Enriching the Black Kingdom Once More

The outsiders had departed.

The seats reserved for Serapion were now vacant, and the official envoys of the human kingdoms had withdrawn.

Under Seradin's guidance, the twin ladies of the Northern Grand Duchy had returned to the western annex.

The gallery, the witness stands, and the guarantor seats at the back of the chamber were completely empty.

Looking at those empty chairs, the very air in the room shifted.

Only the insiders of the Demon Realm remained.

The heads of the great families.

The military representatives.

The administrators of the Black King Castle.

And me.

I lightly tapped my finger against the long, blackwood table.

"Close the doors."

The heavy doors shut with a dull thud, sealing off the last traces of the outside world.

I scanned the chamber.

"The pleasantries for our guests are over."

The eyes of several bloodline heads flickered.

If I had to guess, the same thought was probably running through all of their heads right now.

A Hero? How dare they?

A H-e-r-o?

The moment they heard that the entire continent was stirring, these nobles would have instinctively reached a single conclusion.

Gather more troops.

Forge more weapons.

Strike first.

And indeed, they did not disappoint.

Graen Mordheim, the head of the Grey-Horn family, was the first to speak.

"Your Majesty. If the Hero Selection process is indeed resuming, we must prioritize reinforcing the military camps along the eastern and southern borders."

Another bloodline head immediately chimed in.

"We must also expand the mobilization rights for each family's private forces. If the Holy Sword stirs, our current protocols will be too slow."

One of the military representatives spoke in a low voice.

"The moment the direction of the Holy Sword's oracle is confirmed, we must organize a preemptive strike force."

Yet another voice added,

"It would be most effective to eliminate the Hero candidates before they can even be chosen."

A low murmur of agreement rippled through the chamber.

I watched them.

Ah.

Of course.

The moment the word 'Holy Sword' was uttered, the entire room shifted into an offensive stance.

It was as if someone had programmed the Demon Realm's military AI with a single command: attack-move.

Detect enemy.

Right-click.

Charge.

Die.

Repeat.

At this point, it wasn't a tradition; it was a collective suicide macro.

"No."

The bloodline heads stared at me.

I pushed aside the troop deployment chart in front of me.

Instead, I pulled forward another document that had been buried beneath it.

The moment the bloodline heads saw the document, their expressions froze.

"Stop talking nonsense and start worrying about what you're going to eat tomorrow."

The chamber fell dead silent.

Someone looked genuinely bewildered.

"Y-Your Majesty,"

a bloodline head with red scales creeping up his neck spoke up cautiously.

"We are facing the very real possibility of the Hero mobilizing."

"Which is why I am looking at our food supply first."

"This is the time to discuss war preparations."

"That is exactly what I am doing."

I placed my finger on the chart.

"Do you think war is fought with swords alone?"

No one could answer immediately. I turned the first page of the report.

"The Demon Realm is strong."

At those words, the tension in the faces of a few bloodline heads eased slightly.

Yes, they liked hearing that.

"Each and every one of you, the heads of the great families, could easily tear through ten human nobles. The breakthrough power of our military camps is terrifying. The might of the Black Plate Guard inherited from the previous generation remains formidable, and the Demon Throne has only grown more secure after the recent events."

I paused briefly.

"However..."

Their faces stiffened again.

"The Demon Realm does not seem to be a strong nation. At least, not in my eyes."

I spoke slowly.

"It is a weak nation populated by strong individuals. Over a thousand years of conflict with the human realm, we have focused so heavily on aggression that our domestic economy has been left utterly hollow."

One of them looked openly displeased.

I ignored him.

"We have plenty of weapon smithies, yet we lack wagon wheels and shoes. We have military supply lines, but our trade routes are practically non-existent. The great families have their private storehouses, yet why are the state treasuries empty? I cannot help but wonder how long we intend to rely on fear and seals to force the circulation of currency and credit."

I smirked.

"Is this even a country?"

No one answered.

"It is nothing but an empty stomach with a blade attached."

Graen clenched his fists.

Another bloodline head muttered in a low voice.

"Demons fight even through starvation."

"Indeed,"

I replied instantly,

"and that is exactly why we are in this state."

His eyes wavered.

"Boasting that you can fight while starving is not a badge of honor. It is a confession that you have forced your people to fight despite starving them."

