Everyone's Lost Their Minds
The Imperial Noble Assembly had begun that morning. It dragged on past noon, into the evening, and well into the late hours of night.
"Is this not a clear act of treason?! That man essentially spared the Demon Kings!"
"Exactly. He may claim ignorance all he likes, but we were fortunate things worked out as they did — it could just as easily have resulted in even more of those dreadful Demon Kings!"
War heroes always had enemies. That was precisely why Lethe had hesitated at first.
It was an ironclad rule of the world: the ones who never did a damn thing were always the first to throw a fit behind the scenes the moment their positions looked shaky. Guilt over their own cowardice — all that running and calculating — left them scrambling for any excuse to tear someone else down.
If they'd poured even a fraction of that energy into the actual war, they might not have earned any praise, but at least they wouldn't be eating this much dirt.
A handful of nobles poured out their opinions with feverish intensity. The substance of it all was a deliberate smear campaign against Lethe — ranting that his rescuing, raising, and teaching of the demons constituted treason and worse.
Bang!
Of course, not every noble in the room was that much of an idiot.
"I'll say one thing. Enough of this nonsense."
"M-Marquis! How can you speak so—!"
"I am holding back far harsher words, I assure you. What was that just now? Treason? After all the merit Sir Lethe earned in the war against the demonkin, you dare spew that kind of garbage?"
The surrounding nobles nodded in unison.
Demonkin? They hated them. Demon Kings? Hated them even more. Those ghastly, brutal creatures — the kind no one wanted anything to do with. How many Imperial soldiers had died at their hands? How much damage had their wars inflicted?
But that was that, and Lethe was Lethe. It was thanks to his exploits that things had ended as well as they had.
Yes, the fact that he had rescued, raised, and taught those demons — and that they had become Demon Kings — sat uncomfortably with them. But that was as far as it went. What was the point of dredging up the past?
If they denounced him here, what of the other heroes? What option remained but to discard them the same way? And how would they weather the backlash from that? Try to rein in the war heroes, and they might catch a reverse gale strong enough to finish them off.
"I, Marquis Anes, will not withdraw my support for Sir Lethe. He remains a hero of the Empire — a man who has shed more blood for this realm than anyone else."
His declaration solidified the other nobles' support for Lethe in turn. The ones who had been trying to check a war hero for no good reason were left looking like fools.
And so the Noble Assembly came to a close.
Disgusting bastards.
Marquis Anes clicked his tongue at the sight of them.
It was obvious. The hardliners who had gripped the political landscape for so long were throwing a fit now that peace had suddenly arrived. How bitter must it be to let go of power once held so tightly in their fists?
For years they had sucked sweet honey from the fear of the demonkin. Of course they wanted to keep feeding the same way. The miserable wretches hadn't even been near a battlefield.
"Your Excellency, Marquis Anes."
"Ah, you've come. Sit."
Count Latifeon gave a slight bow and took the seat beside him.
"I hear Sir Lethe has been in contact."
"Yes. He said he would attend the banquet in person."
"Unexpected. He was never one for those kinds of gatherings."
"He must have sensed the shift in the current political climate, wouldn't you say?"
Marquis Anes considered this briefly, then nodded.
Certainly — a man like that would have read the situation here long ago and already decided his next move.
He was no mere swordsman who only knew how to swing a blade at his enemies. The Lethe the Marquis knew was a man who understood when to fight with steel and when to fight with words. He knew how to wield the weapon called justification.
In a poorer light, one might call him a political soldier — but that label belonged to those who sought to seize and shake the political world at will. Lethe simply moved within the bounds of not being swept away by political force.
That was why the Marquis liked him. That was why his support remained unshakable.
Neither swayed nor swaying. Stay within the lines, and he handled things on his own. Truly ideal.
"The political climate has grown turbulent of late. And not only in the Empire…"
"The elves and dwarves are no different, I imagine. Of course they aren't. After years of that dreadful war ending so abruptly, how could there not be chaos? Especially for those who built their power by stoking fear and terror of the enemy."
War was something that needed to end as quickly as possible. Everyone needed to return to ordinary life.
But those who had reaped the benefits of that war found the prospect far less welcome.
"The hardline nobles seem to be hunting for a new angle these days."
"They wouldn't be mad enough to call for another war. Which means they'll try to keep the fear and dread of the remaining Demon Kings and demonkin alive."
"And they'll try to fold Sir Lethe into it as well. The Four Heavenly Kings who hunted down and killed the other Demon Kings — and the one who taught them was none other than a war hero. That alone can spawn any number of stories, wouldn't you agree?"
"Indeed. That their skills are extraordinary, or that they know our Empire's strategies. Fabricate freely enough, and the possibilities are endless."
