Chapter 7: A Demon King in White

Chapter 7:
A Demon King in White

IN THE BARRACKS of the margravate’s capital, the chief accountant tossed the notice on the desk with a sigh. It was an elaborately decorated document signed by the supreme commander of the margrave’s army.

The chair creaked as he threw himself into it. His glasses slipped down his face as he sagged into a slump, and one of his subordinates—a diligent orc who often found himself scolding his slovenly superior—berated him for his bad posture. In response, the chief nudged his head toward the papers. After glancing over the document, his subordinate looked at him with sympathy in his eyes.

Oh, looks like he actually can shut up. Nice to see the supreme commander is useful for something.

Chuckling to himself, the chief accountant gazed out the window. In the yard outside, refugees had gathered in hopes of emergency provisions. The military police struggled to organize the starving masses, who would have killed for food. The margravate was along the northernmost border, and there were refugees every year. The city would always prepare a surplus of food for them, but that didn’t seem like it was going to be enough this year. The humans and dragons were running rampant in the north. At the ports, there were more and more refugees knocking on their door.

Just the other day, the mayor had finally come to the margrave in tears. The margrave had immediately ordered for the military’s reserves to be offered to the people, thus bringing about this emergency distribution. To the man who ran the army’s supply chain, it was a severe headache. The mobilization of the entire army had already been a great burden. If they were to sacrifice their reserves on top of that, it would be difficult to maintain their deployment. This went beyond what was feasible.

On the other hand, they could not simply refuse to provide food. It wasn’t only the refugees who were starving. The price of ingredients was rising by the day, and now even the city’s original inhabitants were struggling to eat. The starving would do anything for food. That was a threat to public order. At this point, they were on the cusp of rioting.

Additionally, all the soldiers capable of suppressing such a riot had gone out to vanquish the humans. The few remaining military police couldn’t possibly handle the situation. The chief accountant knew he would be the first one torn apart, as he had the keys to the army’s food storage.

He sighed. He didn’t want to be involved in battles—that was the whole reason he’d gone to accounting school. Why was he being exposed to such danger?

So he begrudgingly agreed to offer food, but he also advised the margrave to withdraw his army. Although the margrave hesitated, the accountant managed to convince him with his bank book. The margrave had always been rather sickly and had only grown weaker once he was crushed by his expedition’s failings.

Thus, a messenger with a retreat order had been sent off to the expedition force. But his relief was brief. The commander’s response read, “Once my army arrives at the capital, a celebration shall be held for their triumphant return. I leave all of the preparations to you.”

The accountant could not believe his eyes. A celebration. A celebration, he said! Admittedly, the army had achieved a great victory. They had slain mountains of those vile humans, and their accomplishments were unprecedented. The city had once been ablaze with the news.

But that was before the dragon attacks began.

They were now plagued by hordes of refugees, dwindling food, and the hushed, fearful rumors of dragons. The joy of victory was a thing of the past. Now the majority of the populace was suspicious and resentful of the army because of the lack of aid. So now they were supposed to hold a celebration? How would the people forced to flee their burning homes feel about an army marching around, announcing some great victory?

Or maybe that’s the idea.

Take that mercenary captain, for instance—the one-eyed hero who rode the black aquilup. A natural-born fighter from a barbarian tribe, he was the guardian of settlers and the true star of their prior victory. Leading the aquilup riders, the noble orc had raced over the open plains, saving any settlement that was in danger. Among the common people—and the soldiers—he was incredibly popular.

With that mercenary at the front of the parade, perhaps the people would be able to remember the feeling of victory, if only for a moment. He wasn’t sure if that was what the supreme commander actually intended, but it would be a good way for the people to let off steam.

Am I allowed to decide the order they march in? Of course he was. The document had specified “all of the preparations,” after all.

The chief accountant straightened himself and lifted his glasses. He dipped the tip of his pen into his inkwell and began drafting up the orders for the celebration. As he did so, he noticed a small memo in a corner of the envelope the commander’s message had come in. A small, unassuming scrap of paper giving off a sinister air. Suddenly nervous, he reached out and unfolded it.

“The barbarian must not participate in the festivities. Keep this a secret from the margrave.”

The accountant smacked his pen down on the table. He slouched back down, even deeper than before. Calling his subordinate over, he showed him this new piece of information.

