The Goblin King (1)
The goblins, striding ahead with chests puffed out in pride, even hummed strange little tunes as they led the way, their joy plain for all to see. In their midst walked Lusteria, joining them in their odd humming. The goblins clustered around her, their affection naked and unashamed—like a pack of puppies trailing after their mother. Neromeltia found the sight rather amusing and briefly considered entrusting the succubus with future meetings and management of other races they would encounter. Of course, these were merely a handful of low-intelligence goblins she had tamed; she would need to observe Lusteria’s talents a little longer before making any final decisions.
“This way! Over here!”
“If we take the side path we’ll hit the trash zone! We have to go this way!”
They twisted and turned so often that it was easy to lose one’s sense of direction, and the many branching tunnels made memorizing the route nearly impossible. Yet the goblins pressed forward without hesitation, whether from memory or by reading hidden markers. Lusteria soon gave up trying to track their location and simply followed where they led.
“This direction… I see.”
“Oh my, does my lord already know where we’re headed?”
“We seem to be making for the largest chamber in this sewer district. The goblin population here must be quite substantial.”
Lusteria had long since abandoned any attempt to map their position, yet her master had not only pinpointed their current location but even predicted their destination. A surge of reverence and admiration welled up within her, and her violet eyes sparkled as she gazed up at Neromeltia.
“You even know exactly where we’re passing through right now?”
“Of course. We’re currently beneath the Gnome’s Tear Tavern.”
“Wow! I really miss that place! Their crisp and sausages were so delicious!!”
Lusteria closed her eyes, lost in the happy memories of a thousand years ago. Neromeltia, however, could not share the same uncomplicated joy. While the past held sweet recollections, it also carried pain that still lingered to this day.
“The beer was terrible, though.”
“Ehh… but the food was good, so it was fine!”
“He used to go on and on about becoming a master brewer, yet in the end he was only good at everything except beer, wasn’t he?”
Even after a thousand years, the image of the dwarf innkeeper rose vividly in her mind: a massive frame clad in a white dress shirt and black vest that somehow suited him. A renowned craftsman capable of forging Neromeltia’s beloved sword, yet an eccentric who dreamed of becoming a brewer in a noisy tavern. A bittersweet smile touched Neromeltia’s lips as she recalled that beloved figure, and she pushed the memories aside upon realizing they had arrived.
“This is our home!”
They stepped into a place shrouded in pitch-black darkness. Even here the gloom was so thick that nothing could be seen, but a sphere of light conjured by Lusteria’s magic pushed the shadows back and revealed the interior. With a soft gasp of admiration, Lusteria sent the glowing orb floating to the center of the vast chamber and fixed it in place.
“Whoa… What is this place? How can there be such a huge space down here?”
“Where in the area around the Demon Lord Castle and its outer walls would require the largest sewer system?”
“…Umm… The castle itself, perhaps!? Because it’s the most important place where my lord resides!”
Neromeltia smiled at the succubus’s answer, which overflowed with devotion even in such a trivial matter. The Demon Lord gently patted Lusteria’s purple hair and answered kindly.
“The Demon Lord Castle has its own independent water and sewage system to prevent enemy intrusion. Besides, it doesn’t use that much water, and rainwater flows into the moat, so the system isn’t particularly large.”
“Eung… Then… could it be a plaza?”
“Correct. The plaza where street vendors once gathered and where concerts and theatrical performances were held.”
Few places inside the castle’s outer walls rivaled the Demon Lord Castle in scale. Lusteria had guessed correctly; the enormous sewer chamber they now stood in lay directly beneath that very plaza. It was a vast space, as though a grand stadium had been carved underground. Numerous drainage tunnels opened high along the walls in every direction, designed to handle the heavy rainfall of the wet season.
“I never imagined such a huge place was buried beneath the plaza… It would have been disastrous if it had collapsed.”
“A solid layer of granite lies between the plaza and the sewers, so there’s no danger. Unless several meteor spells struck the same spot, the ground wouldn’t give way.”
While the Demon Lord and her secretary chatted, goblins began to gather around them one by one. Two unfamiliar women of other races had appeared in their home, and the creatures approached with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. Some clutched flimsy spears or rusted daggers, trembling with extreme caution, while others sucked their thumbs with wide yellow eyes, brimming with innocent interest.
Neither Neromeltia nor Lusteria felt the slightest need for vigilance; to the goblins, they were absolute beings far beyond harm’s reach. Their calm, untroubled demeanor only deepened the awe the goblins felt toward them.
Before long, roughly three hundred goblins had surrounded them. Neromeltia was surprised for an entirely different reason. She had never imagined that so many goblins could still survive in this polluted land where the air was barely breathable and everything had withered or twisted into grotesque shapes. Only admiration and emotion filled her heart for these creatures who had endured a thousand years without their Demon Lord, hiding from the eyes of the Humians.
Then the goblins at the rear parted as one, and a single goblin stepped forward with unhurried grace.
“Ohohohoho! To think I would meet such beautiful ladies in my short goblin life! My existence has not been in vain after all!”
The speaker wore a flat cap of cadmium red and held a pipe between his lips. Dressed in a light brown coat over a white dress shirt with a matching cravat, he looked every inch an old-fashioned noble despite his green skin and yellow eyes. A thick white mustache and beard, neatly combed, added an air of venerable dignity. He was the very image of a refined elderly gentleman.
“Who are you?”
“Oh dear. How terribly rude of me to stand before such ladies without introducing myself! Please forgive my discourtesy.”
The goblin handled Neromeltia’s blunt question with smooth ease, his manners markedly different from the others. Even his bow carried genuine elegance—an old-fashioned noble gesture of placing one hand over his heart as he inclined his head. It was a far cry from what one would expect of a goblin hiding in the sewers a thousand years after Hemonigent’s fall.
“This old one’s name is Artis T. Painter. Though unworthy, I have been chosen as Goblin King and now lead these people.”
The more Artis spoke, the clearer it became that his intelligence far surpassed that of ordinary goblins. Neromeltia stepped closer. She had many questions, but above all she wished to know where his remarkable intellect had come from. The other goblins spoke haltingly and displayed only simple minds, revealing just how dire the state of goblin education had become. Even after a thousand years, much knowledge had clearly been lost or distorted across generations. Yet this one goblin possessed wisdom on an entirely different level—wisdom that surely had its roots in the old Hemonigent. Someone must have taught him. If so, that someone had to be a being capable of surviving the long centuries.
Neromeltia wondered if one of her former retainers had left this trace behind and was determined to find out. But Artis raised a hand to stop her and, with a courteous gesture, invited her inside as an honored guest.
“I imagine you have much to discuss, but it would be poor manners to keep a lady standing here. Please, come in. Though humble and unrefined, we shall do our utmost to receive you.”