Goblin's Economics (2)
The square had grown remarkably chaotic. Before anyone realized it, voices of agreement and empathy with Artis’s logic began rising from within the crowd. The constant murmur of the masses signaled that public opinion toward the old goblin was slowly shifting.
Unlike his earlier servile, groveling demeanor, Artis had regained his confidence. After suffering all-night torture at Beatrice’s hands until he was a bloodied, half-dead wreck, it would have been perfectly normal for him to be traumatized enough to change his entire personality. Yet the fact that he could stand so triumphantly without showing the slightest trace of that ordeal proved that Artis was, indeed, an exceptional individual.
“Objection!!!”
Beriberi’s counterargument rang out once more.
The substance of what Artis had presented certainly had evidence, proven precedents, and—above all—convincing logic. But Beriberi could not accept it. Knowing the entire affair had not been undertaken for the grand purpose of Hemonigent’s development made him even less willing to agree with the goblin’s tale.
Artis had simply indulged his obscene hobbies, gotten caught, and was now belatedly tacking on plausible justifications using his slippery rhetoric.
“I will acknowledge that desire contributes to development. However, that is merely a trigger! In the past, Hemonigent achieved unparalleled progress, yet we never circulated such indecent images! Do you know why? Because once the economy is activated, the people themselves create any number of triggers to obtain what they desire!”
Beriberi realized he had struck the vital point. Artis, who had never lost his composure, now wore a rigid expression.
“I want a horse! I want a cart! I want to eat delicious food! I want to give my children presents! Even without considering economics or currency, countless triggers can arise at any moment, allowing goods to flow freely. In turn, people will produce their own resources to acquire even more!”
“B-but this method is far more reliable…”
Artis’s sudden stammering proved he was thoroughly rattled.
Beriberi turned his back on him as though there was nothing more to hear and shouted toward his soldiers.
“Randall! What did you receive for switching shifts with Kes last week!”
“Kes repaired my broken helmet!”
“Fisher! Where did that short spear I saw yesterday come from!”
“I helped repair the forge furnace the other day and received it in thanks!”
Beriberi sent a triumphant, provocative glare toward Artis, as if daring him to refute the evidence. Yet Artis could only bite his lip, unable to produce a clear rebuttal.
“Even without such wicked objects, the people can find any number of reasons to live diligently and strive for progress. Do you take the citizens for fools? Who are you to enlighten them with such immoral materials!”
“T-that is…”
“Furthermore, development will proceed without a hitch if it follows the plan Her Majesty has prepared. Resources will become abundant, naturally laying the foundation for the circulation of accumulated goods. When that day comes, the monetary system you mentioned will be proposed for even more autonomous and smooth circulation. Everything can be established naturally without you exerting any unnecessary effort!!!”
“Ugh…!!”
“Your pathetic excuse—claiming the people are imbeciles who cannot feel passion without such obscene pictures—is your greatest blunder! Speak! Tell us the noble justification that required you to draw such filth!!!”
Artis trembled, desperate to open his mouth. But against his will, his tightly sealed lips refused to part. Having nothing proper to say, all he could do was clench both fists and shake.
“Since you seem unable to speak, I shall tell you plainly. You simply wanted to draw lewd pictures, and after being caught, you attached plausible reasons to justify your behavior! How utterly cunning!!!”
“N-no!!! That’s not true!!!!!”
Pierced to the core by Beriberi’s words, Artis looked at the crowd. Countless frowning eyes stared back at him. The shame felt as though his most private parts were being laid bare before the world. Then he turned his gaze toward the supreme being who held his life and death in her hands.
Neromeltia’s eyes were coldly sunken. Her closest aides stared at him with equal frostiness.
The despair that it was truly over gripped Artis completely. Feeling the world before him turn black, he flung himself flat on the ground and began to beg.
“I simply!! I believed the ultimate pinnacle of all beauty lies in the female form!! I only wanted to share that beauty with everyone!!! Sir Beriberi is correct that economic development was merely a fabricated reason! However, my sincere desire to share true beauty with all of you was genuine!!!”
“Don’t lie!! If that was your intention, why hold an auction?! Where is all the wealth you hoarded by sucking the lifeblood from others!!!”
