05: Operation Proceeding as Planned! …Or So I Thought, but My Lady’s Drawings Are Amazing!
“Routa… Eat more and get big…”
“Oh… How wonderful… You’ve grown bigger even than Christina…”
That night, sandwiched between two noble daughters, I lie on my side in bed.
They must be having the same dream, because they’re saying some pretty scary things in their sleep. I’d really prefer not to get any bigger than this, thank you. Actually, if I removed the shape-shifting spell, my head would reach the second story, at the very least… I’ll have to make sure I never turn it off.
Slowly, I wriggle out of the best friends’ embraces. They end up moving together to embrace each other now that I’m not there. It’s a heartwarming sight.
“Arwf. (Oops, can’t get distracted.)”
This isn’t the time to bask in the peacefulness of the yuri-tastic scene. It’s been half a day since the Hero and Zenobia went into the forest. Nahura would contact me if anything had happened; if she hasn’t gotten in touch yet, I should be able to assume the evacuation is going without an issue.
I quietly leave the room, and right after I leap over the wall, Nahura falls down from above.
“Arwf. (Oh, you’re here. How is everything going?)”
“Mrrrow! (Thanks to all the Fen Wolves, it’s going great!)”
Great, perfect! There might not be much for me to help with, but I can at least go visit the soldiers at the front. I swipe some preserved food from the kitchen, then teleport to where Garo and the others are.
“Arrrf. (Heya, Garo. Good job out here.)”
“Grwl! (Yes, my king! The evacuation is proceeding apace!)”
Garo has returned to her wolf form today; she must be in serious mode. The Fen Wolves seem to be coordinating, lining up, then chasing out the monsters as a single wave. Still, with a forest this expansive, there are sure to be stragglers, so a second wave follows the first, thoroughly dealing with individual cases.
I should have expected as much from the Fen Wolves. As always, they show no mercy.
“Arwf, arwf. (Oh, I brought a gift. Feel free to eat it on your break.)”
“Grwl. (Thank you, my king. I shall give it as a reward to those coming off shift first.)”
I accompany Garo as we walk, checking on the state of the evacuation. It looks like the Hero and Zenobia are still pretty far south of here. The Fen Wolves are having the monsters flee to the east and west to put more distance between them and the Hero.
“Arwf, arwf. (I’m surprised nobody is complaining about the sudden evacuation.)” Is the Hero really that fearsome a being?
“Grwl, grwl. (No, there were quite a few who were reluctant at first.)”
“Arwf? (Oh, really?)” How is the evacuation going this smoothly, then?
“Grwl! (It’s simple, sir. When we told them that this was a direct order from the Fen Wolf King Routa, even the most rebellious monsters began to tremble and run away!)”
“Arwrw?! (Wha?! Wait, Garo!)” Oh my God, what have you been doing?!
“Grwl, grwl. (We told them that should they disobey the king’s orders, a flash of white light would utterly destroy all of their nests. To describe their fear upon hearing that… Heh. Well, I confirmed once more that anyone would prostrate themselves before the king’s prestige.)”
Don’t bother confirming! While I’m not looking, my name is being used as a synonym for absolute terror.
During our walk, we appear to come to the very front line of the evacuation. I can spot monsters here and there.
“Squawk, squawk! (I-it’s the king! The Fen Wolf King!)”
As soon as they meet my eyes, they give frightened jumps.
“Squawk, squawk! (R-run for it! If we disobey him, he’ll murder our entire clan!)”
Yelling at the top of their lungs, the monsters scatter like baby spiders from the nest.
“Arwf…? (Wh-what…?)”
It seems like I’m feared much more than the Demon Lord right now.
“A-arwf… (E-excuse me…)”
“Squawk! (Ahhhh! Help meeeee!)”
“A-arwf… (Hey, everyone…)”
“Squaw-squawk! (Get out of here! He’ll kill us!)”
“A-arwf… (J-just listen to me…)”
“Squawk, squawk, squawk!! (Nooooooooooooo!!)”
Sniffle. No sooner do they see my face than they run for their lives. How scared of me are they?
