Harbingers of Change

Chapter 4

Geld's main advantage was that he could be easily found in any crowd, whether in a bustling conference room, a noisy construction site, or a chaotic battlefield. The massive orc towered over even his kin, and as Momonga rode into the construction site, Geld's helmeted head was immediately visible among the multitude of orcs. Without announcing his presence, Momonga descended from Ranga and motioned for the wolf to shrink down in size, which the obedient pet did.

The industrious people were hard at work, building a large stadium in one of the smaller cities on the outskirts of Fulbrosia. Momonga was mildly taken aback to see numerous wingless harpies or those with misshapen wings bustling among the orcs, all donned in uniform and equipped for their tasks.

With curiosity getting the better of him, he listened in to see what sort of role they were playing. Unsurprisingly, the harpies, a species known for its great sense of spatial distribution, were helping to design buildings and overseeing the logistical part of the construction, acting as spotters and messengers for the laborious high orcs.

Under the new policies, even crippled harpies were allowed to return to Fulbrosia. However, as the lower caste, and at the risk of being severely mistreated - as how they had been before - a vast majority had decided to remain in Tempest, whose social system wasn't as rigid, valuing merit, intelligence, and hard work over raw power and tradition for the masses.

It took a moment for the busy workers to register Momonga and his companions, as he had entered the place unannounced and both Ranga and Rubedo were silently following, aware that he preferred not to cause a fuss wherever he showed up. Moreover, their auras were heavily suppressed to avoid causing disturbances, as auras alone could become dangerous at sufficient intensity.

Once spotted, a ripple of recognition spread rapidly, and everyone present knelt in deference. Momonga, knowing the shtick, simply waved for everyone to rise and approached Geld, who had dropped his clipboard in the commotion.

The high orc, one of very few who could dwarf Momonga in terms of sheer size, was visibly moved by Momonga's approach, reminiscent of Rigurd's emotional displays. Although Momonga attended the monthly racial leader meeting, his interactions were typically limited to a brief address followed by a minute of dialogue from each representative. It was just the bare minimum, so this was only expected.

"How have you been faring?" Momonga greeted the orc.

"Exceedingly well, my Lord!" Geld boomed. "The abundance of land and sustenance has allowed my kind to prosper beyond our wildest dreams."

"That's good to hear. Is there anything that may require my attention?" Momonga queried the ecstatic orc.

"We have everything we require and more. For example, each orc settlement has built a community center, and our once-neglected culture is thriving like never before. The only inquiry I would love to have answered is whether we will be allowed to enter the Falmuthian province. A great many smaller companies are eager to venture there and aid in the restoration of the ravaged settlements," Geld spoke with his head lowered in a polite gesture, with some of the other orcs nodding alongside him.

"The borders should reopen shortly, permitting free passage for all races. The majority of the territory is almost ready to integrate fully with Tempest. However, be mindful that humans may be reluctant to collaborate with orcs, and prejudice will unavoidably be a barrier to securing willing patrons for your services," Momonga replied, concealing his amusement at having to look up when speaking for once.

"The results speak for themselves. We only require a few who will let us try, and word of mouth shall do the rest. No one builds like an orc!" Geld proudly stated, his sentiment echoed by the beams of his fellow people.

"In that case, I will make sure to announce when Falmuth is open for free travel," Momonga affirmed, then bid Geld good fortune before teleporting away.

The next stop was Kaijin, the leader of Tempest's growing dwarf population. Quite a few of the industrious dwarves had been flocking to the monster lands, drawn by the lack of competition, attractive wages, and superior living conditions. And since Tempest was ever in need of skilled smiths, they were welcomed with open arms.

In the heart of the mechanical district, Momonga found the dwarf at the communal diner, enduring a good-natured scolding from his wife about forgetting to take his expertly crafted lunch with him to work again. His peers snickered as their usually gruff and tough leader could only offer sheepish nods under the fiery tirade of his hot-headed goblina spouse who was laying into him harder than a magisteel bar.

Seizing the chance to escape his lecture, Kaijin eagerly accompanied Momonga on a brief tour of the district, not that his wife complained since she hurriedly stated that their conversation would continue once he was done. As they walked, the dwarf detailed the triumphs and challenges of the expanding industrial sector. Though still predominantly state-run, with all private factories owned by the United Trade Company, it was only a matter of time before private investors joined the heavily regulated sector. Neither of them knew where the development of magitech for civilian use would go from there.

Kaijin had little to lament, for his friendship with Pero ensured the dwarves' concerns were promptly addressed. Their problems were resolved quite quickly thanks to their connection. And for any personal grievances, his goblina wife had the charm and bark to bite down on anyone who dared to look at them funny for their stature, and her fierce advocacy left no room for discrimination.