Convinced it was truly finished, Artis poured out every hidden corner of his heart. His confession—little different from an unconditional surrender—only fueled Beriberi’s momentum further. Determined to allow not even a speck of falsehood, Beriberi pressed him even more fiercely.
At that moment, one member of Utopia cautiously raised his hand. When a gesture requesting to speak emerged from the very organization that had been cowering in guilt, Neromeltia found it both unexpected and intriguing. She nodded, granting him permission.
“My name is Armo, an attendant serving under Lord Artis. This… may be presumptuous, but… Lord Artis used a considerable portion of the compensation from his pictures for the benefit of the common people……”
“Oh? Explain exactly what you mean.”
Neromeltia wanted a thorough account. Even though the goblin trembled far more violently than the other members while standing before the absolute ruler known as the Demon Lord, his fearful demeanor only highlighted his timid nature. It made her curious why such a person would brave the pressure to defend Artis.
“Lord Artis… has been consulting with those who needed additional supplies beyond their distributed rations and lending them materials……. He says goods must circulate according to need for the proper flow of the economy……. Simply lending them could lead to abuse, so… he does charge interest… but only a modest three percent……”
While the small goblin defended Artis, hesitant voices from the crowd began to emerge one after another, each squeezing out their courage.
“When my family grew and we needed more food, Lord Artis lent us a whole sack of potatoes!”
“I fell into a sewer during maintenance and ruined my clothes. He gave me a new set so I wouldn’t have to wear stinking rags until the next distribution!”
“When I stored potatoes improperly and they sprouted, he lent me various supplies so I could last until the next ration day!”
Stories of Artis’s good deeds began pouring from the crowd. It was the moment his benevolence returned to him as reward. Artis could only bow his head deeply, tears streaming down his face.
Whether he had intended it or not, those who believed they had received his help were now testifying on his behalf, and their words carried significant weight in the final judgment.
Even Beriberi seemed unprepared for this development. He hesitated, momentarily at a loss for words.
Deciding it was time to conclude, Neromeltia approached Artis and spoke softly.
“Do you have any last words?”
Moved by the chorus of support from the crowd, Artis remained prostrated, soaking the ground with his tears. After a moment, he lifted his tear-filled eyes to Neromeltia. His gaze held a resolute determination that lent him an almost sacred air.
“I offered petty excuses to escape sin and punishment, only to receive harsh rebuke from Sir Beriberi. I no longer have any right or qualification to make further excuses. However! All the crimes belong solely to me, who organized the group and bewitched everyone. Therefore, I beg you to forgive the other members of Utopia! I will accept any punishment alone!”
“Uwaaaaaah! Lord Artis!!”
“Hic… hic…! For our sake…!!”
Artis’s earnest plea, highlighting his spirit of sacrifice, drew emotional cries from the Utopia members. Most were weeping openly; many sobbed and writhed with gratitude.
For some reason, even the crowd that had been condemning him fell into a solemn silence. Beriberi, who had denounced him most fiercely, seemed moved as well—his nose twitched repeatedly as he sniffled.
“What should we do?”
Neromeltia turned to ask the opinion of her precious women. The victims of this incident—Lusteria, Beatrice, and Nella—showed brief hesitation. They would follow any decision their Demon Lord made without question, yet offering their own opinions required careful thought.
“Hmm… If it won’t happen again in the future… I think it would be fine to forgive him.”
Lusteria spoke first. Surprisingly, she seemed willing to forgive Artis readily, implying she would not mind as long as such incidents did not repeat. After all, her naughty pictures had already been seen by everyone and could not be reclaimed. Since they were merely drawings, she wondered if harsher punishment was truly necessary. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that she had secretly kept an image of Neromeltia bathing in a tub filled with rose petals.
“Though he committed a sin so grave that a thousand deaths would not suffice, I have already educated him thoroughly. If Master deems it acceptable, it seems reasonable to grant him one more chance.”
Even the normally icy Beatrice offered an unexpected opinion. Her “education” had undoubtedly been horrific, so the idea that he had already paid for his crimes to some degree could not be dismissed. Still, it was surprising to hear the ever-uncompromising Beatrice—who showed absolute loyalty and zero tolerance in matters concerning her master—speak of forgiveness. She had only voiced the opinion after considering her master’s feelings rather than her own personality. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that she had pocketed an image of Neromeltia naked and entwined with her in bed.