“Grwl, grwl. (Very, of course. You do lead the Fen Wolves, after all. And not only have you taken the dragon princess as your wife by force, you’ve also defeated ancient generals of the Demon Lord’s army one after another. Where else would you find such accounts of heroism? There isn’t a soul in these forests who does not know of their lord, Routa.)”
The misunderstandings… They’re everywhere…
“Squee, squee… (He… He took me as his wife b-by force…? How thrilling…)”
I didn’t do that, did I?! You’re the one who moved in without permission! You’ve been asleep until just a few minutes ago; you sure picked a good time to wake up!
“Grwl, grwl. (Now that you’ve graced us with your presence, the evacuation has sped up even more. I believe our mission should be easy to accomplish now.)”
“Arww… (Yeah, yeah. Just use me however you want, why don’t you…)”
I give up. What will be, will be. I don’t care.
After that, the farther north we go, the better the evacuation is underway. Just like the Red Sea parting, the monsters split east and west in their flights.
“““Squawk, squawk, squawk!! (Run for your liiiives!! The Fen Wolf King is here!!)”””
“Arwoooo!! (The operation is going fine, but I sort of don’t like it!!)”
As Routa and the others were having the monsters evacuate in the north, the Hero and Zenobia were progressing with their investigation in the southern forest. The deep woods were dark, and it was proving difficult to go further with only the dim light of their lantern.
“Alstera, let’s set up camp here for today.”
“Should we? I could keep going.”
“I’m tired.” Zenobia put down the metal box she was carrying as if to emphasize her point. “Let’s start the investigation again tomorrow morning. No need to rush, is there?”
“Hmm. Well, I suppose this is fine. You haven’t been purposely making us walk slower, have you?”
“…Don’t confuse me with an active adventurer like you. If you have time to talk, you have time to prepare the campfire.”
“Fine.”
The Hero put her own things down and gathered some dead branches. After stacking them in an easily burnable fashion, she held out her hand.
“That which I seek is red. Become powder and burst.”
After a short incantation, the slightly moist branches easily burst into flame.
“A handy thing, that. Like always. Don’t need flint or anything.”
“It’s actually pretty hard to control the power, you know,” laughed Alstera. “I am still the Hero. I can use both weapons and magic. Heroes can do it all themselves. Even after you all left me, I’ve been just fine.”
“…Alstera…”
The two of them took a seat, the campfire between them. Their food was simple provisions, but roasting them over the flame made them somewhat more edible. Zenobia had brought some preserved meat that the cook, James, had made, along with some bread and cheese. Calling it “somewhat edible” would have been sinful, considering how good it was.
The Hero, meanwhile, took out some portable provisions, infamous even in the guild for how bad they were. You could tell immediately from the coloration after the wrapping was removed that they were literal nutrition supplements, nothing more, developed by the Morgan Company. As long as you had them, you wouldn’t need anything else. That was the tagline, at least, when they had first been sold in stores. The Adventurers Guild ended up buying the entire supply.
They were cheap, kept well, and needed no preparation. There were benefits aplenty, but the adventurers who ate them held the supplements in the lowest possible regard. Despite their perfect nutritional value, they tasted so bad that one had to wonder if they were even human food. According to the adventurers, the stuff was basically clay, cooked with sludge and old-man toenails, hardened, and polished with a rotten rag. Truth be told, they would’ve preferred to eat literal clay. Yet as negative as their opinions were, the Hero ate the provisions without batting an eyelid.
“…I’m surprised you can eat that. I stomached it, somehow, while I was still active, but I don’t even want to smell it anymore.”
“Really? I figure it doesn’t matter what you eat as long as it has the nutrients you need.”
The Hero chewed without hesitation, as though she couldn’t taste the provisions at all, and swallowed them.
Zenobia sighed at her indifference. “…Give me half.”
“Huh?”
“We used to trade the food we brought all the time, remember? I’ll give you half of mine, too,” said Zenobia gruffly, putting some of the cooked, softened meat and melted cheese between slices of bread and holding it out for the Hero. “Here.”
“Um, thanks.” The Hero took the impromptu sandwich and glanced at Zenobia.
