CHAPTER 4

THE AUDIENCES

With everything running on schedule (to some extent), I returned to town. Veldora and Ramiris stayed in the labyrinth, and Milim was helping them out now that her dragon-wrangling work was done. The thought struck me that Milim might have to, like, go back and run her domain sometime, but I let her be. She was the one who’d get chewed out over it, not me.

Looking at the traps I laid, the three of them apparently had some complaints about the areas they were allowed to work out their final touches in. Until Floor 30, I really didn’t want a lot of traps. It’d be pointless to sprinkle a bunch of dinky ones around, and if they got too sadistic too fast, adventurers would just give up. If they gave up too early, of course, they’d stop coming.

That’s why I personally laid out the traps for everywhere between Floors 1 and 50. Ramiris and Veldora were allowed to handle only the deeper levels. I suppose, though, that witnessing my cruelest traps mainly inspired them to come up with even more insidious ones.

“Y’know, Rimuru, I think I had the wrong idea,” said Ramiris. “Traps aren’t meant to be installed one at a time, are they?”

“No fair! Let me invent some!!” whined Milim.

“Yes, perhaps I was so focused on my overall might that I overlooked how best to install these traps,” said Veldora. “Let’s approach this a little more seriously, then.”

I mostly let them be. I didn’t have the time to deal with all this selfishness. Ramiris was allowed to do whatever she wanted with Floors 51 to 60; Veldora, Floors 61 to 70; and Milim, the trickiest part of the labyrinth—the dragon chambers on Floors 96 to 99. The floors might turn out ridiculous, I knew, but I doubted any adventurer would make it past Floor 50 for a while to come, so I didn’t see the problem.

Floor 95, by the way, was where we decided to place the beastman refugee camp. I’d been considering putting some (very expensive) lodging down there for rest purposes as well—another idea I filed away for the future, after I saw how things went. As for the remainder—Floors 71 to 94—I left those in their default, untouched state for future purposes. They were fully infused with magicules, so you might see monsters show up down there, but otherwise, nothing of note. Everything else, the three had free rein over.

A few days passed. While I was scanning the buzzing city streets, I spotted Mjöllmile and his entourage heading this way. That was quicker than I had expected. He must’ve packed up and come over in a hurry.

“Sir Rimuru! I do apologize we didn’t make it here sooner. I’m ready to begin at once!”

“Ah, Mjöllmile, thanks so much for coming! Let me guide you over to your home here.”

I took him over to a residence we had only just recently built. I had asked Rigurd to get it done for him in advance, advising him to make sure it was move-in ready. I loved that guy. So well put together. Ask him to do something, and he’ll never let you down. I also wanted Rigurd and Mjöllmile to say hello to each other, although Mjöllmile already knew Rigurd from their healing potion business. Leaving the guide goblins and Mjöllmile’s servants to the house, I went with him over to Rigurd’s office.

“Excuse me, Rigurd.”

“Oh, Sir Rimuru! And Sir Mjöllmile as well. What brings you here today?”

He must have been busy, but Rigurd warmly greeted us nonetheless.

“Ah, I’m sorry it’s been so long, Sir Rigurd! Your boss— Er, Sir Rimuru here has always been kind to me in our business ventures, but today—”

Before I could explain matters, Mjöllmile skillfully took over the role. We moved over to the parlor, quickly getting down to business—the state of arena construction, the lodging on the southwest side, the stalls we’d build around the arena site, and more. We also talked about the freshly built Dungeon and using it to attract adventurers to town.

“…So the Dungeon is all ready to go. It’s not complete yet, but I think we can run it right now without any problem. The coliseum’s going to need some more time as well, but the main stage is complete. The VIP seating’s done, too, all fancy and stuff, so I figure we can have the regular audience sit on sheets in the grandstand for now. Or make it standing room only if need be.”

We were short on time, so I had been procrastinating on that issue. The arena structure was still bare-bones, but I figured that could wait until Mildo returned. Even incomplete, I think it had style, and I was also making sure it was safe to use.

