The Goblin Dirge
The thunderous roar that shook the earth from Goblin Dirge Castle startled everyone into rushing over, only to witness Neromeltia emerging from the ruins cradling the purple jar with tender care. No one was so oblivious as to question the meaning behind her reddened, glistening eyes. They simply parted to either side, clearing a path, and bowed their heads in silent tribute.
That evening, work on building graves beyond the outer walls of the Demon Lord Castle was in full swing. Though bones preserved through a thousand years without decaying were rare, the discovery of over two hundred of them served as a stark reminder of just how many lives had been lost in the Humian assault. Only after carefully constructing graves for every one of them, and even preparing plots in advance for any remains that might be uncovered during the castle’s reconstruction, were they finally able to eat.
Though the meal came late, not a single soul voiced complaint. Some maintained a reverent silence in honor of the fallen, while others deliberately raised their voices to lighten the heavy atmosphere. Yet nothing proved more powerful than the quiet itself—more intense than any thunderclap. It swallowed even the chatter of those trying to fill the silence, leaving only the occasional clink of bowls amid a suffocating stillness. The collective silence of the crowd numbed every sense.
“My friend, even if you cannot eat or drink, as long as you live, better days will come.”
At the center of the square, before the great bonfire prepared for stew, Artis began to sing quietly. His song started without warning or preface. Though many had gathered, the heavy silence made his voice carry clearly across the vast square, reaching every listener seated throughout the plaza.
“If you must depart so far, you should have walked freely beneath the brilliant sun and enjoyed your life to the fullest.”
The goblins began to gather before Artis in unison. It was a song familiar to them but strange to the demonians—a dirge the goblins sang when sending off their comrades. An ancient melody whose origins were lost to time, yet every goblin knew it by heart. For goblins, who viewed death as a journey to a happy afterlife, a funeral was never solely a mournful rite.
“Now departed friend, do not look back with worry. Go forth to a good path, to a happy place.”
The goblins assembled before Artis joined their voices to his dirge. The song swelled, its resonance stirring hearts. One by one, the demonians set down their bowls of stew and began to weep. They, too, started moving toward the bonfire where Artis stood.
“When ages pass and we meet again, let us share a drink and talk through the night of all we left unsaid.”
As if enchanted, the goblins singing in chorus began taking the hands of the demonians who had gathered. A demonian looked down through tears at the goblin holding their hand. The goblin smiled brightly at the demonian wracked with sorrow, and the demonian, moved by the warmth blooming in their chest, smiled through their tears.
Though they had never heard the song before, the demonians began to follow along haltingly. The goblins raised their voices louder still, helping them keep pace. “Rich meat and warm bread! Fresh vegetables and sweet fruit! Hot stew and fiery brandy! Let us feast together in joy!”
The endless refrain began. After repeating the same lines a few times, the demonians—now familiar with the melody and lyrics—sang with abandon, becoming one with the goblins in the bright, lilting dirge. The goblin dirge had no end. It was a song sung with every heart, continuing until the very last person finished, long after the stew they had set aside had grown cold. They poured every emotion into the deep, empty night sky.
“Master, may I come in?”
“Enter.”
At the cautious voice of Lusteria outside the tent, Neromeltia set aside the blueprint she had been working on and replied. With permission granted, Lusteria lifted the entrance flap and stepped inside, followed by Beatrice, freshly bathed and clean.
“You’re still handling official matters at this late hour. Have I disturbed you?”
“No. I was listening to the song.”
“Ah, you mean the song Lord Artis is singing?”
The dirge echoing from outside the tent was being sung by everyone gathered in the square, so clearly that even inside the tent—set at some distance from the plaza—every note reached them. Though they could not join in person, each line of the distant song stirred something profound within Neromeltia’s heart; that much was undeniable.
“I must thank Artis. To comfort the people in such a way when they were so downcast… it never even occurred to me.”
“He is a king, after all. His methods differ from yours—quietly handling affairs without fanfare or displays of authority—but his desire to care for the people is the same.”
“Yes… I suppose you’re right.”
Neromeltia listened once more to the dirge that still echoed without end. The demonians who had sung through sobs of grief now sang with lively, bright voices, even laughing and making merry as though at a festival. The song did not ask them to suppress their sorrow; it urged them to pour it all out, then fill the void with joy and delight. It turned those who wept into those who smiled, easing the knots in their hearts and brightening their spirits. That was the nature of the goblin dirge. Neromeltia found herself quite fond of this melody steeped in natural mourning and warm comfort.
“Truly, I need many more companions. There is so much I cannot manage alone.”
The words Neromeltia murmured to herself were ultimately meant for Lusteria, who stood with her. Lusteria bowed her head and listened attentively. Though she gazed at the empty air as if speaking idly, her heart churned with countless thoughts.