I turned my gaze to the military representatives.

"I do not need to guess what you will do when the Hero appears. You will charge. You will slash, and you will burn. You will win in the beginning, because demons are strong."

It was a classic villain cliché. Strong in the early game, damn it.

"But what happens when the war drags on?"

I pointed to the items on the list one by one.

"We run out of medicine. We run out of fodder. Wagons break, and the soldiers' shoes tear. The Lower Demon residential districts will starve first. The great families will gradually lock down their private storehouses, and the military camps will resort to stealing supplies from one another."

My voice dropped to a whisper.

"And the Demon King will be left isolated."

At that moment, someone in the back of the chamber caught their breath.

I felt the shift in the room.

They all knew it.

This was not mere speculation.

It was the exact pattern the Demon Realm had repeated throughout history.

When a Hero appeared, the demons sneered.

They won at first.

But then the Holy Sword cleared the path.

The Church provided the justification.

The human kingdoms established logistics.

And humanity gradually united under the banner of 'world peace.'

Meanwhile, the Demon Realm squandered every early advantage it had.

Because the great families would only look out for their own necks.

In the end, the Demon King is strong, but he dies because the Demon Realm is weak. Always.

I hated that reality. I absolutely loathed it.

It wasn't the Hero that terrified me.

It was the fact that this country reacted in the exact same way every single time the word 'Hero' was mentioned.

A suicide manual masquerading as tradition.

A race that fell into the same trap for a thousand years, only for the next generation to charge headfirst into it in the exact same posture.

Damn it.

At this rate, our collective inability to learn seemed more miraculous than the Holy Sword itself.

I took a slow breath.

Anxiety flared up like a fire beneath ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my feet.

We didn't know when the Holy Sword would stir. We didn't know when the Hero would appear.

If so, there was only one thing to do right now.

It wasn't to forge a bigger, more menacing weapon in some dark corner of the Demon Realm.

It was to build a nation that wouldn't starve to death even if we held that menacing weapon and screamed for war.

"I intend to make the Demon Realm strong and prosperous."

The entire chamber stared at me.

I spoke again.

"It will be possible if we build the strength to endure a war, rather than just the strength to start one."

Herman's pen paused.

Evelyn Roadmia quietly looked down at the chart in front of me.

Her face showed that she already understood.

Those who read ledgers are generally quick to grasp these things.

If you know where the money gets blocked, you can see where the sword grows dull.

I looked at Evelyn.

"Roadmia."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Speak."

Evelyn pulled out another ledger from beneath the allocation chart.

Her fingertips were steady,

even though her father was also present in the room.

"The eastern military camp is highly likely to run out of shoes before they run out of troops."

A low murmur rippled through the chamber.

Evelyn did not stop.

"Based on current import rates, the medicinal supplies at the southern border cannot last more than two months. The disparity in wagon wheels and fodder among the great families is far too wide. While the total volume in the family storehouses appears sufficient, the actual transportable amount is likely less than half."

The faces of the bloodline heads darkened, but Evelyn did not look up.

"Furthermore, food supply to the lower bloodline residential districts has been deprioritized behind military rations. If we enter a prolonged war, the first area to collapse will likely not be the borders, but our internal residential districts."

I nodded.

"Did you hear that?"

No one answered.

"It sounds ridiculous to talk about shoes when a Hero is coming, doesn't it?"

I chuckled.

"But an army collapses from the feet up."

The red-scaled bloodline head grit his teeth.

"The production of daily necessities is the duty of the lower lineages and subjugated peoples. The workshops of the high bloodlines have always been responsible for combat equipment."

"And if those lower lineages collapse,"

I stared at him,

"will you noble bloodline heads beat the pots and pans yourselves?"

His mouth shut tight.

Another bloodline head spoke up.

"Diverting a portion of our weapon smithies to produce daily necessities will weaken our combat power."

"A nation that possesses nothing but combat power is the easiest to destroy,"

I said.

"If the blade is polished but the hilt is rotten, the hand of the wielder will be the first to tear."

Yet another voice spoke.

"The storehouses of the great families are our sovereign right."

"And when war breaks out, you will withdraw your troops just to guard those storehouses."

I tilted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my head toward him.

"In that case, it is not a right, but a weakness, is it not?"