Seeing the bewildered look on the man’s face, the chief accountant gave him an order.

“I’ve got a job for you. Think up an excuse for this.”

“Why not convey it as is?” his subordinate replied with an earnest look. “Yes, we could simply relay that the so-called barbarian is not to be allowed within the city walls. It’s a win for all of us, you see. Once the margrave catches wind of the supreme commander’s request, he’ll give him a good whipping.”

The chief accountant burst out laughing. Never knew he could make a joke. I’m beginning to think better of him.

Once he had finally contained himself, he got to work implementing that idea. Then, without lowering his pen, he began drafting his resignation. Naturally, he knew that it would not be accepted. He wasn’t a fool. Even so, the way he saw it, he should at least be free to dream about a peaceful retirement.

***

The day after we parted with Galeom, Kyel and I were spotted and picked up by the dragon riders that were dispatched to search for us. Riding double over Dragonbone Ridge was surprisingly terrifying. A normal dragon would be bedridden after carrying just one rider on the return trip. It wasn’t hard to imagine what would happen with the additional weight of another adult man.

I probably would have been calmer if I were in control. Having my life depend on someone else’s abilities was far scarier than facing an army of orcs. But as the one being saved, I couldn’t just tell them to hand me the reins.

When we arrived at the grand dragon house, Rigel ran over to us at full speed, getting down on his knees.

“Hero! I heard you braved great dangers to save our dragon brethren. As captain of the dragon riders, I offer you my utmost gratitude.”

“I lost the valuable dragon you lent me. I’m sorry.”

“Our fellow riders are more important than dragons. Please don’t think about it.” Rigel bowed his head and stood. Then, he suddenly turned to Kyel and hammered his fist into his face.

Kyel, who was barely managing to stand with a crutch, was helpless. However, he unsteadily stood back at attention.

“I heard Oifel’s report.” Rigel glared at him. “Not only did you lose a dragon due to your thoughtless actions, but you exposed the hero to danger. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“No, I do not.”

“We will have an inquiry another day. Lie low until then.”

Rigel pointed at the tunnel of the grand dragon house, and Kyel tottered in that direction along with two other dragon riders.

The old man was angrier than I expected. Perhaps I’d done something wrong. I didn’t know what I’d do if Kyel were relieved of his position. I had plenty more work I wanted him to do.

“Rigel, I braved the danger to save him precisely because I see potential in him,” I said. “Please don’t be too harsh.”

For a moment, he looked surprised, but that stern captain’s expression quickly returned to his face. “I appreciate the consideration,” he said. “However, as a member of the dragon riders, he needs to learn his lesson. Even if the hero expresses support for him, I can’t appear to give my grandson special treatment. The resulting rumors would be a serious problem for him.”

“My apologies. I shouldn’t interfere.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Now, then, I’m sure you’re tired, Hero,” Rigel said. “I have a room and a meal ready for you.”

Rigel called an attendant and ordered him to show me the way. We had only gone a few steps when he called me back.

“Hero.”

“What is it?”

“Thank you. You brought back my only grandson.”

He fell to both knees and covered his face. Not as the captain of the dragon riders but as a grandfather whose grandson was saved, he once again offered his gratitude with sobs in his voice.

“Please, think nothing of it,” I said. “I have high hopes for his abilities. I did it for my own reasons.”

“Understood! I will definitely retrain him to be a splendid rider who exceeds your expectations!”

The look on his face could only belong to a grandfather. You should have shown him that face, I wanted to say. But I decided I wasn’t going to stick my nose where it didn’t belong. If Kyel wasn’t going to be abandoned, there was nothing else I needed to say. My efforts had not been wasted.

I helped Rigel to his feet and let the attendant lead me away. After gulping down a hot meal, I threw myself onto a warm straw mattress. The fatigue reminded me I was alive, and in some strange way, it felt like I had set out just that morning.

Sortie, spotting, cannons, explosions, rescue, falling, dogs, shields, dust, flash, dust, horn.

With the events of the previous day circling around in my head, I was asleep before I knew it.

***

It had been a while since I last had that nightmare. My nightmares were all the same. They were about returning from my first world.

“Where did you run off to?!”

No one believed me when I told them I’d saved another world. Of course they didn’t. They called me a liar. Only my mother was different. Only my mother believed in me.