“Without Lusteria, finding the survivors would have taken far longer. Without Crawford, the survivors could never have lived safely and endured for a thousand years. Without Artis, investigating the safety of the Demon Lord Castle would have taken more time—and it was Artis, without a doubt, who soothed the people’s grief today.”
“Master……”
“I need retainers. I need comrades. I need friends. Hemonigent flourished in the past because of the help and cooperation of many. Right now, we are short on hands. There is little I can accomplish alone. I refuse to become a Demon Lord who is strong yet incompetent.”
Lusteria had something she wished to say, but swallowed it back. After carefully organizing her thoughts, she spoke with caution. Though she paid attention to how she conveyed her words, the feelings and heart she wished to express remained unchanged.
“I fully agree that we lack manpower. Compared to Hemonigent of old, we are woefully short of talent as well. If another Humian raid or dragon attack occurs, the only ones who could serve as fighting strength would be you, Master, myself, Lord Crawford, and Lady Beatrice here. I agree completely.”
“…But that isn’t what you truly want to say, is it?”
“…As expected, you see right through me, Master. It was because you were here that I could reclaim my true self. It was because of Lord Crawford that the survivors were guaranteed safety and could emerge. It was because of Lord Artis and the goblins that they could leave behind a life of moss and murky water. And Lady Beatrice here was able to continue living once more.”
Lusteria approached her master softly and clasped both of Neromeltia’s hands. Neromeltia felt the warm, gentle heat of Lusteria’s touch. Those captivating violet eyes drew closer, conveying her heart through her gaze alone. Neromeltia already knew what Lusteria wished to say without needing words.
“The highest-ranking person in Hemonigent. The one with the greatest power. And the one with the greatest compassion. Without you, Master, neither the Demon Lord Castle nor Hemonigent would exist. If you need talent, simply give the order. Tell us to find others. …There is no need to diminish your own worth to explain.”
Neromeltia took Lusteria’s hands in return, feeling the soft skin and delicate touch, along with the strength of her earnest wish. It felt as though every worry and thought had been washed away, and the mere presence of Lusteria’s heart made her feel profoundly reassured.
“Yes, I understand. Thank you, Lust.”
“You really do need talented people! It seems I must stay by your side, Master!”
“I’ve never even considered a life without you, Lust.”
“Master, honestly……”
Before long, Neromeltia had reversed their hold, now gently caressing Lusteria’s lovely hands as she admired them. Lusteria seemed to attempt pulling away in embarrassment, but Neromeltia refused to release her—and Lusteria had no real intention of withdrawing either. Her brief resistance ended as nothing more than adorable coquetry.
“It seems you have matters to attend to, so I shall take my leave.”
Beatrice, who had remained standing to one side of the tent, attempted to bid farewell in her characteristically emotionless, dry tone as the atmosphere began to ripen. Neromeltia and Lusteria felt a twinge of embarrassment at having been so absorbed in their own world. Neromeltia feigned ignorance and asked with manufactured curiosity.
“Matters to attend to…? What do you mean, Beatrice…?”
“Were you not planning to enjoy a ‘★Viva★ Steamy, Busty Beauty and Hot ♥Sexual Party Tonight♥’ with your secretary starting now, Master?”
“You…!! You you!! Where did you learn to say such things!!!”
“One thousand two hundred and five years ago, while cleaning your room, I happened upon the novel ‘My Voluptuous Secretary Is a Lewd Sex Slave’ hidden behind your bookshelf and read it.”
“You!! That book!! It was inside the safe that requires pulling the lever disguised as a book on the top right, entering the password, and authenticating with magic power!! You didn’t find it by accident!! You deliberately searched for it with all your might!!!”
At the rare sight of Neromeltia’s face flushed crimson with shame, Lusteria could not hide her surprise, yet she laughed at the adorable side of her master she had never seen before. Meanwhile, Lusteria gazed at Beatrice, who maintained her expressionless demeanor, and fell into thought. As Neromeltia raised her voice in embarrassment and Beatrice replied nonchalantly in her usual dry tone, Lusteria suddenly reached a conclusion. She stepped between them, looked into Beatrice’s eyes, and spoke.
“Could it be that you were interested as well, Lady Beatrice?”
“…I do not understand what you mean.”
“You went to the trouble of searching a safe that is so difficult to find and open, and even read the novel inside so thoroughly that you memorized its lines. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
“……”
Neromeltia wondered what conversation her secretary and maid were having, their voices so low that she could not hear them. It was a conversation she could have overheard if she concentrated her hearing, but she had no desire to eavesdrop on their deliberately hushed exchange. During their exchange, Lusteria showed a variety of expressions—eyes widening in surprise, covering her mouth as she giggled. After conversing for a while, Lusteria soon turned to her master and spoke with a meaningful look.
“Remember that reward I mentioned earlier, Master? Would it be all right if Lady Beatrice received it together with me?”