Rigurd and Mjöllmile listened to my explanation with rapt attention, and we quickly lost ourselves in discussion. Rigurd accepted the job of educating our citizens, ensuring they were fully able and ready to handle the people who’d be coming in soon; meanwhile, Mjöllmile had his own ideas for the arena and dungeon we had planned out, as evidenced by his commendably confident smile. We discussed it all, pointing out flaws and trying to correct them, figuring out what we needed and what had to be on-site.

“It’s a tremendous relief to see Sir Mjöllmile with us on this,” a smiling Rigurd said.

“Yeah, isn’t it? He’s a pretty useful guy, you know. If this Founder’s Festival ends well, I’m thinking about making him into our nation’s chief financial manager.”

This was important to me. I wanted him in charge of our country’s finances, and I also wanted him running our new commerce and publicity departments, doing all he could for Tempest. Rigurd nodded at this, promising to personally select the staff who’d work under him. We had been asking the inns along the highway and such to keep track of their own accounts, but this was still an uphill process. Literacy rates had gone up thanks to Vester, but not everyone could read, write, and do sums yet. If we wanted to keep this nation going, we’d really need people like Mjöllmile. Rigurd, to his credit, seemed to understand that and was accepting to Mjöllmile joining my administration—and not just because I wanted him there. Maybe he knew that numbers were a weakness of ours. He seemed to welcome him, even, outside of our current festival plans.

“…I see. That sounds like a splendid idea!”

“No, no, I still have much to learn. But I promise you that I will tackle our issues with every bit of strength I have!”

He was sounding modest, but I knew he had his heart set on this post from the outset. He had ambition, and as long as the Founder’s Festival worked out well, I’d have no qualms about appointing him to the roles I had laid out.

“However,” I said, “you’ll still need to perform well for us. The others won’t accept you otherwise.”

“Indeed,” replied Rigurd, “although I am sure one word from you would be enough to convince them all…”

“I’d like to avoid that. Honestly, if anything, I feel like I’m too involved in this stuff right now.”

“Maybe so. And the very fact that noncitizens of Tempest can take top administrative roles will serve as fine advertising. To achieve that, however, Sir Mjöllmile will need to put up results that everyone can appreciate.”

“You said it. Sorry to put all this pressure on you, but can I count on you for that, Mollie?”

That would be the tricky part. If this was just about strength, or something similarly easy to grasp, the monsters would easily be convinced. Diablo was a prime example; when I appointed him my second secretary, nobody complained about that at all. (Okay, Shion did, but that’s because she can’t take a hint.) Diablo’s strength was undoubtedly second only to mine; you’d have to be silly to pick a fight with someone like that.

In other words, when it came to military roles or the like, pretty much anyone could become an officer if I recognized their talents. If they’re strong enough for the post, we’re all good.

That wouldn’t work with the more bureaucrat-type positions. I imagine most governments have examinations and stuff for those posts, but sadly, we hadn’t reached that point yet.

I’d gladly welcome experienced people like Vester, but again, they needed to put up achievements. Even Vester was still technically just a consultant—a visitor, if you will. I wanted to give him a promotion to an administrative job, but first I wanted Mjöllmile to prove himself at his. If possible, I’d like them both to play a simultaneous role in our new system of government, bringing them on as ministers.

But Mjöllmile’s confident smile banished my concerns. “Heh-heh-heh… Sir Rimuru, I hope you won’t underestimate me that much. Just watch as I satisfy your expectations and make this into a massive success!”

Glad I could rely on him. He didn’t run the underground scene in his hometown with his mouth alone. That brazen attitude put my mind at ease.

“Heh-heh-heh… Mollie, you have earned my trust. Make me proud!”

“And even if you do make a mistake or two, I’ll make sure it becomes a success in the public eye. Anyone who defies Sir Rimuru’s will shall face the might of my iron fists!”

“Um, Rigurd, you can’t do that. That’s why I want Mjöllmile to do well for us, all right?”

“Never fear. I will leave no evidence—”

“You are quite an impressive official, Sir Rigurd,” murmured Mjöllmile.

“No, please, I mean it. If you do anything, you’re on your own, all right?”

Still, we exchanged dark smiles with each other. Rigurd and Mjöllmile weren’t unfamiliar with each other; I trusted they were comfortable with this relationship. Knowing that helped me relax. And really, I didn’t care why people decided to accept Mjöllmile’s presence, as long as they did.

