The Goblin King (2)
The vast chamber deep within the sewers served as the goblin lair. At its farthest end stood a single shabby tent—the dwelling of the chieftain who had claimed the title of Goblin King and now ruled over his kind. By the standards of goblins who hid in the sewers, Artis’s home was almost respectable. Two large stone bricks stacked together formed a chair, while even more bricks made up a crude table. Around this makeshift furniture sat Neromeltia and Lusteria, gazing down at the cups Artis had brought them.
The dented copper vessels held water that was, at least, clear. A faint musty odor clung to it, yet it seemed unlikely to kill anyone who drank it.
“We cannot survive on the foul water flowing outside, so we collect the droplets that form on the walls for drinking. ‘Find food within the sewers!’ That has been the creed that has kept us goblins alive until now.”
Neromeltia listened quietly, then looked down at the water in her cup before opening her Dimensional Storage. From within she drew out an elegant tea set: a pristine white porcelain teapot and matching cups, along with a sugar bowl heaped with delicate sugar cubes. With a graceful flick of her fingers, the cups floated through the air and settled before each person present. The teapot hovered gracefully, pouring steaming black tea into every cup. A moment later, a cake stand appeared, laden with scones topped with bright raspberry jam, a cream cake studded with blueberries, and biscuits dusted with white sugar.
“I apologize for refusing your kindness, but let us enjoy teatime with these instead.”
“N-no, Your Majesty! I am deeply honored! To think I would taste foods from the distant past that I have only read about in books! Is there any goblin happier than I?”
The sight of delicacies from a thousand years ago—splendid relics he had never even dreamed of tasting—made Artis’s eyes widen in wonder. He hastily cleared away the water he had offered and spoke with barely contained excitement. His gaze shone with pure joy, almost to the point of frenzy. Yet he still waited for Neromeltia, seated at the head of the table, to lift her cup first, proving that his manners were not mere pretense.
Neromeltia produced plates, forks, and knives for everyone, then placed a scone and a slice of cake onto Artis’s plate first.
“Eat as much as you like. I do not stand on ceremony in private.”
Though permission had been granted, Artis restrained his appetite until every plate had been served. Only when Neromeltia finally picked up a biscuit did the long-awaited teatime truly begin.
The moment Artis tasted the cake, tears welled in his eyes. Overcome with emotion, he began to tremble.
“All I have ever eaten in my life was rat roasted over a fire or moss! To think such flavors existed!! I feel my life has been worth living!!!”
He began sampling every variety of pastry on the stand, laughing heartily one moment and weeping the next, sometimes raging against the starvation he had endured in the sewers. When he sipped the black tea, his entire body seemed to relax as though every worry had melted away. Discovering sugar for the first time, he dropped a cube into his cup and tasted it again; the sweet, fragrant flavor left him speechless with astonishment.
Such an intense, heartfelt reaction could not help but please the one who had provided the refreshments. Neromeltia had many questions she wished to ask, yet she refrained from interrupting his passionate enjoyment and simply sipped her tea in silence.
“Someone come inside.”
While waiting for Artis to finish, Neromeltia suddenly recalled something and called out. Two goblins who had been standing guard outside the tent hesitated before stepping in. Neromeltia opened her Dimensional Storage once more and handed them armfuls of bread and pastries. She also produced an empty wooden barrel, filled it with water through magic, and offered it with a gentle smile.
“I will prepare a proper meal for everyone at dinnertime. Until then, share these snacks together.”
“Waaahhh!! Food!! Things we’ve never seen before!!”
“Good person!! Good person!!”
The goblins, who had lived their entire lives in the sewers, had no idea what bread or pastries were, but their instincts told them these fragrant, unfamiliar items must be delicious. Overjoyed, they clutched the food and dashed outside in excitement. Watching them, Neromeltia found herself thinking that goblins could be rather endearing after all. Their green skin, yellow eyes, hooked noses, and crooked sharp teeth were far from attractive, yet their pure reactions and innocent trust touched her heart. At the same time, the knowledge that these beings had endured a thousand years of hunger since the fall of Hemonigent weighed heavily on her.
While Neromeltia was lost in thought, Artis finished every last morsel on the table and now sat contentedly sipping the remaining tea. Neromeltia glanced at Lusteria and noticed that the succubus had only drunk her tea; her own plate had long since been given to Artis and was now spotlessly clean. Yet Lusteria merely watched Artis with a warm, happy smile.
