The Supply Line Is More Important Than an Ex-Girlfriend
After Kardia Noxbell left the audience chamber, the door slammed shut. Thud. It was a heavy sound. That sound lingered for an unusually long time. No, it probably didn’t actually linger. It was just my heart, grabbing onto that sound and dragging it out. Damn it. I survived. The sword-wielding ex-girlfriend has exited. The disaster alert has been lifted. Lucion Vergrad is included on the list of survivors in the audience chamber. Isn’t this enough to call it a day? The Demon King should get some protection under labor standards laws, too.
At that moment, Barkan stepped forward. His black plate armor clattered softly. "Your Majesty."
"Speak."
Barkan looked at the closed door, then back at me. "If you had given the order," his voice was low, "I would have cut her down right there."
The air in the audience chamber grew heavy. The scribe’s pen stopped moving. Even Hermun didn’t lift his head. I looked at Barkan. The Commander of the Black Armor Guard. One of the few in Black King Castle capable of blocking Kardia’s first strike. That wasn’t a bluff. If Kardia had drawn her sword even half an inch, Barkan would have moved. The guards would have moved. The floor of the audience chamber would have been splattered with blood. The problem was whose blood it would be. There was a high probability it would have been my neck. Imagining such things isn't good for mental health. So, I said, as coldly as possible:
"That is why I let her live."
Barkan’s eyes shifted. "I do not understand."
Yeah. I didn’t even fully understand what I was saying myself. But being a King is a job where you speak first and clean up the mess later. Unfortunately.
"Because she isn't worth killing."
As soon as the words left my lips, the audience chamber went silent. Barkan’s expression remained unchanged. Hermun didn’t move this time either. Only the scribe gripped his pen a little tighter. I stared at the closed door.
"To be precise, she isn't worth killing right now."
"Your Majesty," Hermun said in a low voice. "She is the tip of the spear for the Eastern Army."
"I know."
"Then killing her would be a great achievement."
"No." I pressed my fingertips against the desk. "If I kill her, she’ll just be worshipped as a martyr and provide a pretext for revenge."
Hermun fell silent. I continued.
"Try cutting off Kardia Noxbell’s head here in Black King Castle." My voice didn’t tremble. Thank goodness. Even though my hands were still shaking under the desk. "The Eastern Army would be sharpening their blades starting tomorrow."
"Are you saying they would sharpen their blades?" Barkan asked.
"Yes," I said. "They would be able to say this." I folded my fingers one by one. "The Demon King purged the tip of Noxvine’s spear." Second. "He killed an Eastern general who entered the Black King Castle of her own volition." Third. "He said he would spare the soldiers but killed the general. Isn't it just life and death at the King’s whim?" Fourth. "Therefore, the Eastern Army must hold out to the end."
The audience chamber was quiet. I clicked my tongue internally. That bastard called 'pretext' always grows well on top of corpses. It was truly like a weed. It grows even when you pull it, it grows even without water, and it grows especially well on other people’s graves.
"What happens if we let her live?" Hermun asked.
I answered, "They will let their guard down."
At those words, Barkan’s hand moved ever so slightly. "Are you making them expect negotiations?"
"Let them expect whatever they want," I said. "I never promised a ceasefire."
The corners of Hermun’s mouth twitched faintly. It wasn’t a smile. It was a calculation. "Kardia Noxbell is not an envoy."
"That’s right."
"She has no credentials."
"She didn't."
"And she was not guaranteed safe passage."
"She came with a sword." I leaned back into my chair. "And she returned alive."
At that moment, Hermun’s pen moved. Scratch. Scratch. The old minister had already understood.
"However, we are still in a state of war."
Kardia hadn't been forgiven. She hadn't been granted permission to return. She had been sent back to the Eastern Army alive. With what she had seen. And with the delusions she harbored.
"Your Majesty," Barkan said. "Then what we need now is a military order."
"Yes," I nodded. "And a path."
"A path, you say?" Hermun asked.
I looked at the scribe. "Send someone to the Roadmia Blood Family."
The pen stopped. Hermun’s eyes shifted slightly. "Are you telling me to summon the Blood Family Head?"
"Yes." I looked at the closed door. "I have received the daughter’s oath of loyalty." And then I said slowly, "Now, I will receive the father’s path."
Around evening that day, the Roadmia Blood Family Head hurried into the audience chamber. Ivelin’s father. A man who still carried the old name of the Roadmia Dukedom on his shoulders. He wasn’t old. But he looked aged. It wasn’t his age; it was the 'House' that made a person like that. Old crests. Old etiquette. Old ways of survival. A title he couldn’t discard even after being driven out to the barren Demon Realm. The name of a Duke received in an era when humans and demons lived under the same sky. To protect that name, the Roadmias had mixed blood, raised private soldiers, and chosen whom to bow their heads to. And now, that head was bowed before me.
"I greet Your Majesty." His voice was low and stable. There was a resemblance to Ivelin. The way he hid his emotions. There were differences, too. Ivelin was still trying to hide her wounds, while this man was already wearing his wounds like his family crest.
"Roadmia Blood Family Head."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Roadmia is an old name."
His head bowed just a little lower. "It is a history I do not deserve."
"I heard you received your title in an era when humans and demons were under the same crown."
"That is correct."
"And you maintained that title even after being pushed into the Demon Realm."
"Because the blood of Roadmia has not been severed. My family has always continued its name under the shadow of the Demon King’s house."
Good. He speaks well. To be precise, he is good at saying things that ensure survival. I looked down at him.
"If you wish to maintain that blood." The candles in the audience chamber flickered. "Do not prove your loyalty with words today."
