The Price of Mercy

I had said my piece. The demoralized Northern Army wouldn't dare move another inch. I had also made it clear that I was perfectly willing to trigger a grand war if they pushed me. That was enough. If I say anything more, it will cross the line from terrifying to chatty. And that just looks tacky.

"Belion."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Sheathe your sword."

Belion's eyes shifted ever so slightly. "They have not yet fully disarmed, Your Majesty."

"Which is exactly why I am telling you to sheathe it."

I looked out over the rain-soaked border. The kingdom's flags. The Northern Archduke's torn colors. Spear shafts driven into the mud. An old man brought to his knees. And a princess who still managed to stand tall.

The battle had been decided long ago, but drawing blood here would only give that old man the narrative he wanted: The Demon King's army ruthlessly slaughtering the kingdom's forces at the border. I wasn't about to let him have that.

"This is not a battlefield," I said. If you're going to crush someone, you crush them completely. There was nothing more foolish than half-heartedly drawing a blade. "Because I have not yet declared it to be one."

Belion fell silent for a moment, then bowed his head. "I obey your command."

"Barkan."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Turn the wagons carrying the Ragmunt survivors around. Transfer Milena and her child to Hermoon's protective custody, and register Kir as an official messenger."

"Understood."

"Feed the prisoners, then bind them. Don't get the order mixed up."

"Your will be done."

"If anyone from the kingdom tries to follow, you have permission to kill them."

I paused briefly, looking down at Barkan's silently bowed head.

The kingdom was not a single, unified entity. It had a king for a head, nobles for bones, a military for arms, a church for a tongue, a magic tower for a sinister organ, and the Northern Archduke for an old, festering wound.

It might look like a single body on the surface, but in truth, it was an artificial construct stitched together from mismatched parts—not unlike Frankenstein's monster.

So, I shouldn't try to bite off the whole thing at once. Tearing at the throat won't kill it instantly; it'll just break my teeth.

One piece at a time. Sever the Northern Archduke from the royal court. Establish the princess as the sole channel of communication with the Demon Realm. And as for the church, fractured by the Saintess's reply, I could force them to bite their own tongues for a while.

Then the kingdom wouldn't be able to move as one. They would all have plenty to say, but they only had one mouth to speak with.

Behind me, someone gasped. Whether it was Elysia, Leonhart, or some random soldier, I didn't know. Nor did I care to find out.

What mattered now wasn't what lay behind me, but where I was returning to. First, Ragmunt. Then, the capital. Back to Black King Castle.

With that, I set off for Ragmunt.

At dawn the following day, I met with Hermoon, who looked like a man who had long since abandoned the concept of sleep. He had already received word of the events.

"I will dispatch two scribes to discuss the finer details of the negotiations with the kingdom."

"And the recipient?"

"Princess Elysia of Arten. Is she not the one Your Majesty has already singled out?"

Impressive guess. "What makes you say that?"

The tip of his pen didn't stop moving across the paper.

"Of all those present at the scene, she is the closest to the kingdom's central authority. Furthermore, she witnessed the Ragmunt survivors, the Northern Archduke's disgraceful display, and heard Your Majesty's declarations firsthand."

"Not because she's the Demon King's ex-fiancée?"

For the first time, Hermoon looked up at me. "I shall omit that particular reason from the official documents."

"Wise of you."

"I only hope Your Majesty will exercise similar wisdom in public."

"I've been doing a perfectly fine job acting like a Demon King."

"Indeed. However, the importance of cleaning up the aftermath remains unchanged."

I couldn't argue with that. I was the one who got to say the cool lines, but the scribes took the heat, Hermoon pulled the all-nighters, and the ultimate responsibility wound up right back on my desk. A flawless circular economy.

After spending a few more days in Ragmunt, I left the remaining affairs in Hermoon's hands and began my journey back.

The evidence had been sealed, the survivors isolated, and the verification terms were set to be delivered to the kingdom.

Only one task remained: returning to where the Demon King belonged. Back to Black King Castle.

Elysia Arten remained standing on the border long after the Demon King had departed.

The black banners receded into the distance, accompanied by the heavy thud of the Black Armor Guards' boots.

Belion Vergrad's vanguard, Barkan's guards, and the wagons carrying the Ragmunt survivors vanished one by one into the pouring rain.

Yet, the silence did not bring peace.

A princess, not a king. Someone with neither the authority to absolve the kingdom of its sins, nor the right to shed blood on its behalf.

Do you know why you are still alive, Your Highness?

