the world on their hands? No, they will not accept such a sudden request so readily.”
“And Your Majesty personally traveling to the event presents some serious issues, if I may say so!”
The ministers weren’t in the wrong. But Gazel paid them no mind.
“I am not so sure about your concerns. If anything, this move shows supreme confidence on his part. You see, my minsters, you only know of him from the time he traveled to our gates. Now, as a demon lord, he is another creature entirely. This is the Rimuru so confidently holding this event, and it will no doubt be quite a fascinating one. Besides, I am sure many of us would like to explore the internal workings of Tempest, now that it has become a great military power. If they are sending out invitations, I have no doubts that many will be accepted. Just as Vaughn said, the lodging provided is superb, and if they want to establish a guest list sooner rather than later, it must surely be so they can provide the best service possible to their visitors.”
“Very true,” Vaughn agreed. “He certainly did strike a bolder image as demon lord. Very few people indeed could get away with treating Sir Rimuru like a fool nowadays. And I can’t help but wonder what sort of festival the monsters would want to hold. Whether representing our kingdom or not, I most certainly wish to participate.”
Vaughn had intended to be a part of this from the moment he heard of it, perhaps expecting to ask Vester for an invitation. Gazel certainly didn’t want him to have all the fun. He knew full well the ministers would be dead set against their king’s attendance, though, so he searched for a method to make them see things his way.
“Besides, I am Rimuru’s partner in battle—and as such, I must guide him to ensure he is not being ridiculed by his own people. I must make it known to his neighbors that we of Dwargon are the first nation to make friends with Tempest.”
Some of the ministers began to understand Gazel’s true intentions.
“Ah… Y-yes, yes! We have the closest ties of all to Sir Rimuru, and we should be sure other nations are aware of it.”
“Agreed. I understand that those scoundrels in Thalion are attempting to butter him up, now that he is a demon lord.”
“Now would be a good time to show His Majesty in close consort with Sir Rimuru. It would do wonders to keep our rivals in check.”
So far so good, thought Gazel. He opened his mouth a little, preparing to conclude this debate, when:
“I fail to see why we are even discussing this. We know full well that if we defy His Majesty, he will simply slip past our borders again. Instead of that, I feel it far safer for Dwargon to provide its full support to its leader.”
This was the chief elder of Dwargon’s senate chiding the ministers, a man who rarely participated in public debate. The time Gazel employed a body double to escape the kingdom undercover still grated at him, apparently.
Oh, brother. Well, at least I can join in the festivities now…
This wasn’t exactly the way Gazel meant to gain support, but it was good enough. It kind of put him off a little, but he was willing to accept it.
Now, the Dwarven Kingdom was 100 percent committed to the Tempest invite, no matter how bewildered the ministers were by it, and with that, more and more people in the hall began expressing their desire to join in.
Before long, Gazel had quite another problem: How am I ever going to pare down the list of attendants joining me?
On the grounds of the royal palace of Thalion was a large, impressively beautiful garden, expansive enough to house a variety of plants and creatures rare to find in the wild. This park was personally funded by the emperor, who enjoyed a vast fortune thanks to the many streams of revenue she enjoyed. A very small percentage of that income was all it took to keep this masterpiece of natural beauty going. And not just the garden—nothing in and around the palace was funded by tax revenue. That was how impossibly rich the head of the Sorcerous Dynasty was.
Two people were currently relaxing within these gardens. One was Archduke Erald Grimwald, father of the adventurer Elen and one of the nation’s most powerful officials. Facing him was the only person in Thalion who wielded more authority than he—Emperor Elmesia El-Ru Thalion herself.
On paper, the emperor was of ambiguous gender with beautiful features that were only vaguely feminine—at least, that was the act she put on. In truth, Elmesia was female through and through.
Her age, however, was unknown. She was among the most pure-blooded of elves, meaning her elven qualities were stronger than most; she simply didn’t age. That made her a living witness to history, and asking how many years she had lived was a taboo. She looked elegant and noble, but she still hadn’t lost her youth—in fact, her compact frame could cause one to mistake her for a child. Her jade-green eyes were sharp and intelligent, and her vibrant skin was like a fresh coating of snow. Her long silver hair shone as it flowed down her head, brushing past th
e light redness of her cheeks, and her unique, pointed ears poked out from underneath.
In short, she was the epitome of harmony in motion—a high elf, one of the most supreme beings in the land.
The archduke found himself smitten for a moment at this beauty but quickly regained his senses. His wife and daughter would be furious with him if he didn’t. Clearing his throat, he turned to the exquisite wood-carved seat Elmesia was sitting on.
“Your Excellency, the nation of monsters I have reported to you about has sent me an invitation.”
Erald took a letter out from his pocket, presenting it to her. He had already checked it for traps or hidden poisons, and he knew what it read, but he did not say it out loud; he was fully aware of how the emperor disliked people telling her things before she could see them for herself.
But he had his concerns. I truly never expected that slime would ever be recognized as a demon lord. But even if he has…why would he call someone like me to this coronation of sorts?
The letter Erald presented to the emperor was, in fact, addressed to him. There was no need to show it to Elmesia. But as the letter put it: Please reply if able to attend, providing the number of participants you wish to bring. He interpreted this to mean he could bring as many plus-ones as he felt like. But who should join him? That was the rub. Some bodyguards would be a must, but the archduke could hardly show up alone. Many of the nobles he had previously reported his travels to expressed keen interests in visiting for themselves.
With Tempest becoming a new trade partner, courtly circles across the Sorcerous Dynasty were alive with talk of this new land. And the fascination was hardly exclusive to the nobility. When the emperor received the initial report of Erald’s audience with the demon lord Rimuru, her eyes had been cold and focused as she gave her response:
“…Hmm. So you went off to this fabulous land all by yourself? Well, weren’t you fortunate, Erald. I imagine it was quite the exciting experience. And why did you leave me behind, hmm? Even naming yourself my representative and establishing ties with them, no less? If our business with them was that important, I would have liked to involve myself with it, wouldn’t you agree?”