Zenobia was making a terrible face, about to chomp down on the portable rations. Blanching, she managed to wash them down with some grape wine.
“Haah… haah… Still tastes awful. Did the guy who made this even try tasting it?”
“Ha-ha. You don’t need to force yourself.”
“Shut up. You eat, too.”
Prompted by Zenobia, the Hero stuffed her sandwich into her mouth. The melted cheese and the meat’s fat had seeped into the stiff-baked bread, coming together to form a taste better than anything you would expect from preserved food.
Zenobia nodded, putting a piece of smoked meat in her mouth to cleanse her palate, thinking, Sir James has done it again.
But as the Hero ate her sandwich, her expression made no change from when she’d been eating the portable provisions before. She simply swallowed the food she’d been given without emotion.
“It’s good, right?” asked Zenobia. “Our chef goes the extra mile with every single thing he makes.”
“…Hmm. I can’t really tell,” answered the Hero, seemingly unable to tell delicious from disgusting.
Zenobia frowned. “What do you mean, you can’t really tell?”
“Ummm… To tell you the truth, I can’t remember the last time I tasted anything at all,” admitted the Hero blankly.
“Wha…! You…!” Zenobia stood up.
“Yeah. It’s not like I’m sick or anything, though, so don’t worry. My body is in tip-top shape, in fact,” assured the Hero with a laugh. The pain was plain on Zenobia’s face, and she had to look away. “Anyway,” continued Alstera, surveying their surroundings, “we made it out into the forest, but there’s nothing here.”
There was no sign of any monsters, or even any animals. It was like every living creature in the forest had simply vanished.
“…Isn’t that a good thing? It would mean the last investigation had the right of it.”
“No, I mean, according to what I heard from the adventurers who came here, this forest can’t possibly be this safe.” The Hero shrugged. “They said they were always surrounded by piercing stares, from the moment they set foot in the forest to when they left. But now that I’m here, it’s the very image of peace. It’s so peaceful it’s eerie, at least to me. You really don’t know anything about it, Zenobia?”
“…Not really. I’ve only come here a few times myself, but I’ve never…run into any monsters.”
“Huh…” The Hero narrowed her eyes and watched Zenobia.
Zenobia didn’t bother meeting her stare; instead, she downed the rest of her grape wine. “Done chattering? I’m going to sleep first. We’ll switch off in three hours.”
She took out a blanket from her bag, then curled up, thus cutting off the conversation.
“Sheesh, I got it. Good night, Zenobia.”
“Night. You’re on watch.”
The Hero leaned against a tree, the holy sword in her arms.
As she watched the campfire, her eyes were dark, indistinct, as if they were watching nothing at all.
The campfire is burning in the distance. I watch over it from a far-off crag. Even this far away, in complete darkness, my Fenrir eyes can see all.
“Arwww. (Hmm. They seem weirdly friendly.)”
I figured they would be more at odds, but they seem like a decent duo. The Hero is being cooperative, too, though maybe it’s because they haven’t encountered any monsters yet.
“Arwf, arwf. (Looks like we’ll get them to go home with no issues.)”
Well, that’s a relief. The evacuation is going smoothly, so it looks like I can head home and get some shut-eye.
“Squee. (Something is wrong, beloved.)”
Hm? What is it? Are they not just gonna sleep until morning?
At Len’s urging, I peel my gaze away from the distant campfire. If I strain like I’m gonna pop my eyeballs out, I can see really well from a great distance.
With my enhanced vision, I can see the Hero standing up. He quietly walks over to Zenobia, then unsheathes his weapon. Zenobia, sleeping with her back to him, doesn’t notice. And then the Hero holds his sword high.
Hey, whoa, wait a second! He’s clearly trying to attack her in her sleep! Why would he want to attack Zenobia? He seemed so friendly until just a moment ago!
But that’s not important right now—
“Arwoooooo! (Violence is never the answer!)”
I give a howl in spite of myself. Off in the distance, the Hero snaps to. His eyes meet mine as I look down from the cliff, and the light returns to his vacant eyes. Then, appearing surprised that he drew his blade, he hastily returns it to its former location.
