NOVEL WEB Chapter 407
Chapter 407: The Demon Lord’s Melancholy
The second Demon Lord, Goldgias = Orgi.
His valor was highly esteemed, and he was unmatched in spear prowess within the Demon Lord Kingdom. Sharp-witted and physically robust, he was truly a man who wielded the title of “strongest” without contest—
“Your Majesty, here is a petition—”
“Your Majesty! The Anoitus tribe and the Zalkorn tribe are at odds—”
“Your Majesty, regarding the incident where Ogre soldiers massacred Goblin soldiers—”
Today was yet another day filled with political duties, drowning in paperwork at the office.
The first petition was about a certain tribe lending money to another tribe, but the loan had not been repaid even after the deadline. They had the loan agreement signed, so they urgently requested repayment based on that. However, they were told things like, “What does that scrap of paper mean?” and “If you want it back, try it by force.” They were even provoked with, “To rely on a scrap of paper without challenging me to a spear duel is the mark of a coward.”
“Ugh…”
That’s the honest opinion of the Demon Lord regarding the barbarians.
The tribe that lent the money didn’t do so willingly but was compelled by a superior tribe on their territory. Still, they had managed to get a loan agreement written up as proof—
And it turned out the borrowing tribe was intent on defaulting from the start, completely dismissing the importance of the agreement.
—The claim that “the weak should obey the strong” may be a truth of this world, but that alone won’t maintain smooth governance of the state.
In this case, the borrower had no room for excuse, given that they had promised repayment with the signed loan agreement. However, if the Demon Lord merely reminded them that “promises should be kept,” it could easily lead to being looked down upon with comments like, “Is it really a Demon Lord who values rules more than strength?” —Well, if they dared to disrespect him, he would just kill them outright. Nevertheless, he didn’t want any unnecessary deaths over such trivial matters, so the Demon Lord rendered a judgment that emphasized both strength and reason.
He declared,
“The debtor must promptly repay.”
“This is because, for the pride of the tribe and the name of our ancestors, they promised to repay.”
“If repayment is not made, the tribe will be treated as a dishonorable one.”
“A dishonorable tribe has no qualifications to be nobility; hence, titles and promotions will not be recognized.”
“If there are objections to this Demon Lord’s ruling, they may challenge it through a spear duel.”
In short, “You promised on the pride of your tribe, so keep it. If you don’t, I’ll treat you as worthless and take away your noble privileges. If you have something to say about it, come at me.”
“Hmph, that should do it. It’s the ruling they prefer—’the weak should obey the strong.'”
Signing the letter, the Demon Lord snorted. Since the strongest Demon Lord said so, they should just follow without complaint.
“This matter needs to be particularly communicated to the weaker tribes. Without the loan agreement, this wouldn’t be happening.”
“Understood.”
At the Demon Lord’s command, the goat-headed demon butler, Stegnos, bowed respectfully.
The next matter, the conflict between the Anoitus tribe and the Zalkorn tribe—was the usual affair. In fact, he’d seen it before. It all started with livestock theft that escalated into a water-throwing debate about whether it happened, leading to an ongoing conflict that dragged on to this day.
There had been deaths, and the Demon Lord had intervened several times, but it never ceased, with both sides equally at fault; it had devolved into a situation where no reason held sway. The Demon Lord decided it was best to let them kill each other off at this point, tossing the report into the trash.
As for the incident involving Ogre soldiers slaughtering Goblin soldiers—it was rather suspicious. To be honest, he didn’t care much about the deaths of such inferior beings, but if it appeared to be a factional dispute among races, that made things different.
Surface-level investigations suggested that, recently, due to the “Goblin-Ogre Dispensability Theory” within the Demon Army, both Goblins and Ogres had been working together to improve their standings. However, while Ogres managed to secure a decent position, Goblins were increasingly viewed as unnecessary, leading to rising discontent between the two.
In this context, it seemed an Ogre soldier had killed a Goblin soldier during a falling out—but before the suspect could be interrogated, he mysteriously died, raising suspicions of poisoning.
Since Goblins lacked knowledge about poison, it could only be presumed that there was outside interference, but the method was so sloppy for it to be the work of the Night Elves, experts in toxins. There was a theory that Hobgoblins, facing the risk of being dismissed from their positions due to the “Goblin-Ogre Dispensability Theory,” might have staged this to frame the Night Elves.
However, conversely, it could also be the Night Elves staging such a plan to smear the Hobgoblins, and denying the possibility that Hobgoblins had poisoned the Ogre soldier was equally difficult.
Moreover, there might just be a clever Goblin among them, unrelated to any scheme, who poisoned the Ogre soldier out of pure vengeance.