Perhaps the only difficulty he faced was dealing with the scarcity of raw materials for mass production. However, this bottleneck was gradually easing as new mining sites were sprouting on a near-weekly basis all across the Tempestian lands, with Kaijin cooperating with the kobolds to secure every available mine for his smiths.

His reputation had carried over from Dwargon despite his resignation, and now he was one of the leaders of the largest group of apprentices who strove to serve Momonga just as well as he did. The demand for more resources would never stop in the smithing fields so long as he was in charge for the next few hundred years.

Momonga's journey continued to Dragonewt Lake, one of the biggest tourist attractions, with a lakeside for enjoying aquatic leisure in the summer and skating in the winter. The former lizard people were the governors of the area, their scales suited for enduring the harsher parts of the environment and vital for rescuing drowning swimmers.

Although Souka was rarely present and left her assistants to run most day-to-day activities, she materialized from the shadow of one of her aides at Momonga's inquiry. As one of Souei's team members under the direct control of Buku, she was mostly busy with reconnaissance but was always ready to heed a summons, especially from one such as Momonga himself.

"When the Falmuthian border is reopened, we humbly request to purchase coastal properties to broaden our water tourism ventures," Souka proposed, saluting with military precision. "Aside from two lakes, Jura lacks places to enjoy such activities," she clarified, standing as straight as a pole.

"I see no reason to deny such a request. I will put a word out to Pero regarding this," Momonga assured her, nodding at the idea. Ranga quickly expressed excitement at new water parks to play in, having heard Shion laud them for being ideal for relaxation many times in the past.

It was evident that each race within Tempest had carved out their success in their preferred fields and sought expansion. Orcs with their construction, dragonewts in water tourism, and rabbit people in the service industry - all had a job to do. Elves pursued more scholarly activities of magic research, and even the most recently added race, vampires, had their niche and were eager to join alchemical research teams.

With no active war looming over the horizon, Tempest could take a relaxed breath and concentrate on its domestic affairs for the time being. Momonga was certainly acquainted with the dread of living under the shadow of loss - through accidents, lawlessness, and even terrorism. He harbored no intentions of subjecting his people to such a hell, whose numbers swelled with each passing day. The Overlord silently pledged to uphold the tranquility of his realm as long as the fates would allow it.

In his grasp lay the might to shape reality, rendering the once-distant dream of a utopia tantalizingly attainable. In this new world where power was the ultimate arbiter, Momonga stood cautiously to etch his vision upon the lands that were now beneath his fingertips.

<X>

Frey's gaze remained impassive as Claire recounted the unsettling news: another formidable regional leader in Fulbrosia had vanished, one that had ruled her region for quite a few decades. This latest disappearance marked a disturbing trend - a phantom assailant was infiltrating and systematically targeting her nation's notable people one by one, leaving no trace behind. At best, a few splashes of blood or a loose feather or two was all that was found, and no hints of excessive magic were left in their wake.

The matriarchs were powerful leaders of her race, answering only to her due to their strength. The notion that someone could extinguish their lives so effortlessly, leaving no indication whatsoever, sent a ripple of unease through her. Such a foe would possess strength rivaling her own - a deeply troubling prospect.

"I want her successor brought before me by dawn," Frey commanded, her voice betraying none of the turmoil within. "And alert the rest of the regional rulers to be on the lookout for an ambush." She dismissed her daughter with a casual wave of her hand, without as much as giving away a single emotion in her cold and stony expression, as befitting her status as a ruler.

"As you wish, my Queen." Claire bowed deeply and retreated from her private quarters, her wings unfurling in a flurry the moment she was out of immediate sight.

Frey rose from the elegant chair she was sitting in and paced around the chamber, her sharp talons leaving subtle marks on the solid wood floor from their subconscious tension.

'Could this be the work of Tempest?'

The monster nation may be a likely culprit. With Ruberios all but dissolved, they might covet her lands. By removing all possible opposition beforehand, they could pave the way for a seamless takeover, installing their governors without resistance, and having Luchia come and end her personally.

But according to the hints her second daughter had provided at her insistence yesterday, that wasn't the plan. Should the expansion into her lands ensue, Momonga would have first offered for her to bend the knee willingly, since he desired peaceful transitions for economic and cultural benefits over waging bloody wars that would most certainly kill off her strongest and most educated.

The attacks might have come from Sarion, given their prowess in the magical arts. But what would the elves gain? They had not acted against her for ages, and her superficial alliance with Tempest served as a potent deterrent against the long-lived race and their undying Empress.

Carrion? Unlikely. He wasn't as subtle in his schemes, and in the implausible scenario of him turning on her, he would've simply marched forth with legions at his back, challenging her to a duel for her hand and her throne - not skulking in the shadows.

'I think I'll put aside suspecting my neighbors and see if they have any information they can provide.' Resolving to cast aside fruitless suspicions, Frey decided to seek answers directly.