The Blood Family Head’s fingers stiffened ever so slightly. I placed my hand on the map.
"The Eastern outer supply route."
Hermun’s pen moved again. "The Roadmia Blood Family knows that path."
The Blood Family Head’s lips tightened. "Your Majesty."
"You would know it."
"That path is..."
"It leads to Belion Vergrad’s supply depot." I said. "That is why I called you."
A short silence. The Blood Family Head bowed his head. "I will carry out your command."
It was a quick answer. Too quick. I didn’t like that quick answer. Because it looked like obedience. Obedience is sometimes more dangerous than betrayal.
"It is not over yet."
The Blood Family Head’s hands stopped. I looked to the side. "Seradin."
The female general in black armor stepped forward. A long scar cutting across one cheek was vivid under the candlelight. Seradin. The day the head of Kallen Drak rolled on the palace floor. The woman who closed the palace gates and bound the feet of the nobles. That day, the high nobles inside the palace couldn’t escape. Some wailed. Some proposed deals. Some begged to have just one door opened. Seradin didn’t answer any of them. She just stood in front of the door wearing her black armor. She wasn’t a kind, loyal subject to Lucion. She was a sword that executed the orders of Black King Castle. A woman who moved before words. A woman who closed doors before excuses.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Seradin bowed her head.
"Accompany the Roadmia Blood Family."
"I will carry out your command."
The Blood Family Head’s shoulders stiffened slightly. I looked at him and said:
"It is not an escort."
A short silence. "It is surveillance."
This time, the Blood Family Head’s breath hitched. Very briefly. But I saw it. Good. No, it’s not good. Damn it. To think I’m living a life where I have to summon an ancient ducal Blood Family Head and attach a monitor to him. It’s not politics; it’s like a gang takeover. But what can I do? The Demon King’s realm is like this by nature.
"If the Roadmia Blood Family hides the path," I said, "Seradin will record it."
"..."
"If the family’s private soldiers move slowly,"
"..."
"Seradin will record it."
"..."
"After the battle ends, that record will be entered into the ledgers of Black King Castle."
The Blood Family Head inhaled very slowly. "Your Majesty," he said in a low voice. "Are you testing Roadmia?"
"No," I said. "I am executing."
His eyes turned toward me. A short tremor. And a calculation that disappeared quickly. The Roadmia Dukedom. The Roadmia Blood Family. The old title and the blood of the Demon Realm. Both were now on my ledger.
"If you wish to maintain your family," I said, "attack. Prove that Roadmia’s survival leads to the victory of Black King Castle."
The words fell onto the floor of the audience chamber. The Blood Family Head didn’t answer for a long time. And finally, he bowed his head.
"The Roadmia Blood Family will become the guide for Black King Castle."
Those words stung a little. I don’t know why. No. Actually, I knew. The Ivelin of the past didn’t stand by my side. Because she thought I couldn’t survive. But now, her family is standing before my military order. To survive. Truly, the human heart is as economical as a dog. Survival is faster than love. The family is heavier than memories. And the supply line is more important than an ex-girlfriend. This is politics. Damn it.
At that moment, there was a very small sound at the door of the audience chamber. I turned my head. Ivelin Roadmia was standing there. It wasn’t her who had been summoned. But there was no way she wouldn’t come to the place where her family’s name was called. She couldn’t say a word. The old title of the Roadmia Dukedom. The private soldiers of the Roadmia Blood Family. And the oath of loyalty that started with her own name. All of that was now being dragged to the Eastern outer supply route.
I looked at her. "Do not follow."
Ivelin’s fingertips stiffened. "You will remain in Black King Castle."
"Your Majesty." She opened her mouth for the first time. Her voice was small. "I..."
"The Roadmia Blood Family needs a place to return to."
At those words, Ivelin stopped. This wasn’t consideration. I knew it. She knew it, too. She was being left behind. As a place to return to. And as collateral. Damn it. The words sounded nice, but the meaning was truly filthy. The political translator always outputs the worst possible result. I looked at the map again.
"We move before dawn."
Barkan asked, "Is the target the Eastern main force?"
"No." I placed my finger on the map. "The outer supply depot." My finger moved to the side. "The outpost near the intake station." Again. "The auxiliary supply route guarded by the Blood Family’s private soldiers."
Hermun said, "You are not striking the main force."
"The main force where Belion is located is difficult to annihilate." If I strike the main force, Belion will strike back directly. If I fail, this war becomes another one of his hero stories. "Then I must starve them to death." I judged. Why should I do favors for others?
"If I strike the outskirts, Belion must choose."
"Choose what, Your Majesty?"
"Whether to come out to save his soldiers," I pressed down on the Eastern Army on the map, "or to defend the front line."
The room went quiet. Barkan bowed his head. "I will prepare the military order."
"No," I said. "Stamp it with the Black Seal."
The scribe looked up. "Your Majesty."
"It is not soldiers who move tonight."
I looked at the closed door. Somewhere beyond it. I thought of the path Kardia Noxbell would be returning on. She would probably say what she saw. The shadow of Black King Castle. The surviving soldiers. The protection list. And the Eastern Army would probably think this: That the Demon King wants negotiations. That the Demon King still fears blood. That the Demon King couldn’t even kill a single sword-wielding general. Good. Believe that. I said:
"What moves tonight," my voice was low and heavy, "is the answer of Black King Castle."
At dawn that day, the military order of Black King Castle arrived at the Eastern outer supply depot. It was an envelope stamped with the Black Seal. Before the supply officer who received the envelope could break the seal, the sound of horse hooves was heard from outside the fortress walls first. Thud. Thud. Thud. The night of the East trembled. And in the darkness, a black flag rose.