My wise mother, however, could tell the difference between believing in her dear son and believing what he had to say.

She held my hand on the way to the hospital.

“His memories have been disrupted by intense stress.”

“As long as it doesn’t affect his ability to function, there is no need to hospitalize him. If you’re still worried… Sure. We’ll continue his counseling and see where that goes.”

She held my hand on the way back home.

But if I denied my memories, I would have nothing left.

I would be nothing.

***

It was dim inside the grand dragon house. The light of a flickering torch barely illuminated the caverns built by ancient children. The atmosphere was heavy in the conference room, and not because the torches were burning through our oxygen. Those ancient children hadn’t made such a rudimentary mistake. I didn’t know how it worked, but there was wonderful air circulation.

I was joined by Rigel and five other veteran riders. It had been three days since we returned from orc territory, and we would need to decide on our policy henceforth.

“First, let’s go over the current state of things,” said Rigel. “How many dragons do we have left?”

“We’ve refrained from missions since then, so we currently have twelve ready to fly,” reported an old rider with a weary expression on his face.

My Veralgon had just recovered too, though he would need a few more days if I wanted him to fly over those mountains. Just like their riders, dragons simply wouldn’t recover if they were pushed too far.

“Even if we send all of them to burn supplies, they won’t hold out for three days.”

“We’ll need to leave a few behind for emergencies and to carry messages.”

“The wind above the mountains will get even worse when winter comes. Our recovering dragons might be able to make it across, but they won’t make it back.”

“I didn’t think the enemy would be so thorough with their ambushes. We’ve already lost three dragons. We can’t lose any more.”

His brow furrowed, Rigel listened to his men’s somber words as they all voiced their opposition to continuing these operations. They were right, of course. We would be hard-pressed to go on.

At that moment, the youngest of them, who had kept his mouth shut, finally spoke up. “I understand that the situation is fraught with danger. However…” He scanned the faces of the other four. “We’ve achieved nothing. I see this mission as a battle where the honor of the dragon riders is on the line. If we pull back now, we’ll lose all our credibility.”

The seasoned riders had no response.

It was Rigel who broke the silence. “Correct. We cannot back down,” he said somberly. Everyone focused on him, me included. “I made a promise to the king. If nothing is achieved, our honor will be forever sullied.”

I felt like this was all my fault. It was because of my big talk that the dragon riders had to go to such lengths, that they were unable to stop even if they wanted to. I should have been more cautious. I should have said that the plan made no guarantees or that it was my personal opinion.

Suddenly, Rigel smacked the table; the massive disk carved from a single slab of stone trembled beneath his fist. He rose, shouting, “Now that it’s come to this, we must send every capable dragon to the enemy camp!”

The veterans were looking at him blankly.

I cried, “Don’t be so hasty, Rigel!”

“Don’t stop me, Hero! This is all I can do! This is all I have left!” He squeezed out his voice, pressing his clenched fists against the table.

“Stop it! It’s pointless!”

I had learned it firsthand while fighting in that village. Considering the state I’d been left in against a mere hundred orcs, ten-odd dragons would only die in vain against ten thousand more.

“If it’s pointless, then so be it! If we can no longer stand against the orcs, what reason do we have to exist?! It is a knight’s dream to bravely fall before the enemy! We will maintain our honor, even at the cost of our lives! It’s the only option.”

His eyes were bloodshot. I needed to restrain him somehow.

“Rigel, a frontal assault is not the only way to contribute to a battle. The scouts and messengers make an important contribution that directly influences the outcome. There is no one else who can take on that duty. Please, contain your—”

“But then! Our honor! Is gone! For good! A decisive battle! Is where! We! Must! Die!”

He was getting incredibly worked up. What’s more, the old riders who had been against the plan were starting to agree with him. I could see the will to fight flare up in the depths of their tired eyes. It was hopeless.

“Very well. I won’t oppose you.”

“You finally understand! Well then, everyone! Prepare to charge! I leave the rest to you, Hero!”

“W-wait! I won’t stop you, but just wait a bit longer!”

“For what?! I’m always ready to die in battle!”

“Not that. I mean, wait until you have a few more dragons up and running. If you want a most effective attack, wait until everyone has recovered. The dragon riders’ honor can only be fully displayed when everyone stands together. The orcs aren’t going anywhere.”