Now, to go back to our respective groups and prepare for the Founder’s Festival. Things were humming along now.

That night:

“This is insanity… This must be insanity! This is far posher than even the grandest lodging in Englesia!”

Mjöllmile began shouting the moment he entered his new residence. He must have liked the place. I was happy.

“There is running water, magic-driven burners, baths, and these toilets. Every advanced piece of equipment this town has to offer is available to us.”

The elated servant’s report almost made Mjöllmile faint on the spot.

“R-Rimuru… Er, Sir Rimuru? Are you sure all this luxury is suitable for me?”

Hey, man, this all comes standard in Tempest.

Of course, given the servants he brought along, Mjöllmile was living in a larger mansion, not your normal kind of place. I had taken note of his residence in Blumund and made sure we had something similar for him here. There were ten individual apartments, rooms with small kitchens and toilets. These were linked by a large shared bath and a dining hall, allowing Mjöllmile to share this home with a decent number of servants.

“You needed this, right? This was cheaper than building separate homes for each of them, too. If anyone wants their own house, they’re free to save up for one.”

I couldn’t build homes for them all, so I kind of reused a building we had set up for an administrator-level resident, but everyone seemed happy enough with it. The house came at no charge, too—I mean, with all the money I had made off Mjöllmile, I really couldn’t charge him. And that money was gonna keep flowing, too. This was a necessary expense, you could say—a steal, even.

“Y-yes, true… But this is the standard you enjoy here? Then what about the more economical lodgings in the southwest?”

“Yeah, they don’t get individual baths in the rooms, but they do get toilets. There’s a low-cost public bath nearby, and some of the inns have their own baths for free.”

“I see… Yes, you did talk about making this town into a kind of health resort, didn’t you? Now it makes sense to me. So you offer this level of services to even the commoners, not just the nobility or well-funded areas? Yes, we certainly can expect some adventurers here!”

“Pretty easy living, huh?”

“Not just ‘pretty easy.’ This is the best you’d find all around the West. If adventurers can find a steady income in this town, we’re gonna have a lot of excitement pretty soon.”

“Hmm…”

“…?! Ah! Right! Yes, Sir Rimuru!”

Er, what? Mjöllmile was shouting at me again. I had no idea about what.

“That’s what the Dungeon is for! Well done, Sir Rimuru! I couldn’t be more in awe of you right now!”

“Oh. Um, yeah. Definitely.”

What’s he talking about?

“The adventurers can hunt the monsters in the labyrinth. I thought this was a bit of charity for adventurers short on work, now that the Forest of Jura is more stable…but heavens, you had thought that far ahead?”

Ch-charity?!

I mean, yeah, there aren’t as many wild monsters around Jura as there used to be, but…like, the Dungeon’s just a fun attraction, so…

“This can work. This can really work! We’re seeing more adventurers out of a job, what with monster counts dwindling and all. Perhaps some can use the Dungeon as their workplace. Plus, we’ll be selling healing potions and adventuring gear nearby, right? Picture this: What if this town isn’t just a tourist site or health spa, but someplace where they can permanently reside? With all these inns providing fantastic service, a coliseum attracting tourists, and a dungeon providing thrills and a potentially decent wage…”

Um…was that what we built the Dungeon for?

I did intend to offer money for whatever the adventurers earned in there, but that was kind of like offering buybacks on carnival prizes. But was Mjöllmile’s line of thinking worth hearing out?

“Wow, Mollie. You only just came here today, and you already worked it out?”

“Ah, of course, sir. If there’s money to be sniffed out, I’d never lose a single coin to you!”

“Heh-heh-heh… You’re incorrigible.”

“Ha-ha-ha! Ah, don’t be silly. It wouldn’t be possible without you!”

“But thinking and doing are different things, of course. I was hoping I could leave you to work out the rest of the plan…”

“Oh, would you? I’d be glad to help!”

I guess the plan was now to let adventurers “work” in the Dungeon, and Mjöllmile was kind enough to accept the job. He already had a ton on his plate, I knew. Talk about energetic.