“Arwf…? (Huh…? What’s that about? Does he have a sleepwalking problem or something?)”
Was he half-asleep and mistook Zenobia for a monster? Either way, it was too dangerous to ignore. After this, I’ll ask Garo to have one of the Fen Wolves watch him. At this distance, they could run away even if they got spotted.
Hwah?! How long have you been behind me? Also, I didn’t say anything, did I?
“Grwl, grwl. (Vassals of our king must be so swift that by the time we receive an order, it is already being carried out. A teaching of my predecessor.)”
“A-arwf. (Oh, I, uh, I see. Ever thoughtful and considerate, huh? Very well. I leave this in your capable hands.)”
Garo’s education on faith in her king must have started before I arrived.
“Grwl! (Yes, my king! Watch, I will go at once, and should that accursed Hero make any strange moves, I will kill him immediately!)”
“Woof, woof! (That’s not what I said! You’re not being thoughtful after all!)”
She’s not empathizing with my thoughts. She’s interpreting them extremely liberally.
As always, none of the Fen Wolves know how to take a hint.
“Routa, get up pleeease!”
“Oh, what a sleepyhead you are.”
Urgh. Morning already?
The young lady is desperately trying to wake me up as Drills draws the curtains.
The morning sun that filters through the window is too bright for me to keep my eyes open.
“Mrrn. (Which is why I’m going back to sleep now.)”
“You can’t! We’re going to the lake this morning! We’re leaving right after we eat breakfast!”
The lake, huh? If we were going anywhere to play, it would be there. It’s a nice place, well shaded and great for relaxing. The fish taste great, too. Hecate fixed the hole in the geography, so there shouldn’t be any problem if we go play there.
“Lady Mary, it’s time to wake up— Oh, you’re already awake?!”
Toa arrives, wheeling in a cart with morning tea on it. You can pinpoint the moment of her surprise by the way her pigtails start bouncing.
“Good morning, Toa!”
“Um, yes! Good morning, young ladies. Would you care for some tea?”
“Gladly. Mary, you should try and calm down a little. We have plenty of time; there’s no need to rush.”
“Mgh…”
With Lady Mary raring to go and play right this instant, Drills elegantly puts a cup of black tea to her lips.
Well, she’s drowning in study materials most of the time, and this is basically a late summer vacation for her. I can’t blame her for looking forward to it. Seeing them like this makes me start to wonder which one of them is the real aristocrat.
“After tea, let’s have some breakfast. Last night’s dinner was superb, so I expect the same from our morning meal.”
“Heh-heh. Mr. James is really, really good at baking bread! Just you wait!”
Yeah, the old man’s bread sure is something, isn’t it? The spongy nut bread from the elf village is great, too, but the old man’s bread—fluffy, and using the finest flour—is just incredible.
Oops, I started drooling. Anyway, let’s get out of bed first.
Toa, tea for me, too, please!
“This… This croissant… How many layers could it possibly have?!”
I hear Drills cry out in shock through the window.
I heard the old man say it himself earlier—over a hundred. With croissants, you alternate folding in the butter and the dough to create the layers, and apparently, the more of those thin layers you have, the crispier the texture becomes. In exchange, with lots of layers they’re significantly hard to make, it seems.
One look at the perfectly fluffy dough baked to a golden brown is enough to tell me how skilled the old man is. There are so many layers in this croissant—but amazingly enough, you can feel every single one individually.
Soaking in the morning sun’s rays, I decide to have a bite. I chomp into the bread, feeling my teeth breaking through the thin dough layers, one after another.
Then, a moment later, a thick, buttery scent wafts into my nose!
“Arwf, arwf…! (It’s so crispy and fluffy…!)”
If the old man became a professional baker, he’d make it; no problem. If I’d known a baker as good in my previous life, I probably would have visited their shop enough to go bankrupt.
And… And…! That’s not all there is to my croissant.
“Arrrwf! (It’s stuffed with a sinful amount of chocolate!)”
A chocolate croissant—truly the food of the devil. The chocolate protruding from the dough has been baked to a crisp, and that’s tasty in itself, but the real treat is the stuff trapped inside.