Rigel groaned. There was a hint of rationality returning to his eyes. Just a tiny hint. But it was a good sign. I didn’t know how much time would be needed for all the dragons to recover, but I prayed he would regain his senses by then.

On the other hand, if the dragons recover too fast, that will mean losing all of them. Wait, did I make another mistake? If I let them go now, we’ll keep the losses at twelve. But I really don’t want Rigel to die for nothing.

At that moment, the door burst open. The man who rushed in was the dragon rider stationed at Dragonjaw Gate for communications. All eyes turned to him.

“I come bearing a report!” he yelled.

He took a moment to collect himself, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Everyone waited anxiously for him to recover.

After a deep inhale, he announced, “The orcs have begun their retreat from Dragonjaw Gate!”

Rigel’s eyes shot open. “Really?!”

“I saw it with my own eyes! There is no mistaking it! The orcs were leaving the valley one after another.”

Still staring, Rigel slowly took his seat. In near disbelief, he asked, “Is it true?”

Seeing the rider’s firm nod, he closed his eyes, turned his face to the heavens, and muttered a prayer. We had just received a report of our victory, yet it didn’t feel real. The other riders seemed to feel the same way. Not a single one cheered. They simply exchanged looks as if doubting their ears.

Then someone finally let out a sigh, and the atmosphere, stretched so thin with tension, suddenly broke. His prayer finished, Rigel declared that the patrols would continue until they confirmed a complete retreat with their own eyes. Thus, the meeting came to an end.

***

The next day, three other dragon riders and I flew to the valley. The orcs had vastly enhanced their defenses since the last time I saw them. Their palisades snaked around like labyrinths, and, perhaps in fear of the flooding, they had constructed evacuation routes with moats and mounds of dirt. If they’d stayed here, they would definitely have been a problem. In fact, they might have intended to settle there permanently; they had also erected rows of longhouses.

But there was an even bigger difference. The orcs, who had swarmed in unnerving masses last time I was here, had left only a meager rearguard and disappeared. The vastness, might, and majesty of their defenses made the tiny numbers even more striking.

Those remaining soldiers hurriedly gathered the moment they saw the dragons overhead, but such a small force would be no threat so long as we didn’t get too close. We let them be and continued our scouting. As we’d discussed, I made sure a dragon was always posted above me before I carefully descended toward the forest. There was a chance they had simply pretended to retreat and were still lurking in the woods.

I did my rounds low and slow. At times, animals would jump out, spooked by the dragons, but other than that, the forest was quiet and still. Before I realized it, I had reached the edge, and the shadows of the trees were stretching out before me. The sun was already starting to sink. It had been midday by the time we arrived, so this was expected, given the season.

I looked for Rigel, who was also searching the forest. I immediately spotted him on Greilgon, his trusty steed with emerald-green wings. His backup’s dragon was black and gold, its wings decorated with a gaudy tiger pattern, the perfect landmark.

I waved at Rigel. After waiting for him to notice and wave back, I signaled for us to return to base. He immediately signaled back. With our hands, we let each other know that we’d seen nothing out of the ordinary. The orcs really were gone. They weren’t in the forest either. We could exchange detailed information once we returned.

When we touched down at the gate, Herbert gave us a warm welcome.

“As expected of the hero! Your tactics were splendid! To think you really could turn those orcs away with no more than the strength of the dragon riders! You have my admiration!” He hugged me and patted me on the back.

“I only made the suggestion. It is the dragon riders who made it a reality.”

I peeled him off of me, and for some reason, the gate garrison who were watching us cheered. Undeterred by my rejection, Herbert turned to Rigel and hugged him too.

“Splendid work, Rigel! You’ve redeemed yourself! The dragon riders now have a new claim to fame!”

Rigel immediately tried to shake him off but was confused to find that he couldn’t. Though he was slight of build, Rigel’s muscles had been trained in a way worthy of the captain of the riders. Yet he stood no match against Herbert. I later learned that in his mercenary days, Herbert had been renowned for his monstrous brute strength when swinging around a war hammer. Legend had it that he’d sent eight orcs flying with one swing.

Would the same thing have happened to me if I hadn’t possessed my hero’s powers? There was no worse way to die than being hugged to death by an old man. I thanked the mysterious entity who’d bestowed these powers upon me.