But… Hmm. I didn’t think that far, but I totally overlooked the idea of adventurers living here. To me, the dungeon attraction was kind of a gamble—maybe some customers would make money off it, but the majority would leave with their wallets pretty thoroughly emptied. But have a permanent group of adventurers hunt monsters in there? There’s no stopping Mjöllmile’s imagination, huh? I love getting his insights.

Unlike forest creatures, there was no chance of overhunting and wrecking the ecosystem. Much better, really, to have the hunters cull the monsters’ numbers before they multiplied too much, then buy the materials they harvested from them. With Veldora around, there was no need to worry about where the magicules would come from—the monsters would be constantly replenished.

This actually might be a brilliant idea! It’d give adventurers money to go spend around the city and help fill Tempest’s coffers, which would allow us to provide more support to them. We could process the materials they hunted for us, and I suppose we could even export them to other countries. Magic crystals could be shipped off as is, although we wouldn’t export them all—we had our own uses for them.

Maybe this would be the tipping point that made the Free Guild build a post in town, too. We could give them exclusive rights to the dungeon business, so we weren’t in competition. And if they paid the adventurers directly, I thought, that would also open access to foreign capital for us—capital we could use to import goods from other nations. With imports cut off from Eurazania at the moment, I wasn’t sure the produce and grains we farmed would be enough to keep the adventurers full, so some imports might become necessary.

Besides, I wanted Tempest to become a trade hub; that was part of the idea from the start, and I needed to think of ways to move larger amounts of goods and money around. There were plans in my mind. That was why I made sure the highways were designed to be pretty wide, after all. We’d paved only half the width of the roads; the other half was bare earth. I planned to put rails down on that land someday, and with the rails would come freight trains.

“After that, I suppose it all comes down to advertising.”

Mjöllmile pulled me back down to earth before I floated off too much into fantasizing about my dreams. No, no need to go too crazy yet. It’d take time to develop rails, much less the trains that’d run on them. First, we needed to pull off this massive party without a hitch and make a good impression on the world.

“You’re right. This isn’t advertising, exactly, but I’ve sent out invitations to world leaders. Journalists from several nations are working with me as well, so I think we should see a pretty decent turnout.”

“Oh? Good to hear, Sir Rimuru. I was just thinking that we’d best start negotiating with royalty and nobility before the winter thaw if we want them to join in, but you’ve already planned ahead, eh? In that case, I’ll contact the larger merchant operations I work with and let them know about the festival.”

“Could you do that?”

“Certainly. I’m already prepared to, in fact. I intended to send out messengers once I scoped out how things were in Tempest.”

Mjöllmile grinned at me. He was so useful.

“Ah, my hat goes off to you, Mollie. You never leave a single stone unturned, do you?”

“I could say the same of you, Sir Rimuru! The foresight you’ve shown with all this is a far cry from anything I could ever manage.”

Another exchange of knowing smiles. I think Mjöllmile’s far more of a schemer than I ever was, but I’ll take the compliment.

“Sir Rimuru,” he continued, turning more serious as he stood up, “there is no way this plan of yours could possibly fail. If you have what it takes to build a nation up this far, I’m sure you could guide just about anyone to success!”

I’m not sure about “anyone,” but he did help put my mind at ease. I suppose Mjöllmile was impressed enough by our town’s food, environment, and creature comforts. That’s why he was reacting that way, and perhaps it was a sign of our future promised success, even.

I stood up and extended a hand to him. “I’m counting on you, Mollie!”

“Certainly,” he replied, gripping it in a handshake. From that moment, I was sure we had it in the bag.

That night, we held a big dinner at Mjöllmile’s mansion. Afterward, he and I were relaxing together over some tea when he whispered something to a servant and had him go fetch someone. This someone, or rather someones, turned out to be Bydd and Gob’emon.

I had thought Gob’emon was staying undercover as he kept watch over Mjöllmile. If he was here, had he introduced himself to the guy or something? And that wasn’t even my main concern.

“Sir Rimuru, I understand that kind Gob’emon here was sent to protect me?”

I thought about playing dumb for a moment, but I guess Mjöllmile already knew he was here on my orders. No point trying to hide it.