He suddenly wanted a cigarette very badly. But the assembly hall was smoke-free — a triumph the current Emperor, who thoroughly detested smoking, had all but forced through. A triumph for him, at least. For the nobles, it had been tyranny.
"I only hope our war hero hasn't grown too disappointed."
"He isn't that sort of man. Not over something like this…"
"That friend of ours, no. The problem is those lot beside us. They're not the type to leave it at this."
They would spread filthier words, more inflammatory rumors. They were more than capable of it.
If the war were still raging, he could have at least beaten them down on charges of fomenting internal discord. But the war was over, and he could no longer deal with them so high-handedly.
Frustrating. Truly frustrating. Marquis Anes muttered as much to himself and leaned back in his chair.
What do I do? What do I actually do? Should I go tell Sir Lethe about this right now?
But what if I'm overreacting? Why should I even be the one to tell him in the first place?
Wouldn't it be better to just let things play out, then report the Demon Kings' crimes after the fact?
…No. Even so — even if Sir Lethe is closely involved with the Demon Kings — how could I just sit still after hearing something like that? How could anyone hear the word hunt and do nothing?
I'm a Hero. I may not have much real combat experience, and the battlefield I was meant to fight on may have vanished — but I can't pretend I don't see something this ominous unfolding. Absolutely not!
Michaela clenched both fists and resolved to move. She briefly considered telling her companions, then shook her head and discarded the idea.
She still wasn't certain what the situation actually was, and for discreet observation, alone was better than many.
Shff—!
Killing her presence was something she had done plenty of times — in the few real battles she'd actually fought. The demonkin there had stood around cluelessly until they were cut down in an instant.
She couldn't claim she had no shortcomings, but Michaela was a genuine Hero. Her caliber was fundamentally different.
"Hey. What are you doing?"
The problem was that the Demon King she was currently tailing was a being of an entirely different caliber from Michaela.
"Eek?!"
Startled, Michaela tried to bolt from her position —
"What are you doing, Ashu?"
"Nah, Mar. We've got a little rat that snuck in."
—only to find a dark-haired woman behind her, red eyes gleaming.
"Wait. This girl is a Hero, isn't she? The one who was staring at Master so strangely last time."
The blue-haired Demon King crossed her arms, looking thoroughly displeased.
"Should we take her out?"
And last of all, the silver-haired beauty looked ready to handle things the moment a decision was made.
This was no joke. Look at the murderous intent seeping off them. If things went sideways, they genuinely looked prepared to bury her alive somewhere. She was certain of it!
"Y-You people—!"
She hated demonkin. Their leaders, the Demon Kings? She hated them even more.
As a Hero — and as someone who had suffered greatly at demonkin hands in the past — it was only natural that Michaela harbored a quiet hostility toward them.
But that was that, and being terrified was being terrified. A Hero feeling fear might seem pathetic, but her lack of real combat experience was hitting her hard right now.
Here she was, stammering in front of the Demon Kings, her eyes darting this way and that.
"I-I heard everything! A hunt?!"
"What. You heard us?"
"Wasn't this supposed to be confidential, Ashu? How did it get exposed so easily?"
"I thought something felt off. There was this weird presence nearby while we were talking about it."
"Why didn't you say anything, Sitri?!"
"I just thought it was a student passing by."
The Demon Kings bickered among themselves over her head. Michaela wrestled with her options.
Should she beg for her life? Claim she barely remembered what she'd heard and promise to pretend she knew nothing?
No — was she insane?! They said they were going to hunt! As a Hero, wasn't it her duty to assess the situation and stop them somehow if it was truly a problem?!
"Just what — what are you people plotting?! A hunt? Something so wicked—"
"Hey. You interested in Mister too?"
What on earth was that supposed to mean? Mister? And interested?
"Ashu?"
"I mean, that look on her face last time, plus she came all the way out here alone over some 'hunt' talk without even being sure — something's clearly bugging her. So there's only one answer, right? She's interested in Mister."
"…Ashu's point does have a little merit."
Sitri nodded and turned her gaze on Michaela.
"Name."
"Mi-Michaela."
"Good, Michaela. Are you interested in Master as well?"
"Master? What on earth are you—"
"Lethe."
El supplied the answer in a languid tone.
"Sir Lethe…? Y-You're saying you're going to hunt Sir Lethe?!"
What was this supposed to mean?! Weren't they close? And now they were hunting him?!
Was it betrayal? Or had everything until now been a setup to target the war hero?!
"Yep. A hunt. From now on, we're planning to jump him!"
"How monstrous! How could you— how could you—"
…Huh?
"W-Wait. Wait a second. Jump him?"
"Yep. We're all grown up now. It's not a crime."
She giggled and ran her tongue slowly across her lips — and it was extremely sensual.
Something… something was off. This was far too different from anything she had ever imagined about demonkin.