Herbert finally came to his senses and let Rigel go. And, while Rigel had sweated up a storm in the process, he held out his hand and they exchanged a firm handshake.

“Long live the hero! Our savior!”

“Hail to his name!”

“Glory to the dragon riders!”

“Cheers!”

If the orcs had marched on the gate, the garrison would have been the first to go. Hearing their cheers, I finally realized what had just happened. To me, it was my first victory since I came to this world, albeit a narrow one. To them, it was everything.

***

A few days after we confirmed the orc army’s retreat, Rigel and I were led to the royal audience chamber, where we reported to His Majesty. By then, the orc rearguard had pulled out too, and the mouth of the valley was left completely vacant. Upon hearing this, the boy king lauded our achievements.

“Commendable work. I must say, you did a splendid job driving away such a large army with only meager losses! The dragon riders have renewed their past glory and shown their worth in a new era. No one would dare call you useless anymore. Our nation’s strongest shall always be the dragon riders.”

“You speak too highly of me, Sire!” Rigel said. “We owe it all to the hero’s tactics. We served as no more than his limbs.”

Despite his attempt at humility, Rigel’s shoulders were shaking in glee. The head of the Knights Templar, who stood by His Majesty’s side, looked down at him with a bitter look on his face.

What’s that man so angry about? From his expression, you’d think he prefers orcs to Rigel.

The head of the royal guard kept a low profile behind the king but, like His Majesty, looked relieved at the good news. The courtiers also patted their chests in relief. In the corner of the room, that mysterious old man with the sharp eyes stood like a statue, his expression unchanging. Never mind his emotions—I could hardly feel his presence. He was like a seasoned hunter lurking unnoticed by his prey.

His Majesty turned to me.

“As expected of a hero. You’re versed in strategy as well as fighting!”

“I am honored by your high praise.”

“Incidentally, Hero, would you care to lend me your wisdom and courage one more time?” he asked casually.

“Yes, so long as I can be of some use.”

When we met at the reporting ceremony, I had resolved to be of as much use to him as I could. Seeing him do his best to put on a brave act as he shouldered the fate of humanity, who wouldn’t feel the same?

I had made a promise to Liana too. Promises to the dead must be honored, no matter the world.

“As field marshal, I want you to end a territory dispute.”

Ugh. Despite my resolve, that was definitely going to be a pain. Maybe I can find a way out of this…

“Your Majesty, when you appointed me to my position, you told me to do my best not to get involved in any human conflicts. I am from another world—an outsider. If possible, I would like to stick to my initial policy.”

I’d somehow thrown together a totally plausible rationalization, but he immediately saw the flaw in it.

“It’s a bit late for that,” he replied. “I heard you brought quite a skillful end to the conflict in Morsharz. Without notifying me, at that.”

Okay, but I didn’t get involved because I wanted to. I was dragged into it.

“I can only say that the matter was a pure coincidence,” I said. “Luckily, those involved did not wish for conflict. The peace was achieved not by my power but by God’s design.” It would be too pathetic to say I was strung along by a woman, so I blamed it on God. He can’t argue with that, can he?

He could. “Then that makes the hero an agent of God’s will. I can think of no one better to suppress the conflicts.”

The king was making me out to be a messenger of God. No, I guess that was my original setting? As I racked my brains for some clever retort, His Majesty continued on with the same buoyant attitude. “No need to worry, the war has already been settled. All you need to do is show your face.”

“What do you mean it’s settled?”

What am I supposed to do, then?

“You are to clean up afterward. If I make you the agent of authority, then the victor can wield their power, and the losers will have an excuse to accept their losses. The peace treaties have already been established; all that remains is for my proxy to sit at their signing.”

I see. Then it wouldn’t be too much trouble after all.

“Very well,” I said. “Then I shall put an end to these unproductive quarrels in Your Majesty’s name. Incidentally, what region will I be suppressing?”

“Kerulgarz.”

Where had I heard that name before?

“What are you playing dumb for? Kerulgarz is just south of your own territory.”

And so, I was shipped off to Kerulgarz, a land devastated by civil war.

***

The Black Dog arrived at the orc settlement east of Dragonbone Ridge two days after the dragon attack. He had made haste with his aquilup riders the moment he saw the signal.

