Chapter 96

“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.