An uncomfortable wave of demonic magic rippled through the back of the chamber.

Barkan shifted ever so slightly.

The movements of the Black Plate Guard were always silent.

I raised a hand to stop him.

It was not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠yet time to draw swords.

Today was a day to target their rice bowls.

"We begin preparations as of today."

Herman looked up.

"Shall we designate a name for this initiative?"

I thought for a moment.

National GDP Pumping Project.

No. If I said something like that out loud, Herman would probably ask in all seriousness which bloodline 'GDP' was an abbreviation for.

I held it in.

"The Black Kingdom Enrichment Decree."

Make the Demon Realm Great Again.

Herman's eyes flickered slightly.

The name was grand. It had to be.

To move these tiresome people, one had to scale up the project.

"Draft the decree."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

I folded my fingers one by one.

"First. An audit of the storehouses of each great family."

A low tremor shook the chamber, but I ignored it.

"Second. A review of the joint use of military supply lines and commercial trade routes."

Someone gasped.

"Third. The conversion of a portion of weapon smithies to produce daily necessities, wagon parts, agricultural tools, and heating equipment."

This time, protests rose to their lips before dying down.

"Fourth. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stabilization of food and medicine supplies to the lower bloodline residential districts."

Evelyn's pen flew across the parchment.

"Fifth. The joint submission of each family's troop mobilization charts alongside their production contribution charts."

At those words, the faces of several bloodline heads completely froze.

They finally understood. This was about power.

Until now, the great families had proven their loyalty by providing troops.

Now, they had to provide food as well.

They would have to provide medicine, and they would have to provide shoes.

Even the act of enabling the country to endure war would now be calculated as loyalty.

A family that could do nothing but swing a sword could no longer claim to be the heart of the Demon Realm.

I continued.

"We will use the Roadmia ledger network to track the flow of goods. We will review restricted trade along the borders and investigate the possibility of indirect trade through the Southern Sea City Union. Gather intelligence on the Forest Court as well."

Herman's pen moved even faster.

"And we will predict the expected supply routes after the Holy Sword's oracle."

A military representative looked up.

"Is this an interception plan?"

"That is included,"

I said, looking at him.

"But first, we must know. Not where the Hero will move, but where the continent's market distribution networks will shift."

A brief silence fell.

Herman asked in a low voice.

"Your Majesty."

"Speak."

"Is this an internal reform, or is it preparation for war?"

I smiled.

"Both."

I added,

"You all said war is coming."

I looked around the entire chamber.

"Then we must first build a nation capable of fighting it."

As those words left my mouth, the chamber fell completely silent.

Someone swallowed hard.

Graen Mordheim spoke slowly.

"Your Majesty. This is not simple war preparation."

"Indeed."

"Are you attempting to restructure the rights of the great families?"

"You finally understand."

Graen's face hardened.

I leaned back in my chair.

"Did you think I was setting up such a massive board just because of a single Hero?"

No one answered.

"The Hero is not the reason,"

I said quietly.

"He is the deadline."

At those words, Herman's pen stopped.

Evelyn's fingertips also paused for a moment.

I spoke slowly.

"Before the Holy Sword stirs, this land must become a proper nation."

The Demon Realm.

A land bound together only by bloodlines, military camps, fear, and subjugation.

I saw it for what it truly was.

A weak country populated by strong monsters.

If I left it as it was, I would eventually die.

Whether I was slain by the Hero, torn apart by the great families, or withered away on the throne of a starving nation.

The ending would not change.

Therefore, to survive, I had to change it.

"The emergency bloodline council is adjourned."

Everyone looked up at my words.

"From the next meeting onward, this will not be a war council."

I pushed the inventory chart on the black table with my fingertip.

"It will be an internal affairs council."

Those words settled heavily over the chamber.

The bloodline heads still looked as if they hadn't fully grasped the implications.

But they must have understood one thing.

The Demon King was not pointing a sword at them.

I was no longer looking at their necks, but at their rice bowls.

There was no Hero yet.

The Holy Sword had not yet stirred.

But a fire had already been lit under our feet.

I had to break this cursed suicide manual that had killed Demon Kings for generations under the guise of tradition.

To do that, first and foremost, I had to turn the Demon Realm into a proper nation.