“Well, yeah— But, Gob’emon, uh, what’s up with your arm?”

I kinda had to ask. Half of his right one was missing, ending at the elbow.

“S-Sir Rimuru! My—my sincerest apologies!” He kneeled down, head virtually to the floor. “I made a terrible mistake and exposed my identity to Mjöllmile. This arm was my punishment, you see.”

I turned to Mjöllmile for some kind of explanation.

“Now, now, Gob’emon. Go on, lift your head up. Have some tea to calm you down.”

He sat Gob’emon on a seat and offered him tea from a servant. Once we were all in place, he turned to me and went into the story.

It turned out that Mjöllmile had, indeed, been attacked several times since our meeting. Mjöllmile, being no fool, ordered Bydd and the rest of his security detail to redouble their efforts, but there were a few close scrapes that were foiled thanks to the assistance of an anonymous bystander—Gob’emon, in other words. There were considerably more assaults than I had planned for, and I guess that’s how he got spotted. Mjöllmile apparently figured he must’ve been with me and kept pretending not to notice out of politeness.

And then it happened. Viscount Cazac, whether he lost his temper or whatever, decided to get serious.

“So I left my business to a trusted associate and left for this country. Once I reached the highway, I assumed I was safe and nobody would try to touch me. But…”

The highway was full of adventurers, traveling merchants, and patrolmen. I had teams clear the roads daily to keep them free of snow, so the winter hadn’t slowed the flow of people much. An attack in such a well-traversed area was unthinkable, and even if it happened, our security team would be right on the scene. Someone like Mjöllmile, who traveled the highways frequently, was fully aware of that.

But as if to prove his confidence was misplaced, his party came under attack at a village near the far end of the highway.

“A village? You mean the one where Bydd tried to rip— Um, where Bydd and I first met?”

“Yes! The very same, Sir Rimuru!”

Bydd might have been Mjöllmile’s bodyguard now, but when I first met him, he was a pretty low-end swindler. It wasn’t worth bringing up past drama, though, so I glossed over it. He had shown up to help defend Gob’emon, and now they were both behind Mjöllmile as he explained matters.

As Bydd then explained, they were accosted by a wagon painted black, out of which popped monsters—several of them, all ranked B. As an ex–C fighter, Bydd and his team couldn’t do much, and they were all about to say their prayers but still did their best to evacuate the villagers and buy some time. Then Gob’emon showed up.

“Yeah, that Gob’emon guy saved all our lives, man!”

“That he did,” Mjöllmile added. “Not just me, but everyone who was there owes him a word of thanks.”

“But I still failed…”

Gob’emon didn’t seem interested in the compliment. He wasn’t the sort to lose out to this monster band, and apparently he had dispatched them in short order. He then attempted to capture the criminal leading them, only to go eye-to-eye with a basilisk, a B-plus threat. It spewed petrifying gas at Gob’emon’s right arm, and he hurriedly amputated it himself before it spread any further. That bought the black wagon enough time to speed off.

“Failed? Meaning you didn’t catch the guy behind it?”

“Yes, but I let Mjöllmile notice me…”

That’s what he’s talking about?!

“I don’t really care about that. Your bodyguard duty was the more important thing. Plus, like, fix that thing, dude!”

I extracted a potion from my Stomach and attempted to hand it to Gob’emon. He bit his lip, refusing to take it.

“No, this injury is the result of my inexperience. I was unable to defeat the basilisk by myself and compelled to seek the aid of Bydd and his team. It was terrible of me, and while missing an arm presents its difficulties, it will grow back over time…”

What a stubborn goblin. Or proud, I guess you could say, but he was trying to do way too much by himself.

“Gob’emon, are you embarrassed that you needed Bydd’s help?”

“Well…my job was to guard Mjöllmile, but I exposed him to danger instead…”

“Hang on, Gob’emon. You’re misunderstanding this.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You’re trying to do everything alone. That’s the difference between you and Gobta.”

That summed it up, really—the ability to work with the people underneath them. Gobta never tried to do all the work himself. Even when fighting powerful monsters, he was always issuing commands to his team. For the easier jobs, he barely even lifted a finger—or maybe he was just deliberately being lazy, much of the time—but in terms of encouraging growth among his team, Benimaru called Gobta a better commander.