The first one she contacted was her long-time ally and friend, Carrion. She approached a small table holding stands containing dim crystal balls. After glancing at each, she grabbed the one that provided direct communication with the Beast King, pouring a small burst of magicules into the device in a hurry. The dim glow of the orbs barely lit the room, casting long shadows that seemed to echo the growing dread within her. With each passing moment, another matriarch could fall prey to the unseen predator.

Carrion's image flickered to life within the orb. "I was just about to contact you myself. Have your people been taken too? Vanished into thin air?" he started without any greeting; his powerful voice unmistakably full of frustration from being unable to protect his subjects.

"Five matriarchs, all nearly as formidable as Claire," she confirmed her fellow Demon Lord's suspicion.

"Whoever the elusive bastard is, he is bold," Carrion growled. "I think we should contact Buku to get her take on the matter. I doubt it's one of Momonga's pets causing trouble."

Frey nodded. "Maybe it is time to make another visit to Tempest. Merely talking won't achieve much with our lack of information. I will find who is taking what is mine one way or another. If Tempest is not involved, they can help us hunt this beast, considering they may be next."

"I'll drop by in an hour. Mind contacting Buku and telling her that we're coming for a chat?" Carrion asked, his image waning.

"You could be less subtle when claiming you do not want to interact with that woman." Frey couldn't help but take a jab at the beast king, chuckling despite the tension.

Buku, for all her mostly pleasant demeanor, was a terrifying entity with a personality to match. Few could get Milim Nava to just listen, but she could make one of the most powerful and ancient Demon Lords dance to her tune. All four Lords of Tempest were fear-inducing in their own way, but Buku was the most outwardly intimidating, being closely followed by the subtle, unfathomable dread that was hidden behind Momonga's polite demeanor.

With Buku being the minister of foreign affairs, a direct line of communication was opened with her no matter the hour of the day due to their nations' treaty. Frey put down the orb designated for Carrion and picked up the one connected to Buku.

The monstrous slime, to her relief, was in a good mood. After a brief exchange, Buku responded with sympathy.

"We are always willing to help out our allies. While we have not suffered a single attack, I think I know who the culprit is."

"In that case, I wish to announce that Carrion and I plan to visit Tempest directly to discuss ways to deal with this problem," Frey announced, playing up her authority as a Queen.

On paper, she outranked Buku as the leader of a nation, but in actuality, Buku was far above her in terms of raw power. If she so much as suggested that Frey get on all fours and show submission, she would do it without hesitation to preserve her queendom, her pride be dammed.

"Very well. I will inform Momonga. Use Suphia's mansion as a teleportation entry point. We will leave an opening there." The veil of mystery surrounding Tempest prevented any uninvited intrusions, but Frey knew they would make an exception for her. Moreover, Fulbrosia did not possess the mages to attempt to study it intensely.

With the meeting set, Frey's thoughts turned to preparations. All that remained was to wait for Carrion and his beastketeers to arrive, and for her to order Claire and Nemu to prepare for the incoming trip.

{ Claire, gather your sister and prepare for travel. We depart for Tempest. Be sure the handmaidens have taken a good look at that lazy child to make her presentable. }

Her daughter's response came swiftly, tinged with caution. { As you command, mother. Though, I have to ask, wouldn't it be better to pick a few guards among the daughters of the matriarch council? Nemu is ill-suited for such duties. }

{ This is a matter of diplomacy, not strength. You know as well as I do that we would not be able to defeat Tempest's upper echelons should we need to fight any of them. } Frey shut down the suggestion, leaving no room for debate.

Nemu, unlike her sisters, shunned the pursuit of power for a life of leisure to enjoy. She preferred to spend her days searching for exotic foods to try and drinks to sample or simply napping in the warm sun for hours at a time. Her potential remained untapped, overshadowed by her siblings' ambition.

That, nevertheless, didn't mean she was weak by any means. Among the harpies, lineage often dictated the latent power within an individual, and Nemu's was not lacking at all. However, she was a far cry from her elder sisters, who were prime queen candidates. The youngest daughter was simply disinterested in politics and powerplay, so most notable figures overlooked her.

{ Understood. Shall I send for your handmaidens as well? } Claire asked without skipping a beat.

{ Of course. Appearances are more important than ever. } Frey responded, her maternal instincts surfacing despite her regal facade. She couldn't help but try to impose some of her wisdom upon her daughter. Despite the outwardly cold relationship, Frey really did care about her children. She wanted to make them the best versions of themselves they could be, even if it cost her everything, including her own life.

As Frey relayed the details to Carrion, the weight of the impending meeting with Tempest's ruler loomed over her. It was another chance to show how they conducted themselves, and such opportunities were not to be wasted. The future was uncertain, but she would face it with the poise of a queen.

Editing by aidan_lo and Zprotu.

Proofreading by Sluethen, clagan, aidan_lo, FantasyTroll, shynavyseal, Cay, Thea, Gil, NuggetLover, and Zprotu.

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