The instant I bite down and break through the crust, goopy chocolate floods my mouth.
“Arwf, arrrrwf! (So crispy and gooey and fluffy! Amazing!!)”
“Squee-squeak. (I never partook of sweet foods before coming here, but they are certainly good.)”
“Mew! (This is really good! I thought I’d gotten bored of Lady Hecate’s jam, but if I ate it with this, I’d never want to stop!)”
And today, like every other day, Len and Nahura have come to help themselves to my breakfast.
“Grmp, grmp! (Nooo! I won’t lose! This entire croissant belongs to meeeeee!! Oh, can you pass the jam?)”
The facade of a peaceful breakfast quickly crumbles away to reveal the usual battlefield, transforming into an outright war, where we wash blood with blood…or not.
After filling our stomachs, we set off for the lake.
“Routa, since Zenobia is away, it is up to you to protect them. Do a good job, understand?”
“Arwf, arwf! (Leave it to me, Papa!)”
There isn’t a single monster around at the moment, so they don’t even need a bodyguard to begin with. They’re making me carry the sandwiches, too. I can’t wait for lunch.
“Why am I here…?” mutters Mircalla to herself. She’s manning the reins with Toa.
“Arwf, arwf. (You’re looking after the young lady instead of doing chores. You’ve been promoted! Isn’t that great, Mircalla?)”
I poke my head out the passenger window and compliment her. She turns away and ignores me.
Huh? Did that make her mad?
Actually, looking more closely, I see that her ears—what I can see of them through her hair, at least—are red.
“I am not under the assumption that my hard work has been acknowledged or anything like that. I-I’m not happy about it at all!”
Whoa. She’s a real by-the-book tsundere. But that suits me just fine. I wanna lick those bright-red ears of hers.
“Eliza, let’s play in the water when we get to the lake!”
“That sounds fine, but I brought some things to play with, too.”
My lady is practically glued to Drills as they talk about what games they’re going to play at the lake. Come to think of it, something was loaded in the luggage compartment of the wagon, wasn’t there? Drills brought several changes of clothes and such off the airship, so it must be something of hers.
“Oh, right! But what did you bring? I’m curious!”
“Oh-ho-ho! You’ll just have to wait until we arrive to find out.”
Elusive and Grace, who are pulling the wagon, walk with such confident steps that you’d never guess they were old-timers. We arrive at the crystal clear lake before we know it.
Lady Mary, having taken her shoes off, soaks her toes in the water.
“Arwf. (We’re past the middle of summer, I guess.)”
We have sunlight, but the water temperature is fairly low. It’s pretty good for soaking your feet in anyway. If they try to play games in the water, they’ll probably catch colds.
“Mary, I’m all set!”
Drills is calling to us from the suspension bridge built on the lake. She did mention she’d brought something along. I wonder what she had to get ready for?
I look and see not one but two boards, covered in white cloth, standing on simple pedestals.
“Arwf… (If my suspicions are correct…)”
They must be canvases. Drills is sitting in a simple chair, waving to us with a thin piece of charcoal in her hand.
“Drawing?”
“…When you say it like that, it sounds infantile. But this is a real art set. It even includes quick-drying paints developed by the Morgan Company.”
“Ohhh!”
Seems kinda intellectual. Drills’s family must be operating on a grand scale, too. I thought all they made was terrible pet food.
“I decided to set up the canvases where we’d have a good view, but if you want to draw something other than the scenery, we can move them.”
“What should I do? What should I draw? Mgh… I don’t know!”
My lady panics when she sees that Drillizabeth has gotten a head start.
And then she sees me, and her eyes light up.
“I know! I want to draw Routa and everyone else!”
Huh? Everyone…? So not just me, then?
“Squeak. (Heh-heh. I understand well… She wants to make a portrait of me.)”
If you and I stood next to each other for a portrait, you’d be the size of an acorn.
“Toa, Mircalla, come here, please!”
“R-right away!”
“What? Even me?!”