Elysia looked down at her hands. Soft, unblemished hands.

"Your Highness."

Rabiel Mor stepped up beside her, her hat drooping from the rain. "Are you still with us?"

"Rabiel."

"Just checking. That was a bit... well, it was hard to tell if surviving that was a stroke of luck or an administrative error."

Elysia did not answer.

Rabiel watched the retreating black army. "He is a terrifying man."

"He is the Demon King."

"That is just his title." Rabiel jingled a small pouch containing pieces of wet sealing wax. "I am talking about the way he operates. He made it clear he could kill us, yet he chose not to. Instead of slaughter, he offered terms."

"And you find that terrifying?"

"Yes," Rabiel replied without hesitation. "Getting tangled up with someone like him is bound to be exhausting. I truly pity you, Your Highness."

Leonhart Brankenheim had already departed for his territory, claiming sudden illness. But Elysia had no desire to ask which part of him was sick.

"The Archduke will move again," Elysia murmured, almost to herself.

"Undoubtedly," Rabiel agreed, nodding.

The two fell into a long silence.

It was then that two black-robed officials approached from the direction of the Demon Realm. They were not sword-bearing generals, nor were they armored soldiers. They were scribes from Black King Castle, carrying leather cases and waterproof portfolios.

They bowed politely. "Your Highness, Princess Elysia of Arten."

Elysia slowly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠raised her head. "What is it?"

"These are the provisional verification terms dispatched by Minister Hermoon." One of the scribes presented a leather case.

Rabiel muttered under her breath, "Wow. They don't waste any time, do they?"

Elysia accepted the document. The handwriting was neat and precise. The very words they had exchanged moments ago were already organized into neat, bulleted clauses.

Elysia turned the first page and froze.

Primary Kingdom Signatory: Elysia Arten, Second Princess of the Arten Kingdom.

On-Site Liaison: Same as above.

"This..." Elysia's voice dropped. "Who decided this?"

The scribe replied politely, "Minister Hermoon drafted these clauses in accordance with His Majesty the Demon King's verbal commands."

"You mean to say I am the designated on-site liaison?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"This has not been approved by the royal court."

"That has also been accounted for in the terms." The scribe pointed to a sentence further down the page. "Pending a formal response from the kingdom's central authority, the highest-ranking royal envoy present at the scene shall hold provisional verification authority."

Rabiel let out a low whistle.

Elysia stared down at the document. The Demon King had departed, yet his shadow still loomed over the border, holding everything in his grasp.

Lucion Vergrad had not forgiven her. Nor had he let her go. He had simply carved her name into the stone as the very first shield to be thrown between the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kingdom and the Demon Realm.

"And if I refuse?" Elysia asked.

The scribe paused for a brief moment, then spoke with utmost politeness. "In that case, it may be construed that the kingdom's central authority has no intention of verifying the Ragmunt incident."

"Is that a threat?"

"Not at all." The scribe bowed his head. "It is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠merely a clause."

Rabiel covered her mouth, clearly stifling a laugh. Elysia didn't even bother to glare at her. She no longer had the energy for it.

"Furthermore," the scribe said, closing his portfolio, "should any additional verification requests arise regarding the Northern Archduke's territory, Black King Castle will direct those inquiries to Your Highness first."

Elysia wanted to close her eyes, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but she forced them to remain open. Princesses were never taught to close their eyes. They were taught to keep them open and endure.

"Very well," she said. "I will forward this to the royal court."

"Thank you." The scribes bowed once more and turned to leave. Then, one of them stopped as if suddenly remembering something. "Ah, Your Highness."

Elysia looked up. "Is there another clause?"

"No, Your Highness." The scribe offered a faint smile. It looked nothing like the Demon King's smile. And yet, for some reason...

"We look forward to working with you."

Elysia couldn't bring herself to answer. The scribes withdrew into the rain.

Rabiel spoke softly. "Your Highness."

"Don't say it."

"I haven't even said anything yet."

"Just don't. I'm begging you."

Rabiel hesitated for a moment, but in the end, she couldn't help herself. "Congratulations."

Elysia slowly turned to look at her. With an incredibly solemn expression, Rabiel added, "It seems you've just been appointed as our official liaison to the Demon Realm."

The rain continued to fall. Elysia clutched the damp documents to her chest. In that moment, the truth finally dawned on her.

The Demon King had not killed her. He had terrified her, bound her, and kept her alive.

And he had placed her in a position where he could pull her out and use her whenever it suited his needs. That was the true price of the mercy she had received today.