With Gob’emon, if a strong monster reared its ugly head, he’d leap right in front and try to fight it. I could understand his line of thinking—he was talented, so this would make things faster—but doing that accomplished nothing for the rest of his team. And what if Gob’emon fell? It’d leave his troop defenseless. I’d be deeply concerned about their chances of surviving the encounter.

That was the reasoning behind Benimaru’s evaluation, and that’s why I wanted Gob’emon to learn how to rely on others. Mjöllmile was great at handling his people, and I thought using him as an example would help Gob’emon grow a little.

“…That’s exactly why you need to learn how to trust in your friends more. I’m not saying to throw them recklessly into danger. I’m saying that you need to conserve a little bit of your strength and give them a hand if things get hairy.”

“I—I…”

“Everybody knows how strong you are. But that’s not enough to lead a unit.”

“......”

Gob’emon hung his head, and I took the opportunity to throw the healing potion at him.

“Ah?!”

The fluid spilled all over his right arm, which visibly regenerated before us.

“Gob’emon, I want you to stay with Mjöllmile for a while. You can train Bydd and his men if you like, or just chill out and relax for a bit. I doubt Mollie needs anyone to guard him in town, so take a moment to reevaluate yourself a little, all right?”

“L-Lord Rimuru…”

“Because, I mean, none of us can really do anything by ourselves, okay? I think you learned that with your mistake there. Just think about what you should do next time, and you’ll find the answer, okay?”

I smiled at him, took the katana off my belt, and presented it to him. He froze, eyes wide open in surprise.

“Take it.”

“B-but… My mission…”

“Look, you got Mollie here in one piece, right? I’ll be expecting even bigger things from you now. Treat this sword as a mirror into your heart, and use it every night to try looking into yourself.”

If Gob’emon could get over his arrogance and pride, we’d be able to rely on him more than ever.

“Yes sir! Your loyal servant Gob’emon shall live up to your expectations!”

There was fire in his eyes. He always was a goblin of ambition—giving him a goal to strive for should make the growth process go faster. I was sure he’d live up to every bit of my expectations.

“All right, Mollie, you mind taking care of Gob’emon for me?”

“Ha-ha-ha! I don’t mind one bit. I was just about to ask you the very same favor! Bydd, we’ve got Sir Rimuru’s permission. I hope you’re ready for some training from Gob’emon!”

Looks like he was already welcome on the team. Gob’emon was now a sort of houseguest of Mjöllmile’s, free to do whatever he wanted.

Once I left the mansion, I looked at the night sky. The assorted constellations up there were twinkling bright, although none looked like what I saw on Earth.

I wondered about that attacker, though. Was it really Cazac behind that? I doubted a nobleman on the level of a viscount had the resources to stage an assassination attempt with multiple monsters. And B rankers were one thing, but B-plus? It’d be impossible to tame one of those guys unless you were some kind of tycoon from a wealthy nation…

…Wait a second. If you wanted to tame a B-plus monster, would money be enough to achieve that?

Understood. Thegis, a summoner rated A-minus, once summoned a B-plus Lesser Demon. It is not out of the question for someone to tame a basilisk.

Ahhh, summon magic could do the trick, huh? That’d sure be quicker than carting the monster around on a wagon. But while Shuna’s barrier kept external magic from entering town, the highways were wholly unprotected.

“Better beef up our security,” I whispered to myself as I set off.

Mjöllmile had been gracefully accepted by the residents of Tempest. I introduced him to my administration, and Rigurd relayed word of him to the others, but really, it all went surprisingly smoothly. Looking at the way he worked for me after that, I could see why nobody was complaining. In no time at all, he had a firm grasp of the people and resources he had at hand, delegating duties to both man and monster. Between them and the servants he had brought along, he had a full organization set up in no time whatsoever. Capable people are just different like that.

As he managed this new company of his, Mjöllmile used his connections to send out invitations to VIPs worldwide. Powerful nobility from the inner countries, the wealthier merchants from each key city, the movers and shakers over in the Englesian capital, that kind of thing. Once the snow melted, the Founder’s Festival was going to be even larger in scale than I had first envisioned.