It was impossible to station a defensive force capable of fending off the dragons at every village, but if he sent an army only after the dragon appeared, they would never make it in time. Reluctantly, he was forced to station troops at a select few villages and wait for the enemy to fall for the trap.

One of them finally fell for it. The one who came out to meet the Black Dog was an officer in training, still at the age where he was more boy than man. By his word, the commander died during the attack, and he, the only remaining officer, took command. Half of the troops were lost, while two valuable cannons went up in flames. The losses were great—there was no getting around that. Losing the cannons was especially painful. While they were from an older generation, the margrave’s army did not have many of them to spare.

Despite this, the officer trainee stuck out his chest and declared, “Even so, we managed to take out three dragons!”

That certainly was extraordinary enough to make up for their losses. Over the course of the last month, many villages had been burned to the ground by the dragon attacks. They had finally managed to turn the tables on them for once. Considering the situation in the margrave’s capital, it was an important accomplishment. An intense dissatisfaction was building against the army’s failure to do anything about the dragons—so said the report from the chief accountant. If they could report that they had managed to slay some of those vile dragons, they would be able to regain some of the people’s trust.

The Black Dog pressed for more details. One dragon was felled by a surprise shot from the cannons. A counterattack from the moss-green dragon then managed to take both cannons out. One swooped down to save its comrade and was shot dead.

Meanwhile, a counterattack from the remaining two dragons sent the formation into disarray and disrupted the line of command. One of the dragons tried to use the chance to save its comrade, only to run into soldiers who were there by coincidence. It was nothing but good news so far.

However, while chasing the dragon’s escaped rider, they collided with an armored cavalry that had appeared out of nowhere. Most of the casualties occurred then, including the death of their commander. The trainee had been in command ever since, setting up palisades and awaiting reinforcements.

There was nothing else they could do. The cavalry numbered around thirty. When the humans had their shamans with them, it would take a hundred guns to beat them. In fact, it was impressive that the youngster had managed to maintain his unit for so long. He had promise, there was no doubt about that. The Black Dog asked for his name again and carved it into his heart.

The escaped dragon rider had already left with the cavalry. The next day, multiple dragons were spotted on patrol, not launching any attacks. They were presumably there to pick up the rider.

There was no use staying around here. The Black Dog made his decision to withdraw the army and make straight for the capital without reuniting with the main force. The margrave’s army at the mouth of the valley had received a retreat order just the other day. The refugees flooding into the city were putting a strain on its food supply, meaning that the margrave had no reserves left for the army. It had become too difficult to maintain their deployment.

The trainee relayed the orders to the soldiers by his side, sending them off to convey them to the rest of the garrison. He turned to the Black Dog, his puffed nostrils indicating he had something more to say, but he instead turned back to return to his men.

The Black Dog stopped him and asked what he wanted to say.

After a moment’s hesitation, the youngster began, “You might not believe me, but…” He went on to explain that one of the dragon riders was a terrifying monster who raced as fast as a cat even while shouldering his wounded comrade. With his spear, he’d cut down more than twenty bear-dogs, and he had projected shield after shield, fending off volleys of fire from a hundred guns.

The story was ludicrous. No wonder he’d hesitated to report it. Normally, if anyone made such a nonsensical report, their sanity would be called into question. They would say the young trainee had gone mad, his mind broken by the stress.

The Black Dog didn’t think so. He had an idea of who the trainee was talking about. It was that man, there was no doubt about it. The monster who wounded him had shown up again. His wound throbbed. When he put a hand to his flank, it was still oozing blood.

He heard out the report in full, pondering over each detail.

The dragon attacks this time were barbaric. There was no plunder involved—their sole objective was pure destruction. That was unique in his experience of the humans. By first giving a warning, the enemy had essentially created refugees. Perhaps there was a method to the man’s madness, but more than anything, it suggested a bottomless malice. This was no doubt his work.

He would need to give a name to that unique entity. Now, what would he call him?

The young man concluded, “It was almost like he was the Great Demon King of legend.”

Demon King. He who commanded legions of demons. A cruel, peerless, vile king. The symbol of fear featured in so many legends. Indeed, it was a fitting name, the Black Dog thought with a ferocious smile. In the stories, the Demon King was slain without fail.