The Demon Lord's Retainer (1)
The Demon Lord's retainer (1). Stony Fortress, the mountain stronghold where the orcs resided. Within its towering, unyielding stone walls, the training ground—originally meant for soldiers' drills—served many other purposes thanks to its vast open space in the cramped confines of the fortress. It hosted festivals for the residents, periodic barter markets, speeches by the lord to his people, and public tournaments, plays, or musical performances open to all. Today, however, the space belonged to the Demon Lord.
Orcs crowded in numbers that surprised even those who lived there, their eyes gleaming as they gazed upon the Demon Lord. Life within the fortress was largely uneventful—a sign of peace, yet also a monotonous routine lacking stimulation. For them, this chance to see foreigners of other races with their own eyes was an electrifying experience. Even without Lord Beriberi's direct orders, they had flocked here of their own accord. Aside from a few special scouts on patrol duty, most orcs had never left Caboni Forest. This gathering was their way of indulging their longing for the unknown world beyond.
Beriberi had not forced attendance. He had merely hinted, "Her Majesty the Demon Lord plans to conduct an important ceremony. I hope as many of you as possible can attend." Yet, contrary to his non-coercive message, every orc—young and old, male and female—had gathered, save only the sentries on the walls. Forges in workshops fell silent, farming tools lay abandoned in the fields, half-cooked stew in the dining hall floated with underdone carrots, and fish traps in the stream brimmed with catch that no one came to pull out. All activity in Stony Fortress had halted at the Demon Lord's arrival.
"Silence!"
The murmuring crowd fell instantly quiet at the lord's single word. A hush fell like water doused over flames, yet the eyes fixed on the platform blazed with excitement and yearning, a visible embodiment of what would have been a roar. From behind the platform emerged the three foreign women the crowd had been waiting for.
The three women ascended quietly. The orcs, who had never encountered other races, could not identify them precisely, but their pale skin with healthy complexions clearly marked them as different from orcs or ogres. Without any introduction from the lord, everyone knew they were outsiders. The black-haired woman at the front revealed herself as a demonian through her horns and pointed ears—something only found in books—and it was easy to guess she was the Demon Lord. The purple-haired woman following her had similar horns and ears, but her swaying tail made her race harder to pinpoint. The emerald-haired maid walking beside the tailed woman had round ears—the only round ears ever seen in Stony Fortress, past or present.
"Th-that's a human, isn't it!?"
"Oh my god!!"
"A human! It's a human!!!"
The orcs, who had been memorizing every detail of the women with curious eyes, suddenly raised their voices. Some asked others to confirm what they saw. Others trembled and covered their children's eyes in fear. Still others stood frozen with wide eyes and open mouths. Reactions varied, but one emotion simmered beneath them all: hostility.
"What is the meaning of this!!"
"My lord! Say something!!!"
"The humans! The humans are going to attack!!"
"We must kill all humans!!!!!"
Round-eared races were rare. At heights between 160 and 180 mentols with pale skin, the only round-eared beings were humans—unless they were gods. The crowd's anger ignited rapidly, its momentum fierce enough to explode at any moment. Their blazing gazes of fighting spirit turned savage, even murderous. Beriberi, who had not anticipated this reaction, gestured frantically in panic to calm them, but the orcs' pent-up fury poured forth like a raging waterfall. The lord's words could not reach them. No matter how logical the explanation, if it failed to land, it was mere noise. This matter required no logic at all—simply recognizing that she was not human would suffice—yet even that simple truth proved difficult now.
Amid the chaos, Beatrice maintained her characteristically expressionless face. She only furrowed her brows slightly to convey displeasure. Few could read her thoughts or emotions from her features. She found it unpleasant to be mistaken for a lowly, filthy human, but even more so that the crowd dared raise their voices before her exalted master. She had done nothing wrong, yet her master must not be displeased. She resolved to step forward and clear the misunderstanding at once. Just as she considered the best approach, she sensed her master approaching.
Through the angry roar of the crowd, her master showed no sign of panic. Instead, she wore a meaningful smile as she looked at Beatrice. As if she could see the maid's thoughts as clearly as the palm of her hand, the Demon Lord's ruby-red eyes conveyed an unmistakable command.
'Stay still.'
Neromeltia took Beatrice's hand and led her to the front of the platform. The closer they drew to the crowd, the more overtly their anger pressed against them, stinging the skin. A thousand years had passed since Hemonigent's fall. No orc who had lived through that era remained, their lifespans having claimed them all. Among the current generation of orcs, not even one had heard the story firsthand from survivors. They had only learned it from history books. Yet the fury now erupting proved that, even after a millennium, the orcs' hatred toward humans had not faded. The greater the anger, the greater the hope for the future. The deeper the grudge, the deeper the love for their comrades. Thus, Neromeltia smiled genuinely even as she faced their rage directly. Having finally understood her master's intent, Beatrice too cast aside her inner displeasure.
Neromeltia pulled Beatrice close and kissed her soft lips.
A silence fell like a lie. The stillness swept over the crowd in an instant, like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, blanketing the entire area. Startled, Beatrice stared at her master with wide eyes, but soon surrendered to the sweet kiss and slowly closed them. The tender affection of her most beloved master washed over her, overwhelming her mind with emotion until it ceased to function. When the brief ecstasy ended and their lips parted, Neromeltia smiled faintly at Beatrice, whose gaze still lingered dreamily from the kiss, and whispered playfully.
"Effective, isn't it?"
Releasing Beatrice gently, Neromeltia wiped the playfulness from her face and assumed the dignified bearing of a ruler. Though she had merely suppressed her emotions, her appearance left no sense of emptiness. Within her impassive expression shone the power and authority of an absolute sovereign, the majestic presence of a lofty ruler radiating brilliantly.
"This one is mine."
With one arm wrapped around Beatrice's waist, Neromeltia declared boldly to the crowd. The master's overtly intimate gesture before so many eyes made Beatrice flush despite lacking blood to do so, her usual dryness vanishing from her face. Unconcerned, Neromeltia continued her declaration even more assertively.
"My maid is not a human but an Ego Doll. Even if she were human, it would not matter. What difference does it make whether the maid I own is a human or a dragon!"
The Demon Lord's commanding words. A simple yet powerful and direct declaration. The orc crowd, along with Beriberi, Oun, and even Moka—who rarely lost composure—stared at the Demon Lord in stunned silence, forgetting what they had meant to say. Nella gazed at the Demon Lord with mixed emotions, feeling her heart pound fiercely once more. Lusteria looked at her master with an uncomfortable pain, as though a sharp needle had pierced the center of her rapidly beating heart. Only the two women showed different reactions.
"This one is mine! Do not interfere!!"