Of course, his organizational skills were also pointed in other directions: the performances for our new theater; the format and rules for our arena battles; the admission fee to the Dungeon, along with prices for the items we sold there; inventory and sales approaches for the stalls around the arena site. I was shocked this was a first for him; he seemed completely in his element as he arranged all this. I introduced him to Veldora, too, and he agreed to work out the guy’s hibachi-grill concept with him.

I definitely made the right choice. Out of all my crazy ideas, hiring him was probably the smartest one. Without his talents, there was a pretty high chance the whole thing would’ve crashed and burned. No way I’d ever be this nimble with things. I was lucky to run into this guy, and as I watched him do his magic, I couldn’t help but feel exhilarated.

Time sure flies sometimes, doesn’t it? The whole town was in a festive mood now, the streets alive with energy and enthusiasm.

Arena construction was proceeding well. Gobkyuu was proving an excellent foreman, and everything was still on schedule. Mildo, youngest of the three dwarven brothers, was also back from his break and adding his own touches to my blueprints. Now there was an aesthetic, even artistic value, to the structure. He was a real artist, indeed, and I sure wasn’t, so this was a huge help. I was sure it’d be more than enough to wow those jaded nobles. Plus, Mildo’s touches even looked like they’d be done in time for the first battle tournament.

Mjöllmile’s staff also had their stalls open, selling to the workers in the area for practice. This was going well, too, generating business at a pretty decent clip. Neither of us anticipated any problems, which was a relief. The Dungeon, meanwhile, was in Ramiris’s and Veldora’s hands—I wanted to be more involved, but I was rapidly running short of free time.

Now the various leaders of the Forest of Jura’s monster races were assembling in town to celebrate (or maybe probe into) my new title. We had a series of audiences with each contingent scheduled across several days.

They wanted to declare their fealty to the demon lord in hopes of obtaining protection in return—but if they saw that the demon lord didn’t have that kind of power, they’d no doubt bare their fangs at once and start rebelling. Under a powerless demon lord, there’d be no prosperity, only a straight, downhill road to oblivion, and they knew it. Taking action to avoid such a fate was a matter of course.

Until fairly recently, the whole of Jura had been protected under Veldora’s absolute, irresistible power. That made the Forest an impregnable fortress, but now it was under the rule of a new demon lord—a freshly ordained one, whose priorities and policies were still a question mark. That’d unnerve any of the monster leaders, I was sure.

…So. Here I was, in the audience chamber we set up, being enshrined on my little platform, in full dress. As a slime. It made me feel like some kind of table decoration, a conversation piece laid out on a divine altar.

I suggested just putting one of my Replications up there, but my team of advisers just smiled and said no. They had a knack for working together against me at times like this. My only guess was that they were using Thought Communication to talk to each other behind my back.

So I let them do what they wanted with me, and they dolled me up so much that I couldn’t even move. They even prepared special slime clothes for this day. It was exhausting. Several outfits, changed daily for me—or maybe even morning, afternoon, and evening; I stopped paying attention. I wished they’d knock it off, but they kept talking about how I had to strike a dignified pose—which indicated to me that my slime form didn’t look dignified at all.

Ah well.

Everyone participating in this “presentation ceremony” was dressed like they were members of a military honor guard. Every button was polished, not a wrinkle in sight. The pressure was intense, and in the midst of this oppressive atmosphere, Rigurd and Rigur—just as smartly dressed—were dealing with the envoys. I looked down at them, as instructed to do, without saying a word. Me speaking would ruin the effect anyway, so I was glad I didn’t have to.

Benimaru and Shuna stood guard over me on both sides. Behind me was Shion, Soei, and Gabil, in a neat little line. Ranga, as always, was holed up inside my shadow.

Over to the right was Gobwa and another hundred-odd members of Team Kurenai; the other two hundred were patrolling the city streets. They were all more powerful than our normal security team, so I took this measure so they could quickly handle any weirdos who showed up during the event. Shion’s Team Reborn in plainclothes, meanwhile, was also keeping an eye on the town, ready to address any flare-ups before they got out of control.