Viper's Lair (7)
"That's as far as it goes, Pelle."
Pelle, who had been listening quietly, stared wordlessly at the flowing Buren River for a long while.
Among the continent's many nations, the Kingdom of Verabche had been the Demon King's fiercest adversary. Yet now, that very kingdom teetered on the brink of chaos, torn apart by infighting over the late king's death. What did Pelle make of it all? She probably found it laughable, of course. Demons weren't like humans. Humans couldn't even trust their own families, but demons were different. They had poured through a suddenly opened dimensional gate like refugees. In this unfamiliar world, they banded together like one vast blood clan. Forming armies, expanding territory, conquering neighbors—it was their way of survival. At the center stood the Demon King, humanity's mortal enemy but to demons, an unparalleled leader and patriarch. Even in our tense confrontations, I could sense his overflowing affection for his kind.
But that affection was limited to demons alone. I fought on the human side, and demon dominance offered me no gain. So I severed the Demon King's head. If he'd yielded even slightly to human demands, it might never have come to that. But he didn't. Back then, he didn't fully grasp my power and arrogantly believed he was on the verge of total dominion over this world. When I first appeared on the battlefield wielding the Holy Sword, he must have regretted it. Yet retreat was impossible. Showing any compromise would leave him utterly vulnerable, ripe for the plucking.
Even as his last forces were annihilated in the front courtyard of the Demon King's Castle, he refused to flee, holding his throne and awaiting me. In the midst of it all, he evacuated non-combatants through secret passages to save their lives—which is how I later met Pelle. I never learned his name, and though we met as enemies, he seemed like a decent sort in his own way.
"Let me sum it up."
As I drifted into reverie, Pelle spoke up.
"From what Kosa said, the queen isn't the culprit. Her reaction to the late king's death, and no suspicious actions the day before—it doesn't add up."
"Right."
"The prince might not be either. He's a bastard, isn't he? If so, he'd target the queen, not the king."
"Exactly. Killing the king puts him behind the legitimate princess in succession, but killing her makes him next in line."
"So, did one of the other three factions meddle?"
The other three... The obvious suspects were the noble council and Verabche's archenemy, the Kingdom of Bakomore. But would they really assassinate the king? The late king was conflict-averse—what you'd call a pushover in harsher terms. The nobles had exploited him in various ways during his reign, and Bakomore had done the same. But Elua was different. Infamous for her mental instability, she was the polar opposite of her father. Rumor had it she inherited her late mother's temperament. Just look at how she mobilized legions without loyalty oaths. There were even whispers that if Elua took the throne, a bloodbath would erupt in the independence-minded Kusobo region.
So why would those who profited from the late king kill him off? Any fool could see Elua, as first in line, was the most likely successor. If they wanted assassination, they'd target her and woo Gobert instead. He was far easier to handle than Elua. Or perhaps, with the king dead, the nobles had already pushed their man, Duke Alvis, onto the throne. Gobert, being illegitimate and mild-mannered, had weak support. Backed by the powerful noble council, Alvis would crush a rootless bastard like him. Elua, knowing this, might have preemptively killed Alvis to stir trouble. Gobert, sensing the threat, probably fled to the front lines as commander before the funeral—safer there than in the royal castle.
Pelle snorted derisively at my explanation.
"Humans and your politics... what a mess."
"We don't stick together like you demons. Anyway... that's why I've been wandering. Headache-inducing stuff."
"You're conflicted, right?" Pelle eyed me.
"Leave it be, and the kingdom falls into turmoil. Intervene, and a retired hero like me gets stuck in the muck."
"Spot on."
"From my position now, meddling is just nosy busybodying. But if civil war breaks out, the inn takes a massive hit."
"Yeah. Material costs skyrocket, margins shrink, guests dwindle... Worst case, forced requisitions."
"But stepping in means tangling with the queen, prince, noble council, and even Bakomore. Real headache."
"Precisely."
Pelle fell silent, petting Kali as she turned back to the river. The chill wind cooled my head but did nothing to sort the tangle of thoughts within. Same for her. I appreciated her listening, but she wouldn't pull a clear solution out of thin air. And that was fine.
"Master. Why did the late king send the prince to the front as commander?"
I explained: years ago, when the king visited the inn and confided his succession woes, I'd offered some advice.
"He'd chosen the prince as heir from the start. Sent him to seize the legions, then engineered palace chaos to give him a pretext to march back and 'restore order.'"
"Yep. That's it. Gobert's next move could flip everything."
"But then the king dies suddenly, and the prince leaves for the front before the funeral... leaving one key question."
"What's that?"
"How much of that plan did the late king actually tell the prince?"
"Ah. Knowing it versus not—huge difference."
"If he knew, expect armies marching soon. If not... given his character, he'll dutifully hold Bakomore at bay and support his sister."
"What if he fled fearing the queen might kill him?"
"Still ends the same. Right?"
Pelle's point cut sharp. Ultimately, I needed to meet Gobert. Knowing his intentions would make the board's shifts predictable.
"But you're still torn. Whether to even approach the prince."
"Sorry, Pelle... you read minds or something?"
"Anyone could see 'conflicted' written on your face."
"Honestly, no clue. Spent ten years in that castle, got utterly sick of it—swore I'd never set foot there again."
"Hence the inn. If you'd had ambition, you'd be king by now, not Elua."
Pelle's hand slid up, stroking my hair.
"Master. Take it easy."
"How?"
"You're the innkeeper. Prioritize keeping the place stable. Doesn't that answer it?"
She was right. Not about meddling in filthy politics—about shielding the inn from fallout.
"And you have employees who only have eyes for you."
Pelle tugged my hair lightly, whispering softly into my ear.
"Focus on the inn and us, Master. Nothing else. You made us possible, and we got you this far."
"You're right, Pelle. That's how it'll be."
Pelle smiled brightly, pecking my cheek. Then my lips.
"Seeing the guy who charges ahead recklessly like that get all wishy-washy... kinda cute."
"Heh, whatever."
"That's why I can't leave even after paying off my debt."
"What? What're you talking about?"
"You didn't know? Debt's cleared—two months ago."
Oh, right. Business boomed lately; I hiked everyone's salaries big-time. Paid it off faster. Original deal: I bought out Ammugar's scam debt, let her repay interest-free. Once cleared, she'd leave...
"Ammugar and Orkog know too?"
"Their debt—think they'd miss it? Don't worry; we're staying."
"Mm. Not worried. Where else would you earn this much?"
I expected a scowl or cold stare, but Pelle chuckled low.
"True. You saved us, Master. Ruthlessly, sure, but results matter."
She kissed my lips again.
"Come tonight. I'll hold you warm."
"Will do. Thanks, Pelle. For listening."
Pelle hugged me once, then headed up to the inn. Kali sprang up, trotting after her.
Left alone, I gazed at the slow river, pondering next steps. But there wasn't much to mull. Things had progressed faster than expected.