To reiterate, the Demon Lord truly didn’t care how many inferior beings died, but it was a fact that their absence would disrupt the country. Especially since Night Elves and Hobgoblins were involved in state management, he couldn’t treat the matters lightly.
This required careful investigation—so the Demon Lord decided to hold off any judgment until he received more detailed reports.
“…I suppose it’s time for a break.”
“Certainly. I will bring tea.”
Tossing the various cases aside left and right—feeling mental fatigue, the Demon Lord dismissed the line of officials and petitioners to take a moment’s respite.
“What day is it today, anyway?”
He glanced at the map of the Demon Lord Kingdom hanging on the wall as he took a sip of tea, muttering to himself.
“It’s the Moon Day.”
At Stegnos’ reply, the Demon Lord lowered his gaze and muttered, “…Is that so?”
—Every first Moon Day of the week was supposed to be a dinner meeting with the children.
However, with Emelgias dead and Zilbagias exiled, this custom had faded away naturally.
Why? Because the atmosphere was simply dreadful. Aiogias and Rubyphia were overtly awkward with each other, and the only one who could possibly neutralize the tension, Diagias, inexplicably became a governor and hadn’t returned from Evaroti.
The Demon Lord, Aiogias, Rubyphia, Spinethia, and Topazia—
That circular table was too large for just five people. In the early days, when only Emelgias was still around, it was a much smaller table.
After various incidents led to its destruction, the current second circular table was a larger one.
But that only made it look emptier.
Once a place of solace for the Demon Lord, the dinner gatherings had instead become a source of agony.
Since the Demon Lord had started skipping, Aiogias, Rubyphia (and Topazia) stopped attending as well, leaving only Spinethia reveling in fine food.
Now the Demon Lord was so engrossed in work that he wouldn’t even know what day it was unless someone reminded him—
(This way… the accusation of weakness cannot be avoided.)
Drinking tea, the Demon Lord self-deprecated.
After his death, it was inevitable that the Demon Lord’s sons and dukes would fight over the throne. He fully expected a bloody battle, so he was quite stunned when it arrived a little earlier than anticipated.
(If it weren’t for Bon-Dage, I might’ve run into trouble with my duties.)
He stroked the mounted lion’s head on his waist and absentmindedly rubbed his well-defined abs. Being overwhelmed with work and losing his place of solace, he had recently felt a heaviness in his stomach.
Without Bon-Dage’s fatigue-reducing enchantment, he might have been bedridden. Naturally, a Demon Lord must be healthy both mentally and physically; such weakness was not permitted.
It truly appeared that he despised the bloody struggles of kin.
This man, Goldgias = Orgi—having triumphed in a ruthless fight for the Demon Lord’s throne, wielding the blood-stained spear of the Demon God, carried a dark shadow in his heart from that experience…
For that reason, he continued to hold banquet-style meetings, playing family… though it had utterly collapsed due to Emelgias’ outbursts and Nephradia’s reckless actions.
(Zilbagias… what are you doing now?)
Gazing at the continent’s map, the Demon Lord mused internally.
It had been nearly a month since Zilbagias had left the Demon Lord Kingdom.
In the alliance territories, thanks to Nephradia scattering flyers, hunts for dark beings had become rampant. The Night Elves were screaming—reportedly, their intelligence networks had been shattered, and contact with infiltrators was lost across most fronts.
Amidst this turmoil, Zilbagias, facing the unprecedented punishment of exile—
Of course, with the mobility of dragons, combined with the presence of experienced spies, and Zilbagias’ ability to use transformation magic, he stood apart from the demon kind that had been exiled before, presenting a wholly different scenario.
(Your abilities are needed by the Demon Lord Kingdom…)
His keen intellect, unparalleled martial prowess, and knowledge of necromancy.
As the Demon Lord, he considered Aiogias the rightful successor, but he sensed that Zilbagias could bring about some kind of transformation rather than simply following the current Demon Lord’s approach.
Ideally, he would like Zilbagias to assist Aiogias, but… it seemed unlikely given Platiphia’s stance.
Zilbagias himself had expressed, “I’m not interested in the throne, but I want to surpass the Demon Lord.”
Which meant becoming the Demon Lord itself.
(Zilbagias—return safely.)
He pressed his lips together, focusing his gaze.
(To avoid saddening Platiphia…)
Clunk, he set the teacup down on the saucer.
“Would you like a refill, Your Majesty?”
“No, that’s enough. Let’s get back to work.”
With a pat on his belly, he reached for the next document.
Thanks to Bon-Dage, he felt remarkably well—now, not worrying about family matters while engrossed in duties was, in a way, a relief.
As he moved the pen, the Demon Lord submerged himself in work.
To forget the murkiness accumulating deep within his belly.
To carve away the luxury of time to stew over matters like this from himself.