Lady Mary grabs the hands of the two who were waiting behind us and has us sit on the bridge. For a while, she fusses over our poses, never quite satisfied with one thing or the other, and adjusts the position of the canvas. Until finally…
“Wh-why do I have to sit next to the King of the Fen Wolves…?”
“Ah-ha-ha…”
“Arwf, arwf! (All right! This has some perks!)”
I sit on the bridge with Mircalla and Toa both leaning up against me. Meanwhile, Len lies on her back with legs outstretched on the tip of my nose. Behind us all, Drills, in the middle of her own charcoal sketch, fits into the picture as well.
“All right! I’ll do my best to draw you! Just sit still for a little!”
“Arwf! (Okay!)” I reply to the young lady energetically.
She shuts one eye as she holds the charcoal pencil up, judging the ratios. It makes her really look like an artist.
“Oh, no, what should I do? I’m not good enough to be in my lady’s artwork…”
“Hmph. You should face this proudly and openly. I’m expecting a beautiful drawing of me, Lady Mary.”
Mircalla gets the nervous Toa’s shoulder in closer.
“Leave it to me. I’ll make a wonderful picture of you all!”
She’s brimming with confidence. She has drawn before, right? Her hand looks fluid and steady as it races along the canvas with the charcoal pencil, but still…
“…Hey, King. What’s that fake hero up to anyway?” whispers Mircalla, her gaze still on Lady Mary.
“Arwf, arwf. (Happily investigating an empty forest. It’s just that something about the Hero seems off.)”
When I recall the previous night, I remember how he suddenly unsheathed his sword at their camp. Was he even really conscious at the time? It was like he was sleepwalking. Sure, his body was moving, but he didn’t seem to be all there.
“Hmm… It must be that sword after all…”
“Arwf? (What? Do you know something?)”
Mircalla seems to have an idea of what’s happening. She muttered something when the Hero first arrived, too. If she has any hints, I’d really like to have them right now.
“King, how much do you know about the Demon Lord’s generals?”
How much? All I know is whatever comes up in the young lady’s books.
“Ugh, I guess it can’t be helped. I’m bored just sitting here anyway, so to pass the time, I’ll give you a quick lesson.”
Much appreciated. “Arwf, arwf. (Are you sure? Toa is right next to you.)” I’m not the only one who would be in trouble if my identity was revealed. Hecate might punish you or something.
“It’s fine. She’s so nervous she can’t even hear what anyone is saying.”
Oh—she’s right. Toa has a very strained smile on her face as she responds to my lady’s remarks.
“You’re good, Toa! Very cute!”
“I-I-I-I-I’m honored!”
It’s true. At the moment, she can’t pay attention to other people talking, even if they’re right next to her. Then again, even if she did notice, all that would happen is she’d decide Mircalla was a crazy person whispering to a dog. Doesn’t look like this will negatively affect me at all, so go for it.
“I’ll give you a simple overview first, then.”
Without realizing the collateral damage she’s taking by talking to a dog, Mircalla lists off the names of the Demon Lord’s generals, including herself. There are five in total.
The necromancer Lich, who can produce infinite armies.
The vampire princess Carmilla, feared as the primogenitor of immortals.
The war demon and king of beasts Behemoth, who rules beastkind from the front lines.
The commander Gigas, chief among giants and responsible for the destruction of many castles.
The demon ambassador Belgor, who commands beings from the underworld to lead humans astray.
These monsters, known as the Five Demon Generals, are like kings in charge of their own races. Under their leader, the Demon Lord, they waged a terrible war against humanity one thousand years ago.
Hey, I personally know two of the people in that story.
First, there’s Mircalla, the blond loli maid, who is actually an adorable tsundere.
Second, there’s the old butler, Richmond, who is probably diligently doing his work at the mansion right now.
“Arwf, arwf. (After having encounters with a couple of them, I can’t say I’m too scared of the others. How strange.)”
“Be quiet. We can’t help that our powers have been stolen.”
“Arwf… (Uh, I feel like you weren’t all that tough even before that…)”
“Grrr! You’re just on a completely different level…! What the heck are you anyway?!”
“Arwf, arwf? (A dog? You got a problem?)”