“I… also believe that if Your Majesty is amenable, forgiveness would be acceptable. …He already appears to have suffered greatly……”
Having been troubled by the sight of Artis’s miserable, bloodied state upon entering the square, Nella readily leaned toward forgiveness. Though she had writhed in shame knowing her naked body had been exposed to countless strangers, the sight of him as a bloody wreck had shocked her deeply. As a soldier who had frequently torn her clothes during rigorous training, her sense of feminine modesty was already somewhat dulled. Above all, while she considered drawing the Demon Lord’s naked form a capital offense, she believed it did not warrant death if the person in question was willing to forgive. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that she had secretly kept the tarot cards depicting her in all her beautiful forms.
“Very well. Then I shall deliver my judgment.”
Having gathered the victims’ opinions, Neromeltia stood before the crowd and Artis. Everyone held their breath, awaiting the Demon Lord’s verdict. The same people who had only moments ago cursed and spat at Artis were now completely absorbed in the trial’s dramatic progression, eagerly anticipating the outcome. Opinions among the citizens had splintered in every direction—some now felt fondness, others pity, still others lingering hatred—making the result all the more intriguing.
“I will no longer pursue Artis’s crimes. However, you must recognize that this decision stems solely from the victims’ forgiveness. In the future, there must be no further instances of drawing such inappropriate images using the likenesses of real women. Should such an incident occur again, it will be punished without mercy. That is all!”
Various opinions clashed among the crowd, heating the atmosphere into a noisy tumult. In the midst of that boisterous square, Neromeltia leaned down toward Artis.
He remained with his forehead pressed to the ground, sniffling and weeping with emotion at the verdict.
Then Neromeltia whispered directly into his ear.
“You cunning little bastard. I know exactly what you were doing—talking about taking all the sins yourself and begging forgiveness for your organization members just to buy sympathy.”
“…!!!”
“Still, since the victims have chosen to forgive you and it doesn’t seem like a crime worthy of death—especially after what Beatrice put you through—I’ll let it pass.”
Artis’s body twitched as though struck in a vital spot. He had not spoken of sacrifice out of pure intention. It had been a calculated performance designed to soften the judgment by swaying public opinion.
Neromeltia had seen through him instantly. Artis felt as if his heart were being squeezed in an iron fist.
“Well, hobbies are important too. I won’t disband Utopia, and you may continue drawing erotic pictures. Just refrain from using real people, understood?”
“Y-yes! O-of course, Your Majesty!”
At Neromeltia’s unexpectedly lenient terms, Artis had nothing left to wish for. He bowed his head repeatedly, banging it against the ground in gratitude. In a sense, he could now operate openly with the Demon Lord’s permission. The realization filled him with such joy that he wondered if he were dreaming.
Then Neromeltia placed a finger beneath his chin and forcibly lifted his head. Artis found himself staring directly into her eyes. It did not take long for the questioning look in his gaze to be replaced by pure terror.
“Especially if you draw anything involving men, I will kill you.”
The Demon Lord’s blood-curdling killing intent pierced straight through Artis’s eyes and clenched his heart. A chill surged through him as though frost had formed around his very soul. His body trembled uncontrollably. Even facing death itself would not have been more terrifying.
Soon Neromeltia smiled sweetly and withdrew her killing intent. She patted his shoulder gently before returning to the side of her beloved beauties.
Once the Demon Lord withdrew, the Utopia members—deeply moved by Artis’s willingness to sacrifice himself—surrounded him, embracing and wailing with emotion. Yet Artis, his mind completely blank, felt nothing. He could only repeat one single thought to himself.
No matter what happens, I must never draw pictures involving men…
Of course, he did not remind himself not to draw actual women.
Crawford and Beriberi had briefly questioned their lord’s unexpectedly lenient forgiveness of Artis, but they soon recalled her benevolent nature and smiled in understanding. Even though he had committed the grave crime of damaging the Demon Lord’s dignity, she had forgiven him so easily. The ruler they served was truly a merciful and virtuous goddess.
Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that they had secretly kept an image of Lusteria, Beatrice, and Nella—completely naked and embraced by Neromeltia in shared passion.