Neromeltia found the succubus’s pure and kind nature—uncharacteristic of a demon—quite endearing.
“You seem to have enjoyed the meal. I am glad.”
“Indeed! I forgot all about manners and indulged like a child. I am ashamed.”
“Think nothing of it. As I said, I am not one to fuss over etiquette. More importantly, may I ask you a few questions?”
“Yes! Ask anything! I will answer to the best of my ability!”
With a wave of her hand, Neromeltia cleared the tea set from the table and regarded Artis in silence. Lusteria rose and stood reverently behind her. Sensing an instinctive awe, Artis stood up as well and positioned himself before Neromeltia. Though they had not yet exchanged proper introductions, he felt something unmistakable. The woman before him was a demoness who embodied both benevolence and majestic dignity. He could not be certain, yet every sense in his body cried out the same answer.
After a moment of quiet reflection, Neromeltia finally spoke.
“I am Neromeltia di Isis. Demon Lord of Hemonigent, and sovereign over all who serve Luina.”
Artis’s mouth fell open. His entire body stiffened, and for a moment he could not speak. His guess had been correct. The Demon Lord who had vanished a thousand years ago—the ruler of those who lived beneath Luina—now stood before him.
Tears streamed from Artis’s yellow eyes. His body trembled violently before he dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground.
“I have waited with all my body and soul for Your Majesty’s return! O King of Demons! Absolute Ruler of Hemonigent! Master of Luina!”
Whether it was the light of hope finally appearing after a lifetime of hardship, or the sight of a future after an endless, uncertain wait, Artis sobbed uncontrollably. Neromeltia offered a bittersweet smile and waited until he regained his composure. In the silence, the joyful voices of goblins outside—sharing food and clean water—grew clearer. Inside the tent, weeping; outside, laughter.
Eventually Artis’s sobs subsided. He looked up at Neromeltia, struggling to steady his emotions.
“I have shown you an unseemly display. I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty.”
“Even though I failed to protect you through all those long years of suffering, you still acknowledge me as your king.”
“How could I ever harbor ill feelings toward Your Majesty? The story of that distant past is far too long for even ten lifetimes to recount, yet I know the truth from the records I found. You met your end while trying to protect even one more of your subjects! Where else could such a benevolent ruler be found? I cannot hold even the slightest doubt toward you!”
Artis poured every ounce of his sincerity into his words, as though spitting blood. Each sentence carried unmistakable conviction, and Neromeltia felt genuine gratitude toward him. Then a single phrase caught her attention, prompting another question.
“You mentioned books?”
“Yes! I often wandered the ruins of the Demon Lord’s castle after it had been thoroughly destroyed. At first I searched in secret, breaking my tribe’s taboos in hopes of finding useful items or materials. Before long, however, I became captivated by the books I discovered there. I learned of Your Majesty’s death from one such hastily written record.”
This explained the mystery of Artis’s unusually high intelligence. It also answered how a goblin, whose lifespan rarely exceeded a century, could know events from a thousand years ago.
Neromeltia decided to satisfy her curiosity about him first.
“Did someone teach you to read?”
“I taught myself! Fortunately, I found a primer meant for children, and it helped me greatly. Since the pictures and letters appeared together, I could guess the meaning of words from the illustrations, and from there I could figure out how the letters were pronounced.”
Artis had learned to read without any teacher, relying solely on books. It was clear he was an exceptionally clever goblin, not merely lucky to have found good books. His desire to seek out knowledge and explore it through sheer willpower had allowed him to accumulate his remarkable learning.
“Once I could read, books became truly wondrous! They contained the principles of the world and even glimpses of the future! Architecture! Sewing! Cooking! Smithing! History! Literature! Art! Swordsmanship! Strategy! Economics! Politics! They were filled with aspects of the world I had never known, and I began searching for more books with even greater fervor.”
As he spoke with rising passion, Artis’s eyes took on the dreamy look of a scholar. Intelligence filled his gaze, and determination colored his voice. Neromeltia was intrigued by his habit of scouring the Demon Lord’s ruins for books, yet she felt that understanding this remarkable goblin should come first.