“No mere dog is as strong as you! …Anyway, there’s three more of us, so if you let your guard down, you’ll die.”
Why is she automatically assuming I’ll be the one fighting? I don’t get it. Personally, I’d like the Hero to take care of the other three. According to Mircalla, though, the one who came to investigate is a fake.
“Arwf, arwf? (You’re saying our hottie Hero isn’t a blood relation to the one a thousand years ago?)”
“No ties or connections whatsoever. This ‘Hero’ is a total stranger as far as I know. Besides, there’s a descendant of the Hero close at ha—Wait, I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
Huh? What do you mean? Now I’m curious! Is the real Hero nearby?
Who the heck are you, Hero? If you’re around here, you’re really slacking off on the job. Stop making me do all the fighting and take out the Demon Lord’s army already.
Still, Zenobia is about the only one “close at hand” who can even fight. Seriously, who could it be? I have absolutely no clue.
“I was threatened I’d be turned into a toad if I told you, so I’m never telling you.”
Whoa. If someone said something that terrifying to Mircalla and Richmond to keep their mouths shut, it must have been Hecate.
Hecate seems to be hiding quite a few things, but to be honest, I don’t care to know any of it. I’m striving to be a pet dog, and knowing crucial information is bound to get me wrapped up in even more trouble. I already feel worn out.
“Squeak. (I have a feeling it’s too late for that.)”
“Arwf, arwf! (Shut up, shut up!)”
The Hero and the Demon Lord don’t matter to me. Please, just give me a peaceful pet life. I don’t need anything else.
“Anyway, back on topic. The aura emitted by the blade the false Hero is holding feels strikingly similar to that of one of my acquaintances.”
“Arwf?! (Huh?! Don’t tell me it’s related to the Demon Lord’s army again!)”
What’s going on? Why are all the people related to that army showing up only around here?
“If the false Hero seems off, it’s because of that sword. In what remains of the Demon Lord’s forces, there is one who excels at invading the minds of men: Belgor the devil.”
According to Mircalla, without something to possess, devils can’t maintain their presence in the physical world.
“The Hero defeated Belgor, as he did the rest of us, and presumably sealed him away. I wonder if he’s revived?”
“Arwf… (Come on… Give me a break…)”
The Hero by himself was already a pain in the butt. If some Demon Lord’s general is possessing him, it’s just making things worse. This might get pretty bad.
“Well, you just have to take that sword. If you do that, the false Hero should go back to normal.”
If what Mircalla says is true, the reason the Hero goes around killing monsters all the time, and the reason he tried to kill Zenobia, is that sword.
Maybe I should take action as soon as possible—like tonight. I’ll secretly slip this information to Zenobia. If we cooperate, there’s no reason we wouldn’t be able to steal that blade.
“Squee-squeak. (I must ask, princess of vampires. For what reason would you tell this to my beloved? I highly doubt your nature has taken a turn for the better.)”
“Arwf, arwf. (Yeah, I wanted to ask that, too. Why are you being so cooperative?)”
Hecate might have bound her, but it didn’t seem like she’d given up on getting her power back.
“…I don’t know myself,” murmurs Mircalla, looking at the lake. “Maybe, when I lost to you, my willpower left me along with my mana. Also, maybe it’s because I now know of too many things that taste better than blood. Especially that chef’s tomato juice. I feel like if I had that, I could go my whole life without ever drinking blood!”
Mircalla puts a hand to her excited, reddened cheek and slurps in her drool.
Are you really okay with that? Saying you’ll only drink tomato juice from now on is almost like losing your identity as a vampire. Or maybe I should be praising the old man’s skill for taking even a vampire captive.
Still, I’m just as enthralled by his cooking as she is. I get where she’s coming from. If the Demon Lord and his generals all get revived, his stock of ingredients might run dry, and then I wouldn’t be able to enjoy his food.
I must stop that from happening at all costs. I must fight to stop it. Those who don’t fight don’t eat. What an awful world this is. I gaze up at the sky and lament the world’s unfairness.
“Routa, please don’t move too much!”
“Arwf! (Sorry!)”
After a sandwich break, the young ladies continue working on their art.
“I did it! I finished my picture!”
“Now we must dry them until evening, and then we can unveil them.”
“Heh-heh. Don’t look at it until then, okay?”
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
They load the canvases onto the wagon and clean up, and then we all head back to the mansion.
Then, after dinner, they invite everyone for an unveiling of their pictures.
“I suppose I’ll go first.”
Two curtains hang over two canvases. The one on the right seems to be by Drills.
She flicks the cloth away, revealing a picture of a beautiful lake painted mainly in blue and green.
“Ohhh, how stupendous…”
“It’s as though I’m actually standing before a lake.”
Papa and Miranda offer their admiration upon seeing the picture.
“Arwf, arwf. (Yeah, that’s actually good.)”
Even I, someone who doesn’t know much about art, can tell that this picture was made with a high level of skill. It even depicts the reflection of light on the lake and the intricate details of the scenery. Just looking at it makes me remember playing at that lake in vivid detail.
“Eliza, that’s amazing!”
“Yes, it is, is it not? The art teacher has praised my artwork as well.”
Drills lets out an “Oh-ho-ho” laugh while sticking her nose high in the air.
“It’s your turn next, Mary.”
“Heh-heh. I did my very best, too. Feast your eyes on this!” says Lady Mary, pulling the curtain from her canvas.
I’m the first one to make a noise after seeing her art.
“Arwf?! (Is that a Picasso?!)”
The young lady was supposed to be drawing us, lined up with the lake behind us.
But I don’t see any of us in this picture anywhere. That monster with four eyes…is that me and Len? Wait, then the yellow-and-black fuzzy things below us are Toa and Mircalla?
Oh… Oh, yikes. This is way too avant-garde.
“I… I think it’s quite unique.”
“Y-yes. It does certainly have your character in it…?”
Miranda struggles to find words, and Papa gives a dubious compliment.
They say art reflects the inner heart and soul of its creator. The picture forces me to wonder what this world looks like through my lady’s eyes. Am I the crazy one, or is she? Or is it the world that’s crazy? In lieu of a real critique, all I can do tremble in fright.
“This is b…b…!”
Drills takes a step closer. This is just a guess, but the thing in the upper right of this picture must be her. At least, that’s what I assume that goblin-looking thing is, separated into seventeen pieces, flattened out, and then connected again.
But showing that to someone is sure to completely ruin a friendship! Oh no! Should I “accidentally” destroy the picture while trying to make it seem like I’m playing? That sounds preferable to having their friendship destroyed… I’m prepared to sacrifice my own stomach and gobble it up if I really have to. This is me we’re talking about. In my past life, before payday, I’d soak tissue paper in soy sauce and eat it. Eating a canvas is nothing!
“B…b…!”
Drills walks by me as I resolve myself and draws closer to the picture.
“B…b…!”
At a loss for words, she grips the canvas in her hands. Is she going to destroy the abomination herself?
She holds it high overhead, and then—
“Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeautiful!!”
—praises it to the heavens.
“A-arwf? (H-huh?)”
“I’ve never seen such novel work of art before! It completely ignores perspective and shading, and yet it has so much depth of field! How is it doing that?! It seems to follow rules, but it doesn’t at all. It’s unstable, yet stable at the same time… This is nothing short of a masterpiece!”
Drills, in an excited state, extols the beauty of the image.
We, who honestly don’t know how good it is, can’t do much except tilt our heads in confusion. Is there something in it that only an accomplished artist would understand?
“Mary, would you be willing to let me have this?! The world must know!!”
“It’s okay. I’ll trade, Eliza!”
“I feel a little embarrassed to give mine to you after seeing this work of art, but this is yet another proof of our friendship. Let us trade!”
Personally, I think Drills’s picture is better any way you slice it. Can you really call this a fair trade?
Well, they both seem happy about it, so I guess it’s fine. I join in as they whirl around in their little dance. The rest of the mansion-dwellers watch over us and the heartwarming scene.
…Somewhere down the line, Lady Mary’s picture will be seen by a famous painter and whip up a tempest in the